Fire Dweller

Fire.

It seems to be a common theme when discussing the Christian journey. 

I have frequently experienced it in various forms in my life.

But of course, my "fires" are all relative. 

I'm not suffering from cancer.

I'm not in a dysfunctional, abusive family.

I'm not malnourished, neglected or unloved.   

And I don't take those things for granted. 

I am very grateful. 

To me, "fires" always punctuate life. 

It's just something to expect. They come and they go. 

I had a change of perspective this week though in that regard. 

I was reading through Isaiah 33.

"Who among us shall dwell with the devouring fire?"

Dwell? Really? Not someone who just experiences fire every once in awhile?
Someone who dwells in the fire?

The description continues…

Walk righteously. 

Speak uprightly. 

Despise oppression. 

Hate bribes. 

Avoid hearing of bloodshed. 

Close your eyes from seeing evil. 

Sounds pretty saintly to me. 

Sounds like a description of perfection. A description of God. 

Then the familiar promise is given.

"He shall dwell on high: his place of defense shall be the munitions of rocks: bread shall be given him; his water shall be sure."

And you will see the King in His beauty. 

Wait, this promise is for the fire dweller?

How did I not realize this before?

In order to receive the promise, I must hold my half of the bargain. 

Fire must become my lifestyle. 

I must become a fire dweller. 

Then I shall see the King in His beauty and be fed from His hand.

Live to Sacrifice

It has been awhile since I first caught a glimpse of sacrifice from this angle. Days and years pass. Time slips slowly into eternity. Struggles come and go, some still remain.

Yet as I sit here gazing out my window at the gently falling mist, at the blossoming apple tree, at the outside of my world, I remember.

It's not that I have forgotten. No, indeed.
This thought seared its way into my mind long ere this.

--

I had prayed to be "set on fire" for a long time. Years.
At times I felt it, I breathed it, I lived it. Other times I wondered where the fire had gone…

Yet early that morning as I listened to a friend share, I caught the secret to the fire.

Sacrifice.

It all seems so logical now. An altar is merely a relic without the sacrifice.
Without the sacrifice, there is no fire.

It only makes sense that the altar is the appointed meeting place between God and the soul because it is only at the altar that the fire is kindled. Yet a kindled fire is no security for a continued fire.

Sacrifice must become my life in order to keep the flame burning.

--

This world needs flames—rather it needs fires. Furnaces that cannot be extinguished because they are fed by such devoted sacrifice. A planet of fire fueled by a generation of sacrifice.

There have been in ages past those who have caught this fire. This world will go nowhere if our flames don't surpass theirs.

Live to sacrifice. Sacrifice to live.

To Be the Revolution…

I lie on my bed, tears trickling down my cheeks, my mind reeling with questions. I feel so ashamed. Ashamed of every fiber of my existence, of what I claim to own. 

I cry. I pray. I ponder. My life, my actions must be in harmony… And I'm finding they don’t go deep enough… I feel ashamed and rightly so. 

Have I been living a lie all this time? 

My flesh denies the thought. Yet I believe it to be partially accurate, for if I was truly living, breathing, absorbing the words I speak, my life would be reflecting Christ more fully than it is today. I need a reset, a hard reset. And that, by God’s grace, I’m going to have. 

Away with a life of mediocrity. In with a life of revolution.

These are the things I want. These are the things I need. These are the things I crave. 

To be the revolution I want to see.

Burning Fire

{Jeremiah 20}

You can’t really blame Jeremiah. His life was one of hardship and constant derision.

I’m sure I would get tired of it too.

He had endured enough. Now he just wanted God to take care of all those who continually opposed him. 

All feelings of compassion had been drained from his heart. No message. No mercy. 

So he determines not to speak for God. But he cannot be silent…

The words of Omnipotence sear his heart like a burning fire.

And it is then that I realize…

Even in the midst of the fiercest trial or persecution, when it feels as though God is a distance fixture, He is yet within…

Burning away the dross of our carnal hearts.

And with fire comes pain. 

There is no ignorance of the blaze within. 

It sears. It hurts. It purges.

And it breaks our silence. 

When we are most vulnerable and weak, He can cleanse the deepest and reach our hearts best. 

And in the end, our scars will be trophies. The fire a prize. The pain our treasure…

Ashes

{Jeremiah 13}

“More soap?”

“Here.”

“Good. Now the brush.”

“Here.”

“Don’t you have a stiffer one?”

“We have already rubbed him raw and he’s just a black as ever.”

“Then I’ll wash him more, that’s all.”*

---

The words from a favorite Christian classic enter my ears, yet don’t stop there.
They enter my heart…

To us it seems so obvious. Of course you can’t wash off an Ethiopian’s rich skin tone.
It’s enough to be irritated about. Don’t they realize their efforts are futile?

Yet, do we?

Do we realize the utter impossibility of transforming our lives (or anyone's for that matter) into the image of Christ through our own endeavors?

Completely. Hopeless.

But I have news for you…
He has soap and brush infinitely more powerful than anything the two attempting to wash the Ethiopian possessed.

“… for He is like a refiner’s fire, and like fuller’s soap.”**

Yes, soap made from ashes. And a fire to turn dross into ashes.

Ashes.

Only when our dross is burst to ashes can we be instruments in the cleansing process.
And if my ashes can be someone’s salvation, then Lord, let me be burned…

Regardless of the pain.



* {Pilgrim’s Progress}
** {Malachi 3:2}