O Lord,
The fire fell again
but this time, not in glory, not in blessing,
but in judgment.
Nadab and Abihu walked into Your presence carelessly,
and in a moment, they were gone.
Aaron stood silent, broken, unable to speak.
I tremble at this, Lord.
For how many times have I treated You lightly?
How many times have I brought my own “strange fire”
my pride, my performance, my will instead of Yours?
I confess, Father, I take Your holiness for granted.
I sing with distracted lips,
I pray with a wandering heart,
I open Your Word but do not tremble.
I want Your presence without reverence,
Your blessing without surrender.
Forgive me for forgetting You are holy.
Yet even here, in fire and fear,
I see mercy.
You could consume me for my careless worship,
yet You have provided a better priest,
a perfect sacrifice,
a fire that purifies instead of destroys.
In Christ, Your wrath is satisfied,
and still You invite me to draw near.
So here I am, Lord.
Teach me to worship You in spirit and truth.
Strip away my strange fires, my false devotions.
Give me reverence that does not fear running to You,
but awe that bows low at Your throne.
Let my worship be acceptable
not because I am pure,
but because Christ has made me clean.
Amen.