Advent: Kindle

Think of faith for a moment as a flame. What does it look like?

Is it in a cloth, soaked in oil and wrapped around a stick that you're using to keep wild animals at bay? Is it a candle, carried gently in front of you as you walk to your room through dark corridors? Maybe it's a friendly, warming campfire that you and your family encircle in your sleep; or it could be a raging blaze that is clearing out the dead brush so new life can transform the terrain in a few short months.

Or maybe it's the tiny glow at the tip of a match, strong enough to burn your fingers if you're careless, but ready to out --pffft! with one contrary wind or drop of water.

A week ago I was talking with a friend about the ways the church has given faith a sentimental gloss with popular language about friendship with Jesus or having a talk with God.

"When's the last time you had pizza with Jesus? Literally." My friend is a pastor, and I watched as the impulse to give me a church answer rose to his lips, and then I watched as he shoved it to one side because he knew I would never go for it. 

"When's the last time you asked God something in prayer and you  heard him answer, and didn't check yourself into the hospital for a potential schizophrenic episode?" I asked him. "Literally."

Faith in some ways must always be like that tiny match if it's to be honest. Doubt and confidence are strange companions, but the Bible declares them to be the essential components in the alloy it calls faith, which the author of Hebrew, whoever she (or they) may have been, called the "assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen" (Hebrews 11:1). 

The torch, the candle, the campfire and the runaway inferno all have one thing in common: They began an small as the flame on the match, but someone saw their potential, and added the kindling.

Copyright © 2020 by David Learn. Used with permission.


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