Wind, wind

Slowly the flame creeps across the surface of the scrunched up newspaper. If it’s scrunched up too tightly, the flame dies back to glowing embers: no chance of it gathering enough heat to actually flare and light the coal. I hold a paper over the opening, funnelling the draught so that it begins to blow the embers into occasional flares.

Smoke swirls round the kindling, over and through and under until suddenly, voila! The crackle of the wood as it catches. The heat builds and the larger wood sizzles and pops, then the coal. 

Wind, wind blow on me. The blessed Holy Spirit, described as wind, as fire. Where in my life do I see the smoke but am not experiencing the fire? Am I too scrunched up in anxiety or concerns for the Spirit’s fire to flame? How can I increase the draught so that the power of the Spirit breaks out in me, and through me?

Seek my face, says the Lord. Seek my face. As I seek his face, my heart warms. As I surrender to his love, my mind is transformed. As I rejoice in this, the day he has made, the Spirit breaks through.

Jesus has gone ahead to prepare a place – not just an eternal place, but today’s place, just for me. I want to trust in him. Help me, Lord, to do that.