Through the Fire: What the Refiner Taught Me

Written by Rebecca Johnson

These past two weeks or so, I’ve felt like I’ve been in the fire. Not a gentle warming fire—no, the kind that makes you question everything. The kind that makes you feel stripped, stretched, and exposed.

It reminded me of that scene in We’re Going on a Bear Hunt. You know the one—they reach the mud or the tall grass, and the narrator says:

“We can’t go over it.
We can’t go under it.
Oh no!
We’ve got to go through it.”

I could feel myself standing right there, looking at whatever this “mud” represented in my life and thinking:

“I don’t want to go through this. I don’t know what’s in it. I don’t know how long it lasts. I don’t know what it will cost me.”

But the only way to the other side… was through.

And so I went through—
even though I didn’t want to,
even though I was terrified,
even though at times I was running through the field screaming,
and sometimes stopping completely, crying, begging God:

“Where are You in this? Why can’t I hear You?”

But now… I’m on the other side.

And strangely—beautifully—I feel stronger.
I feel steadier.
More solid than I did before.

I didn’t hear God’s voice in the fire.
But I discovered His strength in me.

And that’s when a verse came to mind:

Malachi 3:3

“He will sit as a refiner and purifier of silver.”

I’ve heard people say that a refiner never leaves the silver alone. He sits close, watching carefully, making sure the silver doesn’t get destroyed in the heat—but transformed by it.

That’s what this felt like.

And then, this made me laugh—but it hit me so deeply. Do you remember the old PG Tips advert with the monkey? The monkey runs away, comes back covered in dirt, and Al tells him he needs to get into the washing machine to get clean.

The monkey goes in… and throughout the wash he’s screaming:

“LET ME OUT! THIS IS TOO MUCH!”

And Al? He’s just sipping tea like he can’t hear a thing.

But when the wash is done, they both sit together, calm, clean, the monkey in a white robe, and Al finally hands him his own cup of tea.

It hit me:
I truly believe God could have taken me out of this situation instantly.
But I also believe He kept me in it because He knew the outcome.

He knew what the fire would burn off.
He knew what the washing would cleanse.
He knew who I would be on the other side.

And now that I’ve stepped out of the fire, I can honestly say:

Staying in the refiner’s hands is not easy.
But it is always worth it.

If you’re in the middle of your own “mud,” your own fire, your own washing machine moment—please hear me:

You’re not abandoned.
You’re not forgotten.
You’re being refined.

And one day, you’ll step out on the other side too—
cleaner, stronger, steadier,
and looking a little more like the person God always knew you could be.