IN CASE OF FIRE---

Open Here. This new apartment has all the bells and whistles! It’s fireproof—why include am old-fashioned relic like this ancient warning from the olden days of horse-driven fire wagons? Forget that. I turned away. Still, occasionally I found myself glancing over at the box on the wall that seemed to draw my attention at nighttime, when worries seemed to invade my thoughts—rumors of a layoff looming at work and this apartment lease just signed. Pacing the floor, I eyed the box on the wall designed to provide safety. A good night’s sleep will do me more good--but do I smell a whiff of smoke? Probably someone cooking a late supper has left a pot on the stove—the apartment manager will check it out.

Definitely smoke, stronger now, closer perhaps. Maybe I’d better do something. Call the manager/ No answer! In case of fire. But there’s no fire, just smoke--but more than earlier. Why isn’t someone t taking care of this? Doesn't anyone see the danger? Ow! My door feels hot! My eyes seek the ancient box on the wall—would it even still work? I reach for the box. Maybe------

You have such an emergency box tucked away somewhere, in case your troubles get bigger than you can handle, called The Holy Bible. But why ignore a whiff of smoke until your coat tail is on fire before opening the book? Why not read some of the fire prevention teachings inside and avoid the death traps all around you? Didn’t you buy fire insurance to protect your physical dwelling? Isn’t your own life worth much more?