Life On The Ledge ©

Tuesday, January 29, 2008

Whose Yardstick are You Using?

I am what the “Shrinks” call a perfectionist. Nothing is ever good enough to suit me (ask my husband). For a perfectionist no one and nothing ever measures up to his/her standards of good and right. We carry a special yardstick to measure everything and everyone handed down to us by other perfectionist. (Perfectionist are made, not born.) To us, the world will always be a bad place, with bad people, doing bad things -- no matter how good things seem to be going. And perfectionist hate themselves more than anyone or anything else. We never measure up to our yardstick.

A perfectionist never sees the things that are going right in a situation. Instead, a perfectionist sees all the things that are wrong. Put a perfectionist on a construction site and he won’t see how much progress has been made, but he will see how much is not done. On top of that, he/she will pull out that yardstick and point out all the problems with what has been completed.

Up until a few years ago, I was unaware that I had serious problems with my own perfectionist tendencies. I didn’t really believe I was a perfectionist. But the Lord knew. He began dealing with me through some research I was doing for a paper on, of all things, perfectionism, more specifically, religious perfectionism. I thought I had selected the topic but maybe I didn’t. As the paper progressed, I didn’t like what I was discovering.

My studies included Jim Jones and David Koresh. Recognize the names? I found that at one point they both were very religious men, both with Pentecostal backgrounds. But they could never reached a place where they thought they could attain perfection as they perceived it -- they were never good enough to suit themselves. They moved from church to church, searching for perfection. In the end, they created their own religions to fit their perception of perfection. As you know, they failed miserable and destroyed not only themselves, but a great many other people as well.

Now most perfectionist do not become a Jones or a Koresh. However, the tendency to perfectionism appears to be strongest among religious people and we tend not to see it in ourselves. I wanted, no, I needed to understand why this was so.

I discovered that somewhere along the way someone (probably a disillusioned perfectionist) came to the conclusion that we BECOME perfect by what we DO -- our actions, or our behavior make us perfect. Jones and Koresh turned to that belief with a vengeance.

Most of my life has been spent trying to please everyone. The only person I never tried to please was . . . me, because that was selfish, a sin, an imperfection. I discovered the all consuming aspiration in my life was to BE PERFECT and to do that I had to please everyone. My every thought, every action, every desire had to pass someone’s inspection or I was worthless. I actually cared what people thought about me to the point that what I thought about me was unimportant. And I was drowning in a sea of failure. Why? Because it can’t be done. Human perfection is unattainable, at least, what humans perceive of as perfection is unattainable.

I found myself being torn apart by something I could not control. All the years I had spent trying desperately to do the right thing, say the right thing, look the right way, and think the right way were wasted. No matter how hard I had tried, I had failed. Someone ALWAYS complained. I never did or said the right thing. My appearance never measured up. I never looked the “right way”. And as to my thinking, well, everyone I meet thinks differently than I. I could not change what I was -- HUMAN. I could not be perfect.

The primary definition of perfect is “without defect or blemish.” Therefore, anyone with even the slightest physical, mental, or emotional defect can never be perfect. We are all too fat, too skinny, too tall, too short, too stupid, too selfish, too lazy, too busy, too ugly, or too mean. Our teeth are too crooked, nose too crooked or long, our hair too curly, too straight, too short, or too long. Our feet are too big, or too flat. Our legs bow, our eyes cross, and our teeth buck. Our ears are too big and mouths are way too big. Never mind those spiritual defects.

Each time I have one of these “spiritual insights” into my nature I have been devastated by the impact of the discovery. This time I broke down and all I could say was “Lord, I’m sorry, I just can’t do it. I’ll never be good enough. No matter what I do, it is never enough.” I spent days crying and struggling with the revelation.

Believe me, if you ever get to this point in your life you will find that all the things you thought were so important mean absolutely nothing when you measure it by the perfectionist yardstick. It still comes up short of perfect. From a child, I have heard the instruction on living a holy life. I have followed it to the best of my poor abilities and to the complaints of many. To other perfectionist, I have never been good enough. And as a true perfectionist, I can tell you I never met anyone I thought was good enough to go to heaven, especially me. Nuts, huh?

Recently, I heard someone ask what if we get to heaven and find we are standing next to Paul? How will we ever measure up? Now a statement like that strikes terror into the heart of a true perfectionist. When I heard it I felt an overwhelming sadness. Truly there was no hope for me. I could never get to heaven if God measured me by Paul. I was depressed for days. (You should know that perfectionist have self-esteem problems.)

I prayed and repeatedly said, “Lord, I am not a Paul. I can’t be a Paul. I don’t know how. Tell me what to do.” For days, I prayed but the old feelings of worthlessness were back. The voice of perfectionism is cruel and continually taunts the perfectionist.

Finally, when I was quietly mulling it over in my head one evening, a quiet voice whispered, “No Cindy, you can’t be another Paul. You can’t ever do the things Paul did. But I didn’t create you to be Paul. If I wanted a Paul I could raise one up. If I wanted a Peter, I could make one. I created you to be uniquely YOU. I wanted you just as you are, capable of things only you can do. Paul couldn’t do the things you can do. I want you to do the things you can do, not the things Paul could do. And when you stand before me, you will not be measured or compared to Paul or anyone else. When you stand before me, I won’t see anyone but you. I won’t see anything but your heart and it will be measured by mine.”

What am I saying here? I wonder about people who tell me how much they do and how good they are. Why are they telling me? And I wonder whose yardstick they are using. Mine? Theirs? Yours? Then I am reminded of Jesus’ words, “Be ye perfect, even as I am perfect.” Wow, that is some yardstick. I doubt any of us want to be measured by that one. Yet, that is the very measurement used.

So what did Jesus do that made him so perfect? If you think that what you wear is going to determine where you go, you’re in for a shock. Modesty is important, but we are going to be naked before the Almighty. And He will be looking into our hearts before He looks into our closets. The Bible doesn’t tell me much about Jesus’ hair or clothes. Just as in Jesus’ day, today every religion had it’s own uniform.

The Bible does tell me what he thought, how he acted (his attitude), where he went and with whom he associated. It tells me what he taught about living and dying. It tells me all about the heart of God but only precious little of the social life or what was fashionable during that time. I, and anyone else who studies this, have to depend on secular books to learn about the majority of the politics, fashion, and cultural practices of Jesus’ day. Social anthropologist have discovered this information from sources other than the Bible. And those sources are plentiful.

Many religious people have come to equate perfection with what we do, where we go and what we wear. We even have scripture for it. “Without holiness, no man shall see the Lord.” We read a thousand things into those eight words. Holiness is about where we go, what we wear, and how we talk. Right? Well, while it is important, that isn’t exactly right. This one of those cases of a whole generation being taught something out of context. What it actually says is:

“Follow peace with all men, and holiness, without which no man shall see the Lord: Looking diligently lest any man fail of the grace of God; lest any root of bitterness springing up trouble you, and thereby many be defiled;” Hebrews 12:14-15.

Follow peace with ALL MEN? Root of bitterness? Defilement? What do they have to do with holiness? I can be holy and bitter? No. I can be at war with friends, neighbors, family, and church and still be holy? No. I can remain pure in my heart if I dress right, walk right and spit white but spread gossip, spite, and strife in the church or on the job? NO. You can’t BE holy if you have bitterness and are not following the way of peace. Peace and holiness must go hand in hand or bitterness will spring up and defile us. As a result, we can’t see the Lord. That’s the WORD. Bitterness DEFILES, and bitterness arises because we have not followed both peace and holiness. And it defiles not only us but those around us. Strife separates, divides, and destroys peace. If that is true, then a bitter person, a person at odds with anyone can’t see the Lord -- even if they never associate with anyone outside the church or cover themselves in a sack from head to foot!

Just think. It won’t matter if you never touch an alcoholic drink, tobacco, drugs, or used curse words. It won’t matter how you dress. It won’t matter that you never looked on anything ungodly, or participated in things considered ungodly by others. NONE OF IT WILL MATTER. If there is one single flaw in your heart you have wasted your time. If you join a convent and shun the entire world, you must still follow peace and holiness. Peace and holiness are a state of mind and heart, not a state of dress, place, or action.

James 3:2 states, “For in many things we offend all. If any man offend not in word, the same is a perfect man, and able also to bridle the whole body.” We all offend. Follow peace.

Colossians 3:14-15 says that “. . .charity is the bond of perfectness. . .” and to “. . .let the peace of God rule in your hearts. . . .”

Charity is the cement that holds it all together. In the dictionary, there are half a dozen definitions but charity in theology is defined as “The virtue defined as love directed first toward God but also toward oneself and one’s neighbors as objects of God’s love.” However, my favorite definition of charity is “Benevolence or generosity toward others. Indulgence or forbearance in judging others.” The synonym for charity is mercy. Astounding.

Now get out that yardstick you’ve been using and check the measurements again. Compare them with the perfect balance of God’s Word. “Thou shalt not have in thy bag diverse weights, a great and a small. Thou shalt not have in thine house diverse measures, a great and a small. But thou shalt have a perfect and just weight, a perfect and just measure shalt thou have: that thy days may be lengthened in the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee.” (Deut. 25:13-15) Before you go measuring anyone by your yardstick, you better be sure it measures up with God’s.

No one is going to measure up to your expectations. You won’t measure up to your own expectations if you compare yourself with others. But we aren’t supposed to compare ourselves with others. Our example was Jesus and the slogan “what would Jesus do” better be more that a bracelet on your wrist or a pin in your lapel. His expectations are all that matter. His Word is the yardstick by which we will all be measured.

The View from the Top: A Mother’s Perspective

Often as a parent we worry that we are doing the right things, especially when there are dozens of people who know more about raising our children than we do. I know they do because they constantly point out the mistakes they think I have made, either to my face or behind their hands to someone else. I didn’t consult anyone else when I had them and I saw no reason to consult anyone on how to raise them. I did the best I could with the help of the Lord. Just as I learned as I child, I learned as a parent. Sometimes I made mistakes but overall, I think I did the right things.

Trial and error is the way God designed life. He gave us a map to follow, too. However, I know for a fact that there are a lot of folks out there who can’t fold a map, let alone read one. But there is always someone out there who would have me think that they are the only one who can read the map correctly.

Mama taught me that the best teacher is the Word and experience, with experience often making a believer in the Word. She would tell me how I should do but then she let me decide what I would do. She always warned me in advance, “You know what is right because I have told you. If you chose to do something else, you will be accountable for the consequences.” Most of the time, after a lot of thought but sometimes after experience, I would agree with her. For those times when I didn’t, I often regretted it.

With my own children I learned the wisdom of that. When they were little I could pick the boys up and put them where I wanted them and order them to stay. Usually they did. Once they become thinking, reasoning beings of size that became impossible. Ordering around a 200-pound male is much the same as ordering the refrigerator. You either have to move them physically, or you have to out think them. There is no need to hurt myself just to make a point.

So, there have been a lot of times that I let my sons do things that a lot of parents would try and prevent their children from doing. Why? Because, nothing I said would sway them if they really wanted to do it. I always, then and now, give them the facts as I see them, I tell them what the Bible says, and let them decide. Your children are a lot more intelligent that you think. I wish I had a dime for every time one of my sons said, “You were right, Mom.” I would have retired years ago! I strongly recommend that parents of very young children start collecting dimes now; you won’t regret it. Of course, you will have to give them the dimes!

Truthfully, most of us failed self-control 101. It is a skill that the majority of children never learn until they are 40. We usually repeat the class several times before we get it. I think my boys have repeated that class a total of 9490 and 7665 times respectively. To the math challenged, that is once a day. They would have repeated it more but it was too much work.

When my sons were small, I always tried to view things as they would see it. I would get down on the floor and play with them when they were crawling, looking under tables and through chair rungs to see the world the way they saw it. I watched for things that could hurt them that I would not normally see on my own level. As they grew I continued to get on their level, looking through the heartaches of broken and lost toys, skinned knees, bruised shins, failed drivers tests, lost first loves and broken friendships. I looked through the ridicule, mockery, and intolerance of the masses. When they became “adults” I still tried to see through their eyes only to find that now they towered over me and it was they who could not see from my perspective. And they lacked the wisdom to realize it.

It is a hard lesson for a parent to realize that all the years spent binding up wounds and kissing away hurts will probably never be repaid until after you are gone. And yet, I would do it a thousand times over to have the joy of bright blue eyes smiling up at me, of wet, sticky kisses, of tiny hands patting my cheek, and fat little arms wrapping tightly around my neck and cutting off my air. I would stand over a thousand emergency room beds and watch stitches put in heads, packed broken noses, and bandaged broken arms. I would do it again for all the tickle giggles, chocolate smiles, and bedtime stories.

I looked across my backyard last week and for just a minute, I saw two little blonde boys racing across the yard, their laughter echoing through time. There is no greater heartache than that of being a mother. And no greater joy.

A Walk Through the Orchard

By Dixiegirl(c)

Al and Joe took were neighbors and were in the habit of walking each day after work along the road next to the orchard. They each had their own path but sometimes their paths crossed. They would speak politely but walk on. It just so happened that one day they met along the road and fell into step. From that day on it seemed they were always walking together and so it became a routine they both enjoyed. Aside from their daily walk, they seldom saw each other.

Early one Saturday morning they got to discussing how lovely the orchard looked with it’s ruby red apples among the green leaves. Joe stepped into the field to the nearest tree and looked up. “What a wonderful apple. It is the prettiest red I have ever seen. I bet it is so sweet and juicy.”

Al moved to get a look. “Well, I don’t know. It looks all right but you can never tell. I think the apples that come though my plant are the best looking in the world.”

“You work in an apple plant?” Joe looked quizzically at Al. “I didn’t know that.”

“Well, it’s a fruit and juice plant but I am an apple inspector. It is my job to inspect every apple that comes through the plant to insure that only the best apples are allowed into our packages or juice.”

“Apple inspector? Wow. You mean that if it doesn’t pass your inspection, it won’t be in the juice?”

Al pulled his shoulders back, hitched his belt and sniffed. “Yep. That’s the way it works. It is my job to make sure the bad apples are identified. Bad apples are dumped.”

“So, what do you look for?”

For a minute Al pondered. “Well, we look for bruising, cuts, scars, color, and bugs.”

“Hmmm. Well, all these apples look fine to me.”

Al shook his head. “You can’t tell just by glancing at the tree. No, you gotta examine it real close to find any flaws. I mean, you can’t find scars and bruising just by looking at the tree from here, now can you?”

Joe hesitated and looked the tree over. “Well, no, but why would bruising, scars and cuts be on he fruit that is still on the tree? I mean, I would think that would only happen in storms or if the fruit gets knocked off someway and lands on the ground. But even then, it might still be good to eat. If you don’t mess with the fruit it won’t get bruised up. Fruit on the tree just needs to be picked and eaten.”

“Only perfect apples get in my juice.”

“Well, why would color matter? I mean a good apple can be any color.”

“Color could indicate ripeness. We want apples that are just the right stage of ripeness. I mean the juice could be bitter if the apple is not ripe enough and the taste might be a little off if an apple is too ripe. No, I have to be real careful about color, too.”

Joe studied the tree. “I still say these apples look great. I didn’t eat this morning and I am kind of hungry. My mouth is watering just looking at them.” Joe reached up to the apple nearest him. “Just look how plump it is and how shiny.”

Al shook his head, “I’m telling you, Joe, unless they are inspected by a trained eye you shouldn’t mess with them. There might be something wrong with this tree.”

Joe hesitated but pulled the apple off and sniffed it. “It smells good, too.” He bit into it eagerly. He closed his eyes, “Mmmmmmm, Al, that is the best apple I ever ate. I am so hungry. Try one, I’m sure you’ll like it.”

“Not me. If I want apples I get ‘em at the supermarket . . . after they have been inspected. Besides, I don’t really care for them much. I see so much bad fruit it kinda turns you off them after awhile.”

Al and Joe resumed their walk. Joe munched on his apple in silence for a long time. Finally, he said, “Al, you ever think about another line of work?”

“No. Why?”

“Well, why do we need fruit inspectors?”

“So, unsuspecting folks don’t get sick from eating bad fruit?”

“Don’t you think a person could inspect their own fruit and determine if it is bad or not?”

Al didn’t respond directly but said, “Well, the owner might not be honest enough to admit he had bad fruit. Fruit inspectors are necessary to keep folks honest. We insure the safety of the innocent. Anyway, I’ve been doing this for 20 years. What else would I do?”

Joe munched his apple for a moment then a light seemed to go off in his face. He looked at Al and said, “Maybe you could GROW apples.”

“But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance . . . .” Galatians 5:22-23.

We have all read or heard that verse dozens of times but one Sunday morning as the Bible class teacher read, something went off in my mind that I can only describe as a small nuclear explosion. I was awestruck as a new understanding broke over me. As I hurried to write down the thoughts before they slipped away, I remembered something else. Several weeks earlier, on the preceding page of my notebook, I had made a few notes regarding another scripture.

“Wherefore by their fruits ye shall know them.” Matt. 7:20.

Weeks before those scribblings had led nowhere but that Sunday morning the pieces of the puzzle fell together perfectly and the picture that emerged was breathtaking. On Sunday night, while getting ready for bed, came the story A Walk Through the Orchard.

There is one basic question that we all ask when faced with the realization of eternity. “What must I do to be saved?” Most of us believe that we know the answer. But then, I took a walk through the Orchard.

In the Garden of Eden, Eve walked thorough the orchard and passed beautiful, sweet-smelling, fruit-filled trees. The fragrance of the ripe fruit permeated the air around her. But Eve didn’t’ stop and savor those fruits. Instead, she journeyed to the center of the Garden and looked on the one tree she had been forbidden. As she gazed at that fruit, a craving pulled at her soul and consumed her. Her mind registered the visual image of a tantalizing fruit. The image she saw answered three questions that her craving had provoked. She saw that the fruit was good for nourishment, it looked good, and it would make her a better person.

But Eve was not hungry. She had no reason to be. Nourishment was never truly a factor in her craving. There were thousands of trees in the garden from which to choose. She could have walked up to any other tree and picked the fruit of her choice. Any other fruit in the garden would have fulfilled her every need and she could have eaten as much as she wanted. In fact, all the other fruit in the garden would provide nourishment, it would look good, and it would make her a better person. She lied to herself. But, instead of walking away, she looked at the forbidden fruit, the bad fruit. She picked it, she ate it, and she died. We have all been inspecting fruit ever since and, like Eve, it is not because we are hungry.

In Mark 11:12 and Matt 21:17 is the story of a fig tree that Jesus approached in search of figs. When he saw the leaves but no figs he cursed the tree and the next day it was withered and dead. Interestingly, Mark is careful to note that it was not time for figs yet. So, Jesus cursed a tree that didn’t have fruit when He needed it. Jesus was hungry. Jesus was searching for good fruit. He needed something to eat right then, but the tree was bare. Because the tree did not provide for the need, he cursed it. And the tree died.

In A Walk Through the Orchard, Al and Joe marched along different paths for a time but eventually they fell into step. All along their way were trees filled with fruit. Al knew all about fruit. But Joe was hungry. Joe began to search for nourishment. And it is to the heavily laden trees along his path that he turned. He searched and satisfied his hunger with good fruit. But Al, who knew so much about fruit and had fruit all around him every day, had none to share and had no desire for good fruit. In fact, Al was afraid to eat any of the fruit that hung within his reach because he had not inspected it. Al viewed his lot in life as a protector of the innocent. It was his job to root out the rotten fruit. He lied to himself. In reality, he wasn’t protecting anyone.

There are Christians who feel a need, who believe it is their job, to inspect the fruit of others. In reality, they are searching for that which is missing in their own lives. They have no fruit to fulfill the needs of those seeking nourishment nor are they seeking nourishment for themselves. They don’t desire fruit anymore. All their time is spent on inspecting, searching for the bad fruit, not producing. They are barren and only by pulling the fruit off others, do they feel useful.

The problem is, when you start handling fruit, you damage it. You leave bruises, scars, and wounds from all the rough handling. Sometimes, the fruit will be so ready to eat that it can be easily knocked off the tree or bruised. Fruit that is knocked on the ground may never be eaten because it is so badly damaged from the fall. As a result, someone will go hungry because the fruit that was there to nourish has been destroyed.

Christians are NOT called to be fruit inspectors. Jesus never suggested that. At the time Jesus stated Matt 7:20, the disciples were not born again; they were not yet Christians. Jesus was talking to sinners and warning them of false prophets. He was telling sinners that if they were hungry there would be signs telling them where to get nourishment. Later, when he cursed the fig tree, he gave a profound example on the fate of those who fail to feed the hungry. The hungry are supposed to be the fruit inspectors. As Christians, we are expected to have the fruit available to feed the hungry. If we don’t, we will die.

I grew up hearing about winning souls but I never heard advice on exactly how one is to do that in a world where no one wants to listen. And suddenly, in one awe-inspiring moment and with brilliant clarity, I knew. It is the fruit that feeds the hungry. Fruit saves a dying world from starvation. Fruit sustains the weak. Fruit provides nutrients for growth. Fruit answers a craving for sweetness in a bitter world. We can preach a thousands sermons, recite the entire Bible on a street corner, but if there is no fruit hanging out there in the branches, the hungry will look elsewhere to be fed. And so, as I sat through that Sunday morning service, I had an overwhelming desire for fruit. I wanted it so badly I could taste it.

I found myself ashamed. I realized that far too often I spend time inspecting the other trees in the orchard for bad fruit and not worrying about whether or not I am producing good fruit. How many have come by needy, looking for nourishment and gone away hungry because they found nothing. God help me! I want fruit, so much fruit that the boughs break under the weight of it, so much that the fragrance fills the air around me. And I want to be hungry! I want to see a starving world fed with the fruit that satisfies all hunger. Winning the lost is not done with pretty speeches but rather by feeding starving souls. I don’t want to be a fruit inspector. I want to be a producer of fruit. God give me fruit so that anyone who takes a walk through the orchard can be fed!

“But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law.” Galatians 5:22

Saturday, January 26, 2008

Wildfire!

During an adult Sunday school class, our teacher mentioned a time when, as a young man, he heard some older Christians in his church commenting on the behavior of young people as the power of God fell on them. They called it “wildfire”. As he said that term I recalled a time from my own past as a teen-ager. A similar thing was happening in my home church in Alabama. And while God moved, I heard a chuckle and the whispered, “It’s just wildfire.”

I was so struck by this that I paused in listening to search my mind on the subject. “What, exactly, is wildfire?” I asked myself. My previous understanding of the word was that it is a random, very quick, very hot fire that is soon extinguished. People use it to describe fads, shallow experience in the spiritual and some types of forest fires. Wildfire used as I understood it, was simply something that becomes hugely popular or destructive, dies out and is never heard from again.

When I got home I got my trusty dictionary and looked up wildfire. What I read set wheels turning in my head. Wildfire is not what I thought. There are five definitions in my American Heritage College Dictionary. They are as follows:

1. A raging, rapidly spreading fire.

2. Something that acts very quickly and intensely.

3. Lightning occurring without audible thunder.

4. A luminosity that appears over swamps or marshes at night. Also called “ignis fatuus” or “foolish fire.”

5. A highly flammable material once used in warfare.

Throughout my life, I have often noticed that when the power of God falls, it acts as a raging, rapidly spreading fire. It moves quickly and intensely, spreading across the room in a wave of spiritual heat, sparing only those who resist. When it’s work is done, everything that can be consumed in the human heart, is consumed.

We have all seen summer heat lightning or wildfire. Usually the sky is cloudy, threatening rain. The air is hot and so thick you could cut it. Then lightning streaks across the sky, over and over. There is no sound, just those amazing flashes. You think the storm is coming, may fervently hope so, but often nothing happens. . . at least, not where you are. Actually, the center of the storm is so far away you can’t hear the thunder, and you never experience the effects of the storm. Light travels about a million times faster than sound. At the origin of that lightning is a raging storm and those beneath it feel its effects, often intensely. So too, those who only see spiritual wildfire, seldom experience the effects of the spiritual storm.

Before flashlights and electricity, the countryside was a dark place. Swamps and marshes were even darker and marsh lights have led people to their deaths. The more common name for this type of wildfire is “will-o’-the-wisp”. An unwary person can be lost if they are not aware of the nature of this wildfire. Once thought to be lost souls doomed to wander, we now know that this wildfire is the burning of a gas produced in swamps and marshes. This gas, called methane, is created by the natural breakdown of decaying matter.

Methane is a very useful but highly explosive gas when combined with air, oxygen, or chlorine. It can ignite spontaneously and results in a very hot fire. The fuel in some acetylene torches is formed from methane. The heat generated by an acetylene torch can reach up to 6000 degrees and will burn virtually anything. Obviously, wildfire is not something to play with or treat lightly.

Greek fire was the name of an ancient weapon, probably a primitive form of napalm, used by the Byzantine Greeks. Upon striking the target, this material stuck, spread, and burned. It was used in two ways: as a missile hurled from a catapult, and in flame-throwers. It was very useful against ships because it burned even under water. One text states it may even have changed the course of history. In AD 716-718 the rulers of Constantinople, who were Christians, destroyed the wooden fleets of the Muslim Arabs who had besieged the city. As a result, this blocked the spread of Islam into Europe. If you fail to see the significance of this one use of “wildfire “ you have missed it all.

Sometimes wildfire is necessary to clear the way for growth. As anyone who understands nature can tell you, a forest can become overgrown. The useless undergrowth of weeds and shrubs choke out light and air, causing a decrease in young, healthy trees and eventually, diseases which can kill off a forest. Nature has taken this into consideration and fixes it, often by lightning wildfires. A lightning wildfire will rapidly and efficiently clear the undergrowth without causing undue harm to healthy trees. Once this useless undergrowth is cleared, young trees quickly sprout and grow. As trees age and die, young trees are waiting to fill their place. When Yellowstone burned so badly several years ago people were surprised at how quickly it began to recover. Within a year, new growth appeared everywhere and wildlife increased dramatically. The conservation officers revealed that the seeds of most of the conifers in Yellowstone would not germinate, or sprout, until they were heated.

“And there appeared unto them cloven tongues like as of fire, and it sat upon each of them.” Acts 2:3. Looks like wildfire has been around a long time. Perhaps we all need a little wildfire.