Right now, wine country in Northern California is ablaze. Vineyards charred in utter ruin.
Right now, Caribbean island jewels are in recovery. Farms cease to exist. Land is forsaken.
We wonder how long it will take before the drowned ground redeems her dreams.
Houston barely breathes, forced to grapple with a new normal, of threadbare faith alone.
No human desires the earth below their feet to betray them.
Beloved Heirlooms destroyed.
People are no more.
We question the wind, which leaves utter desolation behind.
We question the storm as it ravages.
Our faith gets worn as the blaze engulfs.
Natural disasters taunt as the bleeding earth blares the honest truth: We. Are. Nothing. Without. Hope.
Disasters–earthly or internal–fray our faith.
It was the Prophet Isaiah who told of a “surviving remnant,” a faithful people who would “take root,” and exist nonetheless. A remnant which would “bear fruit upward.” (See Isaiah 37:31-31).
They say fire can stimulate new life; after the burn, a rich soil remains…
And grace longs to seed the fallow ground of our worn-out hearts