Holding up our candles

For the beauty of the earth...our new country is incredibly beautiful.

And I set my mind to know wisdom and to know madness and folly; I realized that this is also striving after wind. Ecclesiastes 1:17

It is a dreary, foggy morning in Vienna, Austria, and I am enjoying a cup of tea and peanut butter breakfast bars I made the kids for breakfast. Marc is home, but his day is full of meetings on skype, so I'm trying to be quiet. The great thing about getting up so early is that it is 8:30, and my chores for the day are already done. (It's bathroom and laundry day--it's good to have a schedule.) So I thought I'd sit and write for a few minutes before moving on to the next part of my day.

I am having some problems with shooting pain in my big toe and the bone right under it, so I've been a little less active in the last 24 hours. It didn't keep me from walking yesterday, and it won't today, either, but going up and down the stairs is pretty painful. (This happens about once every six months, and it will go away on its own. No big deal--just painful.) After I finished my walk yesterday, I realized that I wasn't going to get much else done around the apartment (I'd already swept and mopped all my floors and folded and ironed clean laundry), so I decided to read some more of The Hiding Place by Corrie ten Boom. Hannah is reading it in English, and I like to keep up with what she is reading so that if she has questions, I've read it recently and can be helpful. I also just love to read, so it makes a good excuse. :) So I propped up my throbbing foot, and I read and read. What an amazing story of faith and forgiveness and hands-and-feet Christianity. The ten Booms didn't just talk about being Christians. They lived it. They were it. One of the hardest parts of the book for me is when she asks the pastor to take in a small Jewish baby and he refuses. He is unwilling to put his family in danger for the sake of a baby. Kills me every time.

I'm also reading Ecclesiastes, because Hannah has a paper due on it next week, and I haven't read it in a while. I'd forgotten what a really amazing read it is--the king who asked God for wisdom realizes that wisdom is folly. That everything is 'striving after wind.' As an English teacher, I love the circle imagery, the idea of the wind coming around and around, of there being 'nothing new under the sun.' It always tickles me that people think that quote is from Shakespeare, but it's actually from Solomon. Hannah told me this morning that the book makes her sad for Solomon, who chased after many things--and women--in his lifetime, only to realize that it is in striving after God that true meaning comes to a life. It's really some of the best writing out there--not just in the Bible. It's worth your time if you haven't read it in a while.

Interesting to me how these two things she's reading really mesh with one another. The ten Booms were definitely not striving after wind when they hid so many in their own home and helped countless others find safety elsewhere. Their lives counted for something--even in the loss of their lives. I think Solomon would have thought that they sought after the things that really mattered, even when the world disagreed with them. Their lives shone as a light in the unbelievable darkness of World War II. They still shine in the darkness, many years later.

We've been talking a lot in our family of late about what happens when good rubs up against evil, when the light shines in the darkest of places. Evil does not willingly step aside, does not tip its hat and move out of the way like a gentleman. No. It fights and claws and screams and rages against the light. But here's the thing that we've been stressing with our kids--the darkness never wins. It might look like it does. It might seem like the light loses battles every day. But we know the truth. And if our God is who He says He is--and we have tested and proved Him to be the ultimate promise keeper--then the battle is already won. It's hard to look at things that go on around us and keep that in mind some days, but it's true. The darkness trembles in the face of the Light of the world. And while it may seem to us that we are only holding a tiny candle in the overwhelming sea of darkness around us, when those tiny candles come together, they light the whole world. We have seen and testify to you that Jesus is light, and in Him is no darkness at all. That's good news in a dark world, isn't it?

So we march on, holding our little candles, loving people, loving each other, and ceasing to strive after wind. And we know that the Light of the whole world, who loves everyone, with no exceptions, continues--day by day, minute by minute--to keep our tiny candles lit. I can think of nothing in the world for which I am so thankful in this season of thanksgiving. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you are holding your candle aloft in your part of the darkness, and that you have a big bottle of ibuprofen to take care of the pain in your foot, too. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye