By Deacon Dan Wagnitz | For On Mission
When my wife, Michelle, and I built our house in 1991, we went to several builders with a wishlist of amenities intended to help our new home truly reflect our personalities.
Several meetings with several builders later, our wishlist began to resemble Wile E. Coyote after the anvil fell on his head — much shorter and more compact. At the end of the day, the list was pretty well pared down to one item that I refused to give up on: a wood-burning fireplace.
I know, I know. Wood-burning fireplaces are not very efficient. The insurance company saw it as a risk. There was the ongoing cost of acquiring firewood, and it required cleaning and maintenance. All those were sound, rational reasons to scratch the fireplace from the list. But it was my heart that won the argument, not my head.
The sense of companionship with fires came from my upbringing. There was no question what we were going to do during each year’s family summer vacation: we were going camping.
And I took to camping as much as a freshly-hatched mallard chick knows that it must make its way to the water. My dwelling of preference is still made of canvas. And for me, the core element of camping is the campfire.
We nearly always camped in the national forests of northern Wisconsin. When I was young every campground was stocked with slab lumber scraps from a local sawmill, a sawhorse, a two-handled crosscut saw and an axe. I learned early how to treat and use them as tools and not toys.
By the time my brother, Mike, was 11 and I was 10, we were responsible for keeping the stack of firewood in our campsite high and dry.
There is something inherently cheerful about a good campfire. The fire draws people to it. There is something entrancing about the dance of the flames. The colors blue and yellow and white twirl together to unheard music and in ever-changing shapes.
Flames are for storytelling, fish tales, laughter, songs and perfectly toasted, golden-brown marshmallows. The glow reflects in each eye as a loud “pop” sends a spray of sparks shooting skyward like so many tiny shooting stars. It’s difficult to be anything but happy around a campfire.
There is nothing that brings a perfect day to its proper close than when the breeze has stilled, the surface of the lake is glassed over and the fire burns down. Ideally, a loon should call and be answered by its mate near the far shore. The last remaining chunk of hardwood finally crumbles and the last of the flames melt quietly into the bed of glowing embers.
Embers are for deep thinking. Just my father and I remained at the fire until ember time. We had a somewhat tense relationship by my teen years. I never really understood quite why. We didn’t talk much — the silence was both symptomatic and characteristic of how we felt. But the best conversations we did have were at ember time.
When silence did completely overtake us, I was quite comfortable just being there in that moment, with him. These were our holiest moments together.
This is not surprising because, throughout Scripture, fire signals the nearness and holiness of God.
“When the Lord saw that he had turned aside to see, God called to him out of the bush, ‘Moses, Moses!’ And he said, ‘Here I am.’ Then he said, ‘Come no closer! Remove the sandals from your feet, for the place on which you are standing is holy ground.’” (Exodus 3:4-5)
“Then one of the seraphs flew to me, holding a live coal that had been taken from the altar with a pair of tongs. The seraph touched my mouth with it and said: ‘Now that this has touched your lips, your guilt has departed and your sin is blotted out.’” (Isaiah 6:6-7)
And of course, at Pentecost: “Divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them, and a tongue rested on each of them. All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages, as the Spirit gave them ability.” (Acts 2:3-4)
Campfires are still essential to me, especially now that we are entering the season of more pleasant evenings.
When we added a patio to our yard 10 years ago, we included a fire pit. Tonight, we have the chairs gathered around, and the marshmallow forks, graham crackers and chocolate bars are ready. Some of the grandkids are on the way over. God is near.
“Let’s have a fire!”