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Book Club: Slow Burn
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God has put something on my heart to speak to you today. If you've ever felt stuck, if you've ever felt like you're in a wilderness, if you've ever felt like I don't know how I'm going to get through this season — I believe with all my heart that God has allowed you to lean into this moment, because He wants to speak directly to you.
I wrote a book called Slow Burn, but this book is really just the story of God's Word impacting my life. When I was born, my parents, Denny and DeAnza Duron, gave me a life verse — Isaiah 40:31.
They that wait upon the Lord, they shall renew their strength. They will mount up with wings like eagles. They will run and not grow weary. They will walk and they will not faint.
Isaiah 40:31 isn't just a birth verse for me; it's been a life verse. I still have a Bible I was given on Easter when I was nine years old, and scribbled inside in massive cursive is that verse.
We say the Word of the Lord stands true, age to age. Sometimes we think that means some huge period of history, generations or centuries. But in my life, age to age means from nine years old to forty-one years old today. The same Word of the Lord has sustained me again and again and again. And so it is for you.
I need this verse and this Bible more today than the day I was born. I'm learning how to live in the wait. I'm learning how to trust God. And it's truly a slow burn.
Last year my husband turned forty-one, and we had a family dinner. As we sat outside telling memories, I realized we had celebrated his birthday twenty years earlier in Cambridge, England, when we were studying together in college — and I had the journal to prove it.
I ran inside, found the journal, and flipped through the pages. Sure enough, there was the entry from twenty years before. But the last page held the summer goals of a twenty-year-old girl. See if you're impressed by what I wanted to accomplish in two short months:
Twenty years later, can we be honest? What was I thinking? This is not a list for a summer. This is a list for a decade. Many of the things I wanted to accomplish that summer, I'm just now stepping into at forty-one — and I'm still not a domestic goddess.
The truth is, life has a way of showing us that it's not about short-term gratification or how fast you move, but about the One who is leading you, sustaining you, and establishing you every step of the way. And like everyone's story, mine involves a lot of waiting.
I'm sure you have your own list too — the things you'd like to accomplish, the things you'd like to see God do in your life. But God uses long stretches of time to accomplish His will in us and through us.
The verse says, they that wait upon the Lord. It doesn't say they that always believe. It doesn't say they that can pray the best prayers, or they that always win no matter what. It says they that wait.
I'm in my forties now, and when I turned forty I learned that the number forty scripturally represents testing and trials. That's exactly what you want on your birthday card, right? You are in a wilderness. But in every testing and trial, one thing is consistent: every person God calls and trusts with a purpose and a destiny had to make a decision to wait — and not wait on a thing, but wait on God.
For years — through eight years of infertility and so many other seasons — I thought waiting was just a season to get through. Grit your teeth, do your best, get to the other side. I didn't understand there was a theology of waiting. But then God got a hold of my heart with a game changer:
Waiting is not a season. Waiting is life.
So the question becomes: will you live in the wait?
Hear me: waiting is not a curse. Waiting is an invitation to experience the presence of God, to lean into His grace, to be formed by His good hands. Charles Swindoll once said, "We don't like waiting, but that's when God does some of His best work on our souls." Best work while you're waiting? Yes — it's called the slow burn.
If waiting is life, what does living in the wait actually look like? Romans 12 gives us a clear, honest picture:
Therefore, I urge you, brothers and sisters, in view of God's mercy, to offer your bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God. This is your true and proper worship.
Growing up in Louisiana, my favorite hang time was a bonfire. We'd plan a date, get the wood, light it on fire, pull out the guitar and blankets — and everyone faces the fire. The fire is the center of attention. It's blazing.
My husband grew up in Washington State without bonfires. He grew up burning incense, and to this day he burns incense in our house. It's so interesting: when people walk in, it's the first thing they notice — not what they see, but what they sense.
We are conditioned by culture to live for the bonfire moments — to hold our breath until that moment we're blazing with the glory of God, our goals came true, God proved faithful. But life is not about the bonfire moments.
What if following God, your life actually looked more like smoke than a blazing fire? A slow burn — trusting God, leaning into His presence when things don't make sense, understanding that He is moving right here, right now, in the wait.
The slow burn requires surrender. The word incense comes from the Latin word incendere, meaning to burn.
In the Old Testament, God instructed His people to set up the altar of incense, and every morning and every night to place a specific blend of incense on it. As it burned, smoke rose, signifying the worship and prayers of God's people.
An interesting chemical reaction took place. As the incense was placed on the fire, it was transformed from the inside out — a fragrance within it was unlocked and began to fill the holy place, marking everyone who came in. Jewish tradition tells us the smoke would catch the wind and travel for miles past the temple.
Scripture tells us our life is like a vapor — here today, gone tomorrow. But here's the invitation: surrender your little to God in the wait, and watch Him transform what you think is small into something you could never be on your own.
We want the fire, but God wants the fragrance of your life. We want the spotlight, but God wants the surrender. We're looking at God saying, raise me up — and God is saying, I wish you would lay your life down. We want short-term gratification; God says, I want eternal transformation in your life, from the inside out. I want to show you what I created you to be. It is a slow burn for those who wait.
Growing up in Louisiana, I always looked forward to the Fourth of July. We'd pack the car with fireworks and light them one by one. The scariest thing is lighting a firework, backing up, waiting for it to erupt — and nothing happens. What do you do? You don't run forward. You tiptoe forward, wondering, is that thing still lit? It may not have gone off yet, but you know it's burning toward an expected outcome.
Have you ever wondered if your faith was still ignited? Have you ever wondered if you have what it takes to get through the waiting season you're in?
Following Jesus is not a one-time ignition moment. It's every prayer, every moment of worship, every decision to find yourself in community.
You may say, DawnCheré, I feel so burned out. That's okay, friend — because here's the good news: you're not the fire. If you want to get re-lit, all you have to do is head back to the altar and surrender your life again.
You just have to come back to the altar. It's good news that you're not the fire — it takes the pressure off of you. You're not the healer; you're not the restorer. At any moment, from morning to night or in the midnight hour, you can call on the name of Jesus, surrender, and experience the transformation of the slow burn.
When you surrender, a miraculous thing happens: the slow burn releases a fragrance. And smell has staying power.
I was in Nashville recently and rented a car. As soon as I opened the door, I was overwhelmed by a smell — and it wasn't incense. It was a different type of slow burn that had taken place in that car. As I drove from meeting to meeting, it occurred to me: this scent is all over me. I never met the person who had that car before me, I wasn't with them when they decided to do it, but their decisions were all over me.
Some of you are living, carrying a fragrance of what others have done to you. You're carrying the fragrance of heartbreak. You're carrying the fragrance of betrayal. Or perhaps you're carrying the fragrance of your own shame, your own mistakes, your own regrets. But I'm thankful Scripture tells us in 2 Corinthians 2:14:
Thanks be to God, who in Christ always leads us in triumphal procession, and through us spreads the fragrance of the knowledge of Him everywhere. For we are the aroma of Christ to God, among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing.
Through us, God spreads the irresistible aroma of the Gospel. You may have carried shame, fear, and the words others spoke over you since you were young — but when you surrender your life to Christ, all old fragrances pass away. Behold, all things are new.
Now you carry a new fragrance: the fragrance of faith, of goodness and gentleness, of faithfulness and kindness and patience. People encounter you — not your accolades, not your goals, not everything you've accomplished. You may not even be on the mountaintop; it might be the valley where others look at you and say, there's something about them. I can't see it, but I sense it. It's because you carry the fragrance of Jesus.
The temple, the altar, the incense — it is only a shadow. Jesus is the substance. He is the high priest. And Jesus did not sacrifice an animal on the altar; He sacrificed His own blood. He didn't go into a man-made temple; He walked into the very presence of God in heaven. He sacrificed everything so you would know that through His blood, He gives you the power to become.
Today you can make a beautiful exchange:
There's an exchange made on the altar — everything broken is put into His healing hands. And as we give Him our all, something supernatural happens. Our little transforms; it not only releases a fragrance but rises. The incense could never move without being laid on the altar. But now it rises and carries. The slow burn raises you to life, because of Jesus.
There's something about the name of Jesus that, age to age, remains the same. He changes us. He renews us. He restores us. And when we lay the small upon the altar, He raises us to new life. Incense doesn't look like it could go very far, but once it's placed on the altar, it ascends and its fragrance carries for miles. Laid down to be raised up. I am dead, and yet I live in Christ. As I lay my life down, that's when I truly begin to live.
They that wait upon the Lord, they shall renew their strength. They will mount up with wings like eagles.
Again and again, as you wait, you are raised to new life through the wind of His Spirit. He will carry you to places you could never go on your own.
My kids love for me to make paper airplanes. Give me a flat sheet of paper, and I can turn it into a machine that flies. But you in the hands of God — you've never seen anything like it. You look at your season and say, this is so one-dimensional, so flat, so boring. Why don't you place it in the hands of the Maker, the Author, the Finisher, and watch as He builds you like you could never dream? What you laid down on the altar will be raised to life.
I know what it feels like to wait for the wind. When I was twenty-five, I went to a routine doctor's appointment. We'd been married several years, trying to start a family. I'll never forget the doctor coming in and saying, DawnCheré, your blood test came back irregular. You're going to have a hard time having a family.
That began an eight-year journey through infertility, asking God to give us a child. Years of waiting, years of silence, years of feeling like I was in the wilderness while everyone else passed on all sides. Perhaps that's how you feel today.
But I want to encourage you: it was in the waiting that I discovered who God is, and in the waiting that I discovered who I am in Him. I didn't write this message after I had children. I wrote it in the middle of the wait. Because the testimony of my life is not simply that God gave me children.
The testimony of my life is that far before I ever had a child, God intervened in my wait. He woke me up with purpose. He gave me a destiny, a passion, a community to belong to. He met me at the altar every morning and every night. And He showed me:
You're not waiting on a baby. You're waiting on Me.
I'm so grateful for my children, but Jesus is my treasure. Jesus is my reward. Jesus is the only one who can give me peace, fulfillment, and contentment. When my arms were empty, my heart was full. He met me in the slow burn, and He will do the same for you.
And I would be remiss not to say: yes, God still does miracles. God didn't just give me one child — He gave me two, then three, then four. So I want to speak faith straight to your spirit: God is still a Healer. God is still a Redeemer. He is able to move at any moment He wants to. You just keep entrusting your life to Him in the slow burn.
I'm so grateful that in the wait I decided to open up my heart and be vulnerable with my community. The same people who prayed for me on one side of the miracle are the same people who celebrated with me on the other side.
You need community in the slow burn. Don't isolate. Don't run away. Don't shrink and hide. Plant your feet in the house of God — those who are planted will flourish.
The truth is, we don't get everything we pray for on this side of eternity. So what if that thing you're praying so earnestly for never comes to pass?
I want to look in your eyes and tell you: your life will not be wasted in the wait. God always answers. He says yes, He says no, and He says wait. Don't be afraid of empty hands — open hands and an open heart lead to an open heaven.
Right here, right now, God wants to transform your life in the slow burn. What will the testimony of your life be? It will be this:
Would you bow your heads with me and shut yourself away with God?
Lord, thank you that you are faithful. You're not a distant God; you're a loving Father. Thank you, Jesus, for laying down your life on Calvary 2,000 years ago, for pouring out your blood, for rising to new life three days later, so that we would know that even in the most impossible seasons — when our faith is tested and we feel like we're at the end — you promise us: they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they will mount up with wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary; they will walk and not faint. We need you, Lord. We open up our hearts to your love, your peace, and your grace, here and now in the slow burn. In Jesus' name we pray. Amen.
I want you to think for a moment: where are you with God? If we could sit down across a table, some of you would say, I'm walking with Him daily; I know I belong to Him. Others couldn't say that, because you're not walking with Him daily and you don't know Him personally.
Let me tell you how good He is. He's a relational God who loves you — not just how He feels about you, but who He is. He is love, and He loves you as you are. He loves you so much that He sent His one and only Son, Jesus, perfect in every way, without any sin, who died on the cross. God raised Him from the dead so you could know Him — His presence, His goodness, His peace — experience forgiveness for all your sins, and walk in His joy, His victory, and His power.
You know how it feels to wait on someone or something. Imagine — what if God is waiting on you? The Bible says He is very patient. He doesn't want anyone to perish, but He wants everyone to have eternal life.
How do you receive eternal life? You can't earn it. You can't work for it. It's a gift. We turn away and let go of our sin — the Bible calls it repentance. We turn the other way, turn to Jesus, and call on Him. When you confess His lordship, the Bible says your sins will be forgiven and you'll be made new.
There are those of you here for this very moment. God is waiting on you, and your answer is yes — I need you and I want you. If that's you, wherever you're watching from, say: Today I'm stepping away from my sins. I'm giving my life to Jesus. I'm receiving the free gift of salvation. My life is no longer my own. Jesus, I give it to you.
Lift your hands right now and say yes. And pray this aloud with me — because we are the family of God, and nobody prays alone:
Heavenly Father, forgive all of my sins. Jesus, save me. Fill me with your Holy Spirit, so I could know you, serve you, and show your love. My life is not my own. I give it all to you. Thank you for new life. You have all of mine. In Jesus' name I pray. Amen.
