Every campfire has one. Every mom or camp counselor fears them. They radiate with inexplicable delight and are oblivious to anyone else round about. They come in all ages, all shapes, all sizes. You know who I'm talking about. You've all met them. Perhaps you too fear them!The camp pyro is fearless himself. He delights in a fire feeding frenzy. He uses a 'poking stick', a 'fire stick'...oh, there are as many names for that stick as there are pyros. It's charred on the end and if anyone dares to make the pyro think it will become fuel for the fire they are dead meat. IF it should accidentally disappear, the pyro seems to feel he has lost some tool of the trade. It by all means must be replaced and the choosing and charring of the new stick is a ritual in and of itself.
Why do all campfires have a pyro? What is it about fire that draws one into its spell and keeps us there, often silent and thoughtful, wistful and contemplative? What is it about fire that makes us want to sing around it? Why can fire never be left alone?
I don't know the answers to those questions. I do know that we would never be without a campfire. I do know that many of life's deepest questions and greatest passions can be sought there and often figured out there. Perhaps a camp pyro is that person who in 'real' life is also the one who fans into flame the rest of us. Perhaps a fire can never be left alone because it is a picture of something beautiful and intriguing and beyond our comprehension. Perhaps its warmth, its transforming abilities (of wood to ashes, smoke and heat), and its capacity to appeal to many senses at once, is a metaphor for the Spirit's power in our lives. After all, even the disciples on Pentecost all seemed to be pyros...running around with flames on their heads.
I think I won't be afraid of camp pyros any more!
