Smoking Flax

"A bruised reed shall he not break, and the smoking flax shall he not quench"

Isaiah 42:3

We've moved to the country.  It's way out there...taking care of my mom's 12.5 acres until she moves up in June, in a little farmhouse with lots of "possibility."  There is a wood stove that Jeff put in, but since we moved in during the fall, our wood chopping time was cut considerably before the rains...no pun intended.  Okay, maybe a little bit intended.

What we've had is a bunch of beautifully seasoned wood all over the property that has been getting soaked from the rains, and apparently, that makes for not-so-great wood for heating.  It has a lot to do with the amount of energy being used to first dry the wood before it can burn and then give off heat.  With dry wood, it can just focus on burning and making heat. Picture a happy little dry woodblock just waiting to warm a happy little family in a happy little farmhouse.  Juxtapose that with a sad, soggy log, moping around the woodstove, just cooling everyone's warm happy vibes down.  Boo.  It's science, and Jeff works for a heating company so he knows a bit about it.

The other night we had to be somewhere and Jeff was trying to get the stove going.  We were really running late, but he didn't want to leave until the fire was going since he was up until midnight the night before trying to coax a fire out of wet wood.  We had two coals at the bottom of the stove.  Exactly two.  And the stove was completely stacked...with the hormonal, sad, teenage, angsty, wood.  We were really late.  Did I mention that already?  So finally, we huffed off into the car, resigned to come home late to an ice box house.

Jojo said, "Mom, it's the will of the Lord."

Me, "It's the will of the Lord that we don't have a warm house?" I snarkily asked.

Jojo, "Yes. The Lord can keep our house warm."

Me "Yeah, and He can start the fire while we're gone, too," I sarcastically answered.  Immediately, I felt corrected.  

Maybe He will...He can....

We drove off and Jeff and I were weary.  There was a packed woodstove, with two coals at the very bottom that would most definitely be put out by the dense, wet logs.  It was a defeat.  But we had a night ahead of us.  We'd put the stove behind us and deal with it when we came home.  

Another late night...we are so tired...

We came home after 10.  Pulling into the driveway, Jeff remarked, "I guess if you leave the wood long enough, it lights itself!"

There was our stove, fiery and full, roaring and warm.  

Just another miracle.  No big thing.

We've had a hard time these past couple years.  It's been a refining fire, to be sure.  There has been a lot of letting go, a lot of humbling, (read: humiliation,) and a lot of disappointments. But, and there is the great word, BUT!, I have seen God work in our lives in such specific ways that I would never want anything than what He's had for us these past years.  The losses, the desperation, the complete failures, they have all led us closer to one another and closer to Him.  I know and enjoy my children, where before I felt helpless watching them get older and not knowing what to do.  I felt I was screwing them up somehow.  Maybe I still am.  But, and there's that but again, I know Who they really belong to.  I know He loves them more than I do, and despite my best efforts and my worst failures, His grace will reach down, will condescend to meet them where they are and grasp at their hearts with an unrelenting passion.  His love will cover my failings and fill them with His spirit.

So, where does the smoking flax fit in all of this? 

That woodstove was me. Or the wood was.  Not sure exactly about that analogy.  But I was really trying for a really long time.  I tried to be everything for so long that I wasn't able to rest.  So I got sick.  For a really long time.  Like six weeks.  And I felt so bad for so long I forgot what it was like to feel good.  I couldn't do anything I "needed" to do.  I couldn't tutor at school, exercise, cook, clean, take a walk without feeling like I was going to fall over...doing laundry almost killed me.

I was frustrated.  Frustrated with my lack, in every way.  Frustrated with what the American image of Christianity is against what the church looks like in the bible.  

What is Christianity supposed to look like???

Then that woodstove caught on fire, and it clicked.  He's doing it.  In me, in you, in all of us.  He's working it all out.  I'm just going to stay here, Jesus, and even with my soggy, damp, timber, I know you're going to light me.  Because you've called me.  And You're faithful.  You keep Your promises. I'm to be filled continuously with You, and even when I feel on the brink, like maybe I can't do it anymore, You won't quench the smoking flax....I can fall down and remember, it's not anything I have to do.  It's just being with You.

He brought me to the edge.  But it wasn't just to show me the view.  He wants to teach me to soar.