On keeping the fire going
I've asked and begged and pleaded for and rejoiced over and relaxed near and felt warmth from the fire in our fireplace. Aaron has taken time out of his work to make it just for me because he knows I will be so happy with the flames dancing and the wood cracking and the embers flying and the coals glowing. It's a "snow day" (aka sleet day) you know and we're home from work early so we have to have a fire.
He has been the expert fire stoker as well tending to it carefully. He is getting ready to leave to get his car taken care of at the shop. He leaves wood by the fire, stokes it one last time, and say emphatically:
"Don't let the fire go out."
I do pretty good at first. I add a log here, a log there, but he's taking longer than I expect to return and I'm running low on the wood he left me. I can't remember which was more important: not to let the fire go out or to not go through most of the wood we have stacked by the door in our garage. Morgan's home with me too and somewhere along the way she becomes the fire stoker. I sit absorbed in my computer and completing lesson plans- completely forgetting about the fire.
"Uh... I don't know if I can get the fire going again." Morgan looks at the diming coals piled about 2 inches under the fire rack holding the wood.
I don't even try. "It will be fine. He'll be home soon and can restart it."
Aaron arrives home about 30 minutes later. He opens the door and his eyes take in the sight of my once joyful, dancing, warm fire turned to a cold log and a few coals and says with a twinge of frustration,
"You let the fire go out."
I try to explain what happened. "Well, we were doing good and then the wood pile got low and then it just got lower than the wood logs and you were coming home soon anyways and it's really not a big deal, right?"
Well, no, it really wasn't a big deal, but it reminded me of another story.
Jesus is in the garden of Gethsemene awaiting his death- a gruesome, horrifying cruxifiction. He is with his disciples and he says, "Remain here and stay with me."
He returns later to find his disciples, his loved ones, his closest friends, asleep. He says with great anguish, "So, couldn't you stay awake with Me one hour? Stay awake and pray so that you won't enter into temptation. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak."
Yes indeed, my spirit is willing, by my flesh is so weak.
Our house church is seeking out the word love in the Bible- it's usage, it's meaning, it's challenges, it's joys. Jesus said the greatest commandment is to "Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, and mind, and love your neighbor as youself." It's a short command. We are not bound anymore to the hundreds of laws in the Old Testament. God cares about my heart. Love.
"Love me. Love others.
Don't let the fire go out."
And oh how I confess, I don't love the way Jesus did. I don't love the way Jesus does. And oh how I rejoice in our gracious Savior who still went to the cross for his those who knew him and loved him and those who did not know him nor love him. He went willingly and obediently- moments after his own disciples fell asleep. He rekindles the fire. He forgives. He redeems.
He has been the expert fire stoker as well tending to it carefully. He is getting ready to leave to get his car taken care of at the shop. He leaves wood by the fire, stokes it one last time, and say emphatically:
"Don't let the fire go out."
I do pretty good at first. I add a log here, a log there, but he's taking longer than I expect to return and I'm running low on the wood he left me. I can't remember which was more important: not to let the fire go out or to not go through most of the wood we have stacked by the door in our garage. Morgan's home with me too and somewhere along the way she becomes the fire stoker. I sit absorbed in my computer and completing lesson plans- completely forgetting about the fire.
"Uh... I don't know if I can get the fire going again." Morgan looks at the diming coals piled about 2 inches under the fire rack holding the wood.
I don't even try. "It will be fine. He'll be home soon and can restart it."
Aaron arrives home about 30 minutes later. He opens the door and his eyes take in the sight of my once joyful, dancing, warm fire turned to a cold log and a few coals and says with a twinge of frustration,
"You let the fire go out."
I try to explain what happened. "Well, we were doing good and then the wood pile got low and then it just got lower than the wood logs and you were coming home soon anyways and it's really not a big deal, right?"
Well, no, it really wasn't a big deal, but it reminded me of another story.
Jesus is in the garden of Gethsemene awaiting his death- a gruesome, horrifying cruxifiction. He is with his disciples and he says, "Remain here and stay with me."
He returns later to find his disciples, his loved ones, his closest friends, asleep. He says with great anguish, "So, couldn't you stay awake with Me one hour? Stay awake and pray so that you won't enter into temptation. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak."
Yes indeed, my spirit is willing, by my flesh is so weak.
Our house church is seeking out the word love in the Bible- it's usage, it's meaning, it's challenges, it's joys. Jesus said the greatest commandment is to "Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, and mind, and love your neighbor as youself." It's a short command. We are not bound anymore to the hundreds of laws in the Old Testament. God cares about my heart. Love.
"Love me. Love others.
Don't let the fire go out."
And oh how I confess, I don't love the way Jesus did. I don't love the way Jesus does. And oh how I rejoice in our gracious Savior who still went to the cross for his those who knew him and loved him and those who did not know him nor love him. He went willingly and obediently- moments after his own disciples fell asleep. He rekindles the fire. He forgives. He redeems.
Comments
Post a Comment