I’m Gonna Let It Shine!

Getting older has its perks. It also has its challenges, duh. 

Nightly trips to the bathroom used to be accomplished in the dark, with my eyes closed even. No longer! Recalling the door frame face-plant, I now utilize the light on my phone to illuminate the path. 

The trip really isn’t that far, I travel it often. However, lately there have been unseen obstacles that can really trip me up-literally. In my current state, the slightest alteration of solid foundation will send me to my knees. A cat toy, piece of dog food, blanket edge. The one I really can’t afford is the crazy cat running through my legs or suddenly jumping into my path. Even if he doesn’t take me down it makes my heart skip a few beats. 

Light is good. I’m thankful for light. Even with it there seems to always be something that tries to thwart it. 

Today, I’m focusing on another kind of light. One that isn’t powered by anything man-made. One that is always on and never covered. Something is always fighting to thwart this light too, but it is a lamp unto my feet.  (1 John 1:5-9)

When I was little I sang about this light. A catchy tune I had learned with animated motions that expressed the power of the light. One I didn’t fully understand until I was older, and one that I don’t fully remember today, but it comes to mind often.

Funny how you perceive things when you’re a child. I remember being pretty shocked about a fire under my tush. Having satan’s face in mine trying to blow on my thumb was pretty frightening. And I didn’t know what a bushel was when I was little, I was told it was a basket and I wondered if that fire would burn it up. 

Today, I fully understand that I needed a fire lit under my bo-hiney. Sitting around, doing my own thing and not really considering other people around me wasn’t getting me anywhere. Thinking about those days makes me feel kinda sick to my stomach. Kinda like when you eat too much cake. You know, it was SO good while you were stuffing it in your face. That buttercream frosting and soft cake...ummmm, I couldn’t get enough! Then, once I finally stopped to take a breath, the stomach started turning and I wished I hadn’t eaten so much. That’s how I feel about the time I wasted. 

Also, now that I’m older, I don’t want satan’s face anywhere near me! Especially not blowing his stinky breath on my thumb! If my thumb symbolized the light I was trying to shine then, I have to consider both of my hands these days. My hands are tools that I like to use to show others The Light. That light that I don’t want satan to blow out. These fingers are getting more wrinkly and swollen, but I use them everyday. I’m driven to work these hands to share the love of Jesus through the gifts He gives me as long as He allows them to work-be the light. I use them to write, to care for, to craft and to pray. I’m grateful for my hands and I want to use them for His glory and He blesses me in turn. 

Hide them under a bushel? NO! I’ll not hide them ever again. I may not make sense to some, but if I reach one and share the gospel, then I’ve done something. Hiding my light under anything won’t do anyone any good. If a bushel is a basket or a source of measure, then it could mean anything from tasks that divert my attention from doing His will and any material thing that I might try to value before Him. No thanks! Let that fire burn up the bushel! Burn baby burn! 

On this Saturday before the next Friday, it is raining outside. It’s a chilly and dreary day in April that hollers out to me to turn on my electric blanket and crawl under a comfy quilt, read a good book, nap or watch old westerns. But the light in me says shine on. Shine ON! Little light. Fill up the lamp oil. Trim the wick. Charge the batteries! Shine. I’m praying for nothing to divert my path. No obstacle in my path, nothing to trip me up. I’ll hit my knees on purpose and ask for satan to be banished from me each step of the way. (Matthew 5:16)

There’s much to do, and time is not retrievable. Once it’s gone, it’s gone. 

Even though I’m working on my light today, I am in my pajamas, and I do have an electric blanket around my frigid toes. There’s nothing that says I can’t prepare in comfort and lots that makes clear the importance of resting. Rest will come. I look forward to it. 

I have to think that while Jesus was in Bethany visiting with Mary, Martha and bro Laz, He was resting up for the days ahead. Filling His lamp oil so to speak...charging His batteries. Soaking up the love from those who knew Him and letting His light shine for those who still doubted who He was. They were about to find out. 

Tomorrow is the Sunday before next Friday...I want to prepare for that too. 

Doing my best, and learning from the rest. 

 *references: John 12 , Matthew 21 (1-11), Mark 11 (1-11), Luke 19 (28-44), John 12 (12-19, ), Zechariah 9:9, Psalm 118:25-26