Getting Burned

“The Gospel,” as the saying goes, has an uncanny way of “comforting the afflicted and afflicting the comfortable.” Given the time to reflect over the last year I have been comforted, without a doubt. God’s presence was abundantly clear to me in 2014. Yet I am afflicted by the uncomfortable truth that my comfort, simply stated, has gotten in the way of Jesus.

And it all came down to one thing. Prayer.

The lightening rod for this challenging, dare I say afflicting truth came from a reflection that I came across years ago, a collection of spiritual wisdom that I recently resurrected for a staff meeting. I will share here but I offer this warning. Be careful. You, too, might get burned.  

The Fire of Prayer

To pray is more dangerous than throwing a torch into a dry woodland.

In a burning forest you can run for cover, but if you begin to pray there is no escape, no place you can hide from the raging fire of God.

At least that’s what happened to the saints when they prayed.  All of them will testify that their encounter with God was like gold being tested in a furnace, seven times refined.

St. Teresa of Avila warns:  “authentic prayer changes us – unmasks us – strips us.”

What she means is that sitting in the presence of a passionate God purges away all the dross, all the impurities of selfishness, pride, falsehood, hypocrisy, meanness until only pure gold remains.

It’s no wonder, then, that many kneel just outside the furnace door – close enough to keep warm, far enough to keep from getting consumed – and call it prayer.  Certainly this is a comforting and consoling exercise, but it is not prayer.

The ancient desert elders said it this way:  “Abba Lot went to see Abba Joseph and said, ‘Abba, as much as I am able I practice a small rule, all the little fasts, some prayer and meditation, remain quiet, and as much as possible I keep my thoughts clean.  What else should I do?’  Then the old man stood up and stretched out his hands toward heaven, and his fingers became like torches of flame.  And he said, ‘if you wish, you can be turned into fire.’”

And there’s the crux:  Do you wish?  Do you wish to be turned into fire?

By praying this prayer, you have already stepped into the furnace.  But to melt into pure gold you must hold fast as the temperature inside continues to rise.

To be turned into fire, you must believe that if you knock, God will answer.

To be turned into fire, you must move toward a forgiving heart, working through any legitimate anger against those who have hurt or harmed you.

To be turned into fire, you must be patient and persistent, knowing that God will give you what God knows you need in God’s good time.

To be turned into fire, you must pray for daily bread.

To be turned into fire, you must spend time with God, getting to know and love what God fashioned in your mother’s womb 

To be turned into fire, you must give without counting the cost “good measure, pressed down and running over.”

To be turned into fire, you must act on what you pray, your life must be consistent with the word of God.  You cannot, in other words, pray for your enemies and support war; pray to be forgiven and harbor resentment; pray so that God’s reign may come on earth and not do all in your power to eradicate poverty, to stand against injustice, to protect human dignity 

How do you know if you’re becoming fire?  How do you know if you’re melting into pure gold?

Blessed are the pure ones, Jesus said, for they shall see God.  And saint Mechtild of Magdenburg said, “The day of my spiritual awakening was the day I saw all things in God and God in all things.”

Being turned into fire, being melted into pure gold, then, has something to do with seeing God in every man and woman, in all created things and being transformed into a person so transparent that others see the flame of God shining through you.

Picture the three young men from the Book of Daniel, dancing and praising God, unharmed, in the midst of the blazing furnace.  What the onlookers see when they look in is “a young man with the face of God.”

The hope of this prayer is that it may help each of us dance in the flames of love until we become burning love itself.[1]

It was one stanza that really burned me. Perhaps it afflicted you as well:

It’s no wonder, then, that many kneel just outside the furnace door – close enough to keep warm, far enough to keep from getting consumed – and call it prayer.  Certainly this is a comforting and consoling exercise, but it is not prayer.

That’s me. Kneeling just outside the furnace door – keeping warm but not getting too close – and calling it prayer. I have been saying prayers, but how often am I really praying? The question becomes, “Do you wish? Do you wish to be turned into fire?”

“I have come to set the world on fire,” Jesus said. “And I wish it were already burning” (Lk 12:49). Call it a resolution, a conviction, a discernment, whatever, but this year I want to be set on fire. I want to burn with the all-consuming love of Jesus. I want to hold nothing back. I want to jump in with both feet and not be afraid of the fire. I want to give Jesus the permission to change me, to form me, and to lead me where I may not want to go. I want to do the most dangerous thing on earth. I want to really pray.

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[1] Adapted from The Fire of Peace, Pax Christi, 1992.