"Everyone will be salted with fire."
Jesus said it. Then He said nothing more about it.
One sentence, dropped in the middle of one of the hardest passages in Mark's Gospel, and most people have no idea what it means.
Here's the context nobody reads. Jesus has just finished warning about hell: "where their worm does not die, and the fire is not quenched" (Mark 9:48). Cut off your hand. Tear out your eye. Whatever drags you toward that fire, get rid of it.
And then, immediately: "For everyone will be salted with fire."
Everyone. Not just the condemned. The disciples too. You too.
So what is salt, and why fire?
In the ancient world, salt did three things, and every Jewish listener knew all three.
Salt preserved. No refrigeration. Meat that wasn't salted rotted. Salt was the difference between food that lasted and food that decayed.
Salt purified. Elisha threw salt into the poisoned spring at Jericho and the water was healed (2 Kings 2:21).
Salt sealed a covenant. God commanded: "With all your offerings you shall offer salt... the salt of the covenant" (Leviticus 2:13). Every sacrifice on the altar was salted before it burned. Some ancient manuscripts of Mark 9:49 even add that line: "and every sacrifice will be salted with salt."
Now put it together.
Fire in Scripture is what tests and refines: "He is like a refiner's fire" (Malachi 3:2). Peter tells Christians not to be surprised "at the fiery trial when it comes upon you" (1 Peter 4:12).
So here's what Jesus is saying: there are two fires, and you will meet one of them.
One fire consumes. The other fire salts it, preserves you, purifies you, and marks you as a sacrifice belonging to God.
You don't get to skip the fire. Nobody does. Everyone will be salted with it. The only question is what the fire does to you.
If you're a disciple, the flames that feel like they're destroying you are doing something else entirely. They're burning off what would rot you. They're keeping you from decay. They're the salt of the covenant on the offering of your life.
That's why Jesus finishes with this: "Have salt in yourselves" (v.50).
Your suffering is not the fire of judgment.
It's the fire that keeps you.
Thirty-six years ago, two men dressed as police officers cut Jesus out of His frame with a blade.
March 18, 1990. Boston. 1:24 in the morning.
They walked into the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum, tied up the guards, and spent 81 minutes taking whatever they wanted. Thirteen works of art. Half a billion dollars.
One of them was Rembrandt's The Storm on the Sea of Galilee.
Painted in 1633. The only seascape Rembrandt ever made. And he spent it on Mark chapter 4.
Look at what he painted.
A fishing boat tipped almost sideways. A wave breaking over the bow like a fist. The sail tearing loose. Men hauling on ropes that are winning against them. One disciple leaning over the rail, sick into the sea. Grown men. Fishermen. Men who had worked that water their whole lives, and their faces say they know this is the night it kills them.
And in the stern, in the one patch of calm light in the whole canvas, Jesus.
Asleep.
Mark 4:38. And he was in the hinder part of the ship, asleep on a pillow: and they awake him, and say unto him, Master, carest thou not that we perish?
Carest thou not?
That's not a question. That's an accusation. Screamed over wind by men who watched Him heal lepers a week earlier.
Now count the men in the boat.
Twelve disciples. Plus Jesus. That's thirteen.
Rembrandt painted fourteen.
Look at the middle of the boat. One man is holding the rigging with one hand and his cap with the other. He isn't fighting the sail. He isn't bailing water. He isn't looking at the wave, and he isn't looking at Christ.
He's looking straight out of the canvas. At you.
It's Rembrandt. He painted his own face into the storm.
A 27-year-old Dutchman put himself in a boat on the Sea of Galilee sixteen centuries after the fact, because he understood something most people miss when they read Mark 4.
This story doesn't have thirteen men in it.
It has every man in it.
You're in the boat. You've been in the boat. The night the phone rang. The diagnosis. The marriage taking on water faster than you can bail. Wind you didn't ask for and can't argue with. And the same accusation rising in your throat that rose in theirs:
Carest thou not that I perish?
And He stood up in the boat, and rebuked the wind, and said unto the sea, Peace, be still. And the wind ceased, and there was a great calm.
Then He turned to them and asked the question that should still sting:
Why are ye so fearful? How is it that ye have no faith?
Not: Why did you wake me? Not: Why are you in a storm?
Why are you afraid with Me in your boat?
The painting has never been found.
The FBI searched for decades. Ten-million-dollar reward. Nothing. Somewhere in the dark: a warehouse, an attic, a wall it was never meant to hang on, that storm is still frozen mid-wave. And the museum never replaced it.
The empty frame still hangs in the same spot on the same wall in Boston. It has hung there empty for thirty-six years. Waiting for what belongs in it to come home.
Sit with that.
Because that's God.
He doesn't take the frame down. He doesn't hang something else in your place. However long you've been missing, however dark the room they're keeping you in, the space you were made for is still on the wall.
Thieves can steal the painting.
Nobody has ever stolen the Man in it.
He's still in the stern of every boat that carries His people. And the storm still needs His permission.
Peace. Be still.
One might imagine what Mark frequently gets asked to make for various special events… 😉🍨
We’ll title this one:
💥WIFE’S BIRTHDAY ‘22💥
(Rich Peanut Buttery ice cream mixed up together with homemade chocolate crunchies
- in this instance, one of our 🥜 butter with salted 🥜 Experiences- and then dribbled on some melted chocolate 🍫 for (very) good measure! 😁
And voila! Presenting, extraordinary! ⭐️⭐️⭐️
(Perhaps we have just stumbled upon a new hashtag? 🤔😆)
Has anyone tried @NorthsideSocial splendid house made pop tarts?
After we purchased one, wellll…we just couldn’t help ourselves- (we always see fresh marvelous pastries as potential ice cream sandwiches waiting to happen- alas…tis both a gift and a curse 😋)
We added 🍨!
Or is it the curious name??- 🤔(at least curious to you dwellers in this futuristic age.) Back in our day -in the dear old Romantic Era, 🎩 -everyone was tapping their toes to this catchy little tune. 🎶 It was the latest sensation penned by Irving Berlin! 🤩🤩🤩
We’re always searching for brilliant art from the dear old Romantic Era …that would potentially work on the walls of a shop… a print of this one might be nice….😁
Dear Readers, you knew it was coming…
First we steep heaps of delightful Cinnamon Toast Crunch cereal in our rich cream!
Then we swirl in big chunks of our homemade Cinnamon Toast Crunch Snickerdoodle cookies (see previous post for more on those little delights,) and voila!
Popular throughout America 🇺🇸 by the turn of the 20th century, these marvelous specimens are still well known for very good reason! 💪
Ours are handmade with love ❤️ ….and Cinnamon Toast Crunch Cereal. 😇
Although, nobody really knows where the funny name came from, 😋 there is nothing comedic about the amazing aroma of baking butter and sugar that heralds the advent of a warm cinnamon dusted snickerdoodle! 🤤 🤤🤤
Size of Ferris Wheel eh? Consider our interest piqued. 🧐
We’re pretty certain this ☄️ pre-dates our namesake, the first 🎡 created in 1893 for the gargantuan Chicago Worlds Fair! 😁
Happy Trails Kamo òalewa! 👋
A little over a year ago, my very close friend more like fam (@LucyAminaChaves ) lost her younger sister in a very cruel way.
Is #justice still our shield and defender in #Kenya? This is our quest for #Justice4ChichyAmina: https://t.co/0suF0EzuEH
THREAD: “Maybe it’s okay, if I’m not ok…” I have heard this phrase in songs, conversations as well as in my thoughts and I agree, it’s ok not to be ok. #JusticeforChichyAmina#EndFemicide