The days after the council's meeting were uneasy. Some villagers began to approach me with questions in secret—questions about life, about death, about whether God truly cared for them. Others avoided me altogether, whispering behind my back. And there were those who grew openly hostile, calling me a deceiver sent to lead them astray.
One afternoon, while helping Samuel mend the fence near his barn, we saw smoke rising from the far edge of the fields. At first, we thought it was just a brush fire, but soon, cries rang out across the village. Men and women rushed past us, shouting, "Fire! Fire in the storehouse!"
Samuel dropped his tools and ran, and I followed close behind. The storehouse stood at the center of the farmland, where grain for the whole community was kept. By the time we arrived, flames were already climbing its wooden walls, feeding hungrily on the harvest stored inside.
Villagers formed a line, passing buckets of water from the well, but the fire raged faster than their efforts. I could see fear in their eyes, not only for the grain but for their very survival. If the storehouse was lost, the winter would be harsh.
Elias was there, shouting commands, his voice sharp with frustration. When he saw me, his face twisted. "You! Stand back! This is no place for your false prayers!"
I ignored his words and ran closer. The heat was unbearable, smoke thick and choking. Grace appeared, carrying water with the others, her face pale with worry.
"Alfred," she cried out, "if this storehouse falls, what will become of us?"
In that moment, I felt the weight of their fear press upon me. My knees buckled, and I fell to the ground in prayer. "Lord of heaven," I whispered, "show these people that You are not far from them. Save them, not for my sake, but for Your name."
As I prayed, a strange wind swept through the field. The flames that had been roaring upward suddenly bent away from the storehouse, as though pressed back by unseen hands. The villagers froze, staring in disbelief. Buckets of water that had seemed useless now doused the weakened fire. Within minutes, the blaze shrank, and finally, it sputtered out, leaving the storehouse scorched but still standing.
Silence fell. All eyes turned toward me. Some were filled with awe, others with fear. Samuel lifted his hands to the sky and shouted, "The Lord has spared us!" A cheer rose from many of the people, but Elias stepped forward, his face dark.
"This man brings strange winds with him," Elias said bitterly. "Today he saves us, but tomorrow—who knows what curse he may bring? Beware of him, I tell you!"
The cheer faltered. Doubt crept back into their eyes. I felt the sting of Elias's words, but Gabriel's voice echoed in my heart: Do not fear their doubts. The truth will defend itself.
That night, as we sat in Samuel's house, Ruth climbed onto my lap, her small hands clutching my shirt. "Uncle Alfred," she said softly, "was it you who stopped the fire?"
I smiled faintly and shook my head. "No, little one. It was God. I only asked, and He answered."
Her eyes lit with innocent faith. "Then I will ask Him too, when I am afraid."
Her words warmed me more than any council's approval ever could. Yet deep inside, I sensed that this fire had only been the beginning. Greater trials lay ahead—trials that would test not only me, but the whole village.