The house we're renting has a wood burning fireplace. In the cold months we frequently start a fire once our littles are asleep. Everything about it is lovely. The pops & hisses make a melody of their own. The flames jump and pulsate in an intoxicating dance. The heat roses our cheeks and unburdens the furnace. And it has given me a picture of my heart.
Sometimes when we wake in the morning we find embers still faintly glowing, despite hours of neglect. It's fun to blow on them, watching their heat and light increase with our breath. A few times we have seen a pile of gray ash, assumed it dead, but discovered embers hidden underneath. Most days, though, the remains are cold and lifeless.
Like a neglected fire, the warmth and life within my soul has been slowly dying. I felt the cooling begin shortly after we moved from Kansas City. I fought valiantly, attempting to restore the flame through prayer and Bible study and exercise. The slow decline continued. Sometimes I would feel a brief flare up, but would quickly cool again.
I'm tired of the flares. I want a roaring fire, or I want nothing. I don't want to go to a conference. I don't want to read a self help book. I don't want to be a good Christian girl. I want Jesus. I want the joy of my salvation returned to me. Though there are moments I despair, the drive for a roaring fire hasn't left. I want to be joyful and peaceful and patient and silly and kind. I want to commune with God.
The ability to create a single flame clearly does not belong to me, though. I feel guilty for not praying more, or better, and for not reading my Bible more. Astoundingly, those feelings have not spurred me on one bit. I am incapable of breathing life into my own embers. I am completely dependent on God to rescue me from this mediocre soul.
But I know He will.
Though I feel like a cold pile of gray ash, the desire to write this post serves as proof there must be at least one ember hidden somewhere. I am optimistic that some poking around will reveal a spark underneath. And I have faith that Jesus will breathe life into me again. He's the only One Who can.
Breath of Heaven, hold me together.
copyright (c) Elizabeth, Bug's Beef. All rights reserved.
No comments:
Post a Comment
I moderate comments. If comments are snarky, I'll publish them, but not respond. If the comments are hateful, they will not be published. If they're nice, I'll pray a blessing over you as I publish your comment. And maybe even blow a kiss!