Chapter 22

The Fire Passages—What the Bible Actually Says About Fire and Judgment

If you asked a hundred Christians to describe hell, most of them would mention fire. Fire and brimstone. Eternal flames. A lake of fire. The image is so deeply embedded in our minds that we barely stop to think about it. Fire, we assume, is the instrument of God’s punishment—the terrible weapon He wields against those who reject Him. The fire burns, the sinner screams, and God watches from a safe distance. That is the picture most of us grew up with.

But what if we have the picture backward?

What if the fire is not a weapon God aims at sinners but the very nature of who God is? What if the flames that terrify us are not the fires of a torture chamber but the radiant, blazing, all-consuming love of the living God? What if the fire that purifies the saints and the fire that torments the wicked are not two different fires at all—but one and the same fire, experienced differently depending on the condition of the human heart?

That is what the Bible actually teaches. And in this chapter, we are going to walk through the major fire passages of Scripture, one by one, and see for ourselves. We will look at passages from the Torah, the Prophets, the Gospels, and the Epistles. And in every single case, we will find the same pattern: fire in the Bible is connected to God’s presence, not to some separate torture chamber far from His throne. Fire purifies. Fire refines. Fire tests. Fire reveals. And yes—fire consumes. But the fire is always God’s fire, flowing from God’s presence, and it is always aimed at making things right.

This matters enormously. If fire in Scripture is fundamentally about God’s presence, then the divine presence model of hell is not a modern innovation. It is what the Bible has been saying all along.¹

So let’s step into the fire together. Let’s see what the Bible actually says.

Deuteronomy 4:24 — “The Lord Your God Is a Consuming Fire”

We begin where the Bible begins—with the Torah. In the book of Deuteronomy, Moses is addressing the Israelites before they enter the Promised Land. He has brought them through forty years of wilderness wandering, and now he is giving them his final instructions. And in the middle of a stern warning against idolatry, he says something extraordinary:

“For the LORD your God is a consuming fire, a jealous God.” (Deuteronomy 4:24)

Stop and read that again. Moses does not say that God uses fire. He does not say that God sends fire. He says that God is fire. The fire is not an instrument in God’s hand. The fire is God. This is a statement about God’s very nature—His essence, His being.²

The Hebrew word translated “consuming” here is ’okel, which means “to eat, devour, consume.” It is the same word used for fire that devours a sacrifice on the altar. The picture is vivid: God’s very being is like a fire that devours whatever it touches. But notice the context. Moses is not describing a torture chamber. He is describing what it means to be in the presence of the living God. The “consuming fire” is not somewhere else, far away from God’s throne. The consuming fire is God’s throne. The consuming fire is God Himself.³

This is the foundational fire text of the entire Bible. Everything that follows in Scripture about fire and judgment builds on this declaration. And the implications are staggering. If God Himself is the consuming fire, then any encounter with God is an encounter with fire. Heaven is fire. Judgment is fire. The presence of God is fire. The difference between paradise and hell is not the difference between fire and no fire. The difference is in how we experience that fire—whether it warms us or burns us, whether it purifies us or consumes us.

Think about what this means for the traditional view of hell. In the eternal conscious torment model, hell is typically imagined as a place far away from God—a dark dungeon where sinners are kept at a distance from God’s presence and tortured by devils. But Deuteronomy 4:24 makes that picture impossible. If God Himself is a consuming fire, then fire is not something separate from God. It is God. And that means the fire of hell is not the fire of God’s absence. It is the fire of God’s presence.⁴

Moses knew something that many modern Christians have forgotten. The fire is not the enemy. The fire is God. And God is not the enemy either.

Just two verses earlier, Moses had told the people something else about God’s fire that we should not miss: “From heaven he made you hear his voice to discipline you. On earth he showed you his great fire, and you heard his words from out of the fire” (Deut. 4:36). God’s fire is connected to God’s voice, God’s discipline, God’s teaching. The fire is not random destruction. It is purposeful. It is communicative. God speaks from the fire.⁵

And this pattern repeats everywhere we look in the Old Testament. God appeared to Moses in flames of fire from within a burning bush (Exod. 3:2). God led Israel by a pillar of fire at night (Exod. 13:21). At Sinai, God descended in fire and the mountain blazed (Exod. 19:18). When Solomon dedicated the temple, fire came down from heaven and the glory of the LORD filled the house (2 Chron. 7:1–3). Fire came from God’s presence and consumed the offerings on the altar (Lev. 9:24). In every case, fire signals God’s presence—not His absence. Fire means God is here.⁶

R. Zachary Manis puts it well: the prevalence of fire as a symbol for both God and hell is not a coincidence. It is a clue. Fire is the primary way Scripture symbolically depicts both God and hell. Most readers fail to appreciate the significance of this overlapping imagery. The connection strongly suggests that a single reality is being depicted. To put it simply: hell equals fire equals the presence of God.⁷

That is the pattern Deuteronomy 4:24 establishes. And every fire passage we examine from here on out will confirm it.

Hebrews 12:29 — “Our God Is a Consuming Fire”

If Deuteronomy 4:24 is the Old Testament foundation, Hebrews 12:29 is its New Testament echo. The author of Hebrews, writing to a community of Jewish Christians under pressure, concludes his great exhortation on worship and holiness with a direct quotation from Moses:

“Therefore let us be grateful for receiving a kingdom that cannot be shaken, and thus let us offer to God acceptable worship, with reverence and awe, for our God is a consuming fire.” (Hebrews 12:28–29, ESV)

Notice that this verse does not change the meaning of Deuteronomy 4:24. It repeats it. Fifteen hundred years after Moses, the New Testament writer affirms the same truth: God Himself is a consuming fire. The fire is not a punishment God inflicts from a distance. The fire is who God is.⁸

But what is striking about the Hebrews context is that the writer is not talking about hell. He is talking about worship. He says we should worship God “with reverence and awe”—and the reason we should do so is that our God is a consuming fire. The fire is not a threat aimed at outsiders. It is the reality that every worshiper encounters when they draw near to God. The same fire that warms the faithful and fills them with awe is the fire that burns the unfaithful. The difference is not in the fire. The difference is in the worshiper.⁹

Edward Fudge, a prominent conditionalist scholar, makes an important observation about this passage. He notes that this consuming fire is nothing other than God’s holiness, viewed from the standpoint of one who despises it. The fire of God is not a passing thing; it is of His very essence.¹⁰ That is a crucial point. The consuming fire is not a temporary punishment that God switches on and off. It is the permanent, eternal reality of who God is. You cannot separate God from His fire any more than you can separate the sun from its light.

The context is also important for another reason. Just a few verses earlier, the writer had described the terrifying scene at Mount Sinai—the blazing fire, the darkness, the gloom, the tempest, the sound of a trumpet, the voice of words that made the people beg for silence (Heb. 12:18–21). That was the fire of God’s presence in the old covenant. But then the writer contrasts it with the new covenant: “But you have come to Mount Zion, to the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem” (Heb. 12:22). The new covenant does not eliminate the fire. It transforms how we experience it. For those who come in faith, the fire of God’s presence is not terror but joy. For those who refuse, it remains a “fearful expectation of judgment and of raging fire that will consume the enemies of God” (Heb. 10:27).¹¹

As Robin Parry observes in Four Views on Hell, God Himself is a consuming fire, and the fire that burns sinners is the holy divine presence itself. Parry connects this to the biblical image that no one can look at God’s face and live (Exod. 33:20). The fire is not some secondary instrument of punishment. The fire is God’s holiness, and God’s holiness is deadly to everything that is impure.¹²

George MacDonald, the great Scottish theologian whose work on the consuming fire deeply influenced C. S. Lewis, saw this connection clearly. MacDonald argued that the consuming fire of Hebrews 12:29 was suggested to the writer by the fire that burned on the mountain of the old law—and that its purpose is not to punish but to purify. God is a consuming fire, MacDonald insisted, because love is a consuming fire. Love will not tolerate anything impure in the beloved. Love will not rest until every last trace of corruption has been burned away.¹³

Here, then, is what Hebrews 12:29 teaches: the same God whom we worship is a consuming fire. To draw near to God in worship is to draw near to fire. For the willing, that fire is warmth, light, purification, and joy. For the resistant, it is terror, burning, and destruction. But it is the same fire. And it is the same God.

Malachi 3:2–3 — The Refiner’s Fire

If Deuteronomy 4:24 tells us that God is fire, and Hebrews 12:29 confirms it, then Malachi 3:2–3 tells us what that fire does. And what it does is purify.

“But who can endure the day of his coming, and who can stand when he appears? For he is like a refiner’s fire and like fullers’ soap. He will sit as a refiner and purifier of silver, and he will purify the sons of Levi and refine them like gold and silver, so that they may present offerings to the LORD in righteousness.” (Malachi 3:2–3, ESV)

This is one of the most important fire passages in the entire Bible, and it is one that the traditional view of hell has largely ignored. The prophet Malachi, writing at the very end of the Old Testament era, describes the coming of the Lord in terms that could not be clearer. God’s fire is not punitive. It is refining. God sits as a refiner and purifier of silver. A silversmith does not throw his silver into the fire to destroy it. He puts it into the fire to make it pure.¹⁴

Anyone who has watched a silversmith at work knows the process. The silver is placed in the crucible, the fire is heated, and the dross—the impurities mixed in with the metal—rises to the surface and is skimmed off. The silversmith watches carefully. He knows the silver is pure when he can see his own reflection in it. That is the image Malachi gives us. God places us in the fire not to destroy us but to remove the dross, the sin, the impurity. And He keeps refining until He can see His own image reflected in us.¹⁵

Notice something crucial about this passage. Malachi says God will purify “the sons of Levi.” The Levites were the priests—the religious leaders of Israel. They were supposed to be the holiest people in the nation. And even they needed refining. Even they needed the fire. The fire of God’s presence is not reserved for the most wicked sinners. It is for everyone. Every one of us has dross that needs to be burned away.¹⁶

Michael Phillips, drawing on the writings of George MacDonald, highlights a vital word in Malachi 3:3 that many readers overlook: the word “until” (or “till” in some translations). God will refine them like gold and silver until they present right offerings to the Lord. The fire does not burn forever. It burns until its purpose is achieved. This is not a fire of endless torment. It is a fire with a goal, and when that goal is reached, the fire has done its work.¹⁷

Sharon Baker captures the significance of this beautifully. The fire of God, she argues, does not burn us—our essential being created in God’s image. It burns away the parasites of sin that cling so close they suffocate our true selves. The fire burns out the impurities that are embedded in us, so that only the gold remains.¹⁸

In the traditional ECT model, fire is an instrument of retribution. God torments the wicked because they deserve it, and the fire serves no purpose beyond inflicting pain. But Malachi says the opposite. God’s fire is an instrument of restoration. It serves a specific purpose—to purify, to refine, to make right what has gone wrong. And when that purpose is accomplished, the fire has done its work.

Think about what this means for the doctrine of hell. If God’s fire is fundamentally purifying rather than punitive, then hell is not a torture chamber. Hell is a refinery. The fire is real. The pain is real. But the purpose is not to torment forever. The purpose is to burn away everything that cannot bear the presence of perfect Love. Whether that process results in purification and restoration (as the universalist hopes) or in the eventual destruction of those who refuse to yield (as the conditionalist argues), either outcome is consistent with a God whose fire is aimed at making things right. What is not consistent with Malachi’s vision is a fire that tortures forever and accomplishes nothing.¹⁹

Malachi 4:1–3 — The Day That Burns Like an Oven

Malachi’s vision does not end with the refiner’s fire. In the very next chapter, he extends the image in a direction that is both sobering and beautiful:

“For behold, the day is coming, burning like an oven, when all the arrogant and all evildoers will be stubble. The day that is coming shall set them ablaze, says the LORD of hosts, so that it will leave them neither root nor branch. But for you who fear my name, the sun of righteousness shall rise with healing in its wings.” (Malachi 4:1–2a, ESV)

Here is the double-edged nature of God’s fire in a single sentence. The same day that burns the arrogant like stubble brings healing to the righteous. The same fire that sets evildoers ablaze causes the sun of righteousness to rise with healing in its wings. Two radically different experiences of the same event. Two radically different responses to the same reality. The fire does not change. The human heart determines the outcome.²⁰

Manis highlights this passage in his case for the divine presence model. On the traditional reading, these are understood as threats issued by an angry God. But the divine presence model suggests a different reading: these are warnings about the natural end of those who persist in evil. The arrogant and evildoers are not tortured by a God who wants to hurt them. They are burned by the day itself—“the day that is coming shall set them ablaze.” It is the encounter with God’s unveiled presence that does the burning. The wicked are unprepared for the encounter with the Lord on the day of judgment. Rather than reflecting His glory, their persistence in evil results in their being burned by it.²¹

The imagery is telling. Malachi says the wicked will be like “stubble”—dry, worthless plant material left over after the harvest. Stubble does not survive fire. It is consumed completely. Notice that the text does not say the stubble will burn forever. It says the fire will “leave them neither root nor branch.” That is the language of total consumption, not of endless torment.²²

But for the righteous, the same fire brings healing. The “sun of righteousness” rising with “healing in its wings” is one of the most tender images in all of Scripture. The sun’s light is fire. Its warmth is fire. And for those who fear God’s name, that fire heals instead of hurts. It restores instead of destroys. The same sun that scorches the land in a drought nourishes the garden when rain has softened the soil. The condition of the ground determines the effect of the heat.²³

The Eastern Orthodox tradition has grasped this truth for centuries. Alexandre Kalomiros, in his landmark essay The River of Fire, draws on the patristic tradition to describe this reality with striking clarity: God’s love is like a river of fire that flows from His throne. The same river that brings joy and life to the saints brings agony and torment to the damned. The fire is the same. The experience is different. The difference is in us, not in God.²⁴

Malachi 4 is thus a perfect illustration of the divine presence model. One fire. Two experiences. One God whose nature never changes. And human hearts that determine whether that unchanging nature is experienced as healing or as destruction.

Isaiah 33:14–15 — “Who Can Dwell with the Consuming Fire?”

The prophet Isaiah gives us one of the most dramatic fire passages in all of Scripture—and one that has been badly misunderstood by those who use it to support eternal conscious torment:

“Now I will arise,” says the LORD, “Now I will be exalted, now I will be lifted up. You have conceived chaff, you will give birth to stubble; My breath will consume you like a fire. The peoples will be burned to lime, like cut thorns which are burned in the fire.” . . . Sinners in Zion are terrified; trembling has seized the godless. “Who among us can live with the consuming fire? Who among us can live with continual burning?” (Isaiah 33:10–12, 14, NASB)

This is one of those passages that traditionalists often point to in order to support the idea of everlasting torment. “Who can dwell with everlasting burning?” they ask. Surely this means the wicked will burn forever?

But read the passage more carefully. The question in verse 14 is not “How long will the wicked burn?” The question is “Who can dwell with the consuming fire?” That is a very different question. The “consuming fire” and “continual burning” here refer not to the experience of the damned but to God Himself. The fire is God. The question is: who among us can survive in the presence of that fire?²⁵

And verse 15 answers the question. Only the person who “walks righteously and speaks what is right,” who rejects extortion and bribes, who avoids evil in every form—only this person can coexist with the God whose holiness is a consuming fire that burns up all sin and whoever will not repent of it.²⁶

Edward Fudge, writing in Two Views of Hell, makes this point forcefully. The passage does not envision the wicked living forever in fiery torment. It portrays a fire with which no wicked person can possibly dwell. The consuming fire consumes. The sinners cannot survive it. They are burned to lime, like cut thorns—completely, totally, finally destroyed.²⁷

But there is something even deeper here that speaks directly to the divine presence model. Notice that the “consuming fire” and “continual burning” are not somewhere else. They are in Zion. They are in the holy city. The “sinners in Zion” are terrified precisely because they are in the presence of God and they know they cannot survive it. This is not a passage about a distant torture chamber. It is a passage about what happens when sinful human beings encounter the holy God in all His blazing reality.²⁸

Manis reads this passage through the lens of the divine presence model: these are warnings about the natural end of those who persist in evil. The wicked are woefully unprepared for the encounter with the Lord on the day of judgment. Their persistence in evil results in their being burned by His glory. For them, exposure to God’s presence is an experience of divine wrath—a fire that cannot be quenched. But it is not a separate divine act by which the unrighteous are punished. It is the very experience of being raised to life into the presence of the Lord, unveiled in glory.²⁹

There is also a remarkable detail in verse 11 that we should not miss. In the NASB, the verse reads: “My breath will consume you like a fire.” The Hebrew word translated “breath” here is ruach, which also means “spirit” or “wind.” It is the same word used for the Spirit of God in Genesis 1:2. The fire that consumes is not some impersonal force. It is the very ruach (spirit/breath) of God. Once again, the fire is God Himself—His Spirit, His breath, His presence.³⁰

Daniel 7:9–10 — The River of Fire from the Ancient of Days

The prophet Daniel gives us one of the most awe-inspiring visions in all of Scripture—and one that is absolutely central to understanding the biblical theology of fire:

“As I looked, thrones were set in place, and the Ancient of Days took his seat. His clothing was as white as snow; the hair of his head was white like wool. His throne was flaming with fire, and its wheels were all ablaze. A river of fire was flowing, coming out from before him. Thousands upon thousands attended him; ten thousand times ten thousand stood before him. The court was seated, and the books were opened.” (Daniel 7:9–10)

Here is the scene of the final judgment. And right at the center of it is fire—but not the fire of a torture chamber. The fire flows from God’s throne. God’s throne itself is “flaming with fire.” A “river of fire” comes out from before Him. The fire is not in some distant location where sinners are being punished. The fire is at the very heart of God’s presence.³¹

Manis argues that this river of fire from Daniel’s vision is identical to the lake of fire described in the closing chapters of Revelation, which in turn is identical to the “sea of glass glowing with fire” mentioned in Revelation 15:2. These are all references to the divine presence.³² The lake of fire in Revelation is not some separate location far from God. It is what happens when the river of fire from God’s throne—the blazing reality of His holy presence—encounters those who have hardened their hearts against Him.

The Eastern Orthodox tradition has always understood this connection. Kalomiros, drawing on the Church Fathers, describes the river of fire as the river of God’s love. The same river that refreshes the saints scorches the sinners. The same fire that illuminates the righteous blinds the wicked. It is one river, flowing from one throne, manifesting one God. But the human experience of that river differs radically depending on the condition of the heart.³³

Notice also that Daniel’s vision includes “the books were opened.” This is judgment language. The opening of the books is the moment when everything hidden comes to light. And where does this happen? In the river of fire that flows from God’s throne. The judgment takes place in the presence of God, not away from it. The fire that judges is the fire that flows from God.³⁴

Ezekiel had a very similar vision. In the first chapter of his prophecy, Ezekiel describes seeing the glory of God as a great cloud with “flashing lightning and surrounded by brilliant light. The center of the fire looked like glowing metal, and in the fire was what looked like four living creatures” (Ezek. 1:4–5). The fire is at the center. The living creatures are in the fire. God’s glory is fire. And elsewhere, fire came from the presence of the LORD and consumed both sacrificial offerings (Lev. 9:24) and unauthorized worship (Lev. 10:1–2). The pattern is always the same: fire flows from God’s presence, and what it does depends on what it encounters.³⁵

Daniel 7:9–10 is, in a sense, the hinge of the entire biblical theology of fire. It connects the Old Testament declarations that God is fire with the New Testament descriptions of the lake of fire. It shows us that the fire of judgment is not a separate creation of God’s wrath but an outflowing of God’s nature. And it sets the stage for everything the New Testament will say about fire, judgment, and the final state.

1 Corinthians 3:12–15 — The Fire That Tests Every Person’s Work

No passage in the New Testament supports the divine presence model’s understanding of fire more clearly than Paul’s remarkable statement in 1 Corinthians 3:

“Now if anyone builds on the foundation with gold, silver, precious stones, wood, hay, straw—each one’s work will become manifest, for the Day will disclose it, because it will be revealed with fire, and the fire will test what sort of work each one has done. If the work that anyone has built on the foundation survives, he will receive a reward. If anyone’s work is burned up, he will suffer loss, though he himself will be saved, but only as through fire.” (1 Corinthians 3:12–15, ESV)

This passage is extraordinary for several reasons. First, notice that Paul says the fire will test everyone’s work. Not just the wicked. Not just the unbelievers. Everyone who builds on the foundation of Christ will have their work tested by fire. The fire is not punishment for the worst sinners. It is the universal test that every person undergoes in the presence of God on the day of judgment.³⁶

Second, notice the function of the fire. It does not torture. It tests. It reveals. It discloses. The fire shows the true quality of what has been built. Gold, silver, and precious stones survive the fire and are purified by it. Wood, hay, and straw are consumed by it. The fire makes a distinction—not by changing what it touches but by revealing what was already there. Good work survives. Bad work burns. The fire simply tells the truth.³⁷

Third—and this is the detail that most challenges the traditional view—Paul says that even if a person’s work is completely burned up, “he himself will be saved, but only as through fire.” The person is saved through the fire. The fire does not destroy the person. The fire destroys the bad work, the impurity, the dross—and the person comes through the other side, stripped of everything worthless but still alive. Saved. Rescued. Purified.³⁸

Sharon Baker highlights the significance of this passage for the divine presence model. It reveals, she argues, that in the final judgment, every person will go through the fire—through the fire that surrounds God, comes from God, and is God. Because fire burns away impurities, any pure works built upon the foundation of Jesus Christ will remain. The impure works do not survive. But the person himself will still be saved, though only after going through the flames. To stand in God’s presence is to stand in the fire. And to stand in the fire means burning away chaff, wickedness, and sinfulness.³⁹

Gregory of Nyssa, one of the great Cappadocian Fathers of the fourth century, used exactly this logic. He compared God’s fire to the refiner’s furnace: just as those who refine gold are obliged to melt the pure gold along with the alloy, and then the base alloy is consumed while the gold remains, so while evil is being consumed in the fire, the soul that is welded to that evil must inevitably be in the fire too, until the impurity is consumed and annihilated.⁴¹

This is the logic of 1 Corinthians 3 applied to the final state. The fire burns. The dross is consumed. And what is gold remains. For believers, that means their good work survives and they receive a reward. For those whose entire life has been built on the wrong foundation, the fire may consume everything—either purifying the person (as the universalist hopes) or consuming the person along with the impurity (as the conditionalist argues). But in neither case is the fire purposeless torture. In every case, the fire is doing what fire does: revealing truth, burning falsehood, purifying what can be purified, and consuming what cannot.

Matthew 3:11–12 — “He Will Baptize You with the Holy Spirit and Fire”

When John the Baptist appeared in the wilderness of Judea, proclaiming the coming of the Messiah, he described Christ’s ministry in terms that most Christians have never fully reckoned with:

“I baptize you with water for repentance, but he who is coming after me is mightier than I, whose sandals I am not worthy to carry. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. His winnowing fork is in his hand, and he will clear his threshing floor, gathering his wheat into the barn and burning up the chaff with unquenchable fire.” (Matthew 3:11–12, ESV)

This is one of the most important fire passages in the Gospels, and it brilliantly confirms the divine presence model. Notice what John says: Jesus will baptize with the Holy Spirit and fire. These are not two separate baptisms. They are two aspects of the same encounter with Christ. For some, the encounter with Christ is a baptism in the Holy Spirit—the experience of being filled with God’s life-giving presence. For others, the same encounter is a baptism in fire—the experience of being consumed by the same presence. The Spirit and the fire are both from Christ. The experience differs. The source does not.⁴²

Manis makes an important observation about the context of these words. They were not spoken only to John’s disciples. The most immediate addressees seem to be “many of the Pharisees and Sadducees coming to where he was baptizing,” whom John addresses as “You brood of vipers!” (Matt. 3:7). John is teaching that everyone will be “baptized” by Christ—immersed in His presence, plunged into the reality of who He is. For some, this will be an experience of “rivers of living water flowing from within them” (John 7:38). For others, it will be an experience of “burning up with unquenchable fire.”⁴³

The image of the winnowing fork reinforces the point. In the ancient world, a farmer would toss the harvested grain into the air with a winnowing fork. The wind would carry away the chaff—the light, worthless husk—while the heavier grain would fall back to the threshing floor. The chaff would then be burned. This is a picture of separation and purification, not of torture. The chaff is not kept alive and burned forever. It is burned up—completely, finally, irreversibly. The grain is saved. The chaff is gone.⁴⁴

And the fire is “unquenchable.” That word has been widely misunderstood. Many people assume “unquenchable fire” means a fire that burns forever. But that is not what the word means. An unquenchable fire is a fire that cannot be put out—a fire that is irresistible, unstoppable, and inescapable. It keeps burning until it has consumed everything it touches. It cannot be extinguished. But once there is nothing left to burn, the fire has done its work. Throughout the Old Testament prophets, unquenchable fire consistently describes fire that cannot be resisted and therefore consumes completely (see Ezek. 20:47–48; Amos 5:6; Isa. 1:31).⁴⁵

The connection between the Holy Spirit and fire is also significant for the divine presence model. At Pentecost, the Holy Spirit appeared as “tongues of fire” that rested on each of the disciples (Acts 2:3). The Spirit’s presence was experienced as fire. But it did not burn them. It empowered them. It filled them with joy and boldness and new life. The same Spirit that appeared as fire at Pentecost is the Spirit that John the Baptist connected to the “unquenchable fire” that burns the chaff. Same Spirit. Same fire. Different experience—because the grain receives the Spirit differently than the chaff does.⁴⁶

Luke 12:49 — “I Came to Cast Fire on the Earth”

One of the shortest and most startling fire sayings in the Gospels comes from Jesus Himself:

“I came to cast fire on the earth, and would that it were already kindled!” (Luke 12:49, ESV)

This is a breathtaking statement. Jesus says that the purpose of His coming is to cast fire on the earth. Not to bring a message of fire. Not to warn about fire. To bring fire. To set the earth ablaze with it. And He says it with longing: “Would that it were already kindled!” He wants the fire to come. He is eager for it.⁴⁷

If fire were simply the instrument of torment for the wicked, why would Jesus be eager for it? Why would He long for the moment when the fire is kindled? That makes no sense if fire means torture. But it makes perfect sense if fire means the full, unveiled, transforming presence of God in the world. Jesus came to bring God’s presence into the world in a new and overwhelming way. He came to set the earth on fire with the love of God. And He could hardly wait for the fire to be kindled.

Manis connects this saying directly to the divine presence model. The fire Jesus is bringing is the fire of His own presence. He is the one who will “baptize with the Holy Spirit and fire.” He is the one from whose throne the river of fire flows. His arrival in the world is the kindling of that fire. And when the fire is fully kindled—when His presence is fully unveiled at the second coming—it will be both the greatest joy and the most fearful reality in the universe.⁴⁸

Gerry Beauchemin, in Hope Beyond Hell, draws attention to how the fire Jesus brings is linked directly to the refining, purifying fire of the prophets. Jesus is the fulfillment of Malachi’s promise of the refiner’s fire. The fire He casts on the earth is the fire that tests, purifies, and reveals. It is not a fire of vindictive punishment but a fire of transforming love.⁴⁹

There is also a connection to the very next verse that should not be missed: “I have a baptism to be baptized with, and how great is my distress until it is accomplished!” (Luke 12:50). Jesus connects the fire He brings with a “baptism”—His own suffering and death on the cross. The fire of God’s love is not something Jesus imposes on others from a safe distance. He Himself enters the fire first. He is baptized in the fire of suffering, death, and hell itself, so that when the fire falls on humanity, it falls on a humanity that He has already joined and redeemed from the inside out. The fire is love. And love means entering the flames alongside the beloved.

Isaiah 33:10–12, with the Breath of God

We have already considered Isaiah 33:14–15, but we should return briefly to the earlier verses of that passage because they contain a detail that is crucial for the divine presence model. In verse 11, the Lord says: “My breath will consume you like a fire” (NASB). As we noted, the Hebrew word ruach means “breath,” “wind,” or “spirit.” It is the same word used for the Holy Spirit.⁵⁰

Manis draws a fascinating connection between this verse and John the Baptist’s words in Luke 3:16–17. In Isaiah, God says “You have conceived chaff, you will give birth to stubble; my ruach will consume you like a fire.” In Luke, John says Jesus “will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. His winnowing fork is in his hand . . . he will burn up the chaff with unquenchable fire.” The parallel is striking: in both cases, the Spirit/breath of God is the fire, and the chaff is what burns. The image in Isaiah is that the very presence of Christ “inflames” the evil within the unrighteous when they are exposed to it.⁵¹

This is the same pattern we have seen in every passage. Fire is God’s Spirit. Fire is God’s breath. Fire is God’s presence. And it burns what is impure. The wicked “conceive chaff” and “give birth to stubble”—their lives produce nothing but worthless material. And when God’s ruach comes, all that worthless material ignites.

2 Peter 3:7, 10–13 — The Day the Elements Dissolve

The apostle Peter provides the most cosmic vision of fire in the New Testament. Writing about the coming day of the Lord, he describes a conflagration that will engulf the entire created order:

“But by the same word the heavens and earth that now exist are stored up for fire, being kept until the day of judgment and destruction of the ungodly. . . . But the day of the Lord will come like a thief, and then the heavens will pass away with a roar, and the heavenly bodies will be burned up and dissolved, and the earth and the works that are done on it will be exposed. . . . But according to his promise we are waiting for new heavens and a new earth in which righteousness dwells.” (2 Peter 3:7, 10, 13, ESV)

This passage describes a fire that is not limited to individual sinners. It is a fire that engulfs the entire cosmos. The heavens pass away. The elements dissolve. The earth and all its works are exposed—laid bare before the penetrating light of God’s presence. This is not a torture chamber hidden in the basement of the universe. This is the unveiling of God’s fiery presence in the whole created order.⁵²

And notice the result: “new heavens and a new earth in which righteousness dwells.” The fire does not destroy the universe forever. It purifies it. It burns away everything that is corrupt, everything that is fallen, everything that resists the righteous purposes of God. And what emerges from the fire is a renewed creation—a cosmos purged of evil and filled with righteousness. The fire is not the end. The fire is the means to a new beginning.⁵³

This is the logic of purification on a cosmic scale. Just as the refiner’s fire purifies gold by burning away dross, and just as the fire of 1 Corinthians 3 tests each person’s work and burns away what is worthless, so the fire of 2 Peter 3 tests the entire cosmos and burns away everything that is impure. What survives the fire is the new creation. What cannot survive is consumed.

The word Peter uses for “exposed” in verse 10 (some translations read “laid bare” or “found out”) is significant. The Greek word heurethēsetai suggests the idea of being discovered, found out, uncovered. The fire does not simply destroy. It reveals. It strips away every pretense, every cover, every hiding place. Everything that has been concealed is brought into the light. This is the fire of truth—the fire that exposes what is really there.⁵⁴

There is also an important parallel between this passage and the Flood of Noah, which Peter explicitly draws in verses 5–7. Just as the ancient world was destroyed by water in the Flood, so the present world is reserved for fire on the day of judgment. In both cases, the destruction is not purposeless. It clears away corruption to make room for renewal. The Flood led to a fresh start. The fire of the last day leads to new heavens and a new earth. The pattern is destruction-for-renewal, not destruction-for-its-own-sake.⁵⁵

Peter’s cosmic vision confirms the divine presence model at the grandest possible scale. The fire that will engulf the cosmos is not a punishment machine. It is the blazing reality of God’s presence, unveiled in all its power, burning through every layer of creation and exposing everything to the penetrating light of truth. What can bear that light will survive and be renewed. What cannot bear it will be consumed. And the result will be a universe in which righteousness dwells—a cosmos finally, fully, completely home in the presence of God.

The Fire and the Burning Bush — An Analogy That Ties It All Together

Before we draw our threads together, I want to return to one of the oldest and most beloved fire stories in the Bible: the burning bush. In Exodus 3, Moses sees a bush that is on fire but is not consumed. The fire burns, but the bush is not destroyed. God speaks from within the fire. And Moses takes off his sandals, because the ground where the fire burns is holy.⁵⁶

Why didn’t the bush burn up? Sharon Baker gives a simple and profound answer: because the bush was not evil, wicked, or unrighteous. The fire of God does not consume what is pure. It only consumes what is impure. The bush survived because there was nothing in it for the fire to destroy.⁵⁷

Think about that. The fire of God’s presence burns constantly, but it only destroys what is corrupt. Put gold into that fire and the gold shines brighter. Put dross into the fire and the dross is consumed. Put a bush with no impurity into the fire and the bush blazes with glory but is not harmed. Put stubble into the fire and the stubble is reduced to ash.

Now apply that to human beings. A person who has been purified by the blood of Christ, who has been remade by the Holy Spirit, who has been conformed to the image of God’s Son—that person enters the fire of God’s presence and is not consumed. Like the burning bush, they blaze with glory. Like Daniel’s three friends in the furnace, they walk through the flames untouched. The fire does not hurt them because there is nothing impure in them for the fire to destroy.⁵⁸

But a person who has hardened their heart against God, who has built their life on selfishness and pride and rebellion—that person enters the same fire and is set ablaze. Not because God is punishing them. Not because God has changed. But because the fire does what fire always does: it consumes what is combustible. And a life built on sin is combustible. A heart hardened against love is like dry stubble in the presence of a bonfire.

This is the burning bush principle. One fire. Two outcomes. The fire is always the same. The fire is always God’s presence, God’s love, God’s holiness. The outcome depends on what the fire encounters.

Chapter Synthesis — One Fire, One God, One Truth

We have now walked through ten major fire passages spanning the entire canon of Scripture—from the Torah to the Prophets, from the Gospels to the Epistles. And the pattern is unmistakable.

In every passage, fire is connected to God’s presence. Not to a location far from God. Not to a punishment God administers from a distance. But to God Himself—His nature, His being, His Spirit, His throne. God is fire (Deut. 4:24; Heb. 12:29). Fire flows from God’s throne (Dan. 7:9–10). God’s Spirit is the fire that consumes (Isa. 33:11). Christ came to cast fire on the earth (Luke 12:49). The Holy Spirit appears as fire (Acts 2:3; Matt. 3:11). The fire that tests every person’s work comes from the Day of the Lord’s appearing (1 Cor. 3:13). The cosmos itself will be engulfed by fire when God’s presence is fully unveiled (2 Pet. 3:10).⁵⁹

In every passage, the fire functions to purify, test, and reveal. The refiner’s fire purifies gold and silver (Mal. 3:2–3). The fire tests every person’s work (1 Cor. 3:13). The fire exposes the earth and everything done on it (2 Pet. 3:10). The winnowing fork separates wheat from chaff (Matt. 3:12). The fire reveals who can dwell in the presence of the consuming fire and who cannot (Isa. 33:14–15). In no passage does the fire exist simply to inflict pain. It always has a purpose: to separate the true from the false, the pure from the impure, the gold from the dross.

In every passage, the same fire produces different results depending on what it touches. The fire that purifies the sons of Levi consumes the arrogant like stubble (Mal. 3:2–3; 4:1). The fire that brings healing to those who fear God’s name burns the wicked without remainder (Mal. 4:1–2). The fire that the Holy Spirit kindles in believers is the same fire that burns the chaff (Matt. 3:11–12). The fire that rewards the builder of gold and silver consumes the builder of wood and straw (1 Cor. 3:12–15). The fire that leads to the new heavens and new earth dissolves everything that is impure (2 Pet. 3:10–13).⁶⁰

This is the cumulative picture that emerges from the fire passages of Scripture. And it is the picture that the divine presence model describes. Hell is not a separate torture chamber operated by demons in a place far from God. Hell is the experience of God’s inescapable, all-consuming love by those who have hardened their hearts against Him. The fire of hell is God’s fire. The pain of hell is the pain of encountering perfect Love with a heart that hates love. And the purpose of that fire is not sadistic torment but the same purpose it has always had: to purify what can be purified and to consume what cannot.

The traditional ECT model cannot account for this pattern. If hell is a separate location far from God where sinners are tortured forever, then the fire of hell is disconnected from the fire of God’s presence. But the Bible never makes that disconnection. The Bible consistently ties fire to God Himself. The lake of fire in Revelation is where the Lamb is present (Rev. 14:10). The river of fire in Daniel flows from God’s throne. The consuming fire of Hebrews is God’s own being. There is no separate “hell fire” in Scripture. There is only God’s fire—experienced differently by different hearts.⁶¹

The conditionalist and the universalist will read these passages differently regarding the final outcome. The conditionalist will say that the fire eventually and completely consumes those who will not yield to it—just as Malachi’s stubble is burned until nothing remains. The universalist will say that the fire eventually and completely purifies every heart—just as Malachi’s refiner keeps working until the silver is pure. I do not pretend to settle that question here. What I do say, and say with confidence, is that both of those readings are consistent with the biblical testimony about fire, and eternal conscious torment is not. A fire that tortures forever without purifying anything and without consuming anything is a fire that contradicts every fire passage in the Bible.⁶²

God’s fire has a purpose. It always has. And its purpose is to make things right.

Pastoral Implications — Why This Matters for the Church

So what difference does this make? Why does it matter whether the fire of hell is God’s presence or a separate torture chamber?

It matters because it changes the character of God. If hell is a torture chamber operated by an angry deity, then the God we worship is a God who torments His enemies forever without purpose. But if hell is the experience of God’s presence by those who have hardened their hearts, then the God we worship is a God whose love is so vast, so fierce, so all-consuming that even hell is a manifestation of that love. The fire is not cruelty. The fire is love—love experienced as torment by those who hate love.⁶³

It matters because it changes how we preach. If fire is God’s presence, then the message of the gospel is not “Believe or God will burn you.” The message is “God is coming, and His presence is fire, and the only question is whether you are ready to stand in that fire with joy or with terror.” That is a very different message. One is a threat. The other is an invitation—an urgent, passionate, life-or-death invitation.⁶⁴

It matters because it changes how we live. If God’s fire is purifying, then we do not need to be afraid of it. We need to welcome it. The fire that burns away our sin, our selfishness, our pride—that fire is a gift. It hurts, yes. Purification is painful. But it is the pain of healing, not the pain of punishment. When we understand that God’s fire is aimed at our restoration, we can stop running from God and start running toward Him. We can pray with the psalmist: “Search me, O God, and know my heart! Try me and know my thoughts! And see if there be any grievous way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting” (Ps. 139:23–24).⁶⁵

And it matters because it gives us hope. If God’s fire has a purpose—if it purifies, refines, tests, and reveals—then nothing is wasted. No pain is meaningless. No suffering is pointless. Even the fire of judgment serves the purpose of a God whose every act is aimed at the restoration and renewal of His creation. We serve a God whose fire is love. And His love is relentless. And His fire will not stop until everything impure has been burned away and only gold remains.

Our God is a consuming fire. Let us run toward the fire, not away from it. For the fire is not our enemy. The fire is God. And God is love.