We step into the close heat of the ancient metalworker shop. The air is thick with soot and the sharp smell of melting ore. Around nine hundred b.c., a wise king observed the sweaty, relentless labor of the silversmith. The workspace feels enclosed and intensely warm. You can feel the safety of the heavy stone walls protecting the open flames from sudden drafts. Here, amidst the heavy iron tools and the scattered ashes, there is a profound stillness beneath the roar of the bellows.
The Creator does not work with silver or gold, but he tends a fire of his own. He stands over the crucible of the human soul. He watches the rising temperature in our chests. He knows the exact degree of heat required to separate the heavy, useless slag from the pure metal. He does not rush the melting process. He waits patiently as the raw, unrefined material of our intentions begins to soften and separate under his attentive gaze.
We gather impurities through our daily labor. Resentment, pride, and careless words mix into the ore of our daily interactions. When the writer of Proverbs warns that the beginning of a quarrel is like pulling the plug on a water cistern, he speaks of a sudden flood that quenches the very fire needed for refinement. A bitter heart calcifies, turning brittle and cold like cast iron poured into a flawed mold. A cheerful disposition, however, acts as the steady heat that tempers the steel. The heavy blows of sorrow hit the anvil of our chests, but a true companion stands by like an experienced smith, ready to help carry the weight when the metal grows too heavy. We bring our raw, jagged pieces to the fire. We hope the heat will burn away the rigid, sharp edges of our offenses and leave something clear and smooth behind.
The iron tongs rest on the edge of the stone hearth. They are scarred by thousands of hours in the fire. They endure the heat so the craftsman can pull something beautiful from the coals. We often misunderstand the burning sensation of a difficult season. We mistake the refining fire for total destruction. The intense heat does not exist to consume the precious metal, but to release it from the heavy crust of earth that holds it captive.
Purity is never found by avoiding the furnace. We watch the cooling metal harden into a bright, polished surface. We sit in the quiet aftermath of the heat and consider the steady hands of the silversmith.