Using the imagery of fire to describe God can be tricky. While fire can be an incredibly useful tool, it also has the potential to decimate and destroy. Unless it is properly contained, it consumes everything in its path, leaving a trail of devastation in its wake. This can be problematic because the fire of God cannot be controlled, nor does it seek to bring ruin.

This fire defies our logic. It consumes, but it does not destroy. It cannot be contained, but it does not devastate. It is wild and free, yet it always meets us with grace – that grace may call us into some difficult territory, but it is always for the sake of our good. Consider the story of Moses and the burning bush (Exodus 3). When Moses is met with the consuming fire of God, he is called into one of the most difficult seasons of his life – to stand up to the greatest powers of his day – but the result is immeasurably good, freedom for his people.

Imagine, it’s just another normal day. You wake this morning as you have every morning before while living in this land – you exit your tent just as the sun begins to creep above the horizon line. The smell of the cooking fires, mellow and sweet, greet you as you step outside. You gather round the warmth of the fire as you share the morning meal with your family, cautioning the children not to get too close, lest the flames reach out and grab them.

The sun, now creeping into full view, signals that it is time for you to get going. The night shepherd will be waiting for you to relieve him, and the flocks are surely restless by now – ready to move on to another spot to graze. You say goodbye to your family and walk past the dwindling fire as you head towards the pastures.

Your suspicions were correct, the flock is ready to move on when you arrive. You gently guide them to the far side of the pastures, where the tame and kept land meets the edge of the wilderness. There, in the shadow Mount Horeb, is some of the finest grazing. You set the flock loose and begin climbing the rough rocks, picking out a trail as you go, in an attempt to get a better view of the sheep.

As you climb a flicker catches your attention. You can just barely see it up ahead, a bush that, though it burns, does not seem to be charred or burnt. You must move closer to get a better look.

As you approach you notice that this fire is not like the fires used to cook at your camp. No, this fire seems more wild, more free – dancing in dazzling motion – and yet the bush is still intact. There are no signs that it has been damaged by the fire that consumes it. The glow of the flames seems hotter and brighter than any you have seen before, and there is no smoke to obstruct your view. Even the air feels different here.

And then you hear it – not the flicker of the flames but the sound of your name, booming from a voice within the burning bush. Almost instinctively you respond, “Here I am.”

“Do not come any closer,” the voice replies. “Take off your sandals, for the place where you are standing is holy ground. I am the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac and the God of Jacob.”

Confused at how this could be happening, and a little terrified, you hide your face.

Questions for reflection:

• The story of Moses and the burning bush shows us that God often defies our logic and works outside of the regulations we place on him. How has God surprised you by acting outside of the rules that you have established for God?
• How do you respond to the idea that you don’t have an addictive personality, you have an addicted personality?
• How might God be nudging you – in your relationships, in the ways you spend your time, with your finances, in the words that you use to communicate with family and friends – to allow him to consume you more fully?
• What might you need to surrender to the fire of God so that you may receive freedom?