That was the first and only time in my life that I heard God's audible voice. He did not say "I am that I am" or "Thou shalt be my prophet". He said: "Don't put water on it, just put the lid on the pot and get it off the stove". I did that and only got a slight burn on my finger, I was able to quickly stop the fire that way. Later people have told me that this was a good thing because water can be bad on oil fires. And on a regular basis, in the thirty years that have passed since that day, I have told the kids in Childrens' Church that most of the time when God speaks it is not in an audible voice, but more like a thought or the flutter of a butterfly wing in your heart. "But one time He did speak to me in an audible voice" I say, and then I tell them about my first attempt at being a super chef pie-slinging gourmet wife and how God bailed me out.
I have always been thankful for that little incident but today, so many years later, out of the corner of my eye I watched a fire safety show on TV. A man at a fire testing center demonstrated how just one sprinkle of water on a burning pot of oil made flames burst out everywhere. Dave came in and I rewound and showed it to him too. I had not realized what serious danger I was in back then. "If God hadn't spoken to me that day you might not have had a wife!" I told him. And I am still sitting here, dumbfounded. What a miracle it was, how awesome that God spoke to me so loudly and clearly at a time when all my thoughts concerned the difficulty of being a super wife. Divine impressions was the last thing on my mind that day and yet He spoke to me! And I have had thirty wonderful, rich years of raising three kids and a church and I have cooked many great meals since that day. On occasion I have paused and been thankful for that little incident, but now that I've seen what could have happened I am just in awe!
I wonder what it will be like when we get home and God starts rewinding the movies of our lives. I think there will be lots of playbacks of situations like the experience I had that day. Times when He kept His hand on us and had His angels working overtime just to keep us safe. What a privilege to be a friend of God. To go through life with access to the Most High, to have Him speak to us, whether it be like the flutter of a butterfly wing in our heart or major earthquake-like encounters. Or just good common sense that your Mama never taught you. Thank you Father God for keeping your hand on me. That day and every day!
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