A spark, a flame, a fire
Our little farmhouse in Minnesota had a brick fireplace in the living room and on Sundays we’d have a fire going all day during the winter months. I remember how carefully my dad would first rumple up newspaper to put under the grate, then arrange the dry kindling in a little triangle shape, and then eventually larger logs on top. We would watch it grow from a little spark to the crackling flames of the kindling and igniting logs. To keep the house warm, that fire had to constantly be fed. In his letter to Timothy, St. Paul urges his young disciple to “fan into a flame” the gift that God had given him. That got me thinking about the people and events, the words of encouragement, the phone call or e-mail, that act as the match, the paper, the kindling, and even the logs that build me up, that “fan the flame” of any gift I have been given, that guide me so I do not keep it to myself, or hide it under a bushel basket, or even deny I have a gift at all. Not only are we all on the rec