Light From Death

After I had mentioned that I hadn't blogged yet today, my Mom pointed out a fire we had going in the fireplace and asked if there was anything I could blog about about that. I answered that there were plenty of analogies and moral lessons about fire, most of which have already been covered. But this one might not have been - at least, not by me. The light of a fire comes from destruction and death.

Light is a good thing. Warmth is usually good, too. Fire provides both of those things, but only by the destruction of wood (or other substances), and wood can only be obtained from plants that have died, or at least lost a limb. Can the light and warmth of fire still be thought of as good things, even when they come at such a cost?

I suppose so. Death is a fact of life. Living things grow, grow old, and then die. This is even true of trees, which can live for centuries, but which still eventually die. When trees die, they leave their bodies behind. If that wood is long enough and strong enough, we might use it to build things - giving a new purpose to what's left of the tree. I turned a fallen branch into a serviceable walking stick a few months ago. But if the branches are too short and thin and twisted to be turned into a useful object, at least hey can still be burned.

Light and warmth are good things. When I look at a fire, I can think about the price that was paid for that light and warmth, and perhaps I should, out of respect for the sacrifice, but I should also look at and appreciate the good. There is beauty in fire, even though a thing of beauty had to die in order to create it. Perhaps, instead of seeing fire as a symbol of the death of something good, I should see it as a symbol of its life. A branch couldn't burn unless it had grown first. There is energy and vitality in it, even after it dies. A fire is one use of that energy, and it can serve as a reminder that even when bad things happen, there is a chance for good to come of it. Yes, a tree has died, but there is still some life in it, and when we burn the wood, the light and warmth of the fire are born from that life. There was death and there is destruction, but even in being destroyed, the wood of the plant has one last blessing to share.

I hope that I continue to live for several more decades, but whether I do or not, I want some good to come out of my life. I want to do good while I live and breathe. And when I die, I want some good to come out of that, too. I'm not saying that I want to be cremated, because I don't. I'm not even sure if I want a tree to be planted over my grave. That would be kind of cool, but also kind of creepy. But what I am saying is that I want some good to come out of my death, when it happens. Maybe I'll write a short testimony for you to etch on my headstone, or maybe I'll write down a part of my life story that may inspire someone, but that I'd rather not share with everyone while I'm alive, and leave it for someone to find and share after I die. I don't have any specific plans. I just know that, because of God's grace, with the right attitude, a little bit of good can come out of almost anything, even death.