When God stops a tragedy. (Or, how I almost burned my house down.)

I almost burned my house down last night. And of course I'm going to point out a deeper meaning.

My son could eat two things the rest of his life: tortellini and ravioli. Not the stuff from the can. No, that would be too easy and inexpensive. Instead, we have to get the stuff from the artisan section at the grocery store that's refrigerated and needs to be cooked on the stove.

When I asked him last night what he wanted for dinner, then, he unsurprisingly said, "tortellini." So I fired up the stove and started the water boiling, threw in the small pillows of cheese-stuffed pasta, and waited. Of course I got distracted by something, and it wasn't too long before the water boiled over and I heard the common sizzle of water hitting the gas burner.

I rushed over, turned the burner off, and then moved the pot before draining the water and serving him his gourmet (at least compared to what I ate growing up) dinner with olive oil, salt, and parmesan cheese.

I thought that was the end of the story. It wasn't.

This morning, God once again woke me up at 430a. As I was making my coffee, I made my way over to the stove for some reason. I don't know why. That's when I felt the heat. And that's when I saw the flames.

"You got to be kidding me!" I yelled. You probably guessed it: the burner was still on. Yes, I left the gas burner on low all night. By my estimation, it was probably on for 11 hours. Eleven hours!

I quickly turned it off and just stared at it. The first thing that came to my mind wasn't pleasant. As you may or may not know, I have clinically-diagnosed anxiety and OCD. And while I wouldn't say that checking the house before I go to bed (the stove, the doors, etc) is a huge issue, the truth is I probably do it more than you or the average person. I have a routine at night: stove, doors, lights. Sometimes I repeat it, or at least have to make a conscious effort not to.

But as I've worked through my diagnosis, that's diminished. It's not gone, but it's diminished. Example: Last night I didn't do my routine. I didn't double check the stove or the doors or the lights. I went to bed like a "normal" person. (Ironically, I also left a light on in the kitchen.)

So where did my mind go? "See what happens when you don't double check?!"

I know that's the disorder talking. And I was able to quickly stamp it out. That's when another feeling overtook me: deep and sincere gratitude.

I whispered: "God, thank you for averting a tragedy. This could have been really bad. This could have been disastrous. But by your grace, it ended up being nothing."

And that let me to the deeper point, the deeper truth.

I don't think we give God enough credit for the tragedies he does stop. We like to blame him for the stuff that does happen — to question him when we face hardships and tragedies. But how many times has he prevented one from happening, and we just carry on like he hasn't done a single thing?

I'm guilty.

Listen, tragedies are one of the hardest things to make sense of. I can't fully explain why he allows some to happen. I can't fully explain why doesn't stop every bad thing from happening. In the end, we live in a fallen world, and we experience the effects of that. I've experienced that personally with the death of my sister and step-dad. (I do know, however, that God uses those tragedies for our good and his glory, like I talk about in my book.)

But friend, what about the tragedies he does stop? What about the accidents he does prevent? What about the houses he doesn't allow to burn down or the gas explosions he steps in to stop? Because he does that. What do we do in light of THAT?

Personally, I want to become more aware of those moments. It creates gratitude, and gratitude stomps out a lot of other issues in our lives. I'd encourage you to do the same. Look for those moments — and they happen more often than we realize — where God HAS stepped in. Where he HAS done something. Where he HAS performed a miracle.

When you do, I think you'll be surprised at what you see and what it does to you.

(Pic: My kids literally playing with fire over New Year's. They were sparklers and there were definitely holes in our clothes after.)