Summary of the Core Message

When spiritual fire rises—through deeper obedience, anointing, promotion, or God’s increasing presence—hidden opposition surfaces. Like the viper in Acts 28 that struck Paul only after he fed the fire on Malta, snakes (betrayals, sudden attacks, unfounded accusations, resistance from people who once seemed neutral) were already near, just dormant in cooler seasons.

They don’t appear because you’re failing or sinning; they manifest because you’re advancing. The same heat that strengthens and refines you disturbs what once tolerated your lower walk. Exposure isn’t punishment—it’s confirmation of progress and authority.

Paul didn’t panic, lower the fire, or retreat. He shook the viper off into the flames and kept serving; the islanders watched death turn into testimony.

The exhortation:

• Don’t dim the blaze to keep snakes comfortable.
• Don’t mistake intensified opposition for defeat.
• Shake it off. Let the fire consume what can’t endure it.
• Gather more wood. Feed the flame. Keep moving forward.

You were made for this temperature. The rising heat is holy—and what strikes you only proves what lives in you.

Don’t flinch when serpents slide into the light—
they coiled in darkness, patient through the night.
Not called by your hand, nor born of your sin;
the flame just grew hotter—and woke what was in.

Paul gathered dry sticks on Malta’s cold shore,
fed the fire humbly, asked nothing more.
Heat climbed, wood cracked, and out came the foe—
a viper struck swift, but death would not grow.

The islanders stared, expecting the fall,
the swell and the stagger that comes to us all.
Yet Paul shook it off, flung it back to the blaze;
the poison hissed once, then vanished in haze.

So when friends turn foes with no cause you can trace,
when lies rise like smoke to accuse and deface,
when attacks hit harder the moment you rise—
it’s not failure arriving; it’s heat in disguise.

The snakes never vanished; they just stayed concealed
till the fire of glory made shadows revealed.
They tolerated coolness, your quieter days,
but advancement brings heat—and exposes their ways.

Don’t dim the blaze down to cradle their peace;
don’t quench what God kindles for fear of release.
Exposure’s no curse; it’s the proof you’ve advanced—
the anointing now burns where the timid once danced.

Strike came in service, not slothful delay;
fangs bite the movers, the ones on their way.
So shake off the venom, let it curl in the flame—
what rises against you just honors your name.

Gather more fuel. Feed the fire. Stand tall.
The island is watching. Let miracles call.
The heat is your forge, not your funeral pyre—
you were made for this blaze, and the blaze for the fire.