By Sandra Bost
I almost blew myself up the other day. Not on purpose, but literally.
A massive brush pile in our yard had been mocking me through my bedroom window for over a month. It wasn’t on my to-do list, but when my weed-eater battery died before the allotted time for “full-time sweat production, with a side of yard work”, I looked around and–BAM–there it was.
Assessing the situation, I determined I could safely burn a small section of the mound. I gathered a shovel, rake, and my trusty little orange Bic lighter. I even made a mental note that the leaf blower was ready just in case. (Since I had recently seen a local firefighter show off the leaf blower stored in his firetruck–telling preschoolers during library storytime how vital it is for containing fires.) I felt fully prepared. And very smart.
In full-disclosure, I have lit hundreds of brush fires safely. I have used brown leaves with little tee-pee stacked sticks. Other times, I have used lighter fluid or diesel fuel to start the blazes without issue. But these dry limbs wouldn’t take to the lighter, and we were out of charcoal lighter fluid.
Thus came my brilliant idea to grab the “diesel” in the little red jug near the tractor.
I liberally sprinkled the fuel over the brush for maximum coverage, then walked the fuel can a good distance from the pile, since I know better than to light a fire near a fuel can. (The irony is about to get thick.)
Walking back to the pile, I took my little lighter out of my pocket and knelt down to give it a little flick.
For effect I need you to read these next sentences in slow motion. It took exactly two flicks of my Bic to get a flame. Then, came two seconds–which easily felt like minutes–for the fuel to combust.
I heard a slow hiss, immediately followed by a sonic boom.
I picked myself up 5 feet from the fire, threw my hat, and instinctively began feeling my face and arm for damage as I whispered–over and over–”Thank You, Jesus, thank You, Jesus.” I could hear the sound of my hair singeing, and feel the sting of surface burns. Gratefully, they were only 1st degree. It is also worth mentioning that I was one spark away from a Three Stooges hairdo, but my AU hat proved to be remarkably flame-resistant! (War Eagle!)
It wasn’t until my husband came home about 20 minutes after the ordeal that I understood what had happened. It seems that the “diesel” can was actually mixed gasoline. I learned a valuable lesson about combustion this week. How I missed that lesson in high school science is chalked up to “daydreaming,” but it is now etched in my core memories.
As the smoke cleared–and the gratitude to God for saving me from what could have been set in– a deeper lesson took root in my heart. A lesson from Joseph in the Old Testament. It is the reminder that God often uses our close calls, mistakes, and sudden “flashes” of truth to teach us reverence, humility , and deeper reliance on Him. He also uses those lessons for what He is preparing us for.
A few weeks ago, one of our precious heart-children (kids the Lord has placed in our lives through foster-care or circumstance) was opening up about the heavy things she endured growing up. She was trying to make sense of her childhood when someone reminded her that God can–and will–use what she went through to bring glory to Himself.
When we look back at the heavy or painful seasons of our past, it is easy to wonder why we had to walk through them. But God never wastes a single sorrow or trial. Just like Joseph in Genesis, who went through betrayal and unfair suffering only to be positioned right where God needed him to save others, our hard experiences are often converted into our greatest capacity for ministry.
God doesn’t cause our harm, but He is a master at redeeming it. He is our Redeemer. Genesis 50:20 reminds us that the trials meant to break or overwhelm us often become the exact tools God uses to help us comfort, guide, and speak life into someone else walking a similar path.
As the scripture says, “As for you, you meant evil against me, but God meant it for good, to bring it about that many people should be kept alive… (ESV).” Feel free to insert whatever circumstance or struggle tried to harm you into that sentence–God turns even those moments around.
Take a moment to look back at a hard chapter in your life. Instead of viewing it only as a painful memory, ask God: “How can You use this part of my story to help someone else in a way that glorifies You?”
As for me, I have learned my lesson. I’m content leaving the big sparks and burning glory to the Lord–while my Bic lighter stays safely retired in the kitchen drawer, strictly on birthday candle duty.
Shine brightly!
