Raging Fires

 

Fires continue to ravage my home-town, Los Angeles. I may not have lived there for fifty years, but it still has my heart. Pacific Palisades: one of my dad’s cousins lived there. I’ve lost touch. Are any of his sons still there? The sister of a friend lives there: they’ve evacuated, and don’t yet know if they have a home to return to. Malibu: the site of the dream house I never owned, overlooking the beautiful Pacific Ocean. A place of wild beauty. Sunset Boulevard. Oh, my goodness.

Today I am praying Isaiah 61:1-3 over those affected by these devastating conflagrations. I am praying the Lord will provide beauty for ashes; that any who might have been possessed by their possessions, will be released and set free into a new reality. May your light shine, Lord, in the lives of believers, offering hope and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair.

Sing, Choirs of Angels today. Sing over the City of Angels. Comfort and bind up the broken-hearted. Bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes. Jesus, walk among the broken-hearted.

I was told there was a picture of a desperate firefighter scooping water from a puddle into his helmet and flinging it on the fire. A shortage of water hampered the efforts to douse the flames. The woman at the well (John 4) didn’t recognise that Jesus was the source of the water of life. She drew water from a puddle rather than from the divine source. May those directly affected by this tragedy be drawn to the water of life. Revive and refresh them today, Lord, those who have lost ‘everything’, and those who have battled to save what they could. In their loss of everything, may they find the one thing that matters. You.

Come to the water of life. Our own spirits can dry up in this world of brutal events, making us vulnerable to the danger of conflagration. May we drink daily from the presence of the Word of God, keeping us supple, green and alive. All around us is dry stubble; at any time, it could explode into a consuming fire. Keep us drinking from the water of life. Every day.

I am reminded of another friend whose house was surrounded by a wildfire a few years ago. Every house in the neighbourhood near Santa Barbara burned to the ground, except theirs. In the aftermath, Kerry and Carter offered fresh lemonade to their devastated neighbours, sifting through the ashes of what had been their homes. May I offer lemonade today, the divine lemonade of life, to all those I meet who are weary, thirsty and in despair. Come to me, Jesus invites us. May your Spirit in me be a portal into eternal refreshment for all who are dry and hopeless today.

Jesus is the same yesterday, today and tomorrow, and he is all we need. May his grace and mercy and love pour out over Los Angeles today.