Hope for a Smoldering Wick

I picked up the candle that was burning on the kitchen island and carried it slowly to my writing table in hopes that it would give off an ambiance of peace and untangle my spaghetti brain, giving me the freedom to write.

The candle, given to me by my daughter at Christmastime, was one of pale blue frosted glass, and printed on its side in crisp black letters were the words “Winter Mornings.” The combination of sight and smell induced memories of last winter and I suddenly had an urge to put on fuzzy socks and wrap up in the soft black and white buffalo blanket. But winter has long since given way to summer, so I quickly scrapped the idea.

Melted wax was low in the jar and sloshed a bit as I walked, almost covering the stubs of wick in the bottom, but I managed to keep all three wicks burning in the transfer. I watched the tiny flames flicker for a few seconds, thinking of the many times their combined light brought calmness to my harried thoughts and scattered plans, then I picked up my pen.

Time passes as I sit engrossed in my work and when I finally come back to the present, I notice my candle is dark. Feeling a bit of nostalgic sadness, I pick it up, preparing to throw it away since it has outlived its usefulness. As I do so, a tiny flame from one of the wicks flickers just enough to catch my eye.

Very carefully, I set the jar back down on the table.

 If there is any life left in my candle, I want to enjoy it.

As I do so, a verse from Scripture flashes through my mind.

“A bruised reed he will not break, and a smoldering wick he will not quench…” Matthew 12:20

In that moment, my little candle wick and I are somehow connected in Jesus.

I recall the times I repeated these very words to myself…

On days when I wasn’t sure I was on the right path.

Nights where I didn’t feel Him anywhere around me.

Had I gone too far beyond His reach?

Was my faith too small to matter?

Looking again at the jar, I am reluctant to snuff out the life of my little candle. It has brought me so much pleasure as it fulfilled its purpose for me.

Now I wonder, is this how Jesus felt about me when I struggled in the darkness, whispering this verse over and over to myself? Did He hold my jar gently in His hand, treating me with the utmost care?

I can only sustain the life of my candle for as long as it has a wick. I am powerless to extend its flame indefinitely.

Jesus is so much better.

He promises to never, ever snuff out a wick that is struggling to survive.

If you find yourself like I do on occasion, feeling weak and barely burning, take courage.

I have a suspicion that in the seasons of life when we are only a faltering flicker of light with barely enough fuel to survive, that is when Jesus is most gentle with us.

Maybe your wick is low today, your flame sputtering. If so, take heart! He has the power and the authority to reach in and sustain the flame, providing whatever it is that you need.

He will restore our hope, renew our light, and give us what we need to fulfill the purpose He created us for.

With a steady hand, he takes hold of our “jars” and moves us to a safe place, breathing fresh fuel into us, extending our wicks.

I am so glad that He loves you and me that much!