The Fire Within Part 4

July 10, 2026

I was a fledgling lifeguard at the Roswell Family YMCA in Atlanta, Georgia, working my way through graduate school. I was a student—a nobody, really. I had my friends from college and the love of my family, but at twenty-one, I was on my own in a new life— it was time to find myself and stand on my own two feet.

The problem was that I felt too small and insignificant. In this strange new land, I had no network of friends, and no real place in the world.  

The talent and stature of the people around me overwhelmed me. My brilliant professors, accomplished students, and successful professionals seemed to have already made their mark on the world. The city itself testified to its achievements—towering skyscrapers, renowned medical centers, sprawling museums, and venerable institutions. Everywhere I looked, I saw evidence of place, purpose, and the superpowers that came so naturally to so many outstanding people.

In college, I had found my place in a small pond where any of us could imagine ourselves to be a big fish. But now in graduate school in a big city, I was lost in an ocean. Compared to everyone around me, I felt less than a minnow. I wondered if there would ever be a place for me in such a vast sea of human accomplishment.

I feared that I would never find my fire in this new and intimidating world.

One Saturday morning, I arrived before dawn to open the Olympic-sized indoor pool at the YMCA where I worked. Soon it would be filled with lap swimmers, children in swimmies, and families splashing in the water. But in this early morning, I was alone. In the pump room, I poured in the chemicals and tested the water. Then at poolside I cleared the deck and climbed into the lifeguard chair. Then the Y's music system came on and soft rock from a local radio station reverberated throughout the building.

After several songs, a newly released song filled the natatorium—"A Natural Man" by Lou Rawls. The rhythm and lyrics entered my body and somehow enveloped my spirit. Before long, I could no longer sit. I was totally alone. I got up and began walking around the pool to the beat. Then my lively walk turned into dance. I danced to the end of the diving board just as Lou Rawls sang the following words:

"I want to be happy and free, living and loving for me... like a natural man."

Then something happened. At that exact moment with my toes bent over the edge of the diving board, I bounced once, twice, and a third time high into the air, arched my body, and entered the water from a perfect pencil dive. Hands pointed. Feet together. Clean and smooth. My mind, body, and heart were at one. 

When I surfaced, the world looked different. Nothing had changed outwardly. I was still a graduate student. I was still a lifeguard. I was still an insignificant creature. But inwardly, something had ignited. I realized that I did not need to be a better version of me, or someone else. I did not need a title, a reputation, or a list of accomplishments to justify my existence. I was a natural man. I belonged here simply because I was alive. And that was enough. I had a fire within, and in that moment, I realized my birthright.

There is no time we feel more alive than when the fire of the spirit burns brightly within us and we know we are real and have a purpose. You know those moments. The long-awaited opportunity finally arrives. A cherished dream receives its "Yes." You suddenly know. You embrace your identity. You accept yourself. Someone you love tells you they love you, too. Suddenly, you are accepted, recognized, or seen in a way that changes everything.

These are holy moments.

Perhaps there was a time when the fog lifted and, for one luminous instant, life made sense. Maybe a person entered your life and helped you become more fully who you were created to be. Or perhaps you discovered a strength or capacity you never knew you had. Or perhaps the self-realization comes when you are totally alone. Those are the moments when the fire burns brightest. For a brief time, we become shooting stars. We glimpse who we truly are beneath the fears, doubts, and stories that have limited us. We touch something essential, something eternal.

Some people say such moments are rare. Others insist they happen all the time. Either way, they matter. These mountaintop experiences animate us. They fuel our courage. They remind us that we are alive. Their light stays with us long after the moment itself has passed. And perhaps that is their greatest gift. The fire does not come merely to warm us for a moment. It comes to illuminate the path ahead. And once we have felt that fire, we can never quite forget that we are one with it.

Spiritual Practice

Listen to Lou Rawls’ song. “A Natural Man.” What do these lyrics say to you about inferiority and the right to be? 

Prayer

Dear God,

For that quintessential moment and how it affected my destiny, I am so grateful.

Amen