A hunter tells of an experience while shooting ducks in an abandoned rice field overgrown by reeds and rushes taller than a man. The party of three saw a wisp of smoke on the horizon but thought no more about it in the excitement of the hunt until they noticed a noice that kept growing louder and nearer. A fire was burning through the rushes, and the intense and sudden heat was turning the water in the reeds to steam, and, one by one, the reeds were exploding, and the explosions drawing ever nearer. The hunters, heavily clothed and wearing hip boots, sank, at every step, their knees in mud. There was no possible way to outrun the fire. Suddenly one of the men took out his cigarette lighter and lit a small pile of brush close by. Another exclaimed, “Haven’t we enough fire without you starting more?” But the words were hardly out of his mouth when he saw the meaning of the fire. It made a thin strip of burned-over land beyond which they were able to take refuge, safe from the roaring flame. For us the Crucifixion can be that burned over place which gives us somewhere to stand, instead of running in panic from the engulfing fires of life’s failures.

The Rt. Rev. C. FitzSimons Allison (Fear, Love, and Worship)