FIRE || ANDREW OSENGA

We don’t have a fireplace, so we leave one on repeat on Netflix all day in our living room. 
Because all the great joys of my life have involved the danger and passion of an open flame. 
Melodies. Adventure. Romance. 
And every sorrow is a pinched wick. 
Death. Distance. Depression. 
A big stack of soaked, charred-black logs in between our circle of tents on a cold night.
In my experience, God is the unquenched ember. The spark-in-waiting of all good things. Jesus, the phoenix, rolling aside stone to beam up to heaven on a roller coaster of lightning. 
God, where have I let the flame die? 
Breathe your bellows on my brokenness and bitterness and let my burning be a gift of warmth, light, guidance, and even passion, to the ones I love.