Aaron Luttenegger
Worship Leader & Songwriter
Fire In The Night
Most nights, I lay awake and stare at the ceiling before drifting off. I hear the faint halogen hum of our driveway lamp glowing and gently peering light through the closed curtains. I think about my world, and these rambling musings usually lead to longer nights awake, and even bigger questions. Why is the world the way it is, why does life never seem to slow down, and why is it that in the dizzying noise of it all sometimes I just can’t catch a breath? From the four seasons, to friendships, to utility bills, to the way the tides hit the shore and everything in-between — all of life seems to be ever changing, and nothing ever quite the same. But, in the cyclical chaos of it all, I know the Father remains the one constant and steadfast thing, never changing.
When myself, Justin, Cody, and Elizabeth first sat down to write Fire In The Night, we didn’t know what it “was” as a starting point, or what it was “going” to be. We almost never do. Co-writing with the FFM collective (or family, as we call it) has always kind of been like finding an old, rusty car buried out in the backyard, and then meticulously taking the time to clean off the dirt, and restore it to its former glory. As with most creative pursuits, it’s truly like an archeological dig; there’s an excavation of theme, allegory, and metaphor, and then we must sort and ascribe context to these things lyrically. Our role is to steward the song and uncover the mysteries in the melody and lyric. Fire In The Night is based around the heart posture of the Lord’s prayer in Matthew 6:9-13. I can’t even begin to recount how many times I’ve lain awake at night and prayed right out of the scriptures “Kingdom come, let Your will be done on earth as it is in heaven” over and over…. fill in the blank. Praying through scripture is an easy and powerful way to lend words to your heart cries, especially when you don’t even have the words yourself.
There are some seasons in our lives where we are overtaken by discouragement, or fear, or whatever else, and we begin to feel in the dark and immobile. But there, in the moment when God shows up, it’s like the blazing sun comes breaking through the horizon way in the distance, beyond the very limits of what we can see or perceive. Light comes flooding in. Just as it’s written in 1 John 4:18, perfect love casts out fear. Literally casts it out, like the rays of sun on the shadows of a valley. Darkness flees. At the very core of that prayer in Matthew 6 is a need to admit that we can’t do much of anything on our own. That, ultimately, is what Fire In The Night is speaking to — that we need a savior, we need help. It’s a skillful surrender and recognition of how limited we are as beings, and just how unlimited our God is.
Any skill takes time to learn and become disciplined in. We have to learn to become students of God. Usually a person who studies God is referred to as a theologian. That’s what we need to do: become theologians, hungry for the things of God and in turn, captivated by His presence. My encouragement for anyone who’s hungry to know more of the character of God would be to spend time in the Psalms. Write them down, pray them, sing them as songs when you are alone. Write them on your heart. This is a practice of theology. Evangelical theologian J.I. Packer often put it this way, “The practice of Theology is for the purpose of Doxology.” In other words, the study of God is for the worship of God. The practice of theology isn’t for us to feel heady and smart and full of our own intelligence, but for us to respond in awe, wonder, and great reverence. When you have even just a small grasp of the character of God, every fiber of your being can’t help but to respond to Him in complete adoration.
God isn’t a vending machine. He’s a real person. Millard J. Erickson says it this way, “Because God is a person (indeed, he is pictured as our Father), our relationship with him has a dimension of warmth and understanding. God is not a bureau or a department, a machine or a computer that automatically supplies the needs of people. He is a knowing, loving, good Father. He can be approached. He can be spoken to, and he in turn speaks.” (Christian Theology, pg. 296) It is a privilege to simply know God and be apart of His story that is continually unfolding in each of our lives. When we write or sing worship songs our goal is to unify the body of Christ to worship as one. One body, one voice, one passion. To sing scripture and have the theology transfer from our heads to our hearts. The bridge (so come let us adore the King / who’s blood has set the captives free / the price was paid in victory / and death no longer has it’s sting) of “Fire In The Night” is a response to the chorus (your love never changes). The doxology is a response to the theology.
I hope that gives a nice snapshot of “Fire In The Night” and how the song came to be. I want to be hungering and desiring for the deeper things of God, as there’s always more to discover and be captivated by with the Father. “Fire In The Night” is a song for speaking, literally singing the truth of God’s eternal promise over your life and circumstances. That by the blood of Jesus we can experience freedom, intimacy, and identity in the Father.
Keep pursuing, keep digging, He never changes.
“The practice of theology is for the purpose of doxology.”
Your love never changes
Kingdom come
Let Your will be done
Like a fire in the horizon
Breaking thought the night
Spirit move
Love a blowing wind
Come and breathe on these dry bones
Bring them back to life
So come let us adore the King
Who’s blood has set the captives free
The price was paid in victory
And death no longer has a sting
“God is not a bureau or a department, a machine or a computer that automatically supplies the needs of people. He is a knowing, loving, good Father. He can be approached. He can be spoken to, and he in turn speaks.”