When Our Fire Fails Us
Listen carefully, all you who kindle your own fire [devising your own man-made plan of salvation], who surround yourselves with torches, walk by the light of your [self-made] fire and among the torches that you have set ablaze. But this you will have from My hand: You will lie down in [a place of] torment. — Isaiah 50:11 (AMP)
As I sat down to write, a story from my childhood came rushing back—a story about fire, fear, and love.
I was five years old, camping deep in the woods with my friend and his family. The forest felt endless to me, like we had journeyed centuries into some ancient wilderness. That night, Mr. Hunt, my friend’s dad, lit a torch and started walking back toward the house. I panicked.
“Where is he going?!” I asked, wide-eyed and anxious.
With complete confidence, my friend replied, “He’s going to say goodnight to mom.”
Mr. Hunt braved the dark woods, torch in hand, just to kiss his wife goodnight—then returned to stand watch over us. I love my wife. We’ve been married almost eight years, but I’m not sure I could craft a torch strong enough to motivate me to make that trek through the dark and back again.
In that way, Mr. Hunt reminds me of God—always pursuing, always loving, always coming for us.
But in another way, we are all torch-lighters too.
Torch-Lighters by Nature
Since Eden, we have reached for our own fire—our own plans, our own security. Israel knew this well. They ran to Egypt when Assyria came near. They built alliances instead of altars. They worshiped the gods they could see instead of trusting the One who had already parted the sea.
The fire of self-reliance burned bright in Israel, but that fire never led to life. It led to exile, ruin, and heartbreak.
And today? We still gather wood. We still strike the match. The torches look different, but the impulse is the same.
Modern Torches We Light
The torch of financial security: believing if the account balance is high enough, we’ll be safe.
The torch of productivity: thinking if we hustle harder, optimize better, and control every variable, we can bend the future to our will.
The torch of relationships: hoping our network, influence, spouse, kids, or followers will save us.
The torch of health and strength: trusting that the right diet, training plan, or supplement stack can shield us from suffering and looking weak.
The torch of religious performance: assuming God’s favor can be secured through attendance and moral checklists.
The torch of politics: believing if the right party holds power, we will be happy.
The torch of our own charisma: thinking our words, talent, or personality will be enough to open every door. We abuse our creating gift by ‘thinking’ our way into open doors that don’t fulfill.
But every one of these flames flickers in the dark, wandering like a restless soul-searching for a corpse to feed on. When there is no rest for the flame, the conclusion, that was there all along, is that it cannot light the way through real darkness—the kind of darkness Isaiah knew, the kind that fell at Calvary.
When the Sky Goes Black
There’s a reason Isaiah 50 speaks of God clothing the heavens with blackness (v.3). That’s what happens when human torches fail. Our self-made light burns out, and we’re left standing in the dark—with nothing left to feed on but our own fear.
In that moment, the question isn’t Do you have a torch? The question is Whose fire are you trusting in?
Psalm 33:16-18 gives the answer:
The king is not saved by the great size of his army;
A warrior is not rescued by his great strength.
A horse is a false hope for victory;
Nor does it deliver anyone by its great strength.
Behold, the eye of the Lord is upon those who fear Him
and worship Him with awe-inspired reverence and obedience,
On those who hope confidently in His compassion and lovingkindness. — Psalm 33:16-18 (AMP)
The ones who survive the darkness are not the strongest, the wealthiest, or the most productive. They are the ones who fear the Lord—the ones who wait, trembling with awe and hope, for His love to guide them.
His Light, Not Ours
Isaiah 50:10 gives us the only way through:
Who is among you who fears the Lord,
who obeys the voice of His servant,
yet who walks in darkness and has no light?
Let him trust and be confident in the name of the Lord
and rely on his God.
That’s the invitation. Lay down your torch. Stop trying to light your own way. Go ahead. Step out. Walk into the darkness with empty hands, trusting the One who spoke light into existence.
It will feel scary. The wolf may growl just outside the circle of His light, taunting you for surrendering your own flame. But keep walking. His light is steady, even when yours flickers. Remember—Psalms 23 does not say if we walk through the valley of the shadow of death, it says when!
Because in the end, when you lay down your torch and trust His, you don’t just find your way—you find unfathomable love waiting for you in the deep woods.
Never Finished Challenge - Lay Down Your Torch: A Personal Challenge
What torches have you been lighting?
Where are you trusting in your own strength instead of trusting in God’s love?
What would it look like today to surrender your torch—to let your own light burn out so you can walk by His?
Pray this with me:
Lord, forgive me for trusting in my own strength. I lay down my torch. I surrender my plans, my security, my self-made light. I choose to walk by Your word, Your voice, Your unfailing love. Even if the way is dark, I will trust You to guide me home. In Jesus’ name, amen!
What does today say about God?
Mr. Hunt showed me something that night in the woods—something I didn’t fully understand until now. He showed me that love pursues, no matter how inconvenient it is. And if a tired dad with a torch would brave the dark to kiss his wife, how much more will my God come after me?
No matter how deep in the woods I think I am. No matter how much I think I’ve let Him down. God is not on the throne, shaking His head, exhausted from pursuing me. He had a plan to pursue me all along. And the greatest pursuit of all was the moment He exhausted His wrath—not on me, but on His own Son.
What a Lover. What a Friend. What a Father.
Thank you, Jesus.