“The Fire Chief and the Angry Resident”

Where Are You in This Story?

The fire chief was the only paid employee of the Anytown Fire Department. All the other fire fighters were well-trained and committed volunteers.

One evening a resident built a fire in his backyard pit. He overestimated the wood needed. As flames devoured his tower of logs, the heat called to mind the fiery furnace in Daniel chapter 3 (#Shadrach#Meshach#Abednego).

Sweat dripped off his nose. The resident feared flames from the roaring pit would escape. What if they ignited his parched brush pile nearby—or his roof? He didn’t have a garden hose, and it would take too long to go inside and hunt for a bucket.

He thought, “My taxes pay the fire chief. I’ll call downtown, then wait to be served.”

Soon a man and a woman arrived in a pickup. They agreed if the wind shifted, red embers could cause a disaster. They emptied a fire extinguisher on the pit.

The resident followed the two volunteers to their truck. “Why didn’t the chief come? I expect the head boss to personally respond in my hour of need.”

The woman replied, “The chief is out on another call where he was needed more. Besides, we took care of you. Isn’t your fire out?”

“Yes,” he admitted. “But when I call the fire department, I expect the chief to come. No offense—you both helped me--but I don’t want the second string. I want the big guns. If I have a need, the chief is supposed to meet it. It’s fine if others help too, but I’m not satisfied unless the chief also comes.”

She sighed. “I’m sorry you feel that way. Trust me, the chief was needed more elsewhere. We met your needs. Why isn’t that good enough for you?”

After they left, the angry resident decided this wasn’t over. He got in his car and drove through town. He found the chief pushing on somebody’s chest on the sidewalk.

The resident parked. Veins bulged in his neck. His house could’ve burned down, but there were no flames or smoke here. The chief should have tended to him instead of kneeling on a sidewalk pressing rapidly on somebody else’s chest.  

The resident reached into his glove box and pulled out a Taser gun. Silently he walked up, pointed the Taser at the chief’s back, and pulled the trigger.

The fire chief collapsed. The seething resident said nothing and drove off. Trained volunteers should only be in addition to--not instead of—the care provided by the leader in charge.

And Jesus wept.


Besides the Obvious, What Else Does It Mean?

When I'm unfairly zapped, I need God's comfort.

When I'm caught in the middle, I need God's wisdom.

When I'm the selfish attacker, I need God's forgiveness.

When I'm flat on my back, I need God's healing.

I'm thankful the Lord offers us divine gifts in generous doses. Aren't you?

    

David