Tag Archives: Lamp

Of Twisties and Pantry Lights

Command the people of Israel to bring you pure oil of beaten olives for the lamp, that a light may be kept burning regularly. Aaron shall set it up in the tent of meeting, outside the curtain of the covenant, to burn from evening to morning before the Lord regularly; it shall be a statute forever throughout your generations.
Leviticus 24:2-3 (NRSV)

Wendy and I live together quite comfortably, but we are no different from every other couple on the planet. We have our differences, which don’t always become acutely clear until you live together for a period of time. Wendy and I were both raised in our Dutch heritage, and we both exemplify the legendary frugality of Hollanders. Our frugality, however, is exhibited in very different ways.

My wife’s frugality is exemplified in the hoarding of things that might  be useful in her kitchen. For example, one should never throw away a “twisty” (the little colored paper covered wire that binds the bag on a loaf of bread). You never know when you might need a million or three of these incredibly useful utensils. The same principle can be applied to sacks (especially the ones with little handles on them), and zip-loc bags. I may roll my eyes at the piled rainbow of twisties in the kitchen drawer, Wendy will remind me, but I know without a doubt that there is one (or 12) available when I need it, and I know exactly where to find them.

My frugality (thank you, Dad) is exemplified by my compulsive desire to turn out lights that are illuminating empty rooms (and the accompanying rage that rises in my soul when I see it). Wendy has no problem keeping a room illuminated if there’s the possibility that she might enter it some time during her waking hours. When I see lights on in empty rooms I go into panic just short of cardiac arrest. After all, the unnecessary illumination of empty rooms will certainly be our financial ruin. They will drain our retirement fund of necessary pennies and lead to us living in a dark, cold, rat-hole of an apartment in our old age in which we will rock in our chairs and grieve long hours over this stark reality: If we’d have simply turned out more lights in empty rooms all those years, we might be able to afford turning on the furnace to ease our frigid, arthritic appendages.

So, where am I going with this? Well, just yesterday in the middle of a bright, sunny summer day I walked down to the kitchen to get a cold beverage. Sure enough, I found that the light in our empty kitchen pantry was on. Wendy was in her office working away at her desk. My frugality alarm went off and, as usual, my blood pressure went into its rapid, steep ascent. In a moment of lucidity, however, I reminded myself that entering an argument over turning out the pantry light was futile. We’ve been down that road to nowhere before. I am also frugal with arguments (especially those I’ll never win).

I asked myself: How do I get over my obsessive frustration over turning out the pantry light so that I can live in peace and avoid the cardiologist’s bill?

That’s when I remembered the eternal flame.

Growing up in the Methodist church, there hung a large cross over the altar at the front of sanctuary. From the bottom of the cross hung what looked like a large candle holder. I was taught as a child that this was the “eternal flame” which was always lit (except, of course, when the light bulb burned out) as a word picture of God’s eternal presence and Light.

I laughed as I thought to myself that I needed to stop thinking of the pantry light (which is the light I find most commonly lit unnecessarily) as the bane of our financial freedom. Instead, I need to think of it as the eternal flame that illuminates God’s blessing and provision (as evidenced by a stocked pantry).

In a moment of synchronicity, this morning’s chapter is the source of the “eternal flame” concept. It began with the Levitical law commanding that the high priest (Aaron) keep a lamp burning in the temple, just outside the curtained area which metaphorically represented God’s presence.

Today I’m thinking about frugality and eternal flames. I’m thinking about our individual differences and the compromises we learn to make in living together harmoniously. I can think of compromise as a negative (e.g. I’m having to “give up” or “give in” to something) or I can choose to find something beneficial in the process. The illumination of a pantry void of humans is also a pantry illuminating the evidence of God’s blessings and faithful provision. Perhaps that reminder is worth the pocket change it costs me.

Lamp Light

Lamp on the Rail

I took this photo over Fourth of July weekend. We were sitting out on the deck at the lake watching the fireworks. This tiki lamp was sitting on the deck railing and I loved watching its flame dance in the slight breeze which was blowing. In fact, for a while I found it’s quiet illumination more enjoyable than all of the fantastical explosions happening above and around us. There’s something I find fascinating about the fact that the electric lights we take for granted are still a fairly new concept in the course of time. For ten thousand years, up until the last century, the quiet light of a small lamp was the only thing people had to pierce the darkness of night.

My Life: A Photo Abecedarius

E is for Eyes.

I don’t know why, but I’ve always had a fascination with eyes. When I am struck by a stranger, it almost always their eyes that, well, “catch my eye.” Eyes have been a consistent motif in my artwork. I’ve heard it said that science has been able to replicate almost every human aspect in the form of robotics, but the eye  and it’s coordination with the brain and body has been virtually impossible to replicate in its complexity, sensitivity and rapid response.

I love that God created the eye to be the lamp of the soul. Eyes speak so much. They are so expressive. Eyes captivate.

Chapter-a-Day 2 Kings 8

The eye is the lamp of the body. Elisha then stared hard at Hazael, reading his heart. Hazael felt exposed and dropped his eyes. Then the Holy Man wept. 2 Kings 8:11 (MSG)

Our eyes can be very revealing. When I was a child, my parents definitely had "the look." Their eyes could penetrate and see all sorts of things – especially when I had done something wrong and I knew it. As a father, I look into my daughters' eyes and can see deception, joy, honesty, fear, hurt, guilt, anger, shame, or depression.

It isn't just a parent-child thing, either. I looked into my friends eyes this past weekend and saw intense sadness. Last night I gazed into my wife's eyes and saw deep grief, and love that was deeper still.

"Your eye is a lamp, lighting up your whole body. If you live wide-eyed in wonder and belief, your body fills up with light. If you live squinty-eyed in greed and distrust, your body is a dank cellar. Keep your eyes open, your lamp burning, so you don't get musty and murky. Keep your life as well-lighted as your best-lighted room." – Luke 11:33-34 (MSG)

If I look into your eyes, what will I see?

Creative Commons photo courtesy of Flickr and impactmatt

Chapter-a-Day Exodus 27

Burning the midnight oil. "Now, order the Israelites to bring you pure, clear olive oil for light so that the lamps can be kept burning. In the Tent of Meeting, the area outside the curtain that veils The Testimony, Aaron and his sons will keep this light burning from evening until morning before God. This is to be a permanent practice down through the generations for Israelites." Exodus 27:20-21 (MSG)

There is a light above our kitchen sink that remains on 24/7/365. The practice of keeping a light burning through the night was not motivated by any kind of spiritual reasoning. With teenage daughters often coming home well after we've gone to bed, it's there to help them not stumble on their way into the house. If we have to get up in the watches of the night for some reason, we have a light to guide us.

As I read God's command for Aaron and the priests to keep the oil lamps burning in the tent of God's dwelling, it struck me that there are parallel reasons with our little kitchen light. You need light for protection and safety. You need light if you're going to be active. What a daily word picture for the people of Israel who, at this point in the story, are still uprooted and wandering through the wilderness. The lamps in the night send a subtle, but powerful message. God does not sleep at night. God is active. God will protect and watch over you in the depths of daily darkness.

Today, I'm thankful for God who is vigilant in watching over me and my family even when I am asleep or distracted by the unimportant things of this world.

Creative Commons photo courtesy of Flickr and tlindenbaum