Keep the Fire Burning
My old high school has an Instagram page, and I follow it. It’s fun. I get to see all the updates people post, and sometimes they have features on alumni. (I have yet to be featured, but I won’t hold that against them.) In October of last year, they posted the verse Leviticus 6:12: “The fire on the altar must be kept burning; it must not go out. Every morning the priest is to add wood to the firewood and arrange the burnt offering on the fire and burn the fat of the fellowship offerings on it” (NIV).
I was perplexed at the school’s seemingly odd choice to use this verse as an Instagram post. But the joke’s on me, because this verse has been stuck in my mind for months now.
The Bible is specific that the fire could not go out, that the priest was responsible to keep the fire alive all day, every day. If you go camping or enjoy bonfires, you can attest that this would be no small task. It would require the priest to constantly tend to the flame, even during the middle of the night.
Why did God specify that it must never go out? I wondered. I don’t know if burnt offerings and peace offerings were offered on the altar every single day, but even if they were, surely many sacrifices were offered on some days and few on others. And yet the fire had to burn continuously no matter how many sacrifices were brought to the priest.
Did the priest ever become fatigued with this monotonous and never-ending task? Did he feel as though his life had been reduced to a redundant poking of embers? I mean, I’ve felt that way.
I have often felt like my life has been reduced to facing dirty laundry and baby bottles, both of which seem to come at me faster than I can wash them. It’s like they’re procreating. I constantly pick up the house, and yet it’s never as tidy as I wish it were. The dishwasher hasn’t even finished running from dinner and my kids are asking for a snack. I just cleaned the bathroom, and I can already see the dreaded ring in the bowl and toothpaste crust in the sink. For the third time in a week, my girls have gone to bed half an hour past their bedtime.
Some days my mommy suit is neatly pressed and starched; other days I’m traipsing around in my wrinkled, stained, mommy bathrobe. Some days I’m overwhelmed with love for my children, and some days I hide in the bathroom so I don’t have to answer one more question. And that’s okay. It’s encouraging to remember that I don’t always have to be an exhilarated mom; I just have to be a faithful mom. I just have to keep the fire from dying.
Dear sister, your day doesn’t have to be thrilling to be meaningful. You’re asked to keep your family fed—and Kraft Mac & Cheese with hot dogs will get the job done if need be. Like I tell my kids, “Not every meal is going to be your favorite.”
A quote by Thomas Moore says, “The ordinary acts we practice every day at home are of more importance to the soul than their simplicity might suggest.” My pastor, Jeff Manion, has said that motherhood can be mundane, but the sacrifices a mother consistently makes are what their children really need.
Keep the flame alive, momma, for the heat and light will one day cause your children to rise up and call you blessed.
lives in Michigan with her husband and four (soon to be five!) children. She is a lover of music, language, and all things thought-provoking. She is a witness and testimony to God’s redemptive grace.
Photograph © Cristian Escobar, used with permission
