For those who binged Lost, you may remember the ominous, swirling tower of black smoke that eerily and sporadically rose from the island floor. To see it was to be drawn to it. But before I continue, can we agree that Lost wins the award for the worst closing episode ever?

While running on an oppressively hot morning in Tempe, AZ, I saw a similar pillar of black smoke rising across the horizon. It only seemed a few blocks away, so I ran in that direction. After a few miles of navigation, I could behold the source: A rather large, single-story nightclub was on fire. I hit pause on my watch and marveled at how the fully fitted firefighters had employed their extensive training to put the fire out.

Turn on the hoses and douse the place, most would think. But no, I witnessed a carefully choreographed dance of precision where every cast member knew their part in a well-rehearsed strategy to extinguish the flames.

Some firefighters, with axes in hand, focused on the front entrance. Instead of hacking down the door, they poked holes in the overhang above their heads on the front porch. Other firefighters broke through perimeter windows as others unfurled hoses, positioning themselves around the structure.

By this point, the Hook and Ladder truck had positioned a fireman over the roof and he opened more holes with a significant, heavy tool. Once the windows and holes were all open, the commander gave the order to the man at the dials who opened the pumps. Like stiffening boa constrictors, the bevy of hoses snapped into formation, gushing their roaring payload as teams directed the fire-quenching flow onto the flames.

I soon realized there was neither interest nor care to preserve the building. No one was in a hurry, nor was anyone rushing. They were methodically following a script. By the time I forgot that I was miles from my hotel, the fire was under control, and the firefighters had begun entering the building.

Do not quench the Spirit
~ Paul’s First Letter to the Thessalonians, 5:19

Creation was forced to wait through all 39 Old Testament books and the New Testament’s first four to behold the outpouring of the third Person of the Godhead. And how did The Father manifest His Holy Spirit after Jesus’ resurrection? As fire. Scripture recounts that when the promise of the Holy Spirit was fulfilled, He appeared as flaming tongues.

And there appeared to them tongues as of fire distributing themselves, and they rested on each one of them. And they were all filled with the Holy Spirit
~ The Book of Acts, 2:3-4a

The biblical writers were inspired by The Holy Spirit and well-trained in the Hebrew ways of artful communication. Luke’s word choices here are not only heavenly; they are curated with great forethought and purpose.

The description of The Holy Spirit as fire is understandable. But tongues? Cecil B. DeMille’s glowing tumbleweed barely depicted the flames of fire Moses saw in a bush. Fire, yes. But a bush?

Like Moses’ attempt to describe what he saw, I’m sure Luke struggled to explain what he saw. A few thoughts immediately come to mind. First, the substantive representation of the Holy Spirit is fire. And second, this fire wants to speak.

What is more sobering is that we can quench this voice-shaped fire. The first-generation, post-resurrection church in Thessalonica was prone to quenching the spirit, which literally means they were extinguishing Him. How can this be possible? How can human beings snuff out the fire of the Living God?

The first time the word extinguish appears in the Old Testament is also a command specific to holy fire:

The fire on the altar shall be kept burning on it. It shall not go out, but the priest shall burn wood on it every morning.
~ Leviticus 6:12

I was a teenager during the Jesus Movement and saw firsthand the fire of God in many people and many church gatherings. Yes, there were healings and conversions, prophecy and miracles. But most of the time, it was not as visible as it was discernible. The presence of God is not a feeling, but when the presence of God is near, you feel it. You know it. Likewise, when the presence of God seems absent, you should also know it. We are designed to know it — and prevent it.

It’s a Dry Heat

This brings us back to the fire I watched in Arizona. When the Spirit of God is indiscernible in a church gathering, it is not by accident or happenstance. The natural state of the presence of God is the burning centerpiece of every gathering and every heart. If a nightclub fire requires a battalion of firefighters to follow an agreed-upon script to put out the fire, imagine how much more intentional, well-coordinated agreement and action is needed to put out the Spirit of God?

I remember when a gentleman was supernaturally healed of a fist-sized tumor on his spine and the pastor told me he couldn’t share the testimony from the platform on Sunday because the staff were not in agreement on the doctrine of healing.

I remember when a woman was asked by leadership not to pray in tongues in church, even if it was under her breath. I remember when a congregant told me after I led worship in a service not to pray or talk between songs, as I often did.

I remember hearing reports from staff meetings after George Floyd died that half the clergy demanded sermons on white privilege while the other half refused. I remember when revival broke out at Asbury College in February 2023, yet churches failed to mention it, let alone look heavenward to catch the wave.

I remember when a worship leader deviated from the schedule and allowed time for people to worship the Lord in their own expression, and the priest later told him never to do that again. I remember sitting through years of Sunday morning sermons and never hearing mention of baptism in the Holy Spirit.

I remember countless church services where there was nary an unscripted moment, almost as if for fear Jesus might grab the mic.

The real danger is this: Once the holy fire has been snuffed out, church leaders can be tempted to become spiritual arsonists, using carnal pyrotechnics to create the illusion of presence by replacing the All-consuming Fire with a Duraflame log.

Many years ago, I had a dream. We were in my old church, St. Paul’s Darien, CT. As would occasionally happen, a demonized person began to act out. Father Mark addressed him from the altar, saying, “Name yourself.” The person answered, “I am Satan, the evil one.” I can now see and hear the dream as if it happened yesterday.

At that point, the person turned and slowly walked out of the sanctuary. I saw that he was carrying a pail in each hand, and in each pail was fire. I followed him as he exited the building, urging, “Don’t take the fire! Don’t take the fire!” But he continued across the lawn toward the road.

I shouted more urgently in pursuit, “Don’t take the fire! Don’t take the fire!” He crossed the road and disappeared into hedges.

I woke up out of breath. For the ensuing days, I asked trusted friends what the dream meant. No one seemed to nail it until I asked my Father-in-law.

“Satan can not contain nor carry the fire of God. You thought it was God’s fire, but it wasn’t. That was the unholy fire. It was the strange fire that Nadab and Abihu attempted to offer — And were slain by God for doing so.”

Only four chapters after the priests are commanded not to let the fire go out, we find these two sons of the High Priest:

Now Nadab and Abihu, the sons of Aaron, took their respective firepans, and after putting fire in them, placed incense on the fire and offered strange fire before the LORD, which He had not commanded them. And fire came out from the presence of the LORD and consumed them, and they died before the LORD. Then Moses said to Aaron, “It is what the LORD spoke, saying, ‘By those who come near Me I will be treated as holy, and before all the people I will be honored.’

So Aaron, therefore, kept silent.

~ Leviticus 10:1-3

I am not saying the guitar player will drop dead the next time the smoke machine revs up, but if he does, be careful what you say. However, a church’s propensity to snuff out the fire of God in their gatherings and prop up a fanciful facsimile is not accidental nor unintentional. It requires decisive, well-coordinated actions and behaviors, and Paul commands us never to do it.

Most importantly, if each of us is not individually tending to the fire in our prayer closet, we should never expect revival fires to burn in our church. The tongues of fire that rested on each person in the upper room happened corporately but were profoundly personal and intimate and demanded a lifetime of cherished awareness.

The most remarkable characteristic of the power of those holy flames that took up residence with each person in that loft is the wooing invitation as the next step of faith: It’s ours for the asking.

Jesus breathed on them, and they received the Holy Spirit.
~ The Gospel of John, 20:22

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Keith Guinta blogs at www.winepatch.org. He is a husband and father, and he has been a worship leader and church planter. Photo Credit: Joshua Newton on Unsplash.