The Fire

There is a story told about a group of women who were having a study on the book of Malachi. When they got to the third chapter, they read these words in verse three. "He will sit as a refiner and a purifier of silver; He will purify the sons of Levi."

The questions began to flow. What does it mean to purify silver? What does it mean to sit as a refiner and purifier of silver? One of the ladies spoke up. "I'll study and do some research this week," she said. "And when we get together for the next study, I'll let you know what I found. 

The next day, she called a local silversmith and wondered if she could come watch him work. "I'd like to observe the process of purifying silver," she explained without giving any further details or bothering to explain her reasoning. He warmly invited her to come over. 

Soon, she was walking into his shop. Despite the cool breezes wafting through the open building, the heat from the roaring fire was oppressing. The air was heavy and hard to breathe. Metallic smells tainted with acrid smoke were tangible enough to taste. Instantly, she realized this was not a workplace for women. It was dirty, smoky, and oh so hot! Why had she worn her best clothes?

The silversmith greeted her with a smile, not seeming to notice her sudden discomfort. In fact, he seemed to think it a genuine honor that someone had taken an interest in the work he chose to do every day. Alone. He wore a thick apron over his clothes that bore signs of age. Nicks and scratches covered its surface as did several long streaks of soot. He wiped sweat from his face as he spoke, unknowingly smudging his forehead with black dust. She noticed the ashes sprinkled through his dark hair and pondered his life. What made his job so special?  

But through the ashes and soot, his eyes were warm and friendly as he guided her over toward the fire. His voice was soft and gentle; unlike the hardness she would have expected from a man who spent his days surrounded by harsh metal. 

"Is there anything in particular you'd like to learn about?" he asked as he picked up a piece of silver off of his workbench.

"Just explain the process to me," she smiled. "It's part of some research I'm doing."

Using one of his tools, he carried the silver over to the blazing fire and lowered it in. Further and further he pushed until it was in the center of the flame. He looked up briefly. "I need to put the silver into the hottest part of the flame," he explained. "That way I know all the impurities are being burned away."

He shifted his gaze back to the brightness of the heat while using his shoulder to wipe large drops of sweat from his forehead. The woman sat quietly. Watching, thinking.

A few moments passed. "Sir?" she asked. "It gets really hot when you're so close to that fire! Don't you leave for a few minutes to get a drink or a breath of fresh air?"

"Oh, no, ma'am!" he replied almost instantly without looking up. There was seriousness and passion in his voice. "I must hold this piece of silver in the fire!" he said. "And not only do I hold it, but I don't take my eyes off of it because if I left it in the fire one moment too long, it could be destroyed."

The silence was broken only by the crackling of wood. The woman wasn't sure if the smoke was the only reason her eyes were stinging. 

Several more moments passed before she found her voice to speak. "Sir?" she asked again. "I have one more question. How, then, do you know when the silver has been purified?"

His face, still lined with the intensity of his last words, softened. He looked over at her for a moment with a happy glow on his face. "Oh, that's easy!" he smiled. "I know the silver is fully purified when I can see my image in it."

This story is a stunning paradox. Amid the heat, the dirt, and the intensity of the moment lies exquisite purity. The paradox is that without the dirt and the smoke, this beauty would not be found. 

This story is a beautiful picture. It's a silversmith that plans, calculates, and executes with extreme care to the details. The silver is held. It is watched until it reaches perfection. It never sits in the fire alone. 

This story is about my Silvermith. It's about my Father who notices and cares when there are impurities in my life. It explains the process in which He lowers me into hot, fiery flames until I don't think I can take it anymore. Instead of realizing this heat is what I need, I often complain and doubt His goodness. If only I could change my attitude and remember that He's still there by the fire. He's holding me, in fact, gazing steadily at my soul that slowly begins to glow with the intensity of the heat. And when He looks down through the flames and sees His reflection radiating off of that small piece of silver called me, He knows I am purified. Refined. The fire has done a beautiful work in me. 

As humans with more abilities than a piece of silver, we can choose to resent the flames and the Silversmith that lowered us into them. Not all fires produce purified results when we aren't surrendered to God's work in our lives. But when submissive and open to His plan, we can become soft, moldable, and purified; exquisitely beautiful and radiantly reflecting His image. 

What a redeeming promise! 

The Fire

The trials that we face in life are often hard to bear,

And many times we question why God doesn't seem to care.

But do we truly realize that when we face the fire

It's all a part of God's great love and overwhelming power?

His purpose is to purify and cleanse away the dirt;

Although, in His omniscience, He knows the fire will hurt.

I'm just a piece of silver with a few impurities.

God notices some sin and pride and insecurities.

So He takes me off His workbench with the tenderest of care

And lowers me into the flame-the hottest one that's there.

He knows this flame will be the best to cleanse and purify,

But as He holds me in the fire, He never turns His eyes.

For if He would, and leave me there a moment overtime

It might destroy this fragile and so tender heart of mine.

It isn't 'til God looks down in and sees His face in me

That He knows I'm truly purified in my weak humanity.

So when I feel like shattering and like I can't go on,

When tears just won't stop coming and the journey seems so long, 

When disappointments crush me and fear consumes my soul,

I can't forget God stoked the fire, and He is in control.

I can't forget He's leading me each step along the way

And in the end, His image on my face I will display.

So even though I dread the fire and flames that really hurt,

It's cleansing and refining all those tiny specks of dirt.

So when I meet Him in the sky and see Him face to face,

I'll have a chance to testify His goodness and His grace.

And everyone will notice when they look at God and me

I look like Him; we look the same! I'm in His family. 

(I retold this story in my own words, enhancing and adding details. Author of the original story is unknown.)