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Ice on the Altar, Ice in the PewsWheres the Fire?

by Allen Scott
10/05/25
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Ice on the Altar, Ice in the Pews—Where’s the Fire?

🕯️ Watchman’s Report “Heal the Sick or Bless the Ice?”

“Heal the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, cast out demons. Freely you have received; freely give.” — Matthew 10:8

It used to be that when believers gathered, they expected heaven to break in. Crowds pressed in, tongues of fire crowned believers, chains fell off prisoners of sin, and the lame walked. You didn’t come for coffee and casseroles—you came because the touch of a disciple’s hand meant resurrection.

In Acts 3, a man crippled from birth sits daily at the temple gate, begging. Peter sees him, reaches out, and commands him to walk—“In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, rise up and walk!” Immediately, crippled feet carry him into the courts, and people fall back, astonished by the power still at work in the Church.

Now imagine this: instead of carrying that lame man in on a pallet of faith, the congregation moves picnic tables into the foyer, lines up casseroles at the back, and yes—even hauls in a block of ice from Greenland. In October 2025, Pope Leo XIV placed his hand on a glacier chunk at a climate conference. Cameras flashed. Headlines blared. But the last time a congregation laid hands on a body gasping for breath? Hardly a whisper.

And what of the ice in our pews? We bless frozen water while icy stares glaze over the altar call. We honor the glacier while hearts remain cold toward the presence of God. The chill isn’t just in the foyer—it’s in the sanctuary, where reverence once burned and repentance once flowed.

Meanwhile, misplaced allegiance runs rampant. Pope Leo prays to Mother Nature to be kind, congregations bless tractors for fruitful harvests, and we lay hands on machinery while ignoring the sick. But Ezekiel 36 reminds us: if we honor God and bless His name among the nations, He will take care of the land, the climate, and the harvest. “I will sprinkle clean water on you, and you will be clean… I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you… I will call for the grain and make it plentiful… I will increase the fruit of the trees and the crops of the field” (Ezekiel 36:25–30).

So here’s the question burning like fire on a cold altar: When was the last time a once-lame worshipper ran out of your church, shouting praise? When did someone born blind stare up at the stained glass and finally testify, “I can see”? When did a sick and dying body rise, sling their bed like a cloak, and shout Hallelujah I am healed?

Or have those miracles been replaced by block parties, potlucks, and photo-ops with ice blocks?

This is more than nostalgic yearning—it’s a prophetic indictment. We have traded the living, moving power of the Spirit for frozen spectacles. We honor what can’t cry out, can’t believe, can’t be changed by a touch—while the lost remain untouched.

The Church must remember its first name: “The Called-Out Ones.” Called out of darkness, called into the storm of miracles, called to carry the helpless into God’s presence. If our rites no longer birth healing, resurrection, deliverance—then we’ve become curators of dead religion, not watchmen of revival.

The call remains: stop blessing frozen water and start praying for icy hearts to melt. Tear open your traditions, lower your friends through the roof of indifference, and lay hands on the broken. Expect God to move—and add to your numbers daily all who are being saved. Or break bread over the casseroles, but don’t forget to raise the dead.

Have we left our first love? Revelation 2:4 warns, “Yet I hold this against you: You have forsaken the love you had at first.” The remedy is clear: “Consider how far you have fallen! Repent and do the things you did at first” (Revelation 2:5).

Hosea echoes this cry: “Come, let us return to the Lord. He has torn us to pieces but He will heal us; He has injured us but He will bind up our wounds” (Hosea 6:1). And again, “Break up your unplowed ground; for it is time to seek the Lord, until He comes and showers His righteousness on you” (Hosea 10:12).

The church—meant to be the light of the world—now flickers like a dim bulb in a dark room. Our gatherings, once radiant with healing and awe, now cast more shadow than light. When was the last time you heard a HALLELUJAH OR A PRAISE THE LORD during your gatherings? Has the God of miracles left you or have you left Him?

Return to the upper room. Return to the laying on of hands. Return to the trembling awe of Acts 2:43, where “everyone was filled with awe at the many wonders and signs performed by the apostles.”

This isn’t condemnation—it’s invitation. The Spirit still broods over the deep. The power still flows from the throne. The name of Jesus still heals, still delivers, still raises the dead.

So come back. Come boldly. Come broken. And come expecting miracles.