Steward of the Fire

Tonight I find myself sitting quietly after another evening reading through the writings of Maria Woodworth-Etter.

The room is silent except for the gentle turning of fragile pages that have somehow survived more than a
century.

Every now and then I stop reading.

Not because I am tired.

But because I become overwhelmed by what I am actually holding in my hands.

It is difficult to explain.

I am not simply reading an old manuscript.

I am sitting with the testimony of a woman whom God used to awaken countless people to Himself.

Every page carries the weight of a life wholly surrendered to Christ.

Every sermon reminds me that the Holy Spirit has never belonged to one generation.

Sometimes I simply close the manuscript for a moment and whisper,

"Thank You, Lord."

Not because I deserve this privilege.

But because, somewhere along the journey, God entrusted me with something I never imagined would become part of my life.

If someone had told me ten years ago that one evening I would be sitting quietly, reading the handwritten sermons and messages of Maria Woodworth-Etter with tears in my eyes, I would have struggled to believe them.

And yet here I am.

Not rushing.

Not trying to finish another chapter.

Simply reading.

Listening.

Allowing the faith of another generation to speak into my own.

The restoration will come.

Refined by Fire Press will faithfully preserve these writings so others can encounter them too.

But before I can become a steward of these words, I first have to sit beneath them.

I have to let them search my own heart before I ever place them into someone else's hands.

And perhaps that is how stewardship has always worked.

God shapes the steward before He entrusts them with the work.

The longer I sit with these old manuscripts, the more convinced I become that this is not simply an interest I happened to develop.

It is a calling.

I do not use that word lightly.

In Christian circles, we sometimes speak about calling as though it always arrives through dramatic moments. A vision. A voice. A single life-changing experience that leaves no room for doubt.

Sometimes God certainly works that way.

But I have discovered that He often works much more quietly.

He plants a seed.

Then He waters it over years.

Almost without noticing, your heart begins moving in a particular direction until one day you realise you are no longer chasing something.

Something has been quietly drawing you.

Looking back now, I can see His fingerprints everywhere.

My love for church history.

My fascination with revival.

My desire to preserve rather than simply consume.

My passion for writing.

My longing to point people toward Christ.

For years I saw these as separate interests.

Now I realise they were never separate at all.

God was weaving them together into something I could not yet see.

That brings me enormous peace.

Because I no longer feel like I have to invent my purpose.

I simply need to be faithful to the one He has already been unfolding.

If someone asked me what burns deepest inside my heart, my answer would not be publishing.

It would not even be restoring books.

My heart is revival.

Not revival as an event.

Not revival as a conference.

Not revival as a movement that lasts for a season before people move on to the next thing.

I mean genuine awakening.

The kind of revival that begins quietly inside a single heart that has become completely surrendered to Jesus Christ.

The fire for revival was born in me when Christ found me as I lay dying from meningococcal.

History has taught me that every great move of God began there.

Long before crowds gathered.

Long before newspapers reported it.

Long before sermons were printed into books.

There was usually one man or one woman on their knees, desperately seeking God.

That has never changed.

As I read Maria Woodworth-Etter's words, I am struck by how little attention she gives herself.

Again and again she directs people back to Christ.

Back to repentance.

Back to holiness.

Back to the work of the Holy Spirit.

That challenges me deeply.

Because it reminds me that revival has never been about remarkable personalities.

It has always been about an extraordinary Saviour.

I think that is why these manuscripts have affected me so profoundly.

I am not reading history simply to learn facts.

I am reading the testimony of someone whose entire life pointed beyond herself.

Someone who genuinely believed that Jesus Christ was worthy of complete surrender.

That kind of faith does not grow old.

It does not become outdated because another century has passed.

Truth never expires.

As I sit reading these pages night after night, I often find myself praying a simple prayer.

"Lord, let that same fire burn in me."

Not so people would remember my name.

Not so Refined by Fire Press would become successful.

Not so I could claim to be part of something significant.

Simply because I want to know Christ more deeply.

My prayer as I sit in these deep waters that Christ would remove my heart of stone and replace it with a heart of flesh. 

I want my own heart to remain tender before Him.

I want my life to point beyond itself in the same way these faithful men and women pointed beyond theirs.

If that happens, then every hour spent reading these old manuscripts will have been worthwhile.

Because before I can ever steward the fire of revival through preservation, that fire must first continue burning within my own heart.

Perhaps that is my calling.

Not merely to preserve the words of revival.

But to faithfully steward the fire they still carry.

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About the Author

Dylan Verdun Sullivan is the founder of Refined by Fire Press and an Australian author indexed in the National Library of Australia. As a Level 7 Local Guide with over 6.1 million views on Google Maps, he documents the intersection of faith, recovery, and the light found in ordinary places.

• Read the Memoir: Kissed by Death on Amazon
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