fire from heaven

When I was a freshman at UT, my former youth minister, Jim, asked me if I would help him with a retreat. I had been an enthusiastic member of my youth group and was thrilled to have the opportunity to be a leader. Little did I know that my primary task would involve an unfortunate combination of a tree and a fire, and I would fail miserably in my attempt to carry it out.

The retreat was to be held at Camp Linden (now known as Linden Valley Baptist Conference Center), and Jim had devised a dramatic outdoor event as the retreat's spiritual climax. Jim had recruited two other alumni from my youth group days to help with this event - Brian and Wayne. The site of the event was an outdoor amphitheater, which was really nothing more than a few rows of wooden benches perched on a steep hill. Prior to the evening event, Jim and his crew constructed a small mountain of firewood at the base of the hill. They hammered small planks into the trunks of two towering pine trees that were located behind and the benches and created twin perches about 15 feet off the ground. From those perches they strung two cables that formed a V-shape between the two trees and the pile of firewood. At the top of each cable, they attached a small bundle of rags that had been soaked in a flammable liquid.

The students would be led out to the benches in the dark. Brian would play the role of the prophet Elijah. Dressed in appropriately prophetic garb, he would stand in front of the pile of firewood and retell the story of his epic battle with the prophets of Baal on Mount Carmel, as recorded in 1 Kings 18. Meanwhile, Wayne and I would be perched in the pine trees, equipped with lighters, prepared to ignite our fireballs at the right moment and send them sailing down the cables over the heads of the awestruck students, who would gasp in amazement as the firewood suddenly burst into flames, thus displaying the power of the Lord. A foolproof plan, right?

The problem was that as I stood on my perch that night, hanging onto the tree for dear life while Brian plodded through his monologue, I began to question the wisdom of my esteemed youth minister. Why in the world would he send two college freshmen up pine trees to play with fire? What a ridiculously dangerous plan! Why did I agree to do this? 

Suddenly, I became acutely aware that I had lost track of where we were in Brian's monologue. I knew I hadn't missed my cue, but it seemed like we must be getting close. Just then I heard Brian shout animatedly, "Send down fire!" That's my cue! I flicked the lighter, touched it to the fireball, and gave it a quick shove to start its downward trajectory. As the fireball sailed down the cable, I glanced over toward Wayne and realized that he had not released his fireball - in fact, he had not even ignited it yet. Immediately, I recognized my mistake. Brian was not yet to the part of the story where Elijah called down fire from heaven - he was still recounting the vain efforts of the prophets of Baal as they exhorted their gods to send down fire. Uh oh.

The students gasped as my lone fireball appeared, suspended over their heads. As planned, when it hit the pile of firewood a larger fire erupted, eliciting exclamations of surprise. Brian was eliciting exclamations of surprise as well. He abruptly fastforwarded through the story, explaining that when the prophets of Baal called out to their gods to send down fire, nothing happened, but when Elijah called on his God - the One True God - down came fire from heaven. At this point, trustworthy Wayne lit his sad little bundle of rags and send it gliding downward, but the element of surprise was long gone. Timing is everything. 

I wonder how many of those teenagers have a warped theology to this day because of my errant fireball. May God have mercy on them.