Blaring Alarm

We had just moved in. The house still smelled new. Fresh paint smell on the wall, fresh carpet smell covered the floor. The only problem was it didn’t look new. I had lived in this house before. Yet, it was not the exact same: the furniture was different, and it felt more like a re-model than a full rebuild. Pretty much everything I owned was different, not the same stuff I had a year ago. I was curled up on the couch reading my Bible, snuggled under the big alpaca-wool blanket that my dad bought many years ago on his mission trip to Belize. I had just finished reading Matthew 19 and was thinking about all that I had been blessed with. Glancing up at the clock, I realized how late it was. I had school in the morning and needed to get to bed. I whispered good night to my parents and hurried up the stairs.

I crawled under my covers, said a prayer, and closed my eyes. Drifting off to sleep, my mind suddenly flashed back to a January night one year ago. I remembered it all so clearly. It was January 23rd, a Sunday night. I had fallen asleep easily, exhausted from the day. But I woke suddenly and glanced at my clock: 12:32 AM. What had awakened me, I wondered to myself. I looked back up when I heard my door creaking open, and my mom stepped in. The first thing I noticed was the urgency etched across her face.

“Come on. Get up. Let’s go,” she whispered across the room.

“Why?” I wondered aloud. Only then did I notice the blaring alarm going off throughout the house. How had I not noticed it before? What was it? I threw my covers off and stood up with urgency now coursing through my veins.

My mom continued going door to door, relaying the message to each of my equally stunned and confused brothers. Once we were all gathered in the hallway, she hurried us down the stairs and into the front hall.

“Wait here,” she ordered, while rushing into the family room and out of sight.

We all stood there, glancing back and forth at each other. The alarm seemed to grow louder the longer we stood in silence.

“What is going on?” my youngest brother finally broke the silence.

“I don’t really know yet, buddy.” I tried to sound comforting amid my own confusion and fear. The thoughts of the night so far swirled in my head like a giant tornado. He didn’t need to be any more terrified than he already was.

My mom finally came back, a collection of blankets stuffed in her arms. “Here,” she said while forcefully shoving one at each of us. “Wrap it around you to stay warm.” Then, she ushered us out the front door and into the sub-freezing temperatures and falling snow.

I glanced down at my blanket. It was the one my dad got on his trip to Belize. The alpaca-wool was pilling and worn from years of love and use. It was thick, and weighed heavily on my shoulders. But the intricate pattern of dark brown and tan wool surrounded me with warmth and comfort.

A brand-new piercing scream broke through the night. It continued to grow louder until, suddenly, it stopped. Then, a parade of flashing red lights broke through the trees. I glanced back at our house as the realization hit me: FIRE! I watched my dad scurry out the front door just as the fire trucks halted in front of our garage. They jumped out and got to work.

I was so transfixed on watching the firemen that I had not even realized I had been picked up and was now being carried up to my neighbor’s house away from the action to safety.

Looking back now, I had never thought about what it would be like to lose everything I had. I had never needed to. But now I do know what it is like, and I realize how unimportant our stuff really is. I don’t need that much, and if I lose something, I can always get it back.

So now, as I lie in bed trying to fall asleep in a new house, in a new room that does not really feel new, I am reminded of the story of the rich man in Matthew 19. He had done all the law had commanded him, but Jesus wanted him to sell all his possessions to follow Him. The man was unwilling, and “he went away sad” (Matthew 19:22 NLT). I can now say that I have lived through what it is like to have lots and what it is like to be without. But the promise of God is unchanging, and the things of this world do not matter in comparison to our future in Heaven.