The Fire

“Go start a fire so we can roast marshmallows”.  These were the words of my wife the other day.  There once was a time when I abhorred the very idea of building a fire.  A good fire takes time and effort to build, and I wasn’t keen on either of them.  Anyone can cause a massive flame, but a scorching fire, productive for cooking and warmth requires work and effort.  

The spiritual life is much like this.  It takes time, results are not usually immediate.  As a pastor, I have come to appreciate this reality increasingly.  In my own life and in the lives of my congregation, patience is both virtuous and essential.  Yet I live in a culture that longs for statistics, measurements, and immediate resolutions.

Human nature increasingly desires immediate results.  As the 40 year old Burger King slogan suggests, we like to have things “our way, right away”.  We cook gourmet meals in microwaves, and require entertainment immediately upon request, whenever and wherever we request it (can anyone say iPhone and internet streaming?).  

In the church, it seems that we increasingly look at ministry as work to be done, the congregation as employees to be motivated, and culture as potential customers to be influenced.  We love the idea of transformation, if that means we will experience its fruits in the next five minutes.  If our congregations don’t experience revival, or at least noticeable growth in two years, we begin to “sense that God is leading us in new direction.”  It seems that we celebrate the success that is obvious, but often allow the mightiest of miracles to slip by undetected.  

Not too many years ago I was speaking with a pastor that I had come to admire.  He had pastored a small country church for many years.  I enjoyed our times together in conversation.  He was brimming with wisdom and humility.  That day I worked up the nerve to ask why he was not called upon to share with other pastors in larger settings.  He responded with a chuckle, “I have never pastored a congregation over 100 people.”  I was numb.  “Was he serious?”  His ministry was seen by many as “faithful”, “courageous”, and even “godly”, but never “successful”.  

In a culture that often defines success by what can be easily seen, measured, and counted, I must always remember that souls cannot be hurried.  I must be mindful that God is presently at work in my life and in the life of my congregation.  He is unbinding gifted hand, salving decade old wounds, reviving infarcted hearts.  All around me I feel the weight of expectation and the sound of “results”, “results”, “results”beating like a kettledrum.  But a still small voice beckons, “if you will be patient and trust me, I will build this fire.”

Ah yes, the fire.  Over the years, Jesus has given me a love for building fires.  I now look forward to the task.  My wife suggests that I take too long building it, and she is probably right.  Admittedly, I often seem to enjoy the work of building the fire and the anticipation of its fullness, just as much as the actual fire.  There are many quick ways to build a fire.  You can throw gas on it, the flames will reach high with great illumination, but it will just as quickly disappear.  You may burn the outside of your hotdog in its flames, but it will still be raw.  You may get burned by touching it, but it will never provide you warmth.  You could also go the route of stuffing all kinds of newspaper in-between the fire logs.  Yet, you would only experience the same result.  No, a truly hot and productive fire requires time, persistence, and breath.  Yes, breath.  All fires need oxygen.  Thus, we begin with a spark and then breath on it.  Too much breathing will put the fire out, but just the right measure, with great patience will produce the burning embers of a powerful and consuming fire.  

As I sat looking at the fire my wife requested, I could not help but notice those glowing embers.  This is success.  Whether it is the pastor to the congregation, or the congregation to the cultures, it is always God’s fire.  We are all beckoned to lean in, feed it, and as God’s Spirit indwells us, breath on it.  In the fullness of God’s perfect time, that fire will burn.  Curiously, when it was time to douse the fire, I found that the embers stubbornly refused to cease their glowing.  For what seemed like five minutes I poured a continuous stream of water from my garden hose over them, but their glow doggedly remained.  Then I understood.  Quick fires forced by my hand are quickly extinguished, but real fires guided by the hands of God are regenerative.   As a Christian, whether pastor or congregant, I am a curator of the flame of God in this world.  I must feed it, stoke it, and breath his spirit upon it.  May his flame forever illuminate the darkness, through His church, Amen.