August 16th, 2026
by Pastor PendergrassThe Fire You Cannot Afford to Forget There is a question that deserves more weigh
by Pastor PendergrassThe Fire You Cannot Afford to Forget There is a question that deserves more weigh
The Fire You Cannot Afford to Forget
There is a question that deserves more weight than most of us give it. Not a question about politics, culture, or the direction of the world around us, though all of those things press in on us daily. The question is simpler and far more personal: Do you remember what life was like before God found you?
That question is not nostalgic. It is not an invitation to dwell in the past. It is, in fact, the very foundation of a living, breathing, passionate faith. And if we are honest with ourselves, many of us have let the answer to that question grow dim.
Set Apart for a Reason
The Apostle Paul opened his letter to the church at Rome by addressing the believers there as saints. Not as people who were trying their best. Not as people who attended services and kept a few rules. Saints. The word itself means those who are set apart. The moment a person genuinely repents, is baptized, and receives the gift of the Holy Spirit, something dramatic takes place. A spiritual identity change occurs that is as real and as permanent as any legal change of citizenship.
That imagery is worth sitting with. A person who immigrates to a new country leaves behind the laws, customs, and loyalties of the old one. They are not expected to carry the old country's ways into the new one and demand that the new country accommodate them. They have come to something better. They have been welcomed into something that required sacrifice on someone else's part to make possible.
The church is exactly that. It is a community of people who have been brought out of one way of living and into another. Not by their own strength or cleverness, but by the Spirit of God. Zechariah 4:6 makes the principle clear: it is not by human might or human power, but by the Spirit of the Lord that anything of lasting spiritual value is accomplished. And 1 Corinthians 2:5 reinforces it, reminding us that faith was never meant to rest on human wisdom but on the power of God.
The Danger of Forgetting
Deuteronomy 6 contains a warning that was given to Israel as they were about to enter the Promised Land. They were told to beware: when they had eaten and were full, when they lived in cities they did not build and drank from wells they did not dig, they were to take great care not to forget the Lord who brought them out of bondage. The warning was not given because God doubted their sincerity in the moment of deliverance. It was given because comfort has a way of eroding memory.
This is not a small problem. Memory is not merely a sentimental thing when it comes to faith. It is structural. The urgency of genuine worship flows from memory. The tears that come during prayer come from memory. The passion to seek a fresh filling of the Holy Spirit comes from the memory of what that filling felt like the first time, and the second time, and the time when everything fell apart and God showed up anyway. Strip away the memory and you strip away the fuel that keeps the fire burning.
The story of Samson illustrates this with painful clarity. He was a man of extraordinary divine gifting, raised up to deliver his people from their enemies. And he did, repeatedly. But there came a final moment when he rose to do what he had always done, shook himself as he had always done, and discovered that the power was gone. He had treated something sacred carelessly for too long, and the consequences were irreversible. The presence of God is not a tool to be picked up and set down at will. It is a holy thing, entrusted to holy people, meant to be carried with reverence.
Values, Not Just Rules
There is a meaningful distinction between living by rules and living by values. Rules answer the question of what a person can or cannot do. Values answer the deeper question of what a person should or should not do, and more importantly, why. A person who lives by rules will always be looking for the edge of what is permissible. A person who lives by values does not need to look for the edge because the value itself shapes the decision long before the boundary is reached.
The church of Jesus Christ was never meant to be a rule-keeping institution. It was meant to be a value-holding community. A community that understands what it has been given, what it has been saved from, and what it has been called to. When those values are alive and felt and remembered, holiness is not a burden. It is a natural expression of who a person understands themselves to be.
The Fire That Is Still Available
None of this is a message of condemnation. It is a message of invitation. The storehouse of God has not been emptied. The power that fell in the early days of the church is the same power available today. Somewhere right now, a young man is preaching for the first time under the anointing of the Holy Spirit and lives are being changed. Somewhere right now, a woman who has just been set free is reaching back to pull someone else out of darkness. The gospel has not lost its force. The Holy Spirit has not grown weak.
What is being asked of every believer is simply this: remember. Go back down the road of what God has done. Recall the night the burden lifted. Recall the moment the Spirit fell. Recall the prayer that was answered when there was no natural reason to expect it. Let that memory reignite what time and noise and distraction have quieted.
The alternative to revival is something no one who has truly tasted the presence of God can afford. The fire is real. The storehouse is full. And the God who set you apart has not changed his mind about who you are or what you carry.
Do not forget what he brought you out of. And do not settle for anything less than what he brought you into.
There is a question that deserves more weight than most of us give it. Not a question about politics, culture, or the direction of the world around us, though all of those things press in on us daily. The question is simpler and far more personal: Do you remember what life was like before God found you?
That question is not nostalgic. It is not an invitation to dwell in the past. It is, in fact, the very foundation of a living, breathing, passionate faith. And if we are honest with ourselves, many of us have let the answer to that question grow dim.
Set Apart for a Reason
The Apostle Paul opened his letter to the church at Rome by addressing the believers there as saints. Not as people who were trying their best. Not as people who attended services and kept a few rules. Saints. The word itself means those who are set apart. The moment a person genuinely repents, is baptized, and receives the gift of the Holy Spirit, something dramatic takes place. A spiritual identity change occurs that is as real and as permanent as any legal change of citizenship.
That imagery is worth sitting with. A person who immigrates to a new country leaves behind the laws, customs, and loyalties of the old one. They are not expected to carry the old country's ways into the new one and demand that the new country accommodate them. They have come to something better. They have been welcomed into something that required sacrifice on someone else's part to make possible.
The church is exactly that. It is a community of people who have been brought out of one way of living and into another. Not by their own strength or cleverness, but by the Spirit of God. Zechariah 4:6 makes the principle clear: it is not by human might or human power, but by the Spirit of the Lord that anything of lasting spiritual value is accomplished. And 1 Corinthians 2:5 reinforces it, reminding us that faith was never meant to rest on human wisdom but on the power of God.
The Danger of Forgetting
Deuteronomy 6 contains a warning that was given to Israel as they were about to enter the Promised Land. They were told to beware: when they had eaten and were full, when they lived in cities they did not build and drank from wells they did not dig, they were to take great care not to forget the Lord who brought them out of bondage. The warning was not given because God doubted their sincerity in the moment of deliverance. It was given because comfort has a way of eroding memory.
This is not a small problem. Memory is not merely a sentimental thing when it comes to faith. It is structural. The urgency of genuine worship flows from memory. The tears that come during prayer come from memory. The passion to seek a fresh filling of the Holy Spirit comes from the memory of what that filling felt like the first time, and the second time, and the time when everything fell apart and God showed up anyway. Strip away the memory and you strip away the fuel that keeps the fire burning.
The story of Samson illustrates this with painful clarity. He was a man of extraordinary divine gifting, raised up to deliver his people from their enemies. And he did, repeatedly. But there came a final moment when he rose to do what he had always done, shook himself as he had always done, and discovered that the power was gone. He had treated something sacred carelessly for too long, and the consequences were irreversible. The presence of God is not a tool to be picked up and set down at will. It is a holy thing, entrusted to holy people, meant to be carried with reverence.
Values, Not Just Rules
There is a meaningful distinction between living by rules and living by values. Rules answer the question of what a person can or cannot do. Values answer the deeper question of what a person should or should not do, and more importantly, why. A person who lives by rules will always be looking for the edge of what is permissible. A person who lives by values does not need to look for the edge because the value itself shapes the decision long before the boundary is reached.
The church of Jesus Christ was never meant to be a rule-keeping institution. It was meant to be a value-holding community. A community that understands what it has been given, what it has been saved from, and what it has been called to. When those values are alive and felt and remembered, holiness is not a burden. It is a natural expression of who a person understands themselves to be.
The Fire That Is Still Available
None of this is a message of condemnation. It is a message of invitation. The storehouse of God has not been emptied. The power that fell in the early days of the church is the same power available today. Somewhere right now, a young man is preaching for the first time under the anointing of the Holy Spirit and lives are being changed. Somewhere right now, a woman who has just been set free is reaching back to pull someone else out of darkness. The gospel has not lost its force. The Holy Spirit has not grown weak.
What is being asked of every believer is simply this: remember. Go back down the road of what God has done. Recall the night the burden lifted. Recall the moment the Spirit fell. Recall the prayer that was answered when there was no natural reason to expect it. Let that memory reignite what time and noise and distraction have quieted.
The alternative to revival is something no one who has truly tasted the presence of God can afford. The fire is real. The storehouse is full. And the God who set you apart has not changed his mind about who you are or what you carry.
Do not forget what he brought you out of. And do not settle for anything less than what he brought you into.
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