In Holyrood, Newfoundland, 24-year-old Dave Martin was unloading wooden pallets from a truck when he lost his balance and toppled into an incinerator.  As flames three metres high leapt from the centre of the pit, the terrified worker could feel his lungs begin to sear from just two gulps of hot air.  He held his breath and tried to shield his face.

"The side of my hand was on fire and the skin was peeling," he says.  "I was just trying to run around and stay out of the centre of the heat."  High above, he could hear a co-worker crying and screaming:  "Dave, hold on!  Hold on b'y Jesus!"
 
The co-worker threw a strap into the incinerator, but it was too short to do any good.  Dave tried to reach it by climbing on a pile of wood but the burning debris crumbled beneath him. "I thought I was going to burn to death," Dave recalls. "I could feel the side of my face starting to bubble."

Just as he was giving up hope, the man spotted some slots along the bottom of the furnace. "It was just an opening.  The luckiest opening I ever seen," he says.  Dave fell to his knees and squeezed through one of the larger slots, still hearing the anguished screams of his friend who couldn't see him surface from the bottom of the incinerator.

The whole thing was over in 15 to 20 seconds, but Dave says it seemed like forever. Despite the scorching heat, he got only minor burns to his face, knees and hands, and a more severe burn on his right hand. He believes the reinforced soles of his work boots gave him time to escape.

What a metaphor for the fires of sin! Whenever we lose our spiritual equilibrium, we fall headlong into the pit, encircled and nearly suffocated by the blistering heat of guilt and heartache. We shield ourselves as best we can, running frantically to stay out of the centre of the inferno, but we can't elude the pain. Those who care about us try desperately to help but -- even when we'll let them -- their efforts fall short.

So we try to help ourselves, climbing on the burning rubble of things that hold the promise of deliverance, only to watch them collapse. Not until we fall to our knees do we finally see the way out that was there all the while.  It's an opening created by the blood and mercy of Jesus, a life-preserving portal of repentance and personal response.
 
In the heat of the pain, any ordeal seems to last an eternity. But through the mercy of God, the scars heal and the scare recedes into a vivid, valuable reminder of just how savage sin can be until we find our Way. The Spirit of God can turn even sin's flame of shame into a blaze of Glory that purifies, refines and redefines our hearts.

Even when we've fallen into the fire, a soul reinforced by our one time walk with the Lord can help us until we find our way back. So if you've escaped the furnace, praise God. If you're still amid the flames and asking for deliverance, hold on.  Hold on -- by Jesus.
 

By Rick Gamble, published in Cross Current, Brantford, ON, Canada.