While pastoring for ten years in the Texas Panhandle, I thoroughly enjoyed my active role in the Volunteer Fire Department. At first, I was invited to serve as Chaplain, a largely ceremonial role (the chaplain usually offered a brief, rather non-descript, non-offensive prayer at the beginning of the meeting and then left). I agreed to serve, but only if I could be a full-fledged, smoke-eatin’ firefighter. The deal was struck.

Three different summers, I attended fire fighting school on the campus of Texas A & M University (home of the famed Texas Aggies). We were thoroughly trained in many different areas of fire fighting. The only area of instruction that proved totally worthless was ladder work on tall buildings. Our tallest building was one and a half stories. Even our native prairie grass wasn’t tall enough to warrant using ladders!

The first five fires to which I reported were in local bars. We had a lot of bars and a lot of churches in our small town. People even began jokingly speculating that perhaps I, a local pastor, had something to do with setting fires in bars! More about the bar fires in a future “Inside Out”, I promise!

Recently, I was sitting outside my favorite convenience store. A well-dressed, rather refined appearing woman was talking on the phone. I couldn’t help but observe and overhear her side of the conversation. Everything appeared to be smiles and sugar. Suddenly, without warning, the woman exploded into an uncontrollable rage. Her language was liberally laced with three, four, five letter words that were obscene, vicious, and violent. A child, approximately five years old, stood close-by, listening to every word. The language and intensity of the woman’s speech didn’t seem to phase the child. The little girl’s eyes seemed sorta glazed over. It appeared she’d turned her ears off.

As I drove away, my mind focused on a video replay going on inside my brain. The July day was hot. A call came in requesting/demanding our presence at a car fire northwest of town, near the New Mexico border. The blacktop on Highway 287 was shimmering as the heat tried to escape into the atmosphere. When I arrived on the scene, the entire left rear end of the car was engulfed in smoke and flames.

Mom, dad, and five children were huddled together down the road. It appeared that the rear brake had overheated and set the tire and trunk on fire. We moved in close with the hoses and managed to knock the fire down. As well-trained firefighters, we were well aware that the gas tank was at the rear of the car. We cooled the area as quickly as possible. One of our guys managed to pop the trunk open with a pry bar. We hoped to save some of their belongings in the trunk.

To our surprise, there were no suitcases or boxes in the trunk. The space that should have been the trunk appeared to be a custom-fitted sheet metal box. I suspected that perhaps they were smuggling drugs. By now, a Super Trooper had arrived on the scene. As the trooper began questioning the father, an even stranger, potentially more deadly story began to emerge. The father’s mother was terminally ill. The distance between their home and hers was several hundred miles. The father had put in an 80 gallon customized gas tank so the family could make the trip with fewer stops as they crossed that rather desolate part of the country.

Even though we felt sorry for the family because of the damage to their old car, we were also justifiably angry. Gas tanks are not very dangerous when completely full of gas. A tank with a little bit of gas and lots of fumes, is extremely flammable. We were standing inches away from a very potent bomb! We would certainly have approached our job differently had the father just bothered to tell us about the 80 gallon gas tank.

Suddenly, my mind snapped back to the woman on the phone. I sat near her. I had no idea that she was a bomb waiting to explode. To this day, I don’t know what set her off. As I thought about this experience, I wondered if any of us walk around every day, well-dressed, appearing to be refined and well-mannered, but inside, unseen by potential victims, barely containing lots of anger, frustration, rage — just waiting to go….KABOOOOOOM!

What are the Life Lessons in this story?

• Everybody gets frustrated and angry.
• Not everybody loses control when they get frustrated and angry.
• If your frustration and anger leads you to irrational behavior, if you’re like an 80 gallon gas tank with fire raging all around it, if you run on the ragged edge of KABOOOOOOOOOOM! God is an ever-present help in time of trouble. He often works through good friends, pastors, counselors, even family.
• If you see yourself in this story or a good friend or family member sees you in this story, there is help available. Get help!

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