Sometimes compassion compels us to confront, sometimes to cajole, sometimes to be silent and wait, sometimes to do or say what it would never occur to our egocentric self to do or say, for we can never say for certain in advance just how compassionate love may prompt us to act, to see, and accept within ourselves and others. Yet, in our willingness to recognize and go forth to identify with the preciousness of ourselves and others in our collective frailty, we discover our contemplative community in the intimate texture of our daily interactions with one another.
No two hearts are on fire with God in the same way. We are all called to live this vibrant love of God in our own way, according to our own personality and temperament. In life's ups and downs, at times we will wonder if any fire remains in us. Because of our inner battles, we will at times resist the fire or fear its power. Yet, within us all, the fire of God continues to flicker even though we may not see its glow.
How do we keep the love of God aflame in us? We must stay close to the original flame of love, and draw near to the heat of God through daily prayer and through a continual yearning to be one with the divine presence. Each time we intentionally draw near to God, we light a candle in our heart.
I wanted it. Desired it greatly. Yearned for its coming. But when it did come, I fought, resisted, ran, hid away. I said, "Go home!" I didn't know the fire of God could be more than a gentle glow or a cozy consolation. I didn't know it could come in as a blaze ... a wildfire uncontrolled, searing my soul, chasing my old ways, smoking them out. Only when I stopped running, gave up the chase, surrendered, did I know the fire's flaming as consolation and joy. Only then could I welcome the One whose fire I had long sought.
The firefly flickers of God's grace are enough to embrace the unknown. A surge of powerful surrender takes over all my looking back, and ever so gently and hopefully I risk the road of another new year.
