Letter #5 - The Refining Fire of Lent

Dear Abba,

I have been comfortable for so long, to my own detriment.

I am so excited to enter into the refining fire of lent. To allow for all my many impurities to rise to the surface so that they could be removed from me.

But I know, if there is going to be any success this Lenten season, it’s only going to come in the midst of fire, and fire is – at the least – uncomfortable. Fire burns, it scourges, it completely obliterates; just weeks ago, we saw fire displace hundreds of thousands of people from the Los Angeles area as it destroyed everything in its path. But even in the midst of a forest fire, the destruction is used for good, for in the ruins and emptiness that remains, the wind carries seedlings from far and deposits them in the ash of the destroyed forest. Then, from dust and ash, grass grows, then shrubs and over time seedlings turn into trees; eventually, where the old forest once stood, stands a new forest. What consumes me, is that I am constantly reminded that it is a process of time. The forest, having been consumed by the fire, will not bear the strong and large trees it once did for at least 50 years. Even then, the forest is alive and new again, and those trees which may have been suffering from disease or born the marks of their long lives will appear closer to their true and perfect form than they did before. They will be strengthened in their newness.

I too want to be thrown into this all-consuming fire during lent. I wish to come out anew and having left behind the hardships of the old man. So many of those whom I admire have found themselves uncomfortable and suffering in the fire, only to be made a new man.

I even pondered these past couple of days what the Psalmist says in his repentance, “Make me to hear joy and gladness, that the bones which YOU have broken may rejoice.”[1] Why has the good Lord broken the Psalmist’s bones? And what’s the link to the breaking of bones to the Psalmist’s joy and gladness? I don’t claim to know this, nor much at all. But I know that a broken bone hurts, it’s painful, no sane individual desires their bones to be broken. Despite all of this discomfort and pain, the Psalmist says it is from God, the good God, who desires my own purification and fruitfulness – and in all this pain, the Psalmist prays for rejoicing. It’s as though the Psalmist knows such is good and he doesn’t pray for immediate healing of the broken bones, he says “make me to hear joy and gladness” … that even that which is in pain, the broken bones, may rejoice!

St. Xenia of Petersburg finds Christ in the midst of this refining fire. The one she loves most, her husband, departs one evening at a party. She finds herself widowed at the age of 26; in the midst of her grief, she distributes her possessions to the poor and forsakes love of the world. She became a fool for Christ, wandering the streets as a homeless person by day, and praying in the fields by night. She told others she had died, and told them to refer to her by her husband’s name. For a time, she wandered Russia seeking instruction from holy Elders. St. Xenia is only refined in the midst of fire, in 18th century Russia being widowed and having lost her husband, she found the true Bridegroom.

Likewise, Jonah is refined in the midst of fire. Jonah flees the Lord, and he flees the Lord boldly. Jonah sleeps while all those on the ship suffer on his account, and when they finally know that the storm comes on account of Jonah’s iniquity, “the men rowed hard to return to land”, it was not repentance that first came to Jonah’s mind. But the Lord was getting Jonah ready for the fire, the fire that burns down the forest so that new life may come. From the hand of the gracious God, “the Lord had prepared a great fish to swallow Jonah.” How much more could the Lord have prepared for Jonah – comfort? a small lifeboat? an angel to come and carry him to land? Yet, none of these would have had the refining that was required – Jonah needed fire. So fire the Lord prepared. Only in the midst of the fire does Jonah come to himself, or rather, to the Lord. For the prophet says, “I cried out to the Lord because of my affliction”. Jonah is refined in affliction.

My fathers the monks in the fourth and fifth century – when martyrdom had slowed so that they could not be beheaded out of their love for Christ – entered into the wilderness, dwelling in caves, holes, and the cracks of the earth so that they could be refined by fire. What great love is this? Who not only endures fire, but longs for it? Knowing that it is by fire which they may become all fire. And to me is told, “If you will, you may become all flame.” How I long to be all flame. How I long to be one who loves the fire – the fire of fasting, the fire of prostrations, the fire of deprivation of sleep for the love of prayer. How I desire to be all consumed by the fire despite my great sinfulness. It is this sinfulness which makes my consumption necessary – who will remove the impurities except for the Fire.

Refine me, O Fire.

Having come face to face with my own weakness, with my own defilement, with the multitude of sins I constantly find myself engulfed in, I am ready for the Lenten season.

While, I long and pray for the fire that will refine me. I know that much of it will be left in the hands of the Beloved. He who controls all, who prepared the whale for Jonah – so too may He prepare fire for me. But that does not mean I can’t make the adjustments required to find joy in the midst of the fire, that I can’t welcome and become accustomed to the discomfort. That I can’t both go seeking fire and asking Him to send fire – it doesn’t seem to me that the two are mutually exclusive. For Jonah, the fire was prepared, and for my fathers the monks, they freely sought and entered into it in.

What will the fire look like for me this lent? Surely it will look different in each member of the Body. Less is what is needed for my weak self this lent: Less worldly, more spiritual; Less food, more prayer; Less television, more scripture; Less slothfulness, more movement; less self-absorption, more service.

I need less and I need more. Less of me, more of Him.

Pray for my success Abba. My success in finding myself in fire, in trusting that the pain of the fire is necessary, so that I may one day rejoice in it.

Pray for me Abba,

Your weak son

[1] This is the NKJV translation. A translation from the Septuagint reads, “You shall make me to hear gladness and joy; the humbled bones shall rejoice.”