Thursday, April 01, 2010

Arson of the Heart

So, I don't know about you, but I was something of a pyromaniac when I was younger. Fire is amazing. And I still remember how a particular TV show which I was perhaps not supposed to watch got in major trouble cause the characters would say "fire, fire" over and over again, and then some kid burned down his house while watching it.

I think fire is amazing because it represents so much that's good, light, heat, energy, and yet it is so dangerous and destructive. So powerful, so useful, yet so lethal, and actually, quite scary. Something about a bonfire makes you just want to watch the flames and not look away. Something so poetic in their dance.

People talk about the fire that burns in our hearts, the spark of life, the man on fire, and there are a host of negative connotations as well. One such powerful metaphor comes from the Bible in James 3:5-6
How great a forest is set ablaze by such a small fire! And the tongue is a fire, a world of unrighteousness. The tongue is set among our members, staining the whole body, setting on fire the entire course of life, and set on fire by hell.

I was listening to an easter message with some friends and it was about adoption, specifically the ministry of adoption in the Gospel. Passages like Ephesians 1:5, Romans 8:23 are so amazing, and the sort of thing that to a certain degree we miss out on, because we're so caught up in our own cultural value of relationships, and a lot of static builds up.

I could write and should write an entire post about the connection between Adoption, Sonship, Image of God and Likeness, and how adoption correlates to imputed righteousness, but right now I want to understand the identity in adoption.

Another passage that people (people!) usually bring up is the Parable of the Prodigal Son, which is illustrating a very similar idea in fatherly love, but an altogether different point about forgiveness, and really these two land side by side in sermons, and need a little bit better coordination.

This is where fire becomes important. If sin, as James so suggests, is fire, then we are all arsonists. If it is God's law which explains how we have sinned, against whom we have sinned, then it's a little bit like we've burned God's house down with our sin. Flagrantly. Imagine a great house, beautiful and fair. Painted bright colors to contrast the billows of sickening black smoke. As the beams and panelling succumb to the gaudy flames, you can hear an infant crying from an upstairs nursery. This part of the story doesn't end well. The simple brilliance that our adoption in Ephesians 1 coordinates with our status as enemy in Ephesians 2 is sometimes lost. God's son died because of the fire set by you and me, and God adopted us, murderous arsonists. I hope that's not too vivid. It pains me to write it, really.

I won't carry the metaphor over into the absurdity, but, the idea of house and household, and sonship (coming soon) becomes important. We're God's children now, and we still sin. So now, it's like we're setting our own house on fire. Everyday, like children playing with matches. And God's there with a fire extinguisher, trying to help us grow up. Someone wise once pointed out that sin is usually chasing something good in a bad way. In a way that ruins it, and everything around it. Fire is useful. Fire is passion, energy, strength, beauty.

I was an arsonist. But now I can make something beautiful, something good. Being God's children means having a stake in his household, and realizing that it's not duty that holds us accountable, but the sense that to turn against God is now the purest form of self-destruction. This is the beginning. Happy Easter.