The Voice of the Tiny Flame

The loud voice in my head says to me, “Give up. Your fight is in vain. The quest is futile.” The small nearly silent whisper in my heart tells me, “Carry on. The fight is not over.” Is it not strange that the tiny flame is stronger than the large, loud one? It is this tiny flame that has pressed me forward into the face of my greatest fears and the most perilous of journeys. It is this small flame that has kept me on the narrow way. It is this small flame that has set my face like flint, keeping me from turning to the right or the left. This tiny flame whispers, “This is the way, walk in it.”

This tiny flame has called me to paths that make no sense to the mind or the eyes, or to others. . . it continues to whisper, “This is the way.” Much pain has been wrought listening to this tiny flame, for much have I had to forsake. I can’t unhear its voice, I can’t take any other way no matter how hard I try. So, I will continue this seemingly hopeless quest until the tiny flame says “No more.” How strange a thing that this tiny flame has more strength and claim on my soul than a hundred raging infernos. . .

The Strength of the Tiny Flame

Lying on the battle scarred ground, I stare lifeless into the empty sky above, and the empty sky stares back into my soul, acting as a mirror to my state. . . shell shock. After many long years of battle, I wonder, “Is my spirit finally broken?” For the first time, I wish to be dragged away or be left to bleed out on the battlefield. My heart is scarred beyond repair I fear. Can I finally rest?”

“NO.” The tiny flame whispers. . . “This is the way, walk in it. Get up.” I feel like a walking corpse. As I get up, the tiny flame whispers to me to go on and a strength begins to spread throughout my limbs that is not my own, a strength that makes no sense. The tiny flame will not let me go, this tiny flame that holds more claim on my soul than a thousand raging infernos. It says, “Press on. There are more to bring home.” It seems that no matter what, my fate is bound to this tiny whisper, this tiny flame. My feet are anchored to the way, and on this way I will stay until it brings me to the sea, until I am used up, until I bring home everyone I was meant to. Then, I can run across that bridge of light and finally fulfill the longing that the sea brings. . . to find that pure city, to run on those white shores, to lay in the cool grass of that far green country, to swim in those crystal seas, to home. . . to His arms, where every tear and every affliction find their meaning, where the fatherless find their Father, where the widow is once again named and belongs, where evil is slain, where all that is good remains, and where all find their rest. Until then, this tiny flame that holds more claim on my soul than a million raging infernos carries me forward through the dark forests, the blood soaked battlefields, and the sun scorched lands to those I’m destined to bring home. . . to a light, a beauty that no shadow can touch. It whispers, “This is the way. Walk in it.”

The kingdom of heaven is like a treasure hidden in a field, which a man found and covered up. Then in his joy he goes and sells all that he has and buys that field.

Matthew 13:44

One moment of pain is worth a lifetime of glory.

Louis Zamperini

Please, Lord. Help me get one more. Help me get one more.

Desmond Doss

Frodo: I wish the ring had never come to me.

Gandalf: So do all who live to see such times, but that is not for them to decide. All you have to do is to decide what to do with the time given to you.

The Lord of the Rings, the Fellowship of the Ring

If more people valued home above gold, this world would be a merrier place.

Thorin Oakenshield, The Battle of the Five Armies

Blessed are those who dwell in your house ever singing your praise!

Blessed are those whose strength is in you, in whose heart are the highways to Zion.

As they go through the Valley of Baca (Mourning) they make it a place of springs; the early rain also covers it with pools.

They go from strength to strength; each one appears before God in Zion.

Psalm 84:4-7

Then the angel showed me the river of the water of life, bright as crystal, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb through the middle of the street of the city; also on either side of the river the tree of life with its twelve kinds of fruit, yielding its fruit each month. The leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations. No longer will there be anything accursed, but the throne of God and of the Lamb will be in it, and his servants will worship Him. They will see his face, and His name will be on their foreheads. And night will be no more. They all need no light of lamp or sun, for the Lord God will be their light, and they will reign forever and ever.

Revelation 22:1-5

There, peeping among the cloud-wrack above a dark tor high up in the mountains, Sam saw a white star twinkle for a while. The beauty of it smote his heart, as he looked up out of the forsaken land, and hope returned to him. For like a shaft, clear and cold, the thought pierced him that in the end the Shadow was only a small and passing thing: there was light and high beauty for ever beyond its reach.

J.R.R Tolkien, Return of the King

At one time, most of my friends could hear the bell. But as years passed, it fell silent for all of them. Even Sarah found, one Christmas, that she could no longer hear its sweet sound. Though I have grown old, the bell still rings for me. As it does for all who truly believe.

The Polar Express

Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, “This is the way; walk in it.”

Isaiah 30:21