The trick to lighting a fire is to start by burning something small. In fact, you need lots of small things, preferably ones that catch fire easily: cardboard, sticks, broken branches, small bits of wood, and fire starters (storebought chunks of wood-like cylinders that catch and burn nicely). You need all these things, plus the requisite logs, to get your flames roaring, your fireplace hot, and your home toasty. And you need patience.
I’ve learned—in the several weeks since installing a woodburning fire insert in my fireplace—that while I possess many, if not all, of these things, I use them with a frugality that undermines the whole project. I collect just a few sticks from outside rather than carrying in a whole bundle. I try to make it work with just one fire starter instead of lobbing in three or four. I tear pieces of cardboard but use them sparingly, worried that I won’t have enough for the next time. And so, though I pile my logs high, they rarely catch or burn with the gusto I desire. I’m left falling to my knees again and again before the still-cold stove to encourage the reluctant flames, offering one more hunk of wood or a wee bit of additional cardboard as tribute to coax the warmth from the logs.
That is, that’s how I used to do it. Now, I start with a nice bed of cardboard—a whole box, perhaps—an abundance of twigs and branches, and three or more fire starters as the nest upon which my humble logs rest. It catches quickly and burns brightly, and I watch and wait with diligence as I feel the cozy embrace of the warming air wrap around my living room.
And I wonder, Is this how I approach my prayer life?
We all want that burning inferno of holy fire to envelop us in ecstatic delight as we come before the Lord. We want deep and abiding insight into the Spirit at work in our days. We want fortitude and wisdom and strength—physical and otherwise—as we go out into the world to do God’s good works.
And yet, I know that while I wish for those high and dancing flames, I offer only a few measly twigs to get the whole thing started. I sleep in rather than get up to pray. I get distracted by the empty coffee pot or the full dishwasher and lose sight of that stack of prayer books. I settle for five minutes of silence rather than 30.
This is fine. God delights in us whenever and wherever we go to seek the Spirit. God can work in a split second just as powerfully as in a full weekend retreat.
And yet, I find myself kneeling before those flickering flames, realizing that they only dance with such radiant and reliable beauty when I spend the time and the effort to build the nest properly. If I’m frugal and stingy with my time or resources, the flames dwindle and die.
Our God is greater than a fire, of course. Our God does all things, takes our humblest offerings, and turns them from dust into diamonds. But we would do well to spend time studying the flames and contemplating our fire-building practices.
That radical prayer of St. Ignatius, the Suscipe, begins with the words, “Take Lord, and receive all…” It is from that disposition of total gift and total availability—a disposition that holds nothing back but gives everything to this moment, this encounter, this divine enterprise—that the Spirit most eagerly works. Or, perhaps, it is from such a disposition that we most readily burn.
Because aren’t we the ones to catch fire with the Spirit of Pentecost? Don’t we desire God’s very self to envelop us and, through us, to warm the world? Aren’t we called to go and set the fire aflame?
Thanks Eric for your wake up call. Evangelization and conversion are ongoing and never-ending opportunities. Your pedagogy of patiently ‘Setting the World on Fire’ makes immense sense. Long live the radical prayer of Saint Ignatius.
Hey Eric, Just read your message and it really hit home for me. Partially because we have a wood stove that heats our house in the winter, and where we are it has been a long cold one! At first I had to laugh out loud as I can completely identify with not being patient enough to throw in enough kindling to let the fire get really warmed up, before putting some of the bigger twigs and wood on! I have learned the lesson plenty of times, but still get impatient on occasion! I really like the analogy to our prayer life and our relationship with God, when I first found Ignatian Spirituality I was so excited I couldn’t wait to find all of the new answers to my faith life, my relationship to God, others and creation! It has been an awesome journey so far and I look forward to the journey each new day! I have also realized that like starting a fire there are times when the embers get too low to throw more of the larger wood on, so you have to go back to using some of the kindling, prayer, reading, etc. One of my favourites is the Patient Trust Prayer by Teilhard de Chardin, it always reminds me that God meets us where we’re at and is helping us stoke the fire! I also love the response by Sandra of “Good morning God”
That prayer from Teilhard de Chardin is one of my favorites too!!
When I read your first few lines, I thought, “I bet this is going to be about how we as community are vital to the fire of the whole church.”
I may be a small piece of cardboard, but with all the other bits and pieces around me, we can change the world, and start a fire as Ignatius talked about.
Let’s work together and set the world on fire!
Dear Eric
You brought back a memory.
I am reminded that when I was in an old Irish place to have my fourth child, a young lad,
obviously not quite ‘with it’; perhaps less able than others, would, each early morning, crouch before my fireplace and, with trembling fingers, screw up pieces of newspaper into tight rings, place them in the grate, and add a match.
The look of wonderment and disbelief that lit up his features is with me still
– and that was fifty-four years ago!
That same wonderment creeps into my own face and heart,
when I look out at a rising dawn, a pale gold sun just creeping up above the horizon, and say, out loud,
“Good morning, God.”
Sandra
I love this! We all need to be reminded of wonder.