There was a boy, young and dying. He trudged through all of his days shaking and weak as there was an emptiness within him. His soul was dark and filled with consuming lies of hatred. Like a fire, he told himself. His soul was like a fire, taking everything that he cared about and destroying it. Every possible good thought, every ounce of love dropped on him by family, and every beat of a heart that yearned for goodness. His soul, empty and hateful burned through all the good that shuffled toward him.

At his youngest ages he feared himself, feared the destruction he brought not only to himself but to others. He hated feeling his soul burn away all the good, and that hate only gave strength to the hate within him. So he went on, afraid of love, afraid of good, and afraid of who he was.

As he grew the boy accepted his fate. I his soul was to be a blazing fire he would let it burn as the brightest fire possible. The boy allowed the flames to tear him apart inside, whispering lies that scorched his mind and shouting words that singed the hairs of friends. Then came a pivotal moment in the boy’s life as the fire within him burned brighter than ever, flames of rage overcame his mind. The fire in his soul began to blaze too hot, and so he dragged steel across his arms to release it. The overbearing heat of hate faded then, dripping down his arm in scarlet.

The boy grew older, now hiding the flames. Knowing what his soul could do to others he trapped the flames within himself only. Through the day the fire would grow hotter and hotter, destroying the boy slowly until he could make it home to once again drag the steel across his skin and release a bit of the flame. Hot tears, and burning scarlet stained his life for far too long.

There came a day. The fire at a cool, and the boy’s heart unknowingly at a ready. Standing among a crowd, the boy heard a call like nothing of this world. The call penetrated the flames and beckoned him, heart and soul. To his knees the boy fell, and from his heart and soul came a cry for what had been done to him. The flames began to recede and the boy’s heart and soul began to open. On his knees came a cry for what had been done for him by Him.

The flames of hate had died forever, the boy cried out on his knees. For a moment, his soul was cool as he cried out to the One who had called out to his soul. Then, as beautifully and gracefully as the sun breaks the horizon, flame erupted back into the boy.

With a smile, he felt the flames creep into every corner of his being, and he knew these flames were much different. These flames healed the scars left by the old. These flames loved, forgave, and brought joyful hope. These flames would never forsake him or bring harm to any. These flames were divine love.

There is a boy, growing and living. He marches proudly through all of his days. His soul is filled and overflowing with a great love. Like a fire he tells himself, his soul is a fire that cannot be stopped by any. The love within him will grow and spread beyond him but never leave him. It is well with his soul, for he was always made to be a bright fire among the rest.