I Saw Daniel

and the Divine presence in the fire.

The story of Daniel, in the lions' den in chapter 6 of the Bible, is paired with the story of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego and the "fiery furnace" in Daniel 3. Parallels include the jealousy of non-Jews, an imperial edict requiring Jews to compromise their religion on pain of death, and divine deliverance. Each story climaxes with the king confessing the greatness of the God of the Jews and issuing an edict of royal protection. In each case life is preserved through divine presence in the fire.

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As we laid awake all night praying, tossing and turning in our bed, I saw the reckless love of God. I saw the ominous mountain before me as I drove up to meet it. The firestorms of our lives.

I saw Daniel.

9/11 would come the first year in our hillside home. I remember where I was. At home watching, afraid to take the kids to school. I called my parents and said “we’re under attack,” to which they thought “we” were under attack in our home. America was under attack.

We were all under attack.

As I watched the faces of my three children, in black and white, come to life on 9/11, beaming toward the sun, the Son, under a beach umbrella, the world as they were, drained of color. I remember breaking down in the darkroom.

But ordinary brave men and women from all walks of life, like my ordinary husband, running alone with a hose through our backyard and all over our street ferrying fires in neighbor’s yards, ran toward the buildings, toward each other, toward fire like Daniel. They dug through smokey piles upon piles of steel and glass, carrying each other for months to come. We carried each other in our hearts and minds.

September 12th, 2001. The ground was leveled and so were we.

Then came The Fire Siege of 2003 mixed with The Grand Prix Fire. This would be the first in a string of the worst fires California had ever seen. For a week we stood watch, and I knew on the seventh day we were out. 5:00 a.m., the fire chief was blasting his loud speaker throughout the neighborhood.

But he stayed. Of course he stayed. Like Daniel, with tremendous spirit, a deep faith in God and himself, my brave husband got us out and hiked his way back up to our home. Running towards it, fearless, he battled like none other. I will never forget lying down with our young kids, clutching our walkie talkie phones, hearing his cry “pray, pray for me, pray for us, it’s coming,” to hear the wind-stormed voice of the fire chief say “batten down!!!!” They came for the enveloping firestorm. The winds were rising, everything in our backyard was on fire. Then the calm. John was told, “you’re alone now.” But he wasn’t. There was no sun, but there was the Son. For the next four days, he and our oldest son, with friends, (who walked up to our home with shovels and buckets) ferried hotspots in many of the hillside’s homes.

Last night, after 21 years of fires, Mount Baldy, above our old hillside home and the cities below, received the raging “Bridge Fire” into the quaint village. The little village where John’s older brother and wife still live, right above the cabin we were married in, and where his brother’s son, our nephew, had built a home, much like us, for his wife and three children. These two men stayed. My 71 year old brother-in-law, a cancer survivor, and another longtime best buddy and cancer survivor, plus our 36 year old nephew. Several stayed. They knew they had to fight. I have never seen my husband look so helpless. There was no getting up there. It had come fast.

Through my car window in the neighborhood yesterday.

He got in his car and drove to the baseball field at the foot of those burning hills and sat watching. He got as close as he could to wrapping his arms around his much admired brother and nephew. Writing this gives me big tears. He sat for hours, last night, looking at the Armageddon in front of him, wondering if he’d see them again. He sat and prayed. I wandered in circles throughout the house praying…

At Dusk.

I had long shut the theater of the debacle debate down on the t.v.

I saw Daniel inside the lion’s den of the political landscape.

I saw truth. I saw the fight. I looked through the eyes of a liar, and the eyes of a beaten down, tired man. I saw the people, the cities, the struggles, the wild animals running in our neighborhood, the lost man on my street, towing his few belongings in an old stroller, handing him sustenance, knowing he was high on drugs, helpless in the 107 temps of this past week, the homeless encampments everywhere, in our hills, armchair madmen, the bowls of water around our home, the prayers, citizens of every color crying out at their city council meetings, “what about them!!!,” the dead hostages, their home a bloody tunnel, monsters, dead children and teachers, raging wars everywhere, the mentally ill, a woman screaming “rights” while other women are covered head to toe in Burqa, dead soldiers, and yes, real animal and human suffering on our streets. I saw it, despite the power to control it. He sees it.

I saw the decrepit old pendulum swinging above royal chess boards of empty promises.

Believe in “us” as it sways back and forth…

I saw the reckless love of God as we heard these men, our family, single handedly saved their street, including the little cabin we were married in. Our strong, faithful, confident men fought a firestorm like nothing they had ever seen in their lifetime.

And I thought to myself, that’s what we need. Reckless Almighty Love. Daniels. People willing to put their faith into a higher power and walk straight into the firestorm.

God will use whoever He wants to teach this nation something. It will be entirely up to Him. No one can stop it, despite our votes or not. His will will be done.

“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.” - Theodore Roosevelt

May we never forget the principalities, powers above us, rulers of dark in high places, who work to bring buildings down, as the Daniels run courageously, confidently, faithfully, into the presence of the fire, fighting to hold them up.

He is a Love that recklessly fights for us while we’re fighting, dreams for us while we’re dreaming, carries us through our joys and storms, receives us in heaven where death hath no sting. No shadow He won't light up, mountain He won't climb up, coming after us. No wall or monster’s door He won’t kick down, no lie He won’t tear down, coming after us. He has been so so good to us. Today and always. Amen.

I had to get this out. It’s been a hell of a week…