Wednesday, 8 July 2026

Where has all the lament gone? – Part 2















Where has all the lament gone? – Part 2

Overview

Vineyard, Bethel and charismatic worship songs often intentionally trade traditional verse-chorus structures for circular, chant-like formats, verse, chorus, bridge. This design prioritizes emotional intimacy, spiritual reflection, and prolonged corporate focus over standard musical progression.

This time I am looking a song which while close to those songs, has significance differences. It is Refiner's Fire.

Refiner's Fire

Refiner’s Fire (written by Brian Doerksen in 1990) is arguably the most important archetype of the early Vineyard movement. It acts as a perfect theological bridge between the old and the new hymnody.

Unlike Cornerstone, which is an anthem of personal triumph, Refiner’s Fire goes through suffering to get to victory, in a realistic way. It does not rush to an immediate, easy resurrection victory. In some ways it is a song of Purgatory.

C.S. Lewis, while rejecting the Middle Ages view of purgatory as a place almost of torture, looks upon it as a kind of cleansing, and this links with the ideas in Refiner's Fire:

Our souls demand Purgatory, don’t they? Would it not break the heart if God said to us, ‘It is true, my son, that your breath smells and your rags drip with mud and slime, but we are charitable here and no one will upbraid you with these things, nor draw away from you. Enter into the joy’? Should we not reply, ‘With submission, sir, and if there is no objection, I’d rather be cleaned first.’ ‘It may hurt, you know’ – ‘Even so, sir.’

I assume that the process of purification will normally involve suffering. Partly from tradition; partly because most real good that has been done me in this life has involved it. But I don’t think the suffering is the purpose of the purgation. I can well believe that people neither much worse nor much better than I will suffer less than I or more. . . . The treatment given will be the one required, whether it hurts little or much.

My favourite image on this matter comes from the dentist’s chair. I hope that when the tooth of life is drawn and I am ‘coming round’,’ a voice will say, ‘Rinse your mouth out with this.’ This will be Purgatory. The rinsing may take longer than I can now imagine. The taste of this may be more fiery and astringent than my present sensibility could endure. But . . . it will [not] be disgusting and unhallowed.

Refiner’s Fire is a rare exception in charismatic music because it does not rush to an immediate, easy resurrection victory.

The Lyric: "Purify my heart / Let me be as gold and precious silver... My heart's one desire / Is to be holy."

The song acknowledges that closeness to God involves pain and loss (the "refiner's fire" burns away the old self). It frames this particular suffering not as a sign of spiritual defeat or a lack of faith, but as the very location where divine transformation takes place.

The song's core theme is a desperate cry for holiness and cleansing.

The Lyric: "Set apart for You, Lord / I choose to be holy."

The Cappadocian Fathers defined holiness not as legalistic rule-following, but as a total transformation of the human character into the likeness of God (theosis). Refiner’s Fire captures this desire for inner ontological change. It asks God to reshape the believer's actual character, rather than just asking God for material blessings or emotional highs.

Where the song becomes brilliant, and shifts is the final line of the chorus. For the first 90% of the song, the focus is entirely vertical and individual (my heart, my desire, my sin). But the final line shifts the entire purpose of the purification:

The Lyric: "...Ready to do Your will."

This line rescues the song from pure narcissistic escapism. For the only reason to ask God to purify your heart is so that you can leave the church building and fight for justice, feed the hungry, and love your neighbour. The song explicitly states that inner holiness is not the final goal; holiness is fuel for outward action.

Refiner’s Fire sits right on the border. It uses the traditional Vineyard musical structure of intimate, repetitive worship, but its lyrics contain a weightier, more classical theology of suffering and holiness that a traditional theologian can deeply respect—provided that the person singing it actually walks out the door to "do His will" in the real world.

Note: Brian Doerksen wrote this song out of a period of intense personal brokenness and financial collapse. It was born of experience.

No comments: