The Flames Will Not Set You Ablaze

I opened my eyes to an unnatural bright orange glow filling the room. As my vision adjusted to the piercing light, I realised that tongues of flames were rising towards the roof of the wooden structure. Then I heard footsteps approaching, and moments later, I saw my grandmother standing at the doorway.

But let me start at the beginning.

There had been a meeting in the district square that evening. The older children in the household, not wanting a tagalong, decided to leave me at home with my grandparents. Their reasoning was simple: if I went along, I might fall asleep and force everyone to leave early. So there I was, snuggled comfortably in bed, deep in dream world, unaware of how quickly danger had crept into the house.

To this day, I am not sure what jolted me awake.

I later learned that one of the older children had placed a lit candle on top of a cosmetic box. The candle eventually burned through the box, igniting the wooden table beneath it. The bright yellow flames I saw were caused by the table and everything resting upon it catching fire. What had begun as a small flame was rapidly becoming an inferno.

My grandmother later explained the sequence of events to me. She said she noticed an unusually excessive yellow glow coming from the room where I slept. The house appeared uncharacteristically bright, almost as though it was glowing from within. Sensing that something was wrong, she got out of bed to investigate.

As she moved closer, she heard crackling and hissing sounds. Then, upon stepping out of the dining area, she saw flames shooting towards the ceiling.

Yet she remained calm - remarkably calm.

Without panic, she walked directly to the kitchen, grabbed a canvas bag, saturated it with water, returned to the room, and smothered the flames. By then I was fully awake, but I could do nothing except remain on the bed watching her. I think fear had paralysed me. While I lay there frozen, she battled the fire alone and brought it under control.

Looking back now, I sometimes wonder: what if my grandmother had been a heavy sleeper? What if there had been no water in the house? What if she had awakened too late? A thousand “what-ifs” pass through my mind whenever I revisit that night.

Thankfully, the only losses were the wooden table and the objects that had been resting on it.

"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." Isaiah 43:2

In hindsight, I should not have survived. The entire structure was made of wood, filled with wooden furniture and dry materials that could easily have fuelled the flames. Even the windows were made of board. It would not have taken much for the entire house to disappear in fire.

But the Lord had purpose for my life, and He determined that it was not my time. Even then, before I could fully understand it, His hand of protection rested over me. Though the flames rose high, they did not consume me, a reminder that when we pass through fire, He remains present and preserving (Isaiah 43:2).

"The Lord will keep you from all harm—
he will watch over your life;
the Lord will watch over your coming and going
    both now and forevermore."
Psalm 121:7-8

And perhaps that night was also evidence that God often watches over us through the quiet obedience and courage of others. My grandmother’s calm response became a covering over my life, proof that His protection can arrive in ordinary footsteps in the middle of the night (Psalm 121:7–8).

When I think about that glowing room and the flames reaching upward, I no longer see only danger. I also see mercy. I see preservation. I see the unseen hand of God sheltering me within the hollow of His care.