Meditation Metaphor: Slow Burn

The unseasonably cool weather in early August made me ready for Fall days and weinie roasts over a campfire. I can almost smell the woodsmoke.

Campfires remind me of Christian camp in the summers when I was a kid. Every day would end with everyone around a campfire, while we supposedly listened to a campfire talk from one of the staff.

I don't remember anything they ever said.  I was always transfixed by the fire. Given the emotionally charged atmosphere that builds up during a typical week of Bible camp, it's not too surprising that when I looked into that campfire, I saw the face of the devil staring at me from the fires of hell.

My mind would always find the glowing embers deep in the fire that looked like a pair of eyes. There might even be a mouth, as well. It would be either whispering to me or laughing at me.

I know. It's creepy stuff. But that's the kind of thing that percolates in the mind of a kid at camp. The whole experience feeds the mood swings of a growing boy.

By the end of a typical camp day, I'd been warned about the fires of hell and exhorted to get on fire for Jesus. To top it off, the day would always [always] conclude with me once again being depressed because I didn't have a campfire date.

A universal truth about a campfire, though, is that if you stare at specific embers (or satanic eyes) in the middle of a fire long enough, they will slowly be devoured by the flames until they become more pure flame than burning ember.

That's the nature of a campfire. At first, the heat from the kindling dries out and warms up the logs and sticks. The chemicals within the wood begin to burn and produce gasses. The burning gasses produce the active tongues of flame that characterize the campfire at its peak.

While the gasses burn, the cellulose fibers in the wood begin to break down in the heat. Even after the gasses have mostly burnt off and the flames are no longer high, the broken-down fibers continue to burn. This is the process we're watching when we see embers that are constantly changing. They grow in size and intensity as the fire finds fresh cellulose to ignite, then they shrink down and wink out as the fuel is consumed.

Is not my word like fire, declares the Lord... (Jeremiah 23:29)

When I meditate on the Word it both ignites my spirit in sudden flame and also begins a slow and steady chain reaction of transformation deep in my heart.

It's tempting to put the greatest value in the "soul on fire" excitement that reading the Word sometimes gives me. Some verse or story I've read many times before suddenly sparks something in me and sends me charging into the world like a fox with a firebrand tied to its tail. It's a giddy feeling and one to be cherished and turned into productive work for God.

I've learned, though, it's the slow embers that sustain me. If I feed the fire with a daily infusion of fuel from the Word, my heart is constantly being changed. The slow burn provides the energy I need to continue the long walk and work of faith.