The Church Fire

Fire is a powerful force, and you don't realize it until you see its full strength. It can devour a building, engulf it and send it to the ground within minutes. Last night I saw the biggest fire of my life.

The storm began with rolling thunder, right after dusk. The thunder kept rolling, and rolling, and demanding our attention.

I opened the door and the rain came down in sheets. Then the sky lit up with lightning. Long moments of full daylight. I shut the door and cowered with my son in the living room. This storm was insane.

My wife was driving my daughter home from ballet practice during this. My daughter texted me and said she saw hail. They were close to home as the rain poured down. But the storm moved fast, and by the time they pulled into the driveway, the rain was gone.

"We saw something get hit by lightning!" My wife said. She described a huge bolt of light, reaching horizontally across the sky, searching for a place to land. The bolt hit, what she assumed was a lightning rod, which made the rod glow red-hot for at least a minute or two, presumably before the rain cooled it off. We thought that was the end of the story for the night.

Soon, I noticed several headlights driving up my street. I get a little traffic here, but nothing like this. Traffic was being redirected from Main. Something was going on, a flash flood, I thought.

Then my phone rang. A friend in the neighborhood was calling. She never had called me before, only texts. What was going on?

"There is a raging church fire," she said, "I'm not kidding. It's raging! You can probably see it from your house."

I looked out the window and saw the orange glare reflecting off a neighbor's siding. I grabbed the dog, and leash, and stepped out the door, with my son close behind. As I stepped into the entry way, a fire ball raged behind the window. Down the hill, a tremendous fire was growing.

"Oh, my God!" It was like my entire family said that at the same time. We huddled around the window, and then stepped onto the front porch. "Let's check it out," I said.

A wide plume of smoke filled the air, spreading glitter-like orange sparks throughout the sky. We walked closer and joined a crowd of people, all gasping in disbelief, and raising their cellphones, taking pics, or recording video.

First Baptist Church was covered in bright orange flames. These flames were strong and thick and so fast. They lapped up the roof, and sent it falling to the floor. Soon the smaller steeple fell, as more flames climbed the giant 180-foot spire. A triangular skeleton of charred lumber cast dying shadows across the dancing light. It was so sad to see, and yet so amazing to watch.

Firetrucks doused the inferno with endless gallons of water. The fire was remarkably contained, ensuring that this church would be the only victim. They fought the flames all night.

The next morning there was still a crowd. The poor congregation was surely in shock. A crane delicately razed what remained of the spire. There's not much left in the rubble.

News vans and helicopters chronicled the story. It's fascinating. Lightning, wood, fire and man, still battling, like always. I was in the church once, for a book sale. It was a wonderful old building, nearly 150 years old, and now it's simply gone.