The crucible of yieldedness

I counsel you to buy from me gold refined in the fire, so you can become rich… Rev 3:18

We were boys. One of our better campfires crackled and glowed warmth through jackets, jeans, and flesh—down to the bones. Then it began. A twig was strategically tossed where orange-red waves of translucent heat jitterbugged over humming coals. There was an anticipatory moment where the sacrificial stick seemed unharmed. Yellow flares hissed about its skin. Then the helpless victim began to writhe and shrink until it became one with the embers. “Cool,” we exclaimed in unison. It was an experiment that bore repeating. Hence the selection of our objects of peril rapidly escalated. Pine needles, pinecones, a coke can, coat hangers. We thought our fire so hot there was nothing it could not consume or transform. The search for an ultimate martyr culminated in scientific placement of a glass bottle. Ample fuel and much waiting rewarded us. Suspended in the night air on the end of a hanger radiated a blob of molten glass surrounded by giddy oohs and ahs.

I have never outgrown a penchant for experimentation. Now I am testing spiritual limitations. The theoretical inquiry: how many of my choices can I yield to God and see my heart transformed? I’d like to know. I have thrown my afterlife into God’s fire and witnessed it refined into the gold of hope and assurance. “Cool; what’s next?” I’ve tossed my financial needs into the fire. The results were surprising; the Lord burned off worry and greed leaving the precious metal of peace. What else can I pitch in there? I put in career choices and transportation needs. These are only beginner sticks and pinecones. How about my disappointments, lusts, habits? How about entertainment, sleep, and conversation? I wonder what would happen if I let my thoughts be consumed by the Lord’s fire. One by one I plan to feed each of these into the crucible of yieldedness to what happens.

Prayer: Lord, what can I give You today?