by Lynette Grummert based on Daniel 3:6-29

Tada-da-da-dum.

The music sounded loud and clear. I stood tall, my chin sticking out. The drumming of my heart rang in my ears. My body tensed. Sweat trickled down my forehead.

I thought of my mother and slowly exhaled. “Benny, you’d better learn to control that mouth of yours or you’ll live to regret it,” she had often warned me.

I saw Shadrach and Meshach beside me, sticking out like palm trees on a desert island. A sea of kneeling humanity surrounded us. We stood. Everyone else had obeyed the king’s decree to bow to his statue when the royal music began.

Well, Mom, I thought, it wasn’t my mouth that got me in trouble.

The Chaldeans had accused us of not obeying King Nebuchadnezzar’s command to worship his statue. Now the king had his eyes on us and we had to face the music. I knew I could not bow to an idol without breaking God’s law. I guess it was my backbone that got me in trouble this time.

Why do we have to live in this God-forsaken place? I wondered. Why do we have to listen to King Nebuchadnezzar?

My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. My mouth felt parched. I watched patches of pink skin on the king’s cheeks turn crimson. His eyes blazed.

“That was your last chance!” he hissed. “Heat the furnace seven times hotter than usual.”

Servants scurried away with the message to add fuel to the fire. Smoke from the furnace rose into the sky.

“Our God is able to save us from your furnace,” I proclaimed. “But even if He doesn’t, we will not bend nor bow to your image of gold!”

Shadrach and Meshach might not have said it just like that, but their defiant stances and flintlike expressions showed their agreement. Our hands were bound, and we were hustled to the furnace—which was quickly filling the palace with the acrid scent of a raging fire. The guards watched for the king’s signal. Fear flitted through my mind and landed in my gut. I began to squirm.

It never fails, I thought. Any time I have to do something in front of a lot of people, I get so nervous.

Shiny-faced guards opened the furnace doors, and the back draft killed them instantly. After a brief moment of confusion, someone shoved me from behind. My eyes closed involuntarily, and my quivering legs buckled. I stumbled and caught myself . . . with my hands?

Somehow the rope that had secured my hands had come undone.

Amazing, I thought. Am I already dead? Why don’t I feel any pain?

I squinted my eyes open. It sure was bright. I blinked in surprise. No stinging. It was less smoky in here than it had been outside! I saw Meshach, Shadrach and another man.

“Who’s there?” I called out.

The figure turned and looked at me. I melted—not on the outside, but deep in my heart. The fear in me seeped away, and I felt a thrill of hope. We huddled with the stranger sent by God. He told us we had done the right thing. God was pleased with us.

“Hey!” King Nebuchadnezzar shouted. “What’s going on?”

He turned to his assistant. “Didn’t we put just three guys in there?” “Yes, Sire.”

“Well, look! Count them now!”

“One, two, three . . . four? Did they pull a guard in with them?”

The king moved closer to the furnace door.

“No, that other guy looks like a son of the gods,” the king said. “Servants of the Most High God, come out of there. Come here!”

I was extremely thankful to our Savior, because I really prefer the “no smoking” section in public places. Meshach and Shadrach marched smartly out of the furnace. I started to saunter after them and then thought better of it. I double-stepped to catch up.

Flames flickered all around us, but miraculously we were not burned. Our hair wasn’t singed. We didn’t even smell like smoke.

We answered the king’s questions as best we could, but our heavenly Messenger had disappeared without a trace. After hearing our testimony, the king changed his tune.

“I decree that any people from any nation who speak anything against the God of Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego shall be cut in pieces, and their houses be turned into piles of rubble, for no other God can save in this way.”

Wow! What a day. I couldn’t wait to tell Mom all about it in my weekly letter.

Dear Mom, Please continue to pray for King Nez. He is quite difficult to work for. Can you believe he almost fired me and my friends today?!?
Your son, Abednego

	Q: How do you spell mousetrap with only three letters? A: C-A-T. Ashley M., 12, Virginia Clubhouse Jr. Click here to subscribe