Consuming Fire - part 2 - Passion

Once a new creature, I sought a new path.
Life took a different form, a different meaning.
But life is a strange thing, so many twists and turns.
I was complete.
But still so many steps away from perfection.
I carried a fire inside me, a living fire.
Every day refining me, strengthening me.
There was still a great many things for me to learn.
I was eager to learn, to grow, to experience.
My bright eyes mirrored my youthful mind and heart.
I had tasted the greatest love on earth,
So it was time for me to share it.
And along the way I desired more answers.
So I was told to wait for someone.
Where I would be taught of more of Him, in a way I was not expecting.
I reached out to another being.
One as youthful as I.
As stranger as I to this newfound gift.
We fell madly in love and passion ran high;
Our discovery of the emotion and desire of one for another.
I glimpsed into his soul, his strengths, flaws, weaknesses.
All that he was.
And I understood.
My love for him, a dim reflection of the love of the Consuming Fire for us all.
I was overjoyed. A new comprehension of my true passion.
A greater adoration and worship of the Consuming Fire.
How could I not thank Him?
But a shadow lay on my fellow being's heart.
And the time came when I was forsaken.
For days I lay, screaming in anguish.
Why would what was given me be taken away?
Why did I learn to truly love, only to have it torn from me?
I begged Him to tell me why I lost my love.
And I received my answer:
To understand His passion.
When His people walk away from Him,
The agony, the betrayal He receives.
The tears of the Consuming Fire are a terrible sight.
For then it is as if all hope is lost.
I had received the fire, learned the smaller, human understanding of His passion:
He would go to the end's of the world for us.
And did.
Died so that we might have a chance.
How terrible for us to reject that love.
And still we do.
And still He loves.
Because of Him, could I follow Him.
And would I want to follow Him.
Because He is passionate for my soul, I pursue His fire.
The gloriously intricate Consuming Fire.

Consuming Fire - Part 1 - Mercy

When I met Him, I knew my life would never be the same.
I knew that I was unworthy of the gift being offered to me.
I knew I was a selfish monster of a human.
But still He held out His hand.
A hand made out of living fire.
Something inside me screamed in rage, in hate, in fear.
The same something that had been lying to me, telling me I was warm, I had no need for fire.
But I knew just how cold I was.
And the artificial warmth did not satisfy my need.
This fire was different. Alive.
I reached out with my spirit. Touched it.
I burned.
Something inside me screamed and died.
Tears flowed freely down my cheeks for days.
I was in such pain, but at the same time I was being freed.
There I was.
I was unworthy. But I was given clothing washed in supernatural blood - declaring me worthy.
I was dirty. But the fire burned it away until I was like a newborn child.
Loved. Saved.
Shown mercy. I was shown mercy.
I did not deserve what I received - a fresh start.
I did not deserve new life.
The fire had surrounded me, gone inside me, but did not truly harm me.
I was whole. Complete.
Before I was a shell with extra: garbage that clung to me and was me.
It was burned away.
It killed me and healed me all at once
I was a new creature.
The innocence I had lost was restored.
I deserved to die, but what I received instead was a miracle.
And though the road ahead would be long and difficult, I was ready.
Though I would stumble and wander away, looking back at who I once was and longing for it, I would return to the path.
Because of Him, could I follow Him.
Because He was merciful, I seek His fire.
The mysterious Consuming Fire.

Pain

     Today I received a reminder that the pain of loss has not gone away. I had forgotten it, become numb to it, put it aside to keep on going through the motions of life. But still it came, refreshed. It had never truly gone away. The scar torn just enough to bleed a little again.
     The man that I had been engaged to, who walked away from me about six months ago, accidentally (he claimed he had pocket dialed me) called me today.
     My first reaction to his text explaining what had happened was anger. Rough, uncut, spitting out venomous words furious anger. How dare he even keep my number when he said it was over. But I kept silent for a little bit and thought over what I would reply. I took me about an hour or two (and asking for some advice from someone I trusted) to decide to ask him to remove me from his contacts (something I thought he had already done).
     I didn't want to. Part of me leaped in happiness to realize that he had not "gotten rid of me" completely. But most of my being sank in dismay, anger, and sadness. Memories were refreshed. Emotions were aroused. And I wondered all over again why on earth he left me in the first place and just how much he still thought of me.
     I had moved on, yet because I still care (and I will continue to care so long as he lives because I care for all) I had to address the issue instead of brushing it off and forgetting it ever happened. I wondered if it hurt him for me to ask him to remove my number, but it had to be done. It was over and I didn't want anymore "accidental" contact.
     It was certain. If he were to reach me, it had to be deliberate. And he better be prepared to face me in case I have yet another immature moment and try to rage rant or overload him with questions. And if he wished to speak to me, it would be out of need (probably not from him though - matter of pride) or a desire to become friends with me. And if God's hand be upon me (should a time of my ex wanting to talk with me) I would indeed listen and be the gentle, caring woman who would reach out a hand to help.
     One thing remains the same though: I had looked into him once upon a time and loved him with all that I was. And the terrible pain that I experienced when he turned away from me I live again from time to time. It is not as severe, but it is still there, pulsing like a heartbeat, reminding me that I am alive.
     Perhaps I shouldn't get used to it. Maybe I should pursue healing. But not in his arms. Never again. God is my strength. God is my fortress, my desire, my Healer, my King. God is writing my love story. Not my lost love. That man has no control over me anymore. Yes, I still feel the sting, but it does not make me wish to die anymore.
     Micah, my love, you hurt me. But God allowed you to hurt me so that I could understand the depths of HIS love, and His design for my life.
     I may be in pain, but I am free.