Dharius Daniels - Feed The Fire

We’re excited, man, about what God is going to do and how He’s going to speak to us. Part three of this series called «House Fire,» I want to read— I want to go back to the book of John. Last week, we were in the book of John, and I want to return to it: John chapter 12, beginning at verse 1. We’re going to read several verses. It reads like this: «Six days before the Passover, Jesus came to Bethany, where Lazarus lived, whom Jesus had raised from the dead. There a dinner was given in Jesus' honor. Martha served while Lazarus was among those reclining at the table with Him. Then Mary took a pint of pure nard, an expensive perfume. She poured it on Jesus' feet, wiped His feet with her hair, and the house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume. But one of His disciples, Judas Iscariot, who later betrayed Him, objected, 'Why wasn’t this perfume sold and the money given to the poor? It was a year’s worth of wages! ' He didn’t say this because he cared about the poor; he said this because he was a thief—a keeper of the money bag—and he used to help himself to what was in it. 'Leave her alone, ' Jesus replied. 'She didn’t have to defend herself. When you do what’s right, Jesus will defend you. It was intended that she should save this perfume for the day of My burial. You will always have the poor among you, but you will not always have Me.'»

I want to tag a title to this text, and I want to talk from this subject in our time together: «Feed the Fire.» If you’re ready for part three of «House Fire,» put—watch this now—I want you to spell this the way I want you to spell this: I want you to put «You better preach» in the chat. Now, this is not «better"—it’s «better,» b-e-t-t-a. You better preach! Put that in the chat, clap your hands in the studio, everybody. Shout out to all of our team right here—Feed the Fire.

Well, family, listen, I want to start this sermon by introducing an axiom that is the essence of what I’m going to attempt to articulate in our time together today. Here it is: Jesus did not just come to seek and save the lost; He came—don’t miss this—to save the life that was lost. Say that one more time: Jesus didn’t just come to seek and save—let me frame it this way—lost lives. He also came to seek, watch this, and to save the life that was lost. What do I mean by that? There is a life that is consistent with what we call God’s creative intent. What’s that? It’s life lived the way He intended. When He created the first human species, Adam, He had a way life was supposed to be lived in mind, and as a consequence of Adam’s activity in the garden, all of the created order was upset and overturned. It operates in a way that’s inconsistent with God’s intent, and God loves us so much He never lets you settle—watch this—He never sits idly by and allows you to settle for a life that is inferior and inconsistent with His intention. Did you hear what I just said? He will never sit idly by and let you settle. He will send signs, smoke signals. He will intervene; He will send messages to try to realign you with His best and with His place of potential for you. And He did the same thing: He said, «I can’t let them stay the way that they are; I need to send Jesus.»

The role and the responsibility of Jesus, the second person of the Trinity, is not just to save lost lives but to save the kind of life that’s been lost—the Zoe life, the God kind of life. The thief comes to steal, kill, and destroy; but I’ve come, Jesus says, that you may have life and have it more abundantly. Family, I believe there’s something we need to wrap our heads around. If we’re really going to rest in this revelation that possessing this kind of life that I’m talking about requires more than faith, it requires more than focus. You know what possessing this kind of life requires? It requires fire. It does. When I say fire, this is what I mean: a vibrant, passionate, intimate relationship with God that results in a contagious, counter-cultural, and commemorative life. A vibrant, passionate, intimate relationship with God that makes you contagious, that when people get around you, they catch what’s on you. It makes you counter-cultural. It makes you allergic to average. You start looking at what’s normal and say, «What’s normal for them is not normal for me.» You start operating according to a principle that I taught a couple of years ago in a series I did called «Water Walkers.» «Water Walkers» was based on something called the principle of exception. What’s that? What happens with them does not dictate and determine what happens with me. I’m going to say that one more time: what happens with them does not dictate and determine what happens with me. It doesn’t mean I’m better than; it just means I’m different from. It means I can’t look at what happens with everybody else and try to come to some conclusion regarding what God wants to do with me. When He does something with me, He wants to do something that breaks a rule; He wants to do something that’s abnormal; He wants to do something that defies the odds. He wants to do something that confounds and confuses the observers and onlookers who thought my life would…