Refiner's Fire / Sancti-fire

April 9, 2016 firepit DD

This morning I listened to the Advent devotional hosted by the Sound District of the North Carolina Conference  and Jon the Methodist. At the end, there was a statement that caught my attention (paraphrased): 'the deepest thing within us is not sin, as some would have us believe, but rather the image of the Divine, the Creator. And that is the what the Refiner continues to work to reveal.'

Pause. The Refiner is working to reveal the image of the Divine that is deep within us. Soak that in.  Breathe it. 

The song "Refiner's Fire" was played.

I have been chewing on these thoughts as well as some others. It is an ongoing journey to be me, to become me, to live into who and whose I am. And, to do so with love and acceptance. The sign says, "love and acceptance practiced here". 

Yet, I tend to practice it better for others. However, if I cannot practice it for myself, then I cannot do so for others. I know that. I teach that. I don't always get it right. It is what it is. I recognize it and move forward with the recognition and knowledge. 

With all those thoughts swimming around in my mind, I read these precious words by Carol Collier:

"Death has come for someone who showed me great kindness when Suzanne died.

This woman knew a certain hell on earth and was an overcomer. Her hell did not strip her of her kind and generous heart. 

Again, I weep. 

I am no stranger to death. It has come into my house and stolen from me. 

It has taken the young, and the old, and the in-between people who have graced my life. 

Too many, too soon. 

My heart has been tendered by death and sorrow is a companion of mine. Death has not made me hard and cold. 

It is a warm fire that draws me close and makes me more open to its light.

How? How is it that the horror of death would be a light in my life?

I chose not to turn away or hide in a holy huddle. I chose not to bypass with a spirituality that does not make space for lament. 

Funerals are not happy-clappy parties. 

Death is a sancti-fire. It burns away self-centered ness, self-reliance, self-sufficiency, self-exaltation. 

It leaves you face down on the ground anguished in body and soul. 

I think about a Christianity that is rooted in the Sermon on the Mount. The blessed ones are those who mourn, who are poor, who are meek, who are hungry for things to be made right. 

Things to be made right. No more death. No more suffering. No more hell on earth. 

This is not a Christianity of wealth and power and might. You know, an Americanized Christianity. 

It is a Christianity that identifies with Jesus who came for the poor, the captives, the blind and the oppressed. 

Death is the most honest thing in life. 

And, as a Christian, it is the place where I come into the most intimate times with Christ Jesus. 

I am disrobed of all my pretense in the loving presence of my Savior. 

One day all will be made right. 

As we wait, may we be sanctified by our grief. May we be more meek and merciful. May we lay down our weapons and walk in the likeness of Christ."

Wow. Beautiful. Powerful. Words from the depths. 

The word "sancti-fire" caught my attention. "Death is a sancti-fire"."  Pause. No, hard stop. Breathe in the fullness of that statement. Death is a holy fire, a refiner's fire.

Carol continues: "It burns away self-centered ness, self-reliance, self-sufficiency, self-exaltation."

The sancti-fire of death burns away dross that keeps us from living our fullest, as we are created to be, in the image of the Creator. 

Oh, there are other things that burn this dross away, true. Death comes not only in physical loss of loved ones,  but in many forms. Yet this eloquently written piece captured my attention and connected me with the earlier message I had heard.

This season of Advent, this season of waiting and lament, is not to be rushed through or ignored. It offers many gifts, if we have eyes to see and ears to hear.

May it be so.

Rev. Deb

P.S. if you are needing or wanting space and time for reflection this Advent season, I encourage you to find a Longest Night/Blue Christmas service online or in person.  Many are held on December 21st, the longest night of the year.  I created a document for our 'come and go ' time at St. Elmo UMC that offers reflective readings. I will post that in a separate post. 

Advent and a time of lament-- words of wisdom from Carol Collier

I read these words below written by Carol Collier on her Facebook page. I've been following her for a while and finally got to meet her in person at a community clean-up day.  Carol has a deep love for God and others. The depth of that love comes through her writing. I asked permission to share these two posts in my blog because they resonated deep within me as we begin this Advent season. I don't know what will resonate within you. But I share Carol's writings here for reflection. Thank you, Carol, for allowing the Holy to shine through the depths of the sorrow and grief and for reminding us to be with ourselves in this part of the journey.

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Written by Carol Collier:

"I went, last night, to a Service of Lament.

It was quiet and still, and as we entered into that prepared space we picked up a stone to hold in our hands throughout the service.

The stone became the tactile reminder that we, and the world, are burdened.

The music was beautiful and mournful. Gorgeous voices accompanied by guitar and violin and piano.

At a certain point in the service we participated in a litany of named sorrows and griefs.

As each one was named, I felt a sob ~ no, no, I felt a wail ~ consume my body, as tears ran down my face.

I let them flow and fall to my chest.

~There is this billboard around town that says boldly “Save America, read the Patriot Post.”

I cannot identify exactly what it is I feel when I see that billboard. I can only know that something in my body registers revulsion.~

We have now entered the season of Advent. No, it’s not the “hap-happiest time of the year.”

It is the time when we remember the first coming of the Savior of the World.

We look back and remember his first coming and we look forward to his second Advent~ the time when he will come again.

As I let myself be immersed in the realities of a disordered and traumatized humanity in a broken, fractured world, and as I wail for all that we have done to ourselves and all that has been done to us, Advent reminds me that there is only one who can save us.

Anything other than Jesus is a lie, folks (and I’m not so sure his main thing is to save America. In fact I’m pretty sure America is not the reason he died on the cross.)

Weep, wail, rend your clothes for we are in desperate need of a Savior.

He has come, and he will come again, and all will be made right and all will be well.

In the in-between time, the now and not yet time, may we keep our eyes on the true Savior of the World.

For to us a child is born, to us a son is given; and the government shall be upon his shoulder, and his name shall be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.

He who testifies to these things says, “Surely I am coming soon.” Amen. Come, Lord Jesus!"

"Part 2 ~ Advent

It is often in the depths of lament that God will show us how to live out the story of redemption here on this earth ~ how we can seek justice and love mercy, how we can care for the least, the lost and the littlest.

The problem may be that we won’t allow our hearts to be broken which can make us susceptible to false gospels that claim power over the humility of Christ.

Just sayin’"

~Carol Collier

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This second post caused me to reflect and I posted this as a comment: "Lament and brokenness are powerful places to allow growth. To rest there, to be in it, to not rush through it-- to learn."

As we begin the Advent Season, where do you find yourself this year? This liminal space of now and not yet always causes me reflection. It seems even more poignant this year. The ground of my soul/soil is being prepared for what is to come. (A phrase I picked up from a Hearts on Fire retreat several years ago.)

I will be spending time this Advent season waiting, watching, listening. As I look for the coming of the Christ Child, I am open to the Christ within me to speak to me, to guide me, to teach me, to bring healing.  Emmanuel, God with us, can handle all the sorrow and grief of the world.

I am grateful for the reminder from Carol in her Part 2 Advent post: "It is often in the depths of lament that God will show us how to live out the story of redemption here on this earth ~ how we can seek justice and love mercy, how we can care for the least, the lost and the littlest.

The problem may be that we won’t allow our hearts to be broken which can make us susceptible to false gospels that claim power over the humility of Christ."

May my heart be broken with that which reveals the light of Christ.

Hope, peace, joy, and love this Advent!

Rev. Deb