A gray November day and a quiet, cozy house make for a wonderful time of reflection. While it's not particularly cold out, the wind is gusting mightily. It's a lovely afternoon to sit in front of a blazing fire and think, and crochet, and write, and pray. I'm amazed at the number of logs I've had to throw on, at how quickly they melt into a pile of embers under the grate, and at the glorious heat filling the room.
I'm pondering fire today. Fire is dangerous yet at the same time good. What can heat my room and bring me pleasure could also, under unthinkable circumstances, destroy everything in its midst. I've learned to respect fire. I've learned the hard way by being burned, and I've learned by instruction how to treat fire carefully. In my thoughts today, the fire is God. The warmth and light are His grace and mercy. I'm imagining my sins and impurities burning away, as in a refining fire. In that there is tremendous hope. Yet, He could burn me up as easily as a stick of wood. In that there is fear and trembling. I come to Him humbly, respectfully. I dare not treat Him, His words, His gospel, His blessings with flippancy, as though they're optional. If I'm not with Him, I'm against Him and the consequences are destruction, as in a consuming fire.
I'm filled with immeasurable gratitude as I consider His willingness to purify my heart with His refining fire. Make me holy, Lord, make me as gold and silver.
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