Stewarding the Flames--May 17, 2018
"And we urge you, beloved, to admonish the idlers, encourage the fainthearted, help the weak, be patient with all of them. See that none of you repays evil for evil, but always seek to do good to one another and to all. Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you. Do not quench the Spirit." [1 Thessalonians 5:14-19]
Maybe that's a better way to think of the Christian life than just, "I go somewhere once a week to sing hymns and try and force my eyes to stay open during a rambling sermon." Maybe it's closer to the truth than saying, "I believe these ten correct facts about God and post religiously-themed memes on my Facebook page--that's what it is to be a Christian." Maybe we are more on the right path to think of being a steward of a certain kind of flame, than that we are consumers of a religious product, who can pick and choose as we see fit from different congregations, denominations, books, and music depending on our tastes and our likes. Yeah--it is easy to think of the Christian life as a weekly activity, a social media persona, or a product for sale. It requires more of us to think of ourselves as people tending to a fire so that it can continue to burn and its light continue to shine.
There's a great image in J.R.R. Tolkein's fantasy epic The Lord of the Rings where a particular kingdom, Gondor, has a set of seven gigantic beacon fires across its territory, which are lit when there is danger. The idea in the book--also captured nicely in the movies from a decade or two ago--was that when there was a crisis in one part of the kingdom and help was needed, the beacon fire was lit, and off in the distance on another mountain peak, the guards keeping vigil at the next station would see it and light their beacon fire, so that it could be seen by the next, and so on, until the whole country knew of the need and would, hopefully, send help. Well, that arrangement works (eventually) in the story of the The Lord of the Rings, but a system like that requires people who are constantly tending the fires--keeping a small fire burning near the great towers of logs that will become the bonfire beacons, and keeping watch for a light in the distance--in order to be ready when the time comes to light their signal fire.
It requires, in other words, keepers of the fire. In the narrative of Tolkein's story, that requires not only the wood for the giant bonfires, but a smaller, continually burning fire that can be ready to be used to light the large fires quickly. And it requires people who can commit to keeping a steady flame from going out, so that when the time comes, it will be there to shine and summon help. In Tolkein's fictional Gondor, that is more than just a part-time job--it means an ongoing, permanent commitment, generation after generation, to keep the fires ready. And that further means, in the world of the story, that if you were tasked with guarding one of those beacon fires, you took on the role of continuing a fire that had been burning for a very long time before, and that your calling was to keep it going until the time you would hand that job on to someone who would come after you.
I don't think it's being overly dramatic to say that this is in a very real sense what the life of the Christian community does. We tend a fire that has already been set--or at least, our calling is not to put out the fire in our midst, so that it can shine bright into the darkness, especially in times of trouble. We have been given the gift of that fire, which was burning before we were born, and which we tend together as church, with the understanding that our calling is to pass it along to others, and to teach others as well how to steward the flames, so that they can carry it on, too.
The fire, at least as the New Testament writers often talk about it, is the Spirit. The Spirit of God has come among us and indwells us like a fire, like the little tongues of fire on Pentecost, and like a light that is kept burning on a mountaintop as a beacon. Often, the New Testament writers use "fire" language to talk about the Spirit's presence among us and within us, too. Like here in Paul's letter to the church at Thessalonica; the apostle says, "do not quench the Spirit." The image is of not letting a fire be extinguished--you don't put it under a bushel basket, you don't smother it, you don't throw water on it, and you certainly don't ignore it until it burns itself out with no more fuel. You steward the flames, so to speak.
There, in those closing words from his letter, Paul sort of describes the Christian community as the beacon-keepers and fire-tenders, not of the Kingdom of Gondor, but of the Reign of God. The Spirit has kindled a fire among us, long, long ago--and keeping that fire has been the calling of the Christian community for two thousand years now. We have added locations over the centuries, and we have sometimes done better and sometimes worse at tending the fire, but the fire has continued to burn all that time. And, much as with Tolkein's beacon fires, the reason we keep the flames going is not simply for our selves, but to spread the light to others around. To be a part of the Christian community is to keep at the fire, so that its light can be seen by all around, and to teach others to do the same. We do it wherever we are, and our light in one place is meant to strengthen and encourage the light coming from the Christian community in another place. We are stewards of the flame.
Okay... so, I can get that image. And there is certainly something appealingly heroic about the idea that we are supposed to bravely and vigilantly keep at the fire, to be ready for the day when we light the giant bonfire to send a signal. But, ok, honestly, what does it actually look like in day to day life to steward that flame? What does Paul want us to do, or not to do, so that the Spirit's fire isn't quenched or extinguished? What exactly does that cool-sounding metaphor look like in real life?
And there's really the rub. We can come up with great metaphors and images and sermon illustrations for what the Christian life is all about. But if, at the end of the day, we have no idea how to live those lovely little metaphors out, they are just noise. So, is that what Paul has given us? When he says, "don't quench the Spirit," what would he then have us do?
Well, this is the really good thing about Paul. He is not so much of a poet that he can't also give concrete, practical direction clearly. In fact, all of what Paul says leading up to "Don't extinguish the Spirit's fire," is precisely about what it looks like for us as Christians to steward that fire. To let the Spirit's fire keep going among us will mean things like encouraging one another when we are running low, refueling one another in support when someone feels like they are about to burn out, practicing patience with the people who are struggling the most, and doing good to one another. All of that is just good basic care of a community, isn't it? When you are in a community of people for whom you care, you help each other out... and you look for words and actions to build each other up... and you seek out opportunities to brighten one another's day. That's just what love does. And that's part of how we ensure the fire will keep on going--we keep the rest of the beacon brigade well-equipped to do their job.
But it's also more than that for Paul. Stewarding the flame isn't just a matter of us being mutually "nice" to one another in the church--it is also a posture of living in constant communication and thanks with God, and it is a commitment to do good to all, rather than to repay evil for evil. For Paul, this is just as essential as prayer and encouraging each other--it is just as much a part of not quenching the Spirit. The early church was firmly committed to not returning evil for evil in life, and as Paul says, they were just as firmly committed to doing good, not just to other "insiders", but "to all." The refusal to answer evil with evil, and the commitment to show kindness even toward those who have been the most disagreeable and rotten to us is just as much an essential part of the Christian life as praying and "rejoicing always." And together, all of these practices--prayer, rejoicing, encouraging, supporting, challenging, and loving even stinkers--these are what create the safe space for the Spirit's fire to keep burning. We didn't start the fire--on that much, Billy Joel was right. But having been given the fire from before we were born, we are entrusted with not extinguishing it--we are still tasked with stewarding the flames.
That's the long and the short of the metaphor. If you want to know how to "not quench the Spirit," well, you do what Paul says here: you care for and encourage the people in whom the Spirit's fire dwells, you keep grounded in prayer that rejoices and appreciates God's goodness, and you determine that you will respond to meanness and dishonor with kindness and honor. That may not seem heroic--at least, it doesn't quite feel as epic a responsibility as the fire-keepers of the great beacon bonfires of Gondor in The Lord of the Rings. But it is, in all honestly, the most vital, important and life-giving work there is to be done in this life. And it is an unending adventure.
Today, steward the flames: love others with gratitude and joy in ways that build them up and answer evil with good. In such a community of genuine love, the Spirit's fire will keep shining.
O Spirit of God, help us not to get in your way by succumbing to pettiness, grudge-holding, or bitterness, and allow us to tend the flames that have been entrusted to us to keep.
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