Like Moths Drawn to A Flame

The writer Annie Dillard tells the story of a moth she once observed circling the flame of a candle. The moth loved the light so much that it circled closer and closer until it actually caught fire.  It fell onto the top of the candle and burned to death, flaming brightly as it died.

Sounds pretty gruesome, doesn't it.  But then, just then, when things look bleakest from our human perspective, the most amazing thing happened.  The moth's body began to draw wax out of the candle, and it became a second wick for the candle's flame.  In death, the moth became part of the light it loved so much!  Annie Dillard reports that it burned all night, giving light into the dark room.

There are certain persons we encounter who are just like this moth.  They love Jesus Christ, the Light of the World.  They love this light so much that they spend their lives circling it.  When they die, they become part of this light, and even in death they share this light with others.

My friend Syble, at whose bedside I sat this past week until she slipped into the Light, radiated that light into the lives of so very many people.  Even in death she was shining!  The day she came home from the hospital into hospice care happened to be her 80th birthday, and she was alert enough to sing along with the Happy Birthday song, clapping and laughing, surrounded by her sons, grandchildren and great-grandchildren.  When it dawned on the group that Grandmother was about to experience yet another kind of birth, the tears started flowing--naturally.  Syble looked at them all and said, "Why are you crying?  I get to see Jesus!"  Of course, that just made the tears turn into sobs, whereupon Syble said quizzically, "Aren't you coming too?"  Man oh man, wasn't THAT a sermon in 13 words!  She had already become that second wick.

What a lesson.  Syble's whole life was like that.  And when words weren't to be found, especially in grief and loss, she would hand you a cold, wet washcloth and let you bury your pain in her soft and ample lap until the sobs subsided.  She saved my sanity more than once early on in my ministry, and in that sense, she definitely was a pastor's pastor, understanding her part in the priesthood of believers.

I'm glad Syble didn't wait until death to let her light shine--to become one with The Light of the World, surrendering her will to that of The Lord over and over again.  I thank God for the gift of Syble, whose light will shine for generations to come.

Grace and joy,
Julie