Friday, January 25, 2013

The Servants of the Secret Fire

I love Christmas music.

I also love going back to my regular favorites after a month-and-a-half of "Simply Having a Wonderful Christmastime" and "Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree."

It's Christmas all over again. 

A rediscovered treasury of sweet lyrics and sounds that had been hibernating in my iPod.

Oh yes! I remember now! I do love this song!

So, of course, I've been listening a lot to Light for the Lost Boy, Andrew Peterson's newest album. (By the way, AP is coming to Chicago on March 15 and I'm super-excited about it.)

I love the picture that he paints in these songs (Shine Your Light on Me and Carry the Fire). What a beautiful picture: the Body of Christ. 

Serving one another in love.

Carrying one another's burdens.

Doing life with each other.

Encouraging each other.

Just being there.

Celebrating God's goodness—together.

What a good gift God has given us in one another. What a good thing He's done—giving us one another to point each other to the One who created all this goodness. 

What a joy. And an ache for That Day. 

A beautiful, achy joy.

It makes me think of those many times God has blessed me with brothers and sisters to carry the fire for me. The times I've ben surrounded by the Servants of the Secret Fire—and I've felt God's sustaining power through His people...

I was young and didn't know what I needed—aimless. And they were faithful to lead. And provide. And point me to the One I need more than them.

A new place—unknown. New people. But, oh, the power of the Church united. And so I found... that I was still at home.

My heart broke—misled. And my dear friend listened. And held. And listened some more.

I wandered there—looking. Making new friends... not knowing how much I needed to remember the Truth. And they surrounded me. Hundreds. Worshipping the risen Christ.

I felt the pain of a loss—severed. And I called up the tired new mom. And she reminded me who I am.

I saw the raw pain of sin—aching. And then Easter. Celebrating Jesus come to life with the Bride.

On the other side of the world—unfamiliar. And there my sister was, trusting with simple faith in the same God I love.

I walked down that aisle—diving. There he was, with love in his eyes. And there they were. Supporting us as we said "till death do us part" to loving like He loves.

Reading those pages about my brave warrior sister—reminded. We must love. And we must tell them. Because they need Him.

I walked through the door—weary. To chores done. And he patiently held tightly.

I knew the Servants of the Secret Fire

Were gathered there

The embers of the ages
Like a living prayer
Shine Your light on me
Be a light unto my path
And a lamp unto my feet

And we dream in the night
Of a feast and a wedding
And the Groom in his glory
When the Bride is made ready

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