The Metaphor of a Match

In class this weekend we did an exercise on metaphors. We each chose an item to represent our relationship with God. I picked a match:

God and I meet at the end of a match. I don’t look like much, small, frail even, easily broken. But inside my very make-up is potential and ability to start the greatest flame. I cannot make fire on my own though, that requires the touch of the Creator. Many times I find myself waiting, desiring the warmth and passion of the light. Sometimes I question my existence, my purpose, when no one desires or values the fire.

But God will gently take me in Her arms and grow joy in me to just be ready. There are times when I am struck and somehow in the glory of the created slamming into the Creator, we make fire.

It’s hot and people are afraid of the flame’s burn. Some shy away, some leave altogether. But the brave huddle around its warmth, and even bring their hearts to burn with mine.

All the while, God still holds me. I am frequently reminded that I burn, and burn out, quickly. I can’t last long without the fire master, who provides times of much needed rest and makes all things new again.

I follow the rhythm of waiting, questioning, wondering, then diving headlong into the possibility of fire. God and I dance magically in the bright, exciting, healing flame. Then in ashes and pain, sometimes when I cannot even come to meet God, She still finds me, and makes me ready to wait and burn again.

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