Saturday was a burn day.

I had accumulated four piles of long-dead trees along with some recent trimmings. A little oak. A lot of cedar.

A few days of rain beforehand created the ideal setting. I purchased a propane torch to overcome the dampness. The torch won.

Cedar burns incredibly hot. It’s an oily wood. I was shocked how far away I had to stand.

It’s also soft and burns quickly. The piles reduced in volume in minutes.

Cedar’s biblical uses ranged from ships to chariots to temples and palaces. The Cedars of Lebanon towered so broad and tall they practically demanded a royal purpose.

My cedars are less majestic. More scrappy. They’re ability to suck up every drop of water from the soil means their wood has just enough sand in it to dull your chain saw blade faster than normal.

I built a cedar chest almost 40 years ago for my wife-to-be who is my wife-now. We store the bed pillows and comforter in it. The cedar aroma still floats out every morning.

Not everything Jesus creates gets to be towering and majestic with a name requiring “The” to set it apart.

But everyone He creates gets to be His temple. Bearing His aroma. On fire with His Spirit. Set apart for holy work even and especially in the mundane routine of life. 

Even in the sandy dry soil of Texas.