Fire consumes.

That’s a fundamental rule. It’s how the whole thing works. It’s energy and light from a fuel source that’s being ripped apart on the molecular level.

Except when it isn’t.

Except when it’s surrounding a bush on the mountain of God, and the fundamental rules are thrown out the window.

That’s what Moses saw. “He looked, and behold, the bush was burning with fire, but the bush was not consumed” (Exodus 3:2).

Should have been.

Wasn’t.

I’m guessing the bush probably wasn’t that important. I suspect it was just your average, ordinary, run-of-the-mill, growing-on-the-slope-of-a-mountain kind of bush. The only reason we even talk about the bush has nothing to do with the actual bush itself and everything to do with the fire that was swirling around it, engulfing it but not consuming it.

The presence of God.

When He came to speak with Israel, “Mount Sinai was completely in smoke, because the LORD descended upon it in fire. Its smoke ascended like the smoke of a furnace, and the whole mountain quaked greatly” (Exodus 19:18). And again, “the sight of the glory of the LORD was like a consuming fire on the top of the mountain” (Exodus 24:17). The Israelites were constantly at risk of being consumed because of their disobedience and sin (Exodus 33:3).

The fire of God’s presence can absolutely consume us if we treat it without the awe and reverence it deserves.

That presence that swirls around you, too. In your life. With your spirit.

Why aren’t you consumed?

It’s not about the bush.

It’s about the fire.

There is a lot in this world that ought to be able to break us in terms of our devotion to God. It ought to be able to wear us down until we give up and stop trying. It ought to be able to convince us that the struggle isn’t worth it.

But it doesn’t do that.

“We have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us. We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies” (2 Corinthians 4:7-10, ESV).

The fire we carry doesn’t consume us. It empowers us. It gives us the strength to continue on long after the moment that should have been our breaking point. It gives us hope and perspective and confidence in a future worth sacrificing everything to be part of.

We’re jars of clay. We’re your average, ordinary, run-of-the-mill, growing-on-the-slope-of-a-mountain kind of bush.

But we’ve been given something precious by our Creator—a fire that keeps burning long after we should have burned out.

Afflicted but not crushed. Perplexed but not driven to despair. Persecuted but not forsaken. Struck down but not destroyed.

Trusting in God to get us where we’re going.