#3

I’ve been thinking about wildfires lately.

It’s interesting that, more often than not, they’re caused by human activity, whether through ignorance or malicious intent, sometimes even simple forgetfulness.

But there are some instances where wildfires occur naturally, literally nature experiencing the consequences of merely existing.

Funny how things in nature can so often correlate to human nature.

When I’m going through a difficult time, I call it a storm. When I’m in a waiting season that seems dry and desolate, I refer to it as a wilderness or desert season. There are even times when it feels like so many things are going wrong, and I find myself thinking, “When it rains, it pours.”

I can’t help but wonder if You purposefully made things of nature easy metaphors for the human experience. It’s hard to believe it’s just a happy accident.

Well, maybe not “happy.” Wildfires haven’t been on my mind due to anything characterized as happy.

See, I lost control recently. And when I say “lost control,” I mean I very much resembled a raging wildfire.

The rage must have been simmering beneath the surface for a while. I’ve been thirsting for relief, hopeful of healing, for so long that my withered soul and fallen dreams acted as fuel and the rage became white-hot and uncontrollable. Just like a wildfire.

And in such moments, my rage feels justified. Or maybe I just don’t care how ugly or messy or “unsaved” I look. I become a wildfire with the capability of turning everything in my path to ruin.

But my fire and its capabilities aren’t new to You. You’re well acquainted with the rage in me.

Does that mean You see the fear beneath the anger?

See past the mix of sarcasm and hot tears that attempt to camouflage what I’m really hiding in my heart?

The hidden fear that maybe I’m hoping for something that You never said would happen.

Is it possible that I know deep in my heart You spoke it, but the more time that passes, my belief begins to waver?

Or is it the other way around: I believe but don’t know it in the depths of my soul?

Over the years, I thought I heard, “Not yet.” I’ve even acknowledged a well-timed, “Just hold on.”

I’ve hoped that this season has been nothing more than a REALLY long season of waiting.

But how do I know whether I believe You spoke something or know for sure? Does it even matter which one it is?

Is it better to ask: whether I believe or I know…can You still use it?

Since You’re known for the impossible, I’d say the answer to that is yes. So then an even better question would be…will You render useless the difference between belief and knowing and choose to use whichever I’m able to offer at a given moment?

Because I don’t think it’s static. I think there are times when I know. Moments when I’m absolutely unshakeable. As if I have concrete evidence, something tangible I’m holding in my hand.

But other times, all I can offer is belief. Or simply a desire to believe. It feels meager, wishy-washy even. My desire to believe is heavily influenced by unknown variables that change like the wind.

Maybe the knowing and the belief go hand in hand. Like partners, where one is weak, the other is strong. When my belief begins to ebb…knowing flows in and takes over. And when I look around and don’t know anything anymore…belief whispers a barely audible, “keep hanging on.”

Only You could marry my times of knowing with hesitant belief and end up with a more honest, vulnerable version of me. Only You would want that.

Because vulnerability can be a one-way ticket to losing control. Pain, whether physical or emotional or anything in between, comes out in messy and ugly ways. But You seem to be okay with that.

You’ve never shied away from my rage, recoiled, or expressed disappointment when I lash out. You get into the mess with me. You’re my calm and steady, even though it rarely feels that way. Sometimes You take a beating. Other times I allow You to wipe away my tears. But from one end of my emotional spectrum to the other, You’ve never turned Your back on me.

Because You don’t cut and run, I’m getting more comfortable being ugly in front of You. I feel less inclined to apologize for the messiness and chaos that is me.

You don’t require atonement when I spew my pain all over Your perfection.

You search the intentions of my heart and reveal them to me. You can see clearly it doesn’t come from a place of pride, belligerence, or rebellion. You don’t ask me to apologize because Your love, grace, mercy, and compassion aren’t dependent upon my performance. You don’t need me to be good enough to love me…my enough-ness was determined by a sacrificial death on the cross a long time ago.   

You hold grace for me and my wildfires.

 You’re unlike any being in this world. I have to hide my mess from other people and apologize for emotions that are best left covered up, hidden. Getting love and approval in this world has got to be earned. Obtained by performing correctly.

But You? You blow that idea right out of the water. You remind me I can’t earn anything I already have. I can’t entice You to love me any more or any less than You have since the beginning of my time.

I know the ugly, the mess, the chaos – they’re alright with You. Because You don’t move away, you come closer to the wreckage. You see it as a process. Lots of things look ugly before they transform into something beautiful…You’re teaching me that.

You’re also teaching me, through experience and nature, that my wildfires aren’t always because of my negligence or pain. Sometimes, they’re a natural consequence of simply being alive.

So next time the fire blazes, maybe I’ll trudge towards the belief that You still love me. Or perhaps I’ll stand firm knowing the fire can’t scare You away. Maybe I’ll do my best just to survive the blaze. Regardless of which way I lean, I trust that You’ll use it to remind me it’s all part of the process.

Your painstaking process of transforming my unkempt, raging wildfire into a beautiful, passionate and purposeful flame.

Song of the day: Why by Elevation Worship, Valley Boys