The following is an essay from my new book Bonfire: A Guide to Encountering God in the Exodus (co-authored with my husband Justin Gerhardt, released in tandem with Season 4 of Holy Ghost Stories). More about the book after the essay…
I was five when I first fell in love with a chore. It wasn’t the chore itself I loved (picking up fallen palm fronds scattered across the acres and acres of Weeki Wachee Christian Camp where my parents worked as caretakers). It was spending time with my dad (and the promise of a treat) that made me rush to the truck. The tedious work of collecting nature’s castoffs could take a whole day. The palm fronds scraped my hands. The sun turned me into Snow White’s dwarves—sleepy and grumpy. But then my dad would smile and say “Good job” and the whole world seemed brighter. After we’d loaded the palm fronds into the truck, we’d drive down to a field near the river and toss them into a towering pile. That night we’d come back with Mom and my brother and marshmallows, and we'd light it all on fire. Nothing made me happier than sticky hands and stories around a bonfire.
There's something about a fire that beckons, gathers, invites. I read this week that anthropologists suspect the discovery of fire was also the beginning of community, people willing to risk proximity to benefit from its light and heat and transformational power (cooking, welding, melting, forging).
And then there are the stories and songs, the way a fire works like whiskey, loosening the gathered, inviting them into a more care-free space. There’s an anthropologist working with tribes in the African countryside who’s studying community fires. She says people talk differently around a fire. She says during the day people gossip and work. At night, by the fire, they tell stories and sing songs and laugh. She says there’s something about the way firelight softens the face, the way it illuminates and obscures, both at once–something about it makes people more open to exploring bigger things. She has data to prove this. You probably don’t need data to believe it. Surely you have your own ember-flecked memories of celebration, connection, or worship.
When we humans can’t make twenty foot bonfires from palm fronds, we light charcoal in fire pits or propane on the fire table or we bring the fire inside and light logs in dedicated fire-places. Hearth, the word for the floor around the fireplace, can also be a word for “home.”
For birthdays we light candles. For romantic evenings, too. Sometimes we light candles just because. For the beauty of the flickering.
And then sometimes fires burn down our houses, our neighborhoods, and our forests. They scar our bodies. They return our bodies to dust.
Fire. Is there a lovelier, more dangerous thing? A more attractive, more repellant force?
Yahweh reveals himself to Moses for the first time in a burning, unburnt bush—a fire. An unconventional fire, sure, but a fire nonetheless. Later He’ll appear to Israel as a pillar of fire by night and then in fire on Mount Sinai, the whole mountain enveloped in smoke.
When Moses sees the bush he’s drawn to it—moth to flame, curious. God calls his name, inviting greater nearness. But as he approaches, Yahweh commands, “Do not come closer.”
This is the pull and push of Yahweh’s love, dance steps Moses and the people will repeat again and again:
Come close. Not too close. Closer.
Perhaps Yahweh chooses fire as His representative form because He is a lovely, dangerous thing. Because He draws His people to Him, gathering them around to light the way and warm the cold and transform. Because at the fire, we find our worldly cares disappear, our minds cleared for bigger, deeper thoughts. Because near Him we can’t help but tell stories and sing songs.
And also because He is an all-consuming force. Because proximity is precarious, demanding holiness and preparation. Because He cannot be controlled (though we will be tempted to bring Him inside and make Him a candle).
As we go forward with the Exodus story we’ll find Yahweh seeking intimacy with His people while simultaneously protecting them from His power. He wants to be close. We’ll discover Yahweh wants this more than anything. But also, closeness is risky with fallen humans, sin-stained and unclean. Yahweh’s love draws them close, and Yahweh’s love keeps them at a distance.
The bush Moses sees is notable not just because it’s on fire. It’s on fire and not burned up. Aflame with the glory of God and not consumed. Bush and fire could not be closer, and somehow that proximity is safe. This bush is a picture of God’s ultimate hope for humanity—that one day we might be ablaze with the presence of God and not destroyed.
Is it possible?
Moses will begin the journey, seeking the face of God more and more, becoming a flame himself, lighting the way, gathering the people. But it’ll be Jesus who first accomplishes the tricky intimacy of God and humankind together without boundaries, no push and pull, all nearness. And through Him, because of Him, God will dwell with His people, literally indwelling us, all of us living sacrifices, burning and unburnt.
-JL
Bonfire: A Guide to Encountering God in the Exodus
If you’re new to The Goodness (and so many of you are—Hey! Hi! Welcome!), you might not know that I’m the manuscript editor for the fabulous Old Testament storytelling podcast, Holy Ghost Stories, created by my uber-talented husband, Justin Gerhardt. This season Justin’s been leading us through the Exodus, and it has been downright jaw-dropping. Truly. I’ll never see Yahweh the same way again. He’s bigger. More compassionate. Kinder. More fearsome. More beautiful. Holier…
I want to be close to Him more than I ever have. I feel closer to Him than I ever have.
A few months ago Justin and I had the idea to create a resource that could work in tandem with the podcast to enable an even deeper level of meditation. If you've been listening to this season of Holy Ghost Stories, you know that meditating on these Exodus stories has the power to dramatically shift your relationship with Yahweh. So, we made Bonfire—a ten-week exercise in beholding God. It's not a study of the text (though there's study involved). It's not a self-improvement guide (though you'll undoubtedly be changed by your time in God's presence). The goal of these ten weeks is simply to seek Yahweh's face.
I’m very excited about this project, primarily because we don’t have enough resources like it. Sitting and staring at God is un under-appreciated, under-practiced pathway toward love for God and personal transformation. If you’ve read my book, Look to Love, you know: there’s nothing like staring to help a person fall in love, and loving God is the most important thing in the whole wide world. Too, time spent in God’s presence leads to God-likeness. Moses (and his glowing face) can vouch for that.
If you’re looking for something to focus your attention on God and hold your hand as you try to understand Him, this is the resource for you.
Like I said, this is a ten-week study, offering you five days’ worth of meditation prompts each week.
Day 1: You’ll listen to the podcast, looking especially for Yahweh’s work and character.
Day 2: You’ll read the text, using a prescribed God-seeking method of annotation.
Day 3: You’ll consider a series of meditation questions and prompts.
Day 4: You’ll read a personal essay (like the one above) and consider the intersection of Yahweh’s identity and your deepest desire.
Day 5: You’ll be lead in a series of open-ended prayers.
In addition to being immensely useful, the book is also lovely. I mean, look at it:
If you’re interested, grab your copy today over on Amazon.
If you’d like to lead a group through the study, reply to this email and we’ll get you a group discount (and include a free leader’s guide).
I’m praying Bonfire is a bridge. I hope you’ll cross it.
Looking forward to starting my study, just ordered the book!!!
Thanks for this