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Print Out of the Burning Bush
by by Louise RousseauI was overwhelmed by all the things I had no place to store. Heaps of toys cluttered the living room floor. My son's crib blocked the way to my bed. There were books everywhere and screwdrivers lived on the kitchen counter.
Clearly, our rented duplex had become too small for our growing family. I longed for a bigger place. The kids needed more room, I reasoned. More room so they wouldn't be in my way. More room so that my computer and I could have some privacy.
Although my husband John and I dreamed of going overseas and agreed a house would tie us down, I persuaded him to shop for a home. This was good time to buy, I argued. Interest rates were low. Monthly payments would be less than our rent.
I pleaded with God. Had I not committed my life to serve Him? Was I not entitled to this blessing? I didn't expect anything grand. An old house would do, as long as it was a sweet bargain.
But even as we viewed homes and negotiated a mortgage, we fretted. Was God with us? Were we yielding to materialistic desires or wisely stewarding our resources? Nagged by misgivings, we prayed for His will to be done. Yet, I secretly hoped to get my way.
God's answer was spectacular
One summer night, we were awakened by loud banging at the door. A woman yelled, "Fire, fire, get out of the house!" We dragged our two frightened children out of bed and ran outside.
The 20-foot cedar hedge bordering our driveway was on fire. Each tree ignited like a matchstick and sent up tongues of flames to lick the sky. The fire was spreading fast. Although John looked less than heroic in his pyjamas, he fought the blaze, armed with the garden hose.
Firemen soon came and extinguished the flames. A flock of yawning neighbors stood on the lawn, surveying the black tree stumps. Fortunately, the house was not damaged and everyone was safe.
When the fireman asked about the cause of the fire, we had to confess. Several hours earlier, John had burned a wasps' nest in the hedge. Although he had carefully doused the flames, the fire tunneled through the tree roots, only to later blaze with a vengeance.
By law, we were liable for the costs of repairs. Since we had no insurance, we had to deal with the hedge's owners, who wanted the damage fixed in style. Negotiating a settlement proved more costly than we had expected.
Yet, through it all, we witnessed God's hand. The night of the fire, our four-year-old daughter had prayed that our house would not burn down. God lovingly answered her prayer by sending a woman to warn us and call the firemen.
God had also made it clear that he didn't want us to buy a house. Paying for new trees consumed a good chunk of our down payment.
His ways are not our ways
God had spoken to us from a burning bush, no less. Even though I didn't get my way, God had shown He cared, and I praised him for our tiny duplex.
The next time I opened the real estate flyer, I realized I didn't need to peruse it. We weren't buying a house, so I had no regrets when I stuffed that flyer in the recycling box. In fact, I felt free - safe in the knowledge that God was taking care of all my needs.
Four months after the fire, we rented a house big enough for all our stuff. It's surrounded by rosebushes, but there's no cedar hedge.
Related Reading:
Ultimate Dream House
4 Steps to Stree-Free Home Buying & Selling
