Imagine, if you will, I am walking through life, like most of us do, holding a candelabra. As I grew up, I added a lit candle every time I accomplished something or reached a goal. Anything that helped me to feel secure, worthy of love, important, successful, etc. I graduated undergrad—candle. I met a boy and we fell in love and got married—candle. I graduated from grad school and got my first job—candle. I earned my clinical license to become an independent therapist—candle.
Did a candle go out from time to time? Yes, of course.
We moved and I had to find a new job. All I had to do was relight that candle.
I got into such a significant disagreement with my best friend that we stopped being friends altogether. So, I took that candle out completely. But it wasn’t long before I found a new friend and replaced it.
As the years went on, I felt in control. There wasn’t anything I couldn’t work hard to accomplish. My light was so bright I knew my path and where I was headed.
Until that is, that one fateful moment.
I lit the candle and placed it in its holder, the next logical and desired one. I was pregnant, and we were starting a family. But then God blew out all of my candles. Maybe it was an accidental wind, but the source didn’t change the outcome. There I was, left in the dark.
I won’t lie and say I handled it well. I didn’t feel like trying to relight any of those candles. It made me realize nothing was truly in my control. I realized even if I worked hard to relight those candles, they could be snuffed out again in a moment.
So I lay there for a while, eyes clenched shut. I stayed down. I stayed frozen. I stayed stuck.
But eventually, when I opened my eyes and picked myself up off the ground, I saw His light. The weird thing was it was coming from inside me. It was very, very dim, but it was there. The Holy Spirit in me was visible because I wasn’t trying to do everything in my strength.
The best part about our loving and good God is that He didn’t make me come to Him. While I was down, He came to me as I watched trashy reality television to avoid my own painful reality, surrounded by junk food wrappers and wearing the sweats I had been in for days. On the reality show, the couple whose life was on display went through a miscarriage. They were experiencing the same thing that put out my light. In the after-montage, the husband said something along the lines of, “When people experience hardships or setbacks, they choose one of two things: faith or fear. And we choose faith.”
I had been choosing fear my entire life without realizing it. I needed to be in control. I had to make things happen. It was all on my effort alone. But I decided to give faith a chance. And that light—His light—burned bright enough within me for me to find my next step forward.
I spent the next decade fanning it into flames so it grew bigger and brighter. Every time I acted in obedience to His will—every time I read the Bible, went to a small group, attended church, fellowshipped with believers, led a Bible study, wrote a blog about my faith journey, talked to a friend who wasn’t sure they believed, organized a women’s event at church—every time, His light inside me grew bigger and brighter.
From my head to my toes, 360 degrees, I was shining so bright I could finally see clearly the path He laid before me. I could see directions along the ground. I could see the next puzzle piece I was supposed to pick up and connect to my growing purpose in life. I was able to see the hands of friends extended to me when I was in desperate need of help. I was able to see people when they needed assistance too.
His light started emanating from within me so others could see it, be drawn to it, and want to fan the tiny embers inside them.
I didn’t need to keep adding candles. I didn’t need that candelabra at all. My hands were free. The weight of the world no longer rested on me.
So imagine, if you will, putting down your own candelabra so you can see His light within you too.
by Lilly Holland 
by Ashli Brehm 
by Hannah Dunaway 
