Fire…

The call came late on a Sunday afternoon in the middle of September of 1995. The voice on the other end of the phone was frantically telling me, “The barn is on fire. The barn is on fire!” 

“What? What did you say?” And the voice repeated, “The barn is on fire!!” 

At that moment I recognized the voice on the other end of the line. It was the man we had been leasing space from to board about 100 head of medium sized calves. 

I changed my clothes in a moment, and as I pulled away from the driveway, I could see the line of smoke ten miles away rising into the eastern sky. My heart sank and a hundred anxious thoughts flooded my mind in an instant. Are my friends ok? Were the calves able to get out? What was the cause and hopefully it wasn’t something I had done? Was anyone hurt? Faster and faster I drove!

As I slid to a stop in the front yard, the fire department had begun pumping water on it. I quickly surveyed the area. Our cattle were in the pasture. My friend and his family were in the yard. I breathed a very deep sigh of relief. 

The barn on fire was the main structure on the property. It was over 100 years old and was listed as the second largest bank barn in the state of Indiana. You could drive up the bank into the hayloft with a wagon-load of hay and turn around. The inside was cavernous. It was a beautiful and well-kept historical statement of farm life past. 

In just one hour it went from the first sighting of smoke coming from an open barn door to full collapse. So fast! So hot! So consuming! So unbelievable!

I remember thinking, “On the hottest day of July (105°) we stacked 1,500 bales of straw in one corner of the hayloft. It had been a brutal day. Even a brutal month. In an instant those bales were consumed by something infinitely hotter.” 

The fire smoldered for days and the feed in the silos smoldered for weeks. The smell lingered for months on end. However, the other day I stopped by to see my old friends. It had been twenty-seven years since I’d left the community and I wondered how they were doing. 

Though older and seasoned by the years, they looked good. A new barn stands where the old one once stood. Today, nearly every reminder of the fire has been erased. Time has healed nearly all physical reminders and remnants of the fire. Only those who experienced it carry the memory of the devastation. The grass is green and well kept. Dairy cows and calves dot the lots and pastures. 

When I stepped into the milk barn the unique smell of a dairy barn hit me. It’s not offensive, just unique. The acrid smell of smoke was long gone. 

As I stood there in the milking parlor, one word after another came to my mind; Resilience…Community…Friends…Faith…Persistence…Perseverance…Survival.

I was reminded of the three Hebrew children in the fiery furnace (Daniel 3). They had stood resolute against the idolatrous image of King Nebuchadnezzar, and for their stand they ended up in a very hot spot. As the story goes, the king looked into the furnace and saw Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego walking around in the flames. But Someone else was walking with them.

²⁵ He answered and said, “But I see four men unbound, walking in the midst of the fire, and they are not hurt; and the appearance of the fourth is like a son of the gods.” Daniel 3:25 (ESV)

Are you walking through a fire today? Maybe this story stirs memories of other fires and floods you have encountered. Even the smell of smoke lingers. I offer this word of encouragement from the prophet Isaiah:

“…Fear not, for I have redeemed you;

I have called you by name, you are mine.

² When you pass through the waters, I will be with you;

and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you;

when you walk through fire you shall not be burned,

and the flame shall not consume you.

³ For I am the LORD your God,

the Holy One of Israel, your Savior…

Isaiah 43:1-4 (ESV)

Grace and peace,

Jarvis—From Soil To Soul