I've soaked up my light. I've dug my roots into my good soil. I've been molded into a vessel of joy, love, and light. And now it's time to stretch my mold. I've enjoyed the encouragement and pampered life of a preparing heart. But now it's time to get dirt underneath my fingernails. I was never once called to a comfortable life of becoming a fireworks show. I'd much rather be a small lit candle that lasts through the night than a combustable flare that is shrouded by darkness in seconds. The darkness cannot put out the light, it can only make the light brighter.
I live just outside of a city that is the least likely to be a city on a hill. Below sea level, but figuratively it is full of darkness. And I am 100% blessed to be here. To be just a small candle of the sea of candles flooding this area. We have another hit coming in a few days that could flush out some light. However as the floods are rising, the lights are getting brighter. Some blow out, but as one blows out, even more are added in its place. What is the point of being a candle in a room that is already lit? I have darkness just outside my door. I begged to put in that darkness. I finally was put there, and my flame is already wavering. It's being spit on and trampled. It's in a muggy environment. It's not used to this. But it will not go out. Because my light is not for show. It is brighten up the darkness, to draw people closer, and to lead them to the person who's really holding the candle.
