Staying Filled with God’s Light
I’ve been learning a lot lately as I discover the ancient Christian faith lived in the Orthodox Church, and there’s an image that’s really stuck with me.
In church, we use glass prayer candles—some plain, some colorful, some ornate. On their own, they’re just glass. Nice enough, but cold, dark, and lifeless.
Once a candle is lit inside, though, everything changes. The whole thing begins to glow. The glass warms in your hands, the colors come alive, and the light spills out into the room.
That, I’ve realized, is a pretty good picture of the Christian life.
God the Flame, We the Glass
In this picture, God is the flame—His light is eternal, uncreated, and unchanging. We’re the glass—created, finite, each with our own shape, color, and story.
From what I’ve been learning in Orthodox teaching, God’s essence—His very being—remains beyond us. We never become the flame. But we can be filled with His energies—His light and warmth—so completely that they shine through us in everything we do.
As St. Paul put it:
“It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me.” — Galatians 2:20
One of the early Church Fathers who speaks so well to this mystery is St. Gregory Nazianzen. He reminds us that:
“We do not receive the divine nature by nature, but by grace; and we do not become God by essence, but we are enlightened by the divine light.”
This captures the heart of what I’m trying to say — that God’s essence remains beyond us, but His energies, His light and warmth, fill us and shine through us.
The Flicker of Sin
Anyone who’s tried to keep a candle burning knows the danger of wind. Even a small breeze can make the flame waver. If we don’t guard it, the wind can grow stronger, and before we know it, the light goes out.
That’s what sin is like. Sometimes it’s a sudden gust—anger, pride, a temptation that catches us off guard. Other times it’s a steady draft—the slow cooling of neglect, distraction, and spiritual laziness.
Sin isn’t just “breaking rules.” It’s anything that gets between us and God’s light—anything that makes the flame inside us flicker or fade.
The beautiful thing is, when we turn back to Him in repentance, the flame is rekindled, the glow returns, and the warmth fills us again.
“If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us…and to cleanse us.” — 1 John 1:9 (OSB)
Shining with His Light
The Christian life is more than just keeping the flame from going out. It’s about being so filled with God’s light that His warmth overflows from us to others. The Orthodox Church calls this theosis—becoming, by grace, what God is by nature.
We don’t become the flame in essence, but His light becomes part of us, and we become part of His work in the world. Like a candle in its glass, we shine into the darkness—not with our own light, but with His.
Carrying the Light
A lit candle is meant to be seen. It’s not just for our own benefit—it’s for the world around us. Christ said:
“You are the light of the world.” — Matthew 5:14 (OSB)
When His light fills us, it’s meant to spill over—bringing warmth where there’s cold, and hope where there’s shadow. And here’s the thing: sharing it doesn’t make us lose any of it. Just as one candle can light another endlessly, His light in us can be passed on without ever running out.
Keep the Flame Burning
In church, we light candles before icons as a prayer, an offering, and a sign of faith. In the same way, we keep the flame of God’s presence burning in us through prayer, the sacraments, fasting, almsgiving, and love for one another.
So I’m learning to keep my flame lit. To guard it from the wind. To let the glass of my life glow with His light and warmth. And to carry that light into the world, until the day we stand in His Kingdom—where the flame never flickers, and the light never fades.
When I think about this candle image, I can’t help but remember my first Pascha in the Orthodox Church.
In that dark, quiet church at midnight, we all stood holding unlit candles. Then, from a single flame at the altar, the light was passed from person to person. In just a few moments, the whole room was glowing.
It struck me that this is what the Christian life is meant to be. We receive the light of Christ, and then we carry it, protect it, and share it—without ever losing it ourselves. But it also reminded me how quickly a candle’s flame can flicker or go out if we aren’t careful to guard it.
Pascha showed me that God’s light is not just for me—it’s meant to be shared, until the whole world is lit.