Corner Stone Keynotes

What shall a man do with a fire that will not fit within his fireplace? What shall he do when the flame rises beyond the brick, beyond the mantel, beyond all the careful boundaries by which men try to control warmth and measure heat?

If it is only common fire, he may cast water upon it.
If it is only earthly flame, he may smother it with ash.
But if it is the Fire of God, then let every trembling hand stand back, let every proud voice be silenced, and let every resisting heart fall upon its face before the Lord of Glory.

For there is a Fire which heaven kindles that no hand of man may tame. It is too pure for compromise, too fierce for empty ceremony, too holy for fleshly management.

Men love a religion that may be folded neatly, spoken softly, and dismissed conveniently. They love a flame that warms the fingertips, yet never searches the inward parts. They welcome a fire that glows upon the altar, so long as it does not leap into the pew, consume the idols, and uncover the secret chambers of the soul.

Let it burn through the chaff of hollow profession.

Let it burn through the ropes of dead tradition where tradition has robbed truth of its power.

Let it burn through the pride that kneels publicly yet rebels privately.

Let it burn through the hunger for applause, the fear of man, the love of ease, and the cold, careful unbelief that calls itself wisdom.

Blessed flame! Holy fire!

Come not only to stir us, but to undo us.
Come not only to move us, but to melt us.
Come not only to visit, but to take full possession.

O Spirit of the Living God, if Thou dost burn, then burn completely.

Search every chamber.
Spare no rival.
Pass by no hidden thing.
Put Thy torch to every cherished ambition that was born of self and not of Christ.

Set ablaze every altar upon which no true sacrifice has lain.

Consume the prayerless life.
Consume the divided heart.
Consume the cowardice that trembles before men and dares not stand in the counsel of God.

If there is in us anything that cannot live in the light of Thy presence, let it perish in the heat of Thy nearness.

Yet let none fear this blessed Fire as though it came only to destroy. For the Fire of God does indeed consume, but it consumes that it might cleanse.

It wounds that it might heal.
It empties that it might fill.
It strips the forest bare that new life may spring forth with greater strength.

When heaven’s flame falls, the dross cries out, but the gold rejoices.

The flesh resists, but the spirit answers.

The old man trembles, but faith lifts up her head and says, “This is the Lord; let Him do what seems good unto Him.”

These are the dreams of childish men, not the dealings of a holy God.

The Lord does not baptize His people in flattering mist, but in holy fire.

He does not awaken a generation by entertaining it, but by invading it.

He comes to overturn, to convict, to humble, to reclaim, to place Christ upon the throne where self has sat too long.

Then let the Fire fall where it must.

Let it fall upon the preacher until his words are no longer polished arrows of intellect, but live coals from the altar.

Let it fall upon the church until the songs become cries, the prayers become deep groanings, and the house of God ceases to be a place of performance and becomes again a place of power.

Let it fall upon families until fathers lead with tears, mothers pray in secret with burdened hearts, and children see a faith that burns brighter than the screens before their faces.

Let it fall upon the sinner until the chains of darkness crack in the heat of divine mercy and the rebel heart comes running home to Christ.

And if that Fire will not fit our plans, then let our plans be ruined.

If it will not stay within our chosen boundaries, then let our boundaries be broken.

If it will not bow to our order, then let our order be disturbed.

Better to have the whole house shaken by God than preserved in stillness without Him.

Better to have one blaze from heaven than a thousand lifeless lamps trimmed by men.

Better to be reduced to ashes in the pathway of obedience than preserved in polished coldness while the Spirit is grieved.

So burn, Holy Spirit, burn.

Burn in the pulpit and in the pew.
Burn in the prayer closet and in the marketplace of duty.
Burn in the hidden places where no eye sees but God.

Burn until Christ alone is lifted up.

Burn until sin is hated, holiness is loved, prayer is natural, worship is living, and obedience is swift.

Burn until the Church no longer speaks of former days with longing, but walks again in the present majesty of her risen Lord.