The Burning Timber

It wasn’t my fault.

That’s what I said back then. I believed it too.

Not anymore. At least not the part about it not being my fault.

It’s been a lifetime ago. But I remember it every morning when I look in the mirror. I feel it every time I run a razor across the scar that runs from my cheek to my chin. My eyes still burn when I think of it.

I was just a kid. But, the smell of singed hair, burnt flesh and smoke lingers.

I knew better. I shouldn’t have been there.

It seemed so innocent. Just a few friends, a bonfire…and refreshments of the adult kind.

I’d never tasted liquor. Not even a sip of beer. But that night, I did. Everyone was doing it. “It’ll make a man of you” they said.

After a while, I felt funny. Not funny, like different, but funny, like I was hilarious. Like I could make everyone laugh. Like I was the life of the party. My eyes were opened to this new me. I wasn’t the shy, sit in the back of the room, observe everything, say nothing guy. I was the new, stand on the chair in the center of attention, loud, funny, popular, me.

Who knew? This forbidden fruit wasn’t so bad after all.

It was just having fun around an old timber framed barn, out in the middle of nowhere. What could go wrong?

The bonfire was huge. The music was loud. The sparks on the roof were small.

The dirt floor inside the barn made a great dance floor. I showed off moves never seen before, until I collapsed in the corner to catch my breath. That’s when I must’ve fallen asleep—passed out would be more like it.

They said it started snowing in the barn. Only the snowflakes were ashes.

Everyone rushed out, just as the roof collapsed…everyone, but me.

I woke in hell. A branding iron seared my face.

The music had stopped. A thousand screams pounded like hammers in my head.

I knew I’d died and gone straight to hell. My one night of overindulgence brought my eternal demise.

Actually, to be honest. It wasn’t just that one night. It was a multitude of tiny, hidden, sins. I envied the uninhibited laughter of others. Despised the restraints of my Sunday School teachings. Fear of what others thought, kept me quiet and back in the corner.

One cough after another convulsed my body. Each time, a bomb exploded in my head.

“My God…” was all I could choke out. I don’t know if I said the words out loud or just in my head.

I don’t remember hearing any sirens. Just non-stop screaming.

Where the door had been, was a wall of fire. I backed against the opposite wall.

He came through the inferno and into the room with me.

I shook my head. “There’s no way out.”

He smiled. He smiled. “I’ll make a way.” He got down real low and inched back into the flames.

I winced, “He just killed himself.”

But then, through the smoke and flames I saw it. He pressed his back against the burning timber. His arms spread wide. He heaved and a breath of fresh air and light flooded the room. He looked at me, sweating and bleeding. “I’m your only way out.”

I crawled on my hands and knees.

The inferno lit up the night and smoked and smoldered all the next day and the day after that. Finally, on the third day, we were able to search. His body was never found.

But I see Him all the time. Every time I dream. Every time I look in the mirror at the scar across my face. I see Him.

I’ve come to realize something too. God doesn’t forgive, just because He’s so loving and kind. He is faithful and just. Justice won’t allow forgiveness without payment. I took forgiveness for granted until that day. I thought forgiveness came easy. And so, it does. But not without price. A huge price. The price of an old rugged timber burning across the back of God’s only Son.

So from that day to this I’ve longed for one thing. Someday I’ll see the One who entered my hell, was buried in my tomb. On that day, I’ll finally be able to say the word that’s been on my lips ever since that burning day…

“Thank You.”

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

And through the rivers, they shall not overflow you.

When you walk through the fire, you shall not be burned,

Nor shall the flame scorch you.

(Isaiah 43: 2)

Although the above story is fiction; it is meant to reflect eternal Truth.