I am laid upon the altar, slaughtered for the sacrifice. The flames consume my flesh. I am eaten up, devoured by holy fire, inflamed by the Spirit. He comes to offer me as a living sacrifice, to raise me up before the Highest, to bring light to my darkness.
These dry bones kindle the fire of the Almighty God, and I would not have Him quench the flame. Burn me, or break me, He who would drain me of my dross is good. It is in mercy that He lays His hand upon me; this sacrifice must be broken, for only then may this unholy vessel ascend by fire. Let the Spirit work His perfect work in me. Let His glory flame out and dazzle this tired, lukewarm world.
But what, Oh God, do I ask? I do not know. I tremble, I fail. But I will ask. I ask to become Christ-sacrificed. I ask for His wounds. Fill me up with His sufferings. Set the world on fire with the burning of the saints. We see the Midianites tremble; they fear the shining lights: our souls are set ablaze.
