Firewood Can Teach Us About Sharing the Gospel

I was working up firewood the other day — splitting rounds that had been cut and stacked awhile — when the thought hit me that sharing the Gospel isn’t all that different.

Firewood doesn’t start out ready to warm a home. It comes in heavy, rough sections that look fine on the outside but aren’t much use until you put in some work. The same can be said for people. Most folks I meet already carry plenty of weight — past hurts, doubts, pride, fear — and while they may look solid on the outside, something has to happen before the warmth of the Gospel can really reach their hearts.

When you split wood, you don’t just swing wildly and hope for the best. You study the grain. You look for cracks, knots, and weak spots. Swing the axe against the grain and you’ll wear yourself out, maybe even break a handle. Hit it the right way, and the log opens up. Sharing the Gospel works much the same way. You have to listen before you speak. You pay attention. You meet people where they are, not where you wish they were.

There’s also a rhythm to chopping wood. Lift, swing, split. Over and over again. Some logs crack clean the first time. Others take several good swings. A few refuse to split at all until you bring out a wedge. In sharing the Gospel, there are moments when hearts open quickly, and others that take years of prayer, patience, and steady faithfulness. And some may never open while you’re around to see it. That doesn’t mean the work was wasted.

Anyone who chops wood knows you can’t rush it. If you try, you’ll get sloppy and tired, and that’s when mistakes happen. The same is true when talking about faith. The Gospel isn’t something to be forced or hurried. It’s shared best with calm confidence and trust that God is doing the real work. We swing the axe; He provides the power.

Another thing struck me as I stacked the split pieces. Firewood is prepared long before it’s needed. You cut and split in warm weather so there’s heat when winter comes. Often, sharing the Gospel looks like that too. A kind word. A faithful example. A conversation that seems small at the time. You may not see the warmth right away, but later, when life turns cold, that truth God planted can bring exactly the comfort someone needs.

And just like firewood, the Gospel isn’t meant to be hoarded. Wood stacked and never burned serves no purpose. Faith kept quiet and hidden helps no one. It’s meant to be shared, to bring light and warmth, to push back the cold and darkness.

As I stacked that last row of wood, tired and a little sore, I realized both tasks require the same things: effort, patience, humility, and trust. You show up, you do the work set before you, and you leave the results to God. In time, the warmth speaks for itself.