Stoking the Fire

"The fire on the altar must be kept burning; it must not go out. Every morning the priest is to add firewood and arrange the burnt offering on the fire and burn the fat of the fellowship offerings on it. The fire must be kept burning on the altar continuously; it must not go out."    Leviticus 6: 12-13

A friend of mine shared this passage through something she recently wrote.  It’s not really about Christmas at first glance.  It’s about the Temple rituals God established early on with his people.   The rituals were rather specific and unless one takes a close contextual look, they can seem pretty random as well.  None the less, they were for His people – a people waiting on God.  A wandering people who were hungry and thirsty (Ps 107).

I guess that’s where the connection comes.  In the waiting. In the preparation and in the hunger and thirst…in the advent.

I don’t know about you but I find myself a little burnt out and soul-thirsty in the flurry of activity this time of year.  By the time I get up in the morning and walk down the hall to the kitchen for a cup of tea, I have a “to-do” list a mile long running through my head!  It’s hard to pause even for a moment, and sometimes I'm tired before the day begins.

But this passage in Leviticus stops me up short.  This specific instruction was for the priest.   Every morning add firewood... arrange the offering on the fire….keep the fire lit...don't let the fire go out.  The fire had to stay lit.  which meant stoking it - arranging the wood.  The temple rituals were intended to offer God’s people a picture of God’s ongoing redemptive work and point them in the direction of Christ.  In this particular instance it is the fellowship- or PEACE - offering that is being burnt.

The funny thing about rituals or traditions is that when we encounter them they seem to be able to cut through the noise of daily activity and redirect our thoughts, which will often redirect our heart.  While my pace might make it difficult to pause, the ritual (or routine) of pausing is necessary.  In it, Christ, the great high priest, can come and stoke his inward fire in me.  Things that have fallen out of order can be rearranged and set right internally.  I guess it's just easier to keep the main thing the main thing when I pause and silence myself before God; which makes a person more ready for the flurry...more able to encounter it and respond well.  

And there again, my mind wanders.  This time to the parable of the ten virgins and I recall the one whose oil ran out.  She hurried off to refuel but it was too late.   And I wonder, am I that girl?  Do I join the group and move along with the crowd, having little regard of the needed fuel for the journey?  Or Do I return to the place of quiet sacrifice, lay down what seems most dear in the moment - albeit time, finances, relationships, desires - and become present with Christ, allowing him to reorder my inward world through the fellowship of His presence in the word.

 Lord, I want to live in such a way to encounter the living Christ?  Oh help me stop and be still before you.  Quicken my mind to even think of it! And by your grace, give me the decisive strength to do it.  Let me find you in the pause and encounter your peace.