Where one fire burns high and clear upon the altar of the heart, there is small room for any other.”
–Emerson Hough (54-40 or Fight)
“For our God is a consuming fire.”
–Hebrews 12:29(NKJV)
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I have had the fortune of teaching several classes regarding the Holy Spirit. One unit that is included are the “Symbols of the Holy Spirit” which include oil, wind, water, and fire along with some others. There is a story I would like to share with you from the writing of F.E. Marsh and is taken from his wonderful book, “Emblems of the Holy Spirit.”
Fire is a wonderful symbol of the Spirit. Fire inflames, fire warms, fire consumes, fire hardens and also softens, fire purifies, fire cheers, fire fuses, fire illuminates, and what I want to share today is the fact that fire moves. Luke tells us that John the Baptist preached, that Jesus would “baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire.” (Luke 3:16)
A man had a factory!
He walked round the outside and then walked round the inside. There were the shafts, all properly set, the cogs, all sharp and clean, the great engine all complete. The machinery was all there, but it didn’t move a spoke.
He was looking disgustedly at the factory when a man came up and said, “Your factory?” “Yes,” he replied.
“What do you make?” “That’s the trouble: I don’t make anything.”
“Doesn’t it run?” “No.”
“What’s the matter with it?” “I don’t know.”
“Ah,” said the man, “I’ll tell you; you want to get some hook-nosed oil-cans, and some imported oil,” and he employed me to go round and oil the machinery and all the bearings.
Then he came down again, walked round inside and outside. Nothing moved. A man came up to him and said, “Your factory?” “Yes,” he replied.
“What do you make?” “Don’t make anything.”
“Don’t it run?” “No.”
“What’s the matter?” “I don’t know.”
“I’ll tell you; you want to fresco it–side walls and ceiling–and I would recommend you to put a couple of barefooted angels with trumpets eternally ready to blow–and do it properly.”
So he put workmen in and frescoed the factory, putting a couple of angels on the ceiling, with trumpets at their lips ready to blow.
Then he came down and looked it over again, but still it did not move, and while he was looking a man came up and said, “Your factory?” “Yes.”
“What do you make?” “Nothing.”
“Why? Don’t it run?” “No.”
“What’s the matter?” “I don’t know.”
“Ah,” said he, “I’ll tell you. It has no steeple. You want to put up a nice steeple on one of the corners, and I’d advise you to put in a fine pipe-organ, and get a quartette choir at the same time.”
So he set men to work, got the steeple up, with a chime of bells that was marvelous, put in a pipe-organ with lots of pipes, got a quartette choir that would beat anything you ever heard, specially on the “Amen.”
Then the man came down, saw the steeple and the organ, and heard the choir and the chimes. But not a thing moved.
“This your factory?” said a man who came up. “Yes.”
“What do you make?” “Nothing.”
“Don’t it run?” “No.”
“Ah,” he said, “you want a picture of the thing taken. Get a photographer to take a picture, have a lot of big copies made and framed and hung up all round–in the railway stations, in the hotels, in the barbers’ shops, and so on, telling all about the time the thing is expected to move. Say it will move at 11 o’clock in the morning and 7 o’clock at night, and the people will come to see it move.”
So he got a great big picture taken, and had copies hung up at all the places the man told him about.
Then he came down, walked around inside and out; but couldn’t see a hair moving. He was perfectly disgusted. Not a cog trembled!
Just then a working man came up, a hard-handed man. He took off his hat–he was very polite–and said, “Beg pardon, sir, is this your factory?”
“Who told you to ask me that?” grunted the owner of the factory.
“Beg pard, but is that your factory?” repeated the man. “Yes.”
“What do you make?” “Don’t make anything.”
“Don’t it run?” “Run! No, it don’t run at all–except into debt!”
“What’s the matter, sir?” “I don’t know. A man told me to get some hook-nosed oil-cans–and there they are. Another man told me to fresco it, and put in a couple of angels. I frescoed it, and if you will come in and have a look you will see two bare-footed angels on the ceiling ready to blow their trumpets. Another man told me to put on a steeple, to get a pipe-organ, to engage a quartette choir, and I did. Do you hear those chimes? See that organ? Listen to that choir chasing that ‘Amen’ up and down! Another man told me to get a photograph taken and hung up. I have hung it up! But the machinery don’t move a spoke, and I am disgusted with the whole business.”
“Well,” said the working man, “pardon me, sir. I have never been to school, and I don’t know anything about those angels; but I would like to ask you one question: Did you every put any fire under the boiler?”
“Why, I never thought of that.”
“Well,” said the working man, “if you will take the chances–it will scare the choir, likely–I will put some fire under the boiler.”
“Oh,” said the man, “go ahead. Move it somehow. Make something of it, if it’s only ashes!”
So the working man went inside, took off his coat, opened the door of the furnace, put in the wood, threw on the petroleum, put in the coal, lighted a match, got the fire going, set on the draughts, shovelled in some more coal, and pulled back the throttle valves. The steam rushed into the cylinder, hit the end of the piston rod, the great wheel began to tremble, it revolved, and the machinery all over the factory began to move. A little more coal–and more–and more–and more, while faster–and faster–and faster went the machinery. The quartette choir got scared, and went out of the back door. The whole machinery was moving. Something had happened. Praise the Lord!
There is often too much of man involved in God’s work and not enough of the fire of the Holy Spirit to get it moving. Plans are all right if under the direction and moving of the Holy Spirit. Programs are as well, but we must not ever leave out the working of the Holy Spirit. It is the Holy Spirit that moves, energizes, controls, and directs the Church.