The air is thick with smoke,
a haze of grief and flame,
while the earth cries out,
and the skies echo its pain.
California burns,
but this is not a punishment,
not a wrathful hand
or some divine lament.
This is the cost of a broken world,
where fire roars,
where homes fall,
where the earth mourns
what we’ve ignored for too long.
But here’s the truth we need to hear:
God is not in the blaze.
God is in the hands that rebuild,
the hearts that refuse to leave the broken behind,
the voices that cry, “You are not alone.”
So stand with the grieving,
stand with the displaced.
Bring water to the thirsty,
hope to the hopeless.
Be the light in the ash,
the warmth in the cold.
Let us not point fingers,
but join hands instead.
Let us not cast blame,
but build bridges of care.
Solidarity, not shame.
Action, not accusation.
This is the call of a God who weeps,
who walks with the broken
and speaks life into the ruins.
California burns,
but love burns brighter.
