Firebuilding, Fire burning

I love camping. Trailer camping, tent camping, hammock camping, dirt camping - I love it. I love escaping my societal pod of drywall to experience the world that exists beyond my front door. Familiarizing myself to the strange rustles and squeaks that emanate from a dark wood. Existing without wires, without screens, without ringtones. Building a campfire with a single match, or, if lucky, with a more rudimentary firestarter such as flint and steel.

The trick to a successful campfire should not be directly related to the choice of incendiary device. A successful fire becomes apparent after it is lit, but the foundation for that success is in the firebuilding itself. Gathering the correct type of fuel and arranging it carefully is paramount for how and if the fire will catch.

Highly flammable tinder, which burns easily and quickly.

Small bits of kindling, which take slightly more to catch fire but burn longer.

Moderately sized chunks of wood - not so big to crush the base, but not so small as to fizzle out.

Larger logs, to provide the long-lasting burn and heat that one seeks from a campfire.

I love campfires. But sometimes, I take more time building them than burning them.

I’m afraid of lighting the match and hoping the fire will catch, but being met with smoldering kindling and ashy tinder instead. I fear that I won’t have enough wood on hand, of the right sizes and types and humidity content. I fear that my fire will fail.

I’ve spent a lot of time building my life’s campfire. Ensuring that I have what I consider to be all the appropriate pieces of fuel - daily encouragement and optimism, weekly church visits, youth group leadership, community service - but never lighting the fire. Planning and preparing, waiting to request the Pentecostal flame that would ignite my meager offering, for fear of lighting it and fizzling out. Striving to provide a fire worth lighting, before asking for it to be lit - to provide a worthy and whole sacrifice.

I’ve spent too much time building fires, and not enough time burning them.

A Flame that can in an instant consume rocks, wood, a bull, and dirt doused in water could undeniably ignite my meager fuel source.

The Pillar of Fire that illuminated an Egyptian wilderness could surely light an imperfect fuel.

The Light that brought the blindness of spiritual vision on a road to Damascus could undoubtedly send Smokey the Bear running.

Now, without forsaking my efforts to be a faithful steward of fuel, I purposefully and intentionally seek spiritual ignition - for even a candle, if set on a hill, cannot be hidden.

Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works and glorify your Father in heaven. (Matthew 5:16, NKJV)