Inner Light. Like, way inner.

Hearken to the light within thee, and it will let thee see the secret places...; and as a prison without thee, so there is a prison within, where the seed of God lies; and as there is a threshing without thee, it will let thee see threshing within thee; chaff without thee, chaff within...

For the Lord hath a seed...if ye in patience all of you wait, and not matter the weather, the storms, the wind, the hail, the rain, when ye are to sow the seed, nor the rough ground that is to be tilled. For the husbandman waits patiently after the seed is sown; there is a winter before the summer comes...

Keep your meetings, and ye will feel the seed of God among you all, though never a word be spoken among you.

George Fox, excerpted by Rex Ambler and then further exerpted by me.

I've been thinking a little bit about "letting your Light shine before all men" and about the differences between my given share(s) of Light at different times. Inner Light Vs. Outer Light. About the Seed that might be rattling around in a prison inside me, or sleeping in frozen ground, or in my hand ready to be broadcast, or sprouting all green and misty...about everything in its season, a time to sow, a time to reap, a time to settle back in an armchair with seed catalogs, a time to blaze and a time to glow, a time to put up firewood and a time to clear away brush...the differences between hibernation or gestation or stagnation.

(There is also a discussion to be had another time about the difference between "The Light" and "The Seed", because I have a feeling they are often confused in people's minds (including my own.) For the purpose of this post when I say "Light" I mean, The Sense of the Presence of God in My Life and the things that go along with it--leadings, learning, growth, inspiration, movement etc.)

But things I am thinking about:

Exhibit A:
The big sparkly campfire of my Light in my first days in Quakerism, where anything was good fuel, when the light would blaze up with every new addition, every new message, every new book, every new idea, roaring and crackling and visible and giving off a great heat and wonderful for making hotdogs and s'mores. It attracted people, and there was a great deal of fun to be had feeding this fire and watching it. It would take a fire hose to put it out.

Exhibit B:
The current state of my Light, which is more like a small glowing ember. I sit close by it and warm my heart over it, and I have to be careful with it--if I heap too much stuff on top, it gets smothered and starts to smoke, and then the smoke gets in my eyes and lungs, and I cough and sputter and can't see, and I have the fear that if I heaped even more stuff on it, it could be put out. If it begins to rain it is necessary that I crouch over it and protect it, or it could be put out. I need to clear away the ash on a regular basis, or again, it could be put out.
If I hold something close to it, that thing may ignite, and will either burn off in a flash or if I am careful and the thing is good fuel, it will start to smolder alongside the first ember and can be added to the fire. I might be able to cook a potato with this fire, but I'd have to wrap the spud up first and bury it with the embers--and be ready to wait a good long time. The glow it gives off is hidden. You need to get really close to experience it.

I am for the most part not disturbed by the change--in many ways is it a natural progression like the one from First Date to Long-Term-Relationship. I do wish that my current light was less fragile, had more of the stability and strength one might expect at this stage, but I think I am learning from the careful tending such a fragile thing requires. My lesson is to stay low and close to the ember, and love it, and wait to learn when and how it's to be used, and guard it, and share its warmth when I can, and not to envy other people's blazes and scorn my own measure of light. I do miss the campfire sometimes--I sometimes wish I was burning brighter and was better able to share my light with others. I don't want to keep the ember under a bushel. I want to make sure that I'm not hoarding it, and that I am open enough that the Spirit can blow it into flame at any time the Spirit's feeling into that. I feel the call to continue to increase my embers until I have a good solid bank that won't always be in danger of being extinguished, but I know I can only do this slowly and can't rush it. Giving into the temptation to rush it--to try heaping paper and pine needles on the fire because I miss the blaze and crackle (or, worse, because I miss the attention the blaze and crackle used to get me) would be deadly.