The flame lit by the Consuming Fire

Note: All the photos in today's post are courtesy of my husband,
who is much better at pausing for beauty than I. He captures the skies.
And I look at his photos in awe. Miss you, honey!

Nor do people light a lamp and put it under a basket,
but on a stand, and it gives great light to all in the house.
In the same way, let your light shine before others,
that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father
who is in heaven. (Matthew 5:15-16)

It is tempting, at times, to listen to the hushing voices that would have you question your walk with God or authenticity of your faith. But He is not a quiet God who listens to other voices. He lights our skies day and night with the most fantastic, ever-changing display of color, light, and even sound and fury, for all men to see...and even enjoy.

I cannot stay silent or pretend God isn't amazing me every single day. Tying down your faith with the words and choices of others is like trying to hogtie a slippery pig in a muddy pen. God escapes us, emanates from our pores, oozes into our conversations and is found in the most desperate, desolate reaches of my soul.

I have never been nominal about anything. If I like a certain way of cooking my spaghetti sauce, my friends hear about it. If I discover something that works for me - a Phiten for my migraines or an herb for postpartum bleeding - you'll know about it if you spend time with me. I can't pretend my faith isn't devouring me whole and leaving no trace. I can't pretend about who I am, who God created to me. I have to come to grips with the fact that there is no putting a bushel (marked "nominal Christian" or anything else) over the light He lit in me. I'll never again be a Sunday-only church goer. I'll always be the geek in the back corner of every classroom - and Sunday service - sitting on her hands every time they ask for volunteers, for fear my enthusiasm will betray me when that hand flies up before the speaker is finished asking.

You spread out the skies over empty space
Said "let there be light"
Into a dark and formless world Your light
was born

You spread out Your arms over empty hearts
Said "let there be light"
Into a dark and hopeless world Your Son
was born

You made the world and saw that it was good
You sent Your only son for You are good

What a wonderful Maker
What a wonderful Savior
How majestic Your whispers
And how humble Your love
With a strength like no other
And the heart of a Father
How majestic Your whispers
What a wonderful God

No eye has fully seen, how beautiful the cross
And we have only heard
The faintest whispers of how great You are
~ Wonderful Maker, Chris Tomlin ~

Linked to Ann Voskamp

and Bonnie Gray