The Fragile Candle

“The spirit of man is the candle of God.” So said Matthew Henry.

When one stops and thinks of how difficult living is, how hard the world can be, and how injustice can take its toll against the human soul, it is simply amazing not just how fragile the human spirit can be, but also how resolute and immovable it can be as well. How is it possible that the martyrs for the Faith were able to stand against all the injustice hurled against them as if the immaterial were made of steel. At the same time, how weak and limp is the human spirit that gives into injustice to the point that it actually participates in it, creating it, inflicting it.

Minutes before being condemned to die and ordered to drink hemlock, Socrates made the statement that no injustice can injure a just man. He understood that the soul was what a person really is and that this physical body was temporary. He knew that while people may inflict damage against a persons body, they could not damage the thing that made them just - their soul.

This seems strikingly similar to what Jesus said, “Don’t be afraid of those who want to kill your body; they cannot touch your soul. Fear only God, who can destroy both soul and body in hell.” (NLT Matthew 10:28).

If it is true that the human spirit is the candle of God, then we ought to take care, not just of our own souls, but also to see after the souls of others. Because candles are fragile if not looked after, there wicks need trimming and they need oxygen to keep burning - those things come from the grace, mercy, and compassion we show. Injustice can quickly snuff out a struggling flame, which is why we ought not to repay “evil for evil” but rather we are commanded to “pray for those who persecute you” because they possess God’s candle too.

A Humble Offering

Ah, it’s been awhile and a good friend has decided to give me a kick in the pants. Thanks for the nudge.

The Apologist’s Evening Prayer

From all my lame defeats and oh! much more
From all the victories that I seemed to score;
From cleverness shot forth on Thy behalf
At which, while angels weep, the audience laugh;
From all my proofs of Thy divinity,
Thou, who wouldst give no sign, deliver me.

Thoughts are but coins. Let me not trust, instead
Of Thee, their thin-worn image of Thy head.
From all my thoughts, even from my thoughts of Thee,
O thou fair Silence, fall, and set me free.
Lord of the narrow gate and the needle’s eye,
Take from me all the trumpery lest I die.

- C.S. Lewis

Enjoy!