John's Blog
When Time Flies By
Where have the past few weeks gone? I’m trying to pause, and assess. Take stock. Where did all my time go? What have I been doing? I have to pull out my calendar to even remember. Oh, that’s right. The first of this month we had a Wild at Heart Boot Camp. Four really incredible days. And utterly exhausting. It takes days to recover. This time almost a week, because the warfare hit hard towards the end, and even more so afterwards. That’s right, now I remember. But three days after the retreat was Stasi and my 25th. A wonderful time, but still there’s the pressure and emotional investment in making it a wonderful time. We went down to Santa Fe for a couple nights. Then a friend’s wedding. Then back to the book, and writing. My son Sam breaks down in his 68 VW we rebuilt, but he’s several states away and I spend a day and a night trying to get him back to college. This past weekend it was take Luke rifle hunting. No wonder I’m tired. Sometimes it’s helpful just to pause and ask, “What have I been doing?’ I mean, any one of these events isn’t all that demanding in and of itself, but good grief, the accumulation is practically ridiculous. At least I don’t feel so guilty for not wanting to jump into the pile on my desk today.
John Eldredge
Saying No
I’m finding I have to say “no” a lot these days. And I’m wondering, why is it so hard? I mean, I realize there’s only so much of me to go around. I understand the need for “margin” in my life. And I try to walk with God, ask him where he’s leading as I make decisions. I’ve got a pretty strong sense of what I’m supposed to be about, and that helps me know what I’m not supposed to be about. But even still, I find myself flinching, sometimes freezing inside when I have to come to a decision and the decision is “No.” No, I can’t help you. No, I can’t come. No, I don’t have time to hang out. No, I can’t take this call. Why is it so hard to say no? Is it because I grew up in an alcoholic home, learned to carry unhealthy burdens, felt obligated to take care of others? Is it because I want people to like me, and I’m afraid they’re going to think, “Eldredge is a jerk?” Is it because I fear I’ll miss the will of God, that he is in this or that request and I’m afraid I’ll blow right past something he is in? Its probably D) all of the above. But as I reflect a bit more on the internal workings of this, I think the common thread is that I want to be thought well of. And it makes me realize how crucial it is to get my validation from God. It’s hard to navigate all the needs and demands in a broken world. Jesus said, “The poor you will always have with you,” meaning, there is always going to be more need than you can meet. It’s hard to navigate my own motives. The enemy is a constant accuser. There is just no way out of this mess except to place the verdict on my life in God’s hands, and to draw from him the validation or correction on how I’m living. If I have a settled confidence in his opinion, then I’m free to live. If I lose sight of that, o man, it makes a mess of things. “God, how am I doing?” I need to take my bearings here. It’s the only true north.
John Eldredge
Its the Little Things
Years ago I was sitting in grad school, listening to a lecture by Larry Crabb talking about real and substantive change in our lives, and how our choices every day reflect what’s truly ruling us. He said he was blasting out the door that morning as he usually did, crashing into his day, blasting, how he made a conscious decision to stop, turn around, go back and get something he forgot. The point was, “I am trying to be aware of what is ruling me as I move through my day, and I’m making small decisions to act against it. That’s how I cooperate with God in my transformation.” I thought…huh. Really? That seems like pretty small potatoes. That’s where change takes place? I’m in grad school for this? Over the years I’ve found it to be profoundly true. We look for the huge, monumental changes – which are so hard to pull off, and pretty rare for most of us, and we miss a thousand small decisions that could change us. This summer, it was flip-flops. I’ve never liked flip-flops, thought they were wimpy. When I did wear sandals in the summer, I’d choose something like Tevas, or Chacos, “adventure sandals” that have straps and buckles, a design that make them ready for action. It reflects a posture, an approach to life. “Always be ready for action.” Flip-flops are like wearing bathrobes. Like going to the market in pajama pants. I’d never be caught dead in a bathrobe. I mean, it’s so friggin wimpy. OK. So part of my awareness and repentance of late has been to see how little I chill-out. Just chill-out. Let down. Relax. I’m always “on.” I despised flip-flops because they were so un-ready for anything. Anyhow, I bought a pair when we went to Hawaii in June, and I’ve worn them throughout the summer. Its a small act. Might even seem silly. But its a way of repenting. “Chill out, John. Give it a rest, for heaven’s sake. You don’t have to be ‘on’ all the time.” So, it’s been the summer of the flip-flops. It goes down as a milestone.
John Eldredge
Fairy Tales
It was Chesterton, years ago while reading his Orthodoxy, who first really helped me see that we live in a Fairy Tale. The world we live in is fantastic beyond description, but we get dull to it and forget. So we tell each other fairy tales so that we turn again to our world and see it for what it is. Anyhow, I was bow hunting this weekend with my son Blaine and my friend Morgan, high up in the mountains of Colorado. It involves a lot of long hours just sitting still and being quiet in the woods. Which is a beautiful time for taking in the world again. Saturday morning Blaine and I were poised over a water hole, on the edge of a dark forest, and I was watching dragon flies cruising around the little pond. They look like miniature biplanes. Blaine nudges me, shows me a tiny lime green inch worm on his hand. Really now, dragon flies? Inch worms? Who would have thought of this? You could not have made this world up, it is so amazing. This world is fairy tale through and through. Anyhow, a squirrel runs down the branch of a tree we are sitting under, and makes it clear he doesn’t like us being there. I sort of shoo him off and for five minutes all is silent. Then one by one, missiles start raining down from above. Thwack. Thwack. Like artillery. The squirrel is in the top of the 30 foot fir tree, throwing hard cones down on us. I kid you not. This goes on for about five minutes, all still silent, but the missiles coming in. He finally hits Blaine, and at the very moment bursts out in chatter, is if he were laughing. I think he was. Fairy Tale. How did I not see it before?
John Eldredge
Boot Camp Week
Its Boot Camp week here at Wild at Heart. 450 men from all over the world are heading to Colorado for a profound encounter with God. We just finished packing the U Haul we take up to Crooked Creek Ranch with all our stuff in it. Work crew guys are flying in today. Part of our team will head up this afternoon to the camp, the rest tomorrow morning. There is excitement in the air. This is a Boot Camp week, and man, can we tell. All sorts of warfare flying around here. Physical stuff like internal bleeding and chest pains. Sleeplessness. Emotional stuff like marital tension, and all sorts of agreements being “suggested” by the enemy. Oppressive “fog.” Its like he comes, probing the perimeter, looking for some way in. The reason for boatloads of assault is that these weekends are some of the most profound, healing, freeing, life-changing weekends these men will ever in their lives experience. No joke. Its a big deal. It will change hundreds of lives forever. When you rescue a man, the reverberations of that are almost limitless. You rescue a marriage, and a family. You rescue his children, and generations after them. Its as though a deep rift in the fabric of the world is healed. So thank you for praying for me and the team these next five days. Your prayers really matter. We can literally feel them. They help protect us, and that sets us free to go after these guys. Sat down to breakfast this morning, alone in the kitchen. I’d been asking God for a scripture for this weekend. He gave Isaiah 49:24–25. “Can plunder be taken from warriors, or captives rescued from the fierce? But this is what the Lord says: ‘Yes, captives will be taken from warriors and plunder retrieved from the fierce; I will contend with those who contend with you, and your children I will save.’” Far out. Let’s do this thing.
John Eldredge
What I have been reading this summer
I’m probably not alone in finding that summer allows a little more room for reading than the rest of the year. I’m not sure all the reasons for that. Part of it is schedule – things tend to really ramp up in the Eldredge house and at Wild at Heart September through May. But part of it is mindset. There just seems to be a little more breathing room as my soul rests a bit in summer. So, I’ve been reading and loving the opportunity to read. Here’s what I’ve been enjoying this past month: Teewinot, climbing and contemplating the teton range by Jack Turner. Our family has been camping every summer in the Tetons since Luke was 3. (He just turned 15). This stunning part of God’s creation holds a special place in our hearts, and is always a rich part of our summer for seven days. Finally I found a book about life in the Tetons by someone who loves them as much as me. Turner is a old climbing guide, a naturalist, and a good writer. The Solace of Open Spaces, by Gretel Ehrlich. Okay, the title alone is worth this little book. It’s true, we need open spaces in our lives. They do something deeply healing and orienting in our souls. (Abraham, Jacob, Elijah, John the Baptist, Jesus, the desrt fathers all knew this). Ehrlich came to Wyoming from New York to film a series for PBS on sheep herding. She ended up staying seven years. She, too, is a good writer. And I love Wyoming. The Warriors, reflections on men in battle by J Glenn Gray. A remarkable book. Gray was drafted into WWII right after he received his doctorate in philosophy. He is a keenly perceptive, self-aware and reflective man, and he writes about both the power of war upon the soul of men, and its costs, with such grace and humility. I don’t agree with everything he says, but when he is right he is really right. The Way of the Wild Heart. I know, I know, it might seem really weird that I’m reading my own book, and even more weird that I’m recommending it here by way of mention. But the truth is, I don’t usually read a book of my own once its finished, and it takes a few years to get enough distance to read them with appreciation. What I am struck by is that this is a really good book. I wish every man would read it. Summer is winding to a close. I can feel the pressures of September crouching just ahead, ready to pounce. Sigh. I wish I could read like this all year.
John Eldredge
How Much of God is in a Single Day?
Today is Sunday. The 20th of July. I woke up feeling anxious. Looked at my watch. 6:11. No need to jump out of bed just yet, so I lingered there in order to pay attention to the anxiety. What is this about Lord? Why am I feeling anxious? I lay there for about twenty minutes, just sort of inviting Jesus into the nameless fear and asking him to heal and deliver, all the while paying attention to what is going on inside of me and what it is God might want to reveal. Why am I anxious? What is going on down in my soul? Yes, this might be warfare. But it might also be something more. Something needing attention. For the past couple days, I’ve been aware (again) of how I hurl myself at life. My ethic is “Stay on top of things.” This I have known for sometime. But the newer revelations have to do with this nagging sense of “I’m blowing it” (this is the G rated version). I often feel that I’m blowing it. I wondered what this had to do with the anxiousness. What do I pray, Lord? “Ask my life to come in. My life.” Yes, it’s about the life of God. So laying there in bed, I’m praying for the life of God to come in. Later, I am saying my morning prayers. And what is becoming clear to me is how in my youth, through my wounds, I came to believe life is up to me, and how I turned to self-preservation through striving and staying on top of things. I felt I needed to repent of that, right now. I knew how the Enemy gets a stronghold in our lives when we come to these deep resolutions toward self-preservation (they are godless, whatever form they take). I did not turn to God in my youth; I turned to myself. It created an awful burden, to stay on top of things. Now I am anxious. Is there any real wonder why? It felt like a continuation of the prayer time in bed. Jesus, forgive me. Come into this. Cleanse me, heal me. What was so right on about God’s guidance to invite his life in is that when we live by the life of God, he the Vine and we the branches, then we are connected as we were meant to be, and life is not up to us. So I prayed for the Life of God to come into all these anxious places. Now, all of this is before breakfast. Later I go into what we call the “bunkhouse.” It’s where the boys sleep when we are at the ranch. But it is empty. The boys left for home about an hour ago. I am just checking around, making sure they didn’t leave anything and wham, I am hit with the fact that they are gone, maybe for the last time this summer. The bunkhouse is empty. Another season is passing. What follows hard on that realization is grief. How quickly they are growing up, how time is flying by. How it hurts to have them gone, to have this season passing. I sit outside for a few minutes so as not to blow by this moment. It feels tender, and profound. I am suddenly aware of how hard I try to make life work, how fleeting life is, and how little I think about heaven. I’m remembering this feeling, this sense of something golden lost, and how it used to usher me into the realization that my hopes have to be fixed on heaven or I am just striving to make life work and setting myself up for a massive letdown. And loss of heart. All of this before 2pm. What I left out of this record was some rich moments of thinking about Jesus and our friendship, enjoying the hummingbirds, Luke and I looking at some mountain lion tracks, and a dozen other things. And I find myself wondering – how much of God is there in a single day? I mean, holy cow. If we will but pay attention, take notice both of what is going on inside us, and around us, and talk to God about it…wow. How much is he bringing to us in a single day?
John Eldredge
Summer So Far
I was thinking today about the things I’ve been enjoying this summer. In the midst of war, and chaos, stolen cars, sleepless nights, all that stuff, it’s really good to remember what is beautiful, and true. Most True. So here’s my favorites from summer thus far… Butterflies. Especially the big yellow and black monarchs. I love them, love their nonchalance, love how God seems to send one my way right when I am stressing and obsessing about something. A playful reminder to lighten up. The wind in the tall grass. Its like an ocean of swaying green hues. How the breeze in the aspens sounds like a gentle rain shower. Oban playing his rock game. He loves to find a rock and push it around with his nose, then jump on it because it’s “getting away” then push it around again. Its hysterical. Fishing with the boys. One evening we hit it just right, and the fish were rising and the boys kept catching one after another and the evening was so beautiful from a canoe on a lake. Banana Cream Pie. My grandmother used to make a killer pie, and its been years since I had one. For father’s day Stasi made a banana cream pie from scratch and it was scandalously good. The Romance. I was praying a few months ago, “Jesus, I want you back.” I realized that my relationship with God has been so much defined either by getting counsel and guidance for all that I am leading, or by battling the frequent warfare. The effect of this over time is to lose the Romance with God. I found myself really missing simply being with God, loving him. Beginning to get this back is the highlight of the summer.
John Eldredge
Distraction and Prayer
I have the hardest time staying focused in prayer. I know I’m not alone in this. My mind wanders; I get distracted. I start out with my thoughts and heart turned towards God, but somewhere along the way I wander off. Most of the time its stuff I have to do today, or people I’m worried about. I’m praying along and suddenly I realize that though I have kept saying words in prayer, my heart and mind are a million miles away. It’s embarrassing. Like inviting someone over to talk, sitting down in the living room together, and then suddenly you realize you’ve been staring at the TV and ignoring your company. It’s also ineffective, in the sense that it really does derail prayer. What to do? Years ago I was sitting under a man’s teaching in my church. He was teaching about prayer. And of all the things he said, the one thing that’s helped me most was this one thought: When you realize you are distracted, don’t just plow ahead. Stop, go back, and pick up again with the prayer at the last point in which you were engaged. Sort of like wandering in the woods; don’t just keep going. Stop, back up, retrace your steps, go back and pick up the trail where you last left it, and then carry on. I find I have to do this a lot, and I find it’s helped me a whole lot. It brings me back to God, centers me. It makes prayer far more meaningful, far more intentional. And therefore, far more effective. I meant to share this in the series I did awhile back on The Hope of Prayer, but I forgot. Or got distracted (!). And it’s been on my heart to offer it to you ever since. So there you go. Hope it’s helpful.
John Eldredge
Resurrection
So, I’m sitting up on the hillside behind our house early this morning, praying. I love to pray outside when I can, and this morning was beautiful. Anyhow, you might remember from Walking with God the story of Scout’s death (our family’s beloved golden retriever). That took place in December of ’06, and we buried Scout up on the hill in the scrub oak, near where I was praying this morning. You might also recall that we got a new puppy last summer. He’s a golden, and his name is Oban. He’s a year old now, but still very much a puppy at heart (and in the brain) and he sort of runs around while I pray and chases rocks (!?) and finds sticks and brings them back to me. Anyhow, as I was praying I saw Oban out of the corner of my eye and turned to see what the rascal was up to. He was standing on the spot where we had buried Scout. You have to take this in visually – here is this adorable year-old golden retriever full of life and curiosity, standing in the very place of Scout, the place that commenorates his death. I was so struck by the living, vibrant, three dimensional picture of the resurrection. We don’t always know how God restores or how he comes to fill the places of loss in our lives, but he does. He does. This all took place in the very moment I happened to be praying through that part of my daily prayer where I am receiving the resurrection life of Jesus. It was a stunning gift from him, a living proof that life prevails. Life is the truest thing.
John Eldredge
Finding Real Vacation
I was chatting with a few friends the other day about our trip to Kauai, and the car theft, and all that, and we got to talking about how important summer vacation is for all of us, and it led to some thoughts I wanted to share with you. First, we really need vacations, just as we really need Sabbath rest each week. There’s a rhythm to life. The heart beats, then it rests. It beats, then rests. We wake each morning, then we sleep every night. We wake, then we sleep. We spend energy, then we take in food to replenish what we spent. Vacation is like that. We’ve got to have periods of rest and joy and beauty in our year. So here is what we’ve learned about vacations: First, ask God! Don’t just assume you know what is best this summer. Ask God what he’d have you do, and when, and with whom. Too many folks squander their vacation because they don’t ask God what he has for them. We went to Kauai because we prayed about it last winter, several times. “Where should we go, Lord? For how long?” Visits are not vacations. Most folks spend their vacation time visiting relatives. That rarely is restful and restoring. Visits are not vacations. Don’t confuse the two. Pray over your vacation beforehand! You know there is a thief. You know he hates joy. The mistake we often make is somehow thinking that vacation time is exempt from the Battle. It’s not. I spent weeks ahead of time praying over our Kauai trip – praying for safety. For the weather. For our travel. For our love as a family to be full. Don’t spend your vacation running. Too many times the temptation is to fill the time with busy-ness, running here and there, touring, trying to “fit it all in.” Most folks get home and need a vacation from their vacation. Don’t squander it running around. We spent most our time within a few miles of the place we stayed. Resting. Being renewed. Don’t drop your guard. The temptation when we get to wherever it is we were going for vacation is to drop our usual prayer life, drop our armor, and think “this is time out.” It’s not. To protect the time, I got up early every morning and prayed hard over the day. Don’t be lulled into a false security.Okay. Now ask God what he has for you this summer.
John Eldredge
Stress
So, we got back Tuesday morning from two wonderful weeks away on vacation. And already I can feel the old stress wanting to creep back in. There’s a ton of stuff to get done now. I can feel the sort of gripping pain in my gut that is an old, old mark of stress. Dangit. I don’t want to just throw it all back into “high gear.” Is it inevitable? Do we just get a taste of a different pace of life, but it doesn’t ever have a lasting effect? I’m wondering – how can we make meaningful changes? I mean, I have these sorts of experiences several times a year. I get away and get some perspective. I see my life from a different point of view, see some things I’d like to change. But over time the revelation fades, and it feels like I have to learn the lesson all over again. I hate that. Doesn’t lasting change really happen? Is the Matrix inevitable? So here’s what I’m thinking – what small changes can I make that would reflect the clarity I have, while I still have it? Before the revelation fades into the busy-ness of life, what can I do to go with it, run with it, make decisions that will help it linger? Today, it was stop and have lunch. I usually work through lunch, if I take it at all. I know its just a sign of that nose-to-the-grindstone mentality, and so today, I stopped and ate lunch without doing anythng else. Just lingered. “Wasted time,” so to speak. It’s a small change, but a significant one for me at least. Now I’m going to leave early. Another small choice. A good one.
John Eldredge
The Thief
Sunday night about 11pm, just after we’d fallen asleep, somebody broke into the little house we are staying in on Kauai. They grabbed some cash from my wallet and Stasi’s purse, took the keys and stole the rental car. Pretty crazy. I mean, this is a small island. Where are they going to take a stolen car?? We didn’t realize the theft had occurred until about 6:30 the next morning. We’d gotten up early to head out to the Napali Coast, and couldn’t find the car keys. I thought, “Maybe I left them in the car,” went out to have a look, and there is no car! Then we find the window broken into, and the missing cash. At first, we were kinda shook. Not big time, but geez – to be broken into in a really small little cottage while we were barely asleep. Creepy. And the morning was filled with stress as we had to call the police, tell Hertz somebody stole their car, do the reports, get a ride back to the airport and get another car, all that. But here is what is really cool – about an hour after noon we decided to just put it all behind us and go for a family outing. Thanks to the prayers and support of our friends, who really rallied around us, we were so free to just let it all go, don’t let it pull us down, and take the high road of walking with God through the rest of our vacation. I was so struck by what a difference it makes in how we respond to the thief. Yes, sometimes he does steal, and there is no question he is trying to wreck a desperately needed vacation. But the thing is, we don’t have to let him then steal our joy, too. We really do have options on how we will respond. We really can take the high road, give it all over to God, and in the end we win because we hang onto our perspective, and our joy. Somewhere in a cane field there’s an abandoned Mercury Mountaineer. Meanwhile, we’re going for a swim.
John Eldredge
On Vacation
We are resting on the north shore of Kauai, drinking in beauty and quiet. Sun and rain and ocean. It’s a pastel world, soft clouds, soft sea, soft sky. It feels like a sort of de-tox. From the matrix we all take for granted. But don’t really notice its effect. Until we get away, and suddenly realize how overdue some rest is. Our family reads a ton when we are on vacation. Stasi, the boys, all of us. We read most of the day, lingering in the shade. Last year I made the mistake of bringing the wrong books. War books, mostly, military history, including An Army at Dawn, about the early days of the United States Army in north Africa during WWII. It was a mistake because the last thing I needed to be reading about was war; I live at war, most every day, and the point of vacation is to get away from the front and the almost constant emotional vigilance it requires. Anyhow, I dropped the reading a couple days in because it felt too much like my life. But didn’t have any other books to take up. This year I learned my lesson. Brought Robert Louis Stevenson’s Treasure Island, read it in a day and a half, and loved it. (Now Blaine’s reading it). Moved on to Shakespeare’s The Tempest, which brought me back to my old love of Shakespeare. And such a delightful and redemptive story it is. None of the darkness of Macbeth, none of the battle of Henry V. Interestingly (I only realized this today) they both take place on an island. And now that I think more about it, both stories turn on acts of mercy. Wow. God was just talking to me today about his mercy. And here I thought I just “chose” those books. Sweet. Okay, that's about all I have for now. Hope you are well. Make sure you get some R&R this summer.
John Eldredge
Car Trouble
Monday night I’m driving down the road and suddenly my transmission just goes out. I pull over (thankfully, I was on a back road) and put it in park, waited a second, put it back in drive, and off we go. I think, “Whew. Far out. Don’t know what that was, but glad it’s over.” About half a mile down the road it does it again. The usual sequence of “car trouble” thoughts and emotions begins to run, like this: “What the…?! O no. Doggone it” (this is the G version). Long deep sigh. Try a simple solution. That doesn’t work. Deeper sigh. Battle sweeping resignation, that whole “Why does life have to be so hard?” thing. Finally, I land on, “What am I going to do now?” What made the trouble move from hassle to crisis was, I was four hours from home. What do I do now? I put it in reverse, and drove back up the road to the neighbors. Asked if they had any transmission fluid. I’m hoping it’s a fluid issue. The fluid does register low, so I pour some in and limp back to the ranch. Call a local mechanic (he’s an hour away). He can’t even look at it for a week. Now I’m faced with the dilemma of, “Do I stay here for a week, stranded, or do I try and drive it home and risk a total meltdown on the way, stranding me even further?” I begin to pray, to try and hear from God what I should do. But the drama of the crisis (“O no, I can’t be stuck here a week! And what if the repairs take even longer?! What am I going to do??!!”) is making it hard to hear from God. I find that’s almost always true – I find it really hard to hear from God when I am in high drama. I try and calm down. Take a walk. I still can’t hear. At this point, I know pushing into hearing from God isn’t going to be helpful, so I do a little work around the place, let an hour or so go by. Settle down. I ask again, “Lord – what should I do? Stay? Try and make it home? What are you saying?” Part of what’s making it hard to hear is the fact that getting stuck here for a week is actually beginning to sound good to me. I get to skip out on life for a week. But the more responsible part of me knows this isn’t the time to cave in, and so I am trying to hear whatever it is God wants to say, and not just “go” with my growing desire to bail on life for a week with a beautiful excuse. I hear God say, “You’ll make it home.” I said, “Really? Really? Lord, is this you?” “You’ll make it home.” So, I risked it. Drove gently, didn’t push the transmission hard up the mountain passes, stopped halfway to check the fluid, and made it home. And I think to myself, “What was life like before I knew about hearing from God? I think I just navigated by trying to make good choices.” This is a much better life. God knows, by the way, and it really helps to ask.
John Eldredge
Build a Bigger Fire
I’m back home after this amazing Tour. It was beautiful, and exhausting. A marathon, and God was in it. It was demanding, and hard, but mostly it was beautiful. And filled with greater meaning. Something really important is taking place. Something really big. Several years ago I was backpacking alone in the Collegiate Peaks Wilderness in Colorado. It’s something I try and do once a year, that is, head to the high country for some time alone with God. I was camped on a high shelf in a high valley. It was June, and there were still patches of snow. The days were warm but the nights were cold. One evening after dinner I was just sitting in camp as the sun set, not really wanting to go to bed but too cold to enjoy the evening. I was sitting sort of hunched over, my arms wrapped round my legs, when God said, “Build a fire.” I don’t normally build campfires when I’m alone; usually when it gets dark I’m in my bag in the tent, reading by headlamp. But I clearly heard him say, “Build a fire.” My first thought was where am I going to get dry wood? I stood up, and turned toward a line of tall spruce trees about thirty yards behind me. Though it was a long line of trees, my eyes went immediately to one tree in particular, to the base, and there, under a canopy of boughs, was a pile of firewood. Stacked. Under the tree. Not broken or gathered, but actually cut with a saw. How, in this remote valley, in this secluded spot, under one of a hundred trees, was it possible I would find an abundance of dry wood neatly cut and stacked??!! I slowly turned around, slowly doing a 360, to look behind me, around me, fully expecting Jesus himself to be standing there, smiling. You can understand, I was blown away. I gathered some wood, and made a fire ring. But I made it small, like an Indian fire for one person, and the wood God had provided did not fit. He spoke again. “Build a bigger fire.” I pushed out the stones, made a bigger ring, stacked the wood and let ‘er blaze. I knew it was a moment filled with greater meaning. A prophetic moment, if you will. Standing each night on stage during this tour, looking out at the bright eyes and earnest faces eager to connect with God, eager to live this life he is calling us to live, eager to share it with others, I realized. Here is the bigger fire. You are the bigger fire. It’s come true.
John Eldredge