07/16/2026
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The Torch and the Shine
Tim Hill
Years ago, my father taught me something Iâve never forgotten.
Dad believed in taking care of a good pair of shoes.
You didnât replace them every time the styles changed or the soles wore thin. You polished them. You had them re-soled. If you took care of them, theyâd take care of you.
That lesson has stayed with me.
Whenever my travels take me through Charlotte Douglas Airport, I usually stop at a little shoe shine stand. For years, the craftsmen there have cared for one particular pair of black shoes now over 10 years old.
These well-worn shoes have seen a lot of life.
Theyâve carried me through camp meetings, conventions, hospitals, board meetings, weddings, funerals, and countless ordinary days in between. Theyâve been re-soled, polished, and carefully maintained. Theyâre no longer new, but theyâre still doing exactly what they were made to do.
Recently, I noticed something Iâd somehow overlooked all these years.
About midway through the shine, the craftsman lit a small torch and gently passed the flame across the leather.
For just a moment, I wondered, âWhy would you put fire on a perfectly good pair of shoes?â
Then I watched.
Not enough heat to damage themâjust enough to warm the polish so it settled more deeply into the leather.
Then the process continued.
More brushing.
More buffing.
Only later did the shine begin to appear.
I smiled and thought,
âThereâs a sermon in that.â
Maybe thatâs why the flame spoke to me.
Anyone who has served the Lord for very long eventually encounters the fire. Not because God has forgotten us, and not because weâve failed Him. There are simply some things He accomplishes only through experiences we would never choose for ourselves.
None of us ask for pressure, disappointment, criticism, anxiety, grief, or the weight of responsibility. Yet those very seasons often become the workshop of Godâs grace.
Pressure strips away self-sufficiency.
Disappointment enlarges compassion.
Uncertainty teaches trust.
Need drives us to prayer.
Just as the craftsman patiently worked the polish deeper into the leather, God patiently works His grace deeper into our lives. He isnât in a hurry. Some things can only be formed through time, care, and yesâeven a little heat.
The flame isnât punishment.
Itâs part of the process.
Then another thought occurred to me.
The shine didnât appear while the flame touched the shoe. The craftsman wasnât finished. There was still more brushing, more buffing, and more patient attention.
Only then did the shine emerge.
Thatâs often the way God works.
The fire is not the end of the story.
Itâs one part of His work.
One final detail stayed with me.
The craftsman never held the flame in one place very long. Too much heat would have damaged the leather.
God knows exactly how much pressure His children can bear.
He never wastes the fire.
He never leaves us there forever.
The flame moves on.
His work continues.
The shine remains.
When I walked away from the shoe shine stand that day, I couldnât help but admire those old shoes.
Then another thought crossed my mind.
They arenât valuable because theyâre expensive.
Theyâre valuable because theyâve been cared for.
Theyâve been repaired.
Theyâve been maintained.
Theyâve even been through a little fire.
And theyâre still useful.
I suppose people arenât all that different.
The older I get, the more convinced I become that Godâs greatest work is not keeping us from the fire, but bringing us through it. He patiently restores what has been worn, strengthens what has weakened, and shapes what we could never become on our own.
Maybe thatâs what God is looking for in all of us.
Not lives that have never known the flame.
But lives that, by His grace, have been cared for by the Master CraftsmanâŠ
Repaired when necessaryâŠ
Strengthened through the heatâŠ
And still reflecting His light.
Yes, I really do think thereâs a sermon in that.
