Caring VIII

For he is like a refiner's fire and like fullers' soap . . . 

 -  from Malachi 3

If I could only be like a refiner. Or like soap, to others. If only I could sear the rough edges of their spirit, and incinerate away the blemishes, and the imperfections. It would be great to be able to cleanse the impurities from another person - to wipe away their mistakes from the past, that linger deep in their souls until the end of their lives!

Fire presents a horrific agony to its subjects. I can only imagine the shrieks of horror, heard just outside the smelter's oven; that is, if his handiwork is people. Strong soap, harsh soap, the kind that can eat away stains once thought permanent, is also corrosive to flesh. Some soaps may leave the skin intact while removing the stain, but the pain involved may still be toxic to the point of death.

It's hard to get to perfection without hard work and pain. A skilled artisan may use harsh chemicals and a flaming furnace, to get raw material to a finished product of beauty.

Maybe that's why we resist God so much. You resist what hurts or makes you uncomfortable. 

Cats resist a bath.

Kids resist vegetables.

Married couples resist therapy (and end up divorced).

And we resist the refining fires, and fuller's soaps, of the Lord we claim to serve. 

(So we'd better check again, on our use of the word "resist.")

And yet, if I really cared for you . . . really cared for you . . . I would somehow get you to pass through the fire, and allow yourself to be washed, so that you could be pure, free, and perfect. 

But I don't. I don't like being told I'm "mean." Or thought of as "hateful." I like seeing people smile. I do not want to be the source of pain and agony for others . . . even if it's exactly what will turn them around, and make them whole, happy, and successful. 

Perhaps this idea of "caring" is not what we think?