WHEN THE FIRE BEGINS TO BURN

WHEN THE FIRE BEGINS TO BURN

“Ọkụ agụnyere nwata n'aka adịghị ere ya.”

The fire placed in a child’s hand does not burn the child.

There is a deep wisdom hidden in this Igbo saying. Ordinarily, fire burns. It consumes whatever comes too close to it. Yet this proverb presents a child holding fire without being destroyed by it. It can speak of protection, preservation, grace, and the ability to carry what has been entrusted to us.

But there is another question we must ask in the present age:

What happens when the fire begins to burn the child?

What happens when what was placed in our hands as a responsibility becomes the very thing destroying us?

There are people today carrying things they never chose for themselves.

Some inherited responsibilities they were never prepared for. Some were pushed into careers because of family expectations. Some entered relationships because everyone insisted it was the right thing to do. Some are carrying family burdens, traditions, positions and expectations simply because somebody before them decided that they were the ones to carry them.

Everyone sees what they are carrying.

But who sees the burns?

Sometimes, we mistake inheritance for destiny.

The fact that something has been handed down to us does not necessarily mean we must carry it in exactly the same way. Some things deserve to be preserved; others need to be examined. Some traditions are foundations; others may simply be patterns that have survived because nobody dared to question them.

And this is where the matter becomes even more serious in Christianity.

There is a difference between what God has placed in our hands and what people have placed in our hands in God's name.

Not every responsibility is a divine assignment. Not every burden is a cross. Not every suffering is proof that God wants us to remain where we are.

Sometimes people are told, “God wants you to do this,” when God has never been consulted.

Sometimes people are manipulated through spirituality to accept responsibilities they should have been allowed to consider freely.

Sometimes we call it faithfulness when it is actually fear.

We call it sacrifice when it is actually pressure.

We call it obedience when it is actually people's expectations.

The Bible says, “We ought to obey God rather than men” (Acts 5:29). This does not teach us to reject responsibility or authority. Rather, it reminds us that human voices must never become louder than God's direction.

Even Jesus said, “Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28).

So perhaps we need to ask ourselves:

Whose fire am I carrying?

Is it God's assignment?

Is it my responsibility?

Is it family expectation?

Is it societal pressure?

Or am I carrying something simply because I am afraid of disappointing people?

The secular world has its own fires too.

The pressure to become successful.

The pressure to make the family proud.

The pressure to maintain an image.

The pressure to have money, status and influence.

The pressure to live a life that looks perfect before people.

Social media has made this even worse. Many people are burning privately while appearing successful publicly.

They smile with the fire in their hands.

They take pictures with it.

They receive applause for carrying it.

But inside, they are hurting.

And perhaps that is the tragedy of our generation:

We have become more concerned about whether people see us carrying the fire than whether the fire is burning us.

There is nothing wrong with responsibility. There is nothing wrong with sacrifice. There is nothing wrong with carrying what God has entrusted to us.

But wisdom requires us to know what we are carrying, why we are carrying it, and when something needs to change.

The child should not continue holding the fire simply because an elder placed it in his hand.

There may come a moment when wisdom says:

“This was placed in my hand, but I must understand whether I was truly meant to carry it.”

Perhaps the real lesson for our generation is not simply that the fire placed in a child's hand does not burn him.

Perhaps we must also ask:

What if the fire has started burning?

Will we continue holding it because of tradition, pressure, fear or misplaced spirituality?

Or will we have the courage to seek wisdom, seek God and make the right decision?

Because sometimes, the greatest act of wisdom is not learning how to hold the fire longer-it is knowing when to put it down.