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Burned in a Forest Fire

I dreamt my family and I were driving in my car when a forest fire prevented us from going any further. There were hot flames all around us. We were trapped and afraid.

As the car began to heat up, I unbuckled baby Benny from his car seat and held him on my lap. Rose too was in my arms. My husband held Lee. I remember hearing the children's cries as I looked down into the footwell and saw a burst of flames infiltrate there. Then in my dream, I called on the powerful name of Jesus Christ to protect us.

After that I woke up.

There was no way I was going to sleep after that. I was too worked up and anxious. I remember asking myself, "Would you call on the name of Jesus, if you were trapped holding your children in your car in the middle of a forest fire?"

The answer was undoubtedly yes.

"Then why aren't you?" came the next question.

The simple answer was I haven't thought I was in a forest fire. I've gone to sleep, so to speak, with the daily concerns that trick me into thinking that they're the real threats to my peace. I've ignored the flames while devising a way to teach my son how to stop sucking his fingers, to make a new plan for calming down my daughter post-exhausting events, to practice my defense for when someone might accuse me of making a poor parenting decision, to put up my guards whenever I see that offensive personality, to self-soothe whenever I think of the state of the world, etc.

Or when I'm in good health and things are relatively peaceful, I go to sleep thinking that I've kept immorality at bay. This crust of civility has prevented me from seeing what is blazing outside my home, no, even in the footwell of my car. I get good service at restaurants and respectful technicians at Valero. Because my roof isn't caving in and my neighbors are all respecting my boundaries, I figure, I'm good. I'm safe. The flames aren't there.

I think it's time to wake up.

The fire isn't my children's poor behavior or what people say of me. The fire isn't the impending downfall of democracy or the termite eaten beams on my house. The fire isn't the feelings inside me of inadequacy or insecurity or powerlessness.

The fire is my own heart and the hellish place it is bound to go without continuous calling on Christ Jesus to save me.


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