Once a week I will be sharing a story from my life. Please let me know what you think of this week’s story. I have shared these stories in sermons over the years. It is my hope to compile them into a book a year from now.

“Bang! Bang! Bang!” I was jolted from my afternoon siesta as someone pounded their fist on my cabin door.  “Is anyone in there?!”  I lazily rubbed my eyes and sat up in my bunk bed.  I had barely fallen asleep and I wondered what would warrant such a rude interruption.

Heidi and I were at Old Oak Ranch, high in the Sierra’s in the middle of what once was Gold Country.  Old Oak Ranch is a retreat center and we were there for a Pastors’ Conference attended by several hundred other ministers.  It isn’t the best place for a conference, but it is a great place to have summer camps for kids.  I was trying to get a power nap in before the start of the afternoon workshops.

“Yes. I am here. What do you want?”

“There is a fire. Get down to the chapel now!”

“Says who?” I muttered to myself as I rolled off the plastic mattress and stood up.

Opening the door I was surprised to find myself facing a firefighter in full firefighting gear.  His face was covered in sweat. He and a couple other firefighters were going room to room, urgently barking orders.  They seemed absolutely serious.  It was “fire season”, the wind was blowing, and the forest was extremely dry.  I caught a whiff of smoke.

 

Yawning, I shuffled my way outside to the edge of the balcony and looked around the corner of the building to see where the fumes might be coming from.  I was shocked by what I saw.

Just downhill and downwind from where I stood, black clouds of smoke were billowing out of the trees with a ferocity and a volume that I had never before seen so close.  The fire was raging and racing my direction, spurred along by the wind. To confirm the urgency of the situation a 747 tanker plane roared overhead at a low altitude looking for its target.

I was suddenly awake and adrenalized. I didn’t waste another moment indulging my pyrotechnic fascination.  Forgetting to grab my belongings, I quickly made my way down the hill, away from the fire, as the man had instructed.  I made my way past large cabins, the dining hall, the playground, and approached the chapel. The camp was buzzing with fear and excitement.  Low flying planes and helicopters buzzed across the sky while battling the blaze.  The camp staff was chattering on walkie-talkies trying to figure out what to do next.  I was trying to locate Heidi, but she was nowhere to be seen.

Although we were all supposed to assemble in the chapel (the safest building on the property), no one was forcing us to do so.  My friend Curt and I remained outside to watch the planes attack the fire. It was the most exciting airshow I had ever witnessed. My biggest concern at that moment was not wanting to be struck by retardant if a plane decided our building needed some extra protection.  I looked up the hill in the direction of the fire and told myself I had nothing to worry about unless the trees at the top of the hill started burning. Perfectly on cue, the tallest tree on that ridge suddenly burst into flame.  That is when I sensed the gravity of the situation.

 

Going back into the chapel, where a majority of the campers (pastors) were sheltering, I saw people responding in a variety of ways. Many were loudly and fervently praying.  It was an impromptu Pentecostal prayer meeting. This is what pastors are supposed to do, right? A woman in her 60’s was playing a keyboard on the stage. The building still had power and her microphone was working. Her voice belted through the speakers, “Let your fire fall!”.  I thought it was a poor choice of songs to be singing at that moment but it was clear that she was ready to go and be with the Lord right then and there.

I know firsthand that panic attacks are no joke, and this situation was enough to induce several. Some people were overwhelmed and traumatized, laying in fetal positions, praying, around the room.

Others, like myself, seemed excited by the whole thing. At that moment I understood the thrill that could come with being a firefighter.  I am not proud of this fact, but it isn’t every day that one gets to experience a forest fire.  I had my cell phone out and I was filming the air show trying to post live updates on social media. I couldn’t suppress a smile that found its way onto my face.

I know now that some of you are judging me.  Please have some grace.  I am not perfect, but I am working at it.

One other group of people had run up the hill to go fight the fire and to make sure everyone was accounted for.  These men and women were volunteer firefighters and camp staff members. They had a plan and were carrying it out. They were in “rescue mode”, selflessly focusing on everyone else’s safety.

 

Squinting through the smoke, I saw Heidi racing down the hill in one of our church Dodge Caravan mini-vans.  Thank you Jesus!  While I had been running down the hill, she had been heading up towards the fire to get our “stuff” and our van.  I definitely had married the right woman!

Right about then, the camp director shouted into a bullhorn: “This year’s conference is officially over.  See you next year!”  It was the strangest ending to anything I had ever been a part of. “I guess it is over, isn’t it?” I remarked. The person next to me asked if we might be getting at least a partial refund.

Now it was time to evacuate. Cars were lining up on a rugged forest service road that led out the back of the camp, away from the fire.  We trusted that the person who was directing us had good information as to where the fire was, and where this road actually went.  It was chaotic and the fire continued to rage on the edge of the camp.

I jumped into the passenger seat of the van with Heidi. It was bumper to bumper and the dust and smoke were blinding.  Edging forward as we followed the car in front of us, we came to another stop. There was a fork in the road and no one knew which way to go. Some cars were going to the left, and some were choosing to go to the right.

I jumped out of our van and decided to go on foot and find out which road was the right road.  Running has a practical value once in a long while.  I jogged up the road to the right. 100 meters later, I encountered a firefighter who confirmed that this road was the correct one. I ran back to our van.

We proceeded to the right. I am not sure what happened to those who went to the left.  From that point on, it was a bumpy drive out of the camp.  We passed a Honda Civic that had blown a tire on the sharp rocks of the barely passable road. We meandered down the mountain on the side where there was no fire.  We breathed a sigh of relief when we hit pavement. Continuing downhill we wove our way into the town of Sonora, where we found a haven that relieved us of the trauma we had just been through – Starbucks.

In the parking lot, we could watch the inferno and the planes from a safe and comfortable distance.  Our church staff reunited there and sipped iced coffee and frappuccinos on the patio while I made arrangements to spend the night in town.

Back on top of the mountain, a battle was being fought. The fire torched powerlines and crossed the road onto the camp property. The wind stoked the fire into an unstoppable tempest. But once the fire came to the first building at Old Oak Ranch, the winds shifted. The firefighters stood their ground. The aerial bombardment blanketed the camp and extinguished the flames. With the help of God and that 747 fire fighting bomber, the fire had been stopped in its tracks, and tragedy was averted.

That evening our staff grilled steaks and swam in a swimming pool at a nearby resort. It was surreal, after what we had witnessed. The next day we went back up to the camp which was covered in pink fire retardant and smelled like a campfire (It was a camp-fire after all).  We grabbed the remaining belongings that we had left in our haste.

I will never forget the camp where the fire fell.

Isaiah 43:2  says

“When you pass through the waters,

I will be with you;

and when you pass through the rivers,

they will not sweep over you.

When you walk through the fire,

you will not be burned;

the flames will not set you ablaze.”

 

  • How do you respond during a crisis?
  • Would you have been in the group that was praying, gawking, or rescuing?  Why?
  • When does fear help you? When has fear hindered you?
  • How is the Lord helping you overcome fears that would otherwise hinder you?