Last fall, our family decided to visit Natural Lands’ Gwynedd Preserve here in North Wales, Pennsylvania. We were looking forward to a peaceful afternoon walk through what we’d heard was a beautiful bird preserve.
As we strolled along the trail, enjoying the crisp autumn air and listening for birdsong, we came across a wooden sign that stopped me in my tracks. In bold letters, it read: “BENEFICIAL BURNING.”
Beneficial burning? My first thought was, “How can burning be beneficial?” I mean, we teach our kids that fire destroys things, right? We spend our whole lives trying to prevent fires, not start them.
But as I stood there reading about prescribed burns and habitat restoration, something clicked in my heart. This wasn’t about destruction at all. This was about making space for new life to grow. And suddenly, I couldn’t stop thinking about all the times God had allowed “beneficial burning” in my own life.
The Science Behind Sacred Fire – Why Burning Brings Life
That sign at Gwynedd Preserve opened my eyes to something I’d never understood before. Natural Lands, the organization that manages this preserve, uses prescribed burning as a conservation tool. They deliberately set controlled fires during specific seasons to restore the health of the land.
Here’s what I learned that changed everything: Without periodic burning, invasive plants like autumn olive and multiflora rose take over native meadows. These aggressive species choke out the wildflowers and grasses that have grown here for thousands of years. They create thick tangles that block sunlight and steal nutrients from the soil.
But when Natural Lands conducts a prescribed burn, something amazing happens. The fire removes all that invasive growth without harming the root systems of native plants. Those deep-rooted wildflowers and prairie grasses have evolved to not just survive fire—they actually depend on it to thrive.
Native peoples understood this long before modern science caught up. For centuries, they used controlled burning to manage the landscape, creating the oak savannas and grasslands that European settlers first encountered. They knew that fire wasn’t the enemy of the forest—it was medicine.
The science behind it is fascinating. Fire creates the perfect soil conditions for native seeds that have been lying dormant, sometimes for decades. The heat breaks down thick layers of dead plant material, releasing nutrients back into the earth. Sunlight can finally reach the ground again. And those tough native plants? They come back stronger than ever.
Standing there reading that sign, I couldn’t help but think about my own life. How many times had I felt like everything was burning down around me? The job loss that felt devastating but led to something better. The friendship that ended painfully but made room for deeper relationships. The health scare that forced me to slow down and reconnect with what really mattered.
What if those weren’t random tragedies? What if they were God’s prescribed burns?
The Bible talks about God as a refining fire. Malachi 3:3 says He sits like a refiner of silver, purifying and cleansing. That’s not a destructive fire—it’s a restorative one. The silversmith doesn’t melt the silver to destroy it. He applies just enough heat to burn away the impurities so the pure metal can shine through.
I’ve been a Christian for over twenty years now, and I’m starting to see a pattern. The seasons that felt like everything was falling apart were often followed by the most beautiful growth in my spiritual life. The times when God allowed the fire weren’t punishments—they were prescriptions.
Just like those native wildflowers at Gwynedd, maybe our souls have deep roots that can survive the flames. Maybe we’re designed to not just endure the burning seasons, but to come back stronger because of them.
When God Sets Your Life on Fire – The Spiritual Prescription
I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately, especially when I look back at some of the hardest seasons Kevin and I have walked through together. There was the year when everything seemed to fall apart at once. His health struggles. My own wrestling with doubt. Michael going through that difficult phase where it felt like we were losing our sweet boy to anger and rebellion.
At the time, it felt like our family was burning down. I remember lying awake at night, wondering if we’d ever find our way back to each other.
But you know what? That’s exactly when God did some of His deepest work in our hearts.
Just like those invasive plants at Gwynedd Preserve, there were things in our lives that needed to go. My need to control everything. Kevin’s tendency to withdraw when things got tough. Old patterns of communication that weren’t serving us anymore. Pride that kept us from asking for help when we desperately needed it.
God’s prescribed burns don’t feel gentle when you’re in the middle of them. They feel scary and out of control. But here’s what I’ve learned: there’s a huge difference between destructive fires and God’s restorative flames.
Destructive fires rage without purpose. They consume everything in their path and leave nothing but ash behind.
But God’s fires are carefully controlled. They burn away what’s choking our growth while protecting what He wants to preserve.
When our marriage felt like it was under fire, God wasn’t trying to destroy it.
He was burning away the selfishness and stubbornness that were strangling our love for each other. When Michael’s teenage rebellion broke our hearts, God wasn’t punishing us. He was clearing space for a deeper, more authentic relationship with our son.
The hardest part about being in a burning season is that you can’t see the new growth yet. When a meadow is freshly burned, it looks devastated. Black earth, charred stumps, smoke still rising. You have to trust that underneath all that ash, life is stirring.
I think about the native wildflowers that grow at Gwynedd after a prescribed burn. Flowers with names like wild bergamot and purple coneflower.
These aren’t delicate greenhouse plants that need perfect conditions. They’re hardy prairie natives that have been waiting underground for their moment to shine.
Maybe that’s what happens in our souls too. Maybe the peace we experience after walking through fire isn’t the fragile kind that falls apart at the first sign of trouble. Maybe it’s the deep-rooted, prairie-tested kind that can weather any storm.
The joy that emerges after loss isn’t surface happiness. It’s the kind that comes from knowing God’s faithfulness in the dark places. The faith that grows back after doubt isn’t naive optimism. It’s trust that’s been refined by fire.
Right now, if you’re in a burning season, I know it’s hard to believe anything good can come from it. But what if God isn’t destroying your life? What if He’s prescribing exactly what you need to grow?
Embracing the Burn
That wooden sign at a bird preserve changed how I see everything. God’s fires restore—they don’t just destroy. If you’re walking through flames right now, don’t lose hope. Trust the process.
Look for the new growth that’s already beginning underground. Sometimes the most beautiful wildflowers only bloom after fire.