When the Fire Burns Low
I don’t think I’m too out of the ordinary when I say sometimes my faith-fire burns low.
When my days get crowded, or when the natural worries of life consume my thoughts, or just when I forget to recall what matters and what keeps the wheels on the bus going round and round, my spiritual fire burns down to embers. I still go through the motions of doing faith stuff, but the vitality I long for is absent.
Brennan Manning, in his forward to Abba’s Child, captures the ebb and flow of faith.
There have been times when the felt presence of God was more real to me than the chair I am sitting on; when the Word ricocheted like broken-backed lightning in every corner of my soul; when a storm of desire carried me to places I had never visited.
And there have been other times when I identified with the words of Mae West: “I used to be Snow White—but I drifted”; when the Word was as stale as old ice cream and as bland as tame sausage; when the fire in my belly flickered and died; when I mistook dried-up enthusiasm for gray-haired wisdom; when I dismissed youthful idealism as mere naïveté; when I preferred cheap slivers of glass to the pearl of great price.
God’s people in any generation can identify with Manning. For example, Elijah, in 1 Kings 18, burns with desire to resurrect the people’s faith in God. He sets out to have a final showdown with the prophets of Baal, who have swayed people away from true faith.
To church folks, this is a well-known story, but one piece can be overshadowed by the drama of the whole scene (it’s worth re-reading the chapter). After the Baal dudes and dudettes failed to call down fire on their sacrifice, Elijah stops mocking them and steps into the ring. Here’s the first thing he does.
Then Elijah called to the people, “Come over here!” They all crowded around him as he repaired the altar of the LORD that had been torn down.
This was the place where worship had been fresh and was now destroyed, where the people knew the presence of God but it had been neglected and abandoned as God’s people forgot to remember their God. The very rubble called out a rebuke, and Elijah went to work restoring it.
The work of restoration as a theme traces through the whole story of God and his creation. Ongoing. Relentless. Purposeful. And culminating when the spool of history ends and God makes all things new. Elijah saw the devastated altar and did not abandon it but set about repairing and restoring what had once been a great place, so that it might be that again. And the same is true for any of us whose altar needs some attention.
When the day comes that your fire dies to embers, here is one path worth walking.
Remember that God has not gone anywhere. He stands right where you stand and from what we can understand from the Book, his love and care continue. Jeremiah gets after this in Jer. 31:2,20 written to a people far away from God.
I have loved you with an everlasting love; I have drawn you with unfailing kindness… Is not Ephraim [Israel] my dear son, the child in whom I delight? Though I often speak against him, I still remember him fondly. Therefore my heart yearns for him; I have great compassion for him.”
No matter how sharply a good parent must reprimand a child, their tender heart leads the actions. All the more with God toward us. And those actions are escorted by an interesting word, “everlasting” when describing his love. Ray Stedman comments on this term.
“Everlasting” connotes more than duration, means more than simply eternal; it carries an element of mystery. Let your mind run back into the past over all the years of history, and you come to a place where you finally cannot think any further. Yet logic affirms that even beyond this point there has been existence and time. Let you mind run into the future, and you come to the same haziness…a vanishing point of history. That is the mystery of this word, everlasting…beyond dimension or greater than we can think.
So, when your fire wanes, remember the everlasting love of God and how he yearns for closeness with you. No thing you have done and no distance you might travel from him changes this truth. Also bring to mind the times and places where it all seemed so real, so powerful, so intimate.
When we feel far from God and when songs or messages of intimacy with the divine mock your existence, remember it is you who drifted, not him. He is the prodigal father waiting for return, the incessant knocker anticipating an opening door, the eternal set point from which we take meaning and wholeness. Remember who you are as his child and heir, accepted because of your Pioneer of faith, Jesus. Remember his unfailing kindness and everlasting love toward you.
Next, rebuild the places you have let break down. Loop back to the practices and the “way” of doing faith that served as a trellis on which your life once grew and flourished. And as you take stock, you will see they aren’t rules, but practices, and they’re not many nor burdensome. Any of us who have followed Jesus for a while can recite a list of actions and decisions that promote faith to flourish. It’s just that, over time, they are easy to let slip into disrepair.
Without self-blame or wasting time rehashing failures, maybe today set about restoring the broken places and get ready for fresh wind to fill your sails and fresh fire to fuel your service. I like that Elijah chooses that old spot as his altar, not a new place across the hillside. Like him, when we wane, remembering and restoring right where we are creates the same kind of continuity from our healthy past through our stale present and out to new adventures with Jesus.
Paul gets at this when he talks of “putting off” the old habits that will never slake a spiritual thirst and “put on” your new nature in Christ. For the apostle to have to say this displays the human tendency to wander even as we wonder where the faith-vitality has gone.
Remember both who God is and who you are in his sight. Then, rebuild your altar of practices you have used to get closer to God and that will rekindle your fire.
And finally, re-engage. We are built for community and kingdom growth. Our relationship with God, while individual, is never alone. Out of the fullness we experience flows the most true ministry, as our spiritual gifts are put to use in whatever setting we find ourselves to showcase Jesus and help our world.
Ministry without closeness to Jesus easily morphs into something akin to a cold oatmeal sandwich, bland in spite of some nutrition. Re-engaging with a renewed heart brings refreshment to you and those around, more like a tableful of BBQ ribs with the sauce slopping all over your face and hands with everyone laughing, so good.
We all ride the waves of closeness to distance in our Jesus-life. Don’t make that pullout on the highway be a permanent parking place, you aren’t built for that.
Remember. Rebuild. Re-engage. And the fire will kindle and burn bright once again.
Music for the week
and funnies? you betcha
KIDS' LETTERS TO PASTORS
Please say in your sermon that Peter Peterson has been a good boy all week. I am Peter Peterson. Pete, Age 9, Phoenix
I'm sorry I can't leave more money in the plate, but my father didn't give me a raise in my allowance. Could you have a sermon about a raise in my allowance? Patty, Age 10, New Haven
I think a lot more people would come to your church if you moved it to Disneyland. Loreen, Age 9, Tacoma
Please pray for all the airline pilots. I am flying to California tomorrow. Laurie, Age 10, New York City
Please say a prayer for our Little League team. We need God's help or a new pitcher. Thank you. Alexander, Age 10, Raleigh
My father says I should learn the Ten Commandments. But I don't think I want to because we have enough rules already in my house. Joshua, Age 10, South Pasadena
Who does God pray to? Is there a God for God? Christopher, Age 9, Titusville
Are there any devils on earth? I think there may be one in my class. Carla, Age 10, Salina
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Most of us have a bad habit we are constantly trying to break. For me, it's biting my fingernails.
One day I told my husband about my latest solution: press-on nails.
"Great Idea, Honey," he smiled. "You can eat them straight out of the box."