Carrying Fire in Fragile Hands

By Dylan Verdun Sullivan

I’ve been sitting with something lately that I can’t seem to shake.
I was sharing these thoughts with my fiancée Bianca last night 
It’s not loud.
It’s not dramatic.
But it’s persistent.
It’s the tension of wanting to be completely on fire for Christ while still being deeply aware of my own shortcomings.
And if I’m honest, that tension has been confronting.
Because there are moments where my heart burns with clarity and conviction. Moments where everything feels aligned—where my thoughts, my desires, my purpose all seem to point in one direction. Toward Him. Toward Jesus. Toward a life that reflects something real, something surrendered, something transformed.
But then there are other moments.
Moments where I’m reminded—very quickly—that I’m still me.
Still human.
Still flawed.
Still carrying things I thought I had already laid down.
And that’s where the struggle begins.
The Fire That Feels Real
There are times where I can’t deny what God has done in my life.
It’s not theoretical.
It’s not something I’ve read about or studied from a distance.
It’s real.
I’ve felt the shift.
I’ve lived the transformation.
I’ve seen what happens when darkness doesn’t have the final word.
And in those moments, there’s a fire that rises up in me.
Not forced.
Not manufactured.
But real.
A desire to live differently.
To think differently.
To speak differently.
To carry something that reflects Christ in a way that’s not just surface level.
It’s not about performance.
It’s about response.
Because when you’ve experienced something real, it changes you.
The Collision With Reality
But then something happens.
Not always immediately.
Sometimes slowly.
Sometimes without warning.
I collide with my own reality.
The thoughts that don’t align.
The patterns that try to resurface.
The weaknesses that I wish weren’t still there.
And it’s confusing.
Because how can both be true at the same time?
How can I feel so alive in Christ one moment… and then feel so aware of my brokenness the next?
That question has been sitting heavy on me.
The Weight of Awareness
There’s a certain kind of weight that comes with awareness.
Before, I didn’t always see it.
I didn’t always notice the patterns.
I didn’t always feel the tension.
But now I do.
And sometimes that awareness feels like a burden.
Because I want to get it right.
I want my life to reflect what I believe.
I don’t want to live in contradiction.
But the more aware I become, the more I realise how much I still need to grow.
When Fire Meets Weakness
This is the space I’ve been sitting in.
Where fire meets weakness.
Where passion meets reality.
Where desire meets limitation.
And if I’m honest, this is where discouragement tries to creep in.
Because there’s a voice—quiet but persistent—that says:
“You should be further along by now.”
“You shouldn’t still be struggling with this.”
“If your faith was stronger, this wouldn’t still be here.”
And if I’m not careful, I start to listen.
The Subtle Trap
I start to believe the lies and return back to broken thought patterns 
What I’m starting to see is that discouragement doesn’t always come in obvious ways.
Sometimes it disguises itself as self-reflection.
Sometimes it feels like honesty.
But underneath it, there’s something else.
A slow shift from looking toward Christ… to becoming consumed with myself.
My failures.
My shortcomings.
My inconsistencies.
And the more I focus on those things, the heavier everything begins to feel.
This is something I’m learning—slowly.
Being on fire for Christ was never about becoming perfect.
It was never about reaching a point where there are no more struggles.
It was never about presenting a polished version of myself.
Because if that were the requirement, I wouldn’t qualify.
And neither would anyone else.
The fire is not sustained by perfection.
It’s sustained by something deeper.
Something that doesn’t depend on me having it all together.
The Reality I’m Facing
I am still in process.
That’s the truth.
Not finished.
Not complete.
Not fully formed.
And for some reason, that’s hard for me to accept.
Because part of me wants resolution.
I want things to be settled.
I want clarity.
I want consistency.
But life doesn’t seem to work like that.
At least not in this season.
The Danger of Looking Inward Too Long
There’s a place for reflection.
There’s a place for honesty.
There’s a place for recognising where things need to change.
But there’s also a danger.
Because if I stay there too long—if I keep looking inward without lifting my eyes—I start to lose perspective.
Everything becomes about what I’m not.
What I haven’t done.
What I still struggle with.
And slowly, the fire begins to feel distant.
Not because it’s gone.
But because I’ve taken my focus off the One who lit it.
I’m starting to realise something simple—but important.
The centre has to remain Christ.
Not my performance.
Not my progress.
Not my ability to get everything right.
Because the moment I shift the centre onto myself, everything becomes unstable.
But when I return to Him—when I bring my attention back to Jesus—something shifts.
Not instantly.
Not dramatically.
But steadily.
The Honesty I Can’t Avoid
There are still things in me that don’t belong.
That’s real.
There are still thoughts I wrestle with.
Still patterns that try to pull me back.
Still moments where I don’t respond the way I should.
And pretending those things don’t exist doesn’t help.
But neither does letting them define me.
Learning Not to Be Surprised
This is something that’s been changing my perspective.
I’m learning not to be surprised by my own weakness.
Not in a negative way.
But in a grounded way.
Because expecting perfection from myself only sets me up for discouragement.
But understanding that I’m still being shaped… changes how I respond when I fall short.
The Fire Is Still There
Even in the tension.
Even in the struggle.
Even in the moments where I feel like I’ve taken a step back.
The fire is still there.
It hasn’t disappeared.
It hasn’t been extinguished.
It’s just not always loud.
Sometimes it’s quiet.
Steady.
Present.
A Different Kind of Strength
I think part of this journey is learning what real strength looks like.
It’s not the absence of weakness.
It’s not the elimination of struggle.
It’s something else.
Something quieter.
more steadfast 
The ability to keep coming back.
To not walk away.
To not give up when things feel messy.
This is the tension I’m learning to live in.
To carry both at once.
A genuine desire to follow Christ fully.
And an honest awareness that I’m still being formed.
Not one or the other.
Both.
At the same time.
And this is where something deeper has begun to settle in me.
Not as a theory.
Not as something I’m trying to convince myself of.
But as something I’m slowly learning to rest in.
The gospel is my resting place.
Not my effort.
Not my ability to overcome every struggle perfectly.
Not my consistency.
The gospel.
The reality that my standing before God is not built on how well I perform, but on what has already been done.
That even in my weakness… I am not cast aside.
That even in my struggle… I am not disqualified.
That even in my imperfection… I am still held.
And for some reason, that changes everything.
Because it means I don’t have to carry the weight of trying to fix myself before I come to Him.
I come as I am.
And somehow, that is enough.
Not because I am enough in myself.
But because what Christ has done is.

Closing Reflection
As I sit with all of this, I don’t have a neat conclusion.
I don’t have a final answer that ties everything together.
But I do have something.
A clearer understanding of where I am.
And maybe that’s enough for now.
That being on fire for Christ doesn’t mean I’ve arrived far from it
It means I’m still responding.
Still turning toward Him.
Still choosing, even in the middle of my own imperfections, to not walk away.
And at the end of it all, when the noise settles and the tension remains, I come back to this simple truth:
The gospel is my resting place.
And that is enough yesterday today and forever 
Carrying fire even in fragile hands.

About the Author

Dylan Verdun Sullivan is the founder of Refined by Fire Press and an Australian author indexed in the National Library. As a Level 7 Local Guide with over 1.2M views on Google Maps, he documents the intersection of faith, recovery, and the "light in the mundane."

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