There is a city on fire. It is burning because of loss and grief and pain and suffering. Skyscrapers aflame, streets glowing red. People flee familiar safeties and run from what has always kept them safe. The air is overtaken with wailing, crying, shouting, and weeping.
There is a city on fire. Is it burning with loss and grief and pain—or is it alight with the Holy Spirit? Are those fiery tongues of destruction or blazing tongues of fire?
Are those the flames of repentance? See the people unshackling, shouting freedom, casting off cheap entanglements and devices like the wild-eyed prophets of old.
A city aflame.
A city alight.
The fire is spreading and crackling and burning up the chaff. Rotten timbers are now caught up in the smoke, exposing treasures of gold and silver. Once buried, now exposed.
The old orthodoxies are no longer. The hierarchies have been upended. The security systems and protection rackets and backward-rolling escalators have lost their power.
And the fire rages and burns and consumes and burns
and burns.
There is a city on fire.