What's the problem? You might ask.
We have wet wood.
During a rainstorm, the cover blew completely off the wood pile, exposing it all to the elements, and we didn't realize it for days.
So here I am trying to get my morning fire going, and no matter how many times I blow air over the flame, and no matter how many times I try rearranging the wood, nothing helps.
My husband tells me that if a fire gets going hot enough, it will burn anything—wet wood included. I have seen this is true when we build brushfires outside. Once the fire really starts, I can throw anything on it and it is consumed.
Through my collective hours of nursing a weak fire, I've pondered what faith lessons I might learn from the flames. I'm sure that you can think of a few yourself.
One of the things I've learned is that a fire will burn hot and bright, affecting everything around it, IF the conditions are right. And in just such a way, if a heart is in the right place, a magnificent fire should be burning too—a mighty flame of pursuing Jesus and awaiting His return, a flame of loving neighbors and winning souls to Christ, a flame of prayer and desiring signs and wonders to be alive and active—yet how often is that fire weakened by the drizzle of circumstances or discouragement?
I used to hear people say, you don't have to worry about wild fires in the church, there's enough wet blankets around to put them out. That is such a sad take on our Christian lives. I desire a fire to burn in my soul. A hot flame that purges out the yuck and debris. One that yearns for God's presence more than anything. A fire that spreads from person to person, soul to soul. Oh, may God start a mighty move of His wind blowing over the coals of all of our lives, erupting fires of revival and passion for His work on the face of the whole earth.
I feel so ready for a consuming fire.