Fire and ice

I am at Emerge!2010, the youth conference I wrote about a few weeks ago. I must admit I certainly had my doubts about it, and a part of me tried its hardest to convince the rest of me that it was not worth attending. Yet somehow I find myself here, and the sheer power and intensity of the energy of the entire group fills me with awe as I attempt to behold it.

When I was a child I used to drop my action figures in a plastic cup of water, then put it in the freezer. After a few hours it would have frozen over, and I would pry the chunk of ice loose from the glass. Then I would pretend Batman was in a chilly trap.

Later in life, I was no longer pretending. I was like that action figure in my teenage years. I had frozen myself into an arrogant sort of apathy that numbed me to my surroundings and the community I lived in, something I have only recently begun to overcome. Here at Emerge!, I can feel its warmth speeding up the healing process. It is only the third day and I already feel amazing.

I will tell you about an experience I had. A group was gathered around a fire after a long day of discussion and activities and we sat in silence. The fire burned quickly; it had not rained recently and the wood was dry. It was dying down minutes after it had been lit. Furious but brief. Then a twig was passed around, each member of the circle receiving it gently then passing it on with a reverent touch. Another twig was passed around, then another, until all had one in hand. One by one we placed our offerings from nature in the embers of the fire. As the first few twigs were tossed into the dying flame, I thought to myself “this is not enough.” The wood was too dry, too slender, too quick to burn. It did not seem to me capable of sustaining the re-ignition of our fire.

But re-ignite it did. The sheer volume of twigs that were added turned our sad little coal collection into a raging campfire once again. We added more substantial firewood when the fire was ready and it ended up lasting ‘til the time we went to bed. In fact, it proved to be difficult to put out.

This brought me to insight.

Alone, our twigs may not be able to feed the fire for long. Throw one in by itself and it is quickly consumed. Together and in great number, a different story unfolds. The fire cannot burn it as easily as something that is merely an isolated effort. In the end their bodies may be nothing more than the finest ash, but one cannot deny that they served their purpose: to sacrifice themselves, allowing themselves to be consumed, in order to bring human beings some much-needed warmth in a world which shivers from the cold. All that is physical will one day return to the dust from whence it came, but the memory of our deeds shall be forever written in the starry skies. Our lives are but fleeting; yet our deeds are immortal. Hold your twig tightly and it remains but a twig. Cast it freely into the fire while other like-minded individuals do the same and perhaps it will contribute even just a little to the light on earth. Do not fear. This is sufficient. If we can make good use of our twigs today, perhaps in the future we will wake up one morning and find that we have been entrusted with branches.

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