The Bellows

December 10, 2019

It hangs on the wall by our wood stove, held by a wrought-iron bracket our son forged for us. Originally, it was a project, a gift I made more than thirty years ago for my father-in-law. When he died, my mother-in-law gave it back to me. His initials, “LM,” are carved into its face. I didn’t know if I’d ever use it, but it has come in handy a few times, like tonight. Coming home from our granddaughter Mattie’s school choral concert, the back room had cooled down considerably. The fire I had built earlier in the afternoon was mere coals.

I put in a couple pieces of firewood, lifted the bellows from its bracket, and began pumping away. In just a couple of minutes, the coals had burst to life, and the fire was dancing merrily, warming the room where I now sit, writing. A gift given has returned to bless the giver.

Life often works that way. Jesus said, “Give, and it shall be given to you, pressed down, shaken together, running over.” The metaphor refers to a basket of grain that comes back fuller than when it was sent out. God has allowed us to be on the giving side of life, and having been on the receiving end, I can attest that this side is better. Much of our giving this time of year is little more than swapping; we give to those who give in return. It’s nice; seeing the looks on the faces of the receiver when you’ve thought it through and have come up with just the right gift, is priceless. But it doesn’t begin to compare with the blessing of giving to those who can never repay. 

That old bellows came back unexpectedly, and reminds me to fan into flame the work of the Holy Spirit within me; to not allow lesser loves to quench his work in me. One way that happens is when I give. I am thankful tonight to be able to do so, and to see others come alive when they also give.