I could hear the rain pelting the metal awnings outside my dining area and the wind playing havoc with the wind chimes. Then, suddenly, all went quiet . . . and I knew what that meant. I got up from the couch and looked out the front window and there it was–– drifting down in the gleam of the streetlamp––snow.

Though I live in the Northstate . . . where the Coastal, Trinity, and Cascade mountains meet, and only about 50 miles from both Mt. Shasta and Mt. Lassen . . . at 495 feet, snow is not a frequent visitor here. Except for our occasional Snowmageddon events (1-2 feet) once every ten years or so, we are mostly a “one and done” –– “6 inches” –– kind of community.

Though snow, like every other weather pattern, has its dangers and causes problems, it––above all others––has a special image and beauty. It is pristine and connotes peace and purity. And there is something magical about a snow-swept landscape before a single person has walked across it.

Perhaps then it is no surprise that the Bible uses “snow” to show how God can cleanse us from our sins––completely and beyond our expectations:

“Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow” (Isaiah 1:18).

Purify me with hyssop, and I shall be clean;
Wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow (Psalm 51:7).

But it’s not only that.

My cousin, who lives in Southern California, shared the above photo with the family the other day. It was a wonderful reminder to me. No, it wasn’t the beautiful snow-covered San Bernardino Mountains that captured my attention. It was the dichotomy in the foreground––the juxtaposition of palm trees and snow.

Sometimes we think we have strayed too far, or experienced too much hurt, or _____ (fill in the blank), for God to find us. But that snow next to those palm trees reminded me that we are never out of reach of God’s love, mercy, or forgiveness. He knows exactly where we are and can bless us anywhere. As Romans 8:38-39 reminds us, nothing can separate us from His love.

Finally. After weeks, if not months, of anger, vitriol, and hateful language and actions, it was refreshing, and healing, to finally see someone take a step back and say “enough.” And, for a lot of us, this came from an unlikely source.

On Wednesday, July 8, Christian Cooper, the Black Central Park birdwatcher who had been the target of a white woman’s racist words and actions, announced that he would not work with the Manhattan district attorney’s investigation to prosecute Amy Cooper. As he said:


“On the one hand, she’s already paid a steep price . . . Bringing her more misery just seems like piling on…. So if the DA feels the need to pursue charges, he should pursue charges. But he can do that without me” (CNN online).

Likewise, I was watching CBS Sunday Morning and saw the story about Mack McCarter’s Community Renewal “WeCare” program started in Shreveport, Louisiana––a program that started with one neighborhood’s skepticism but has since  grown into a thriving support system in many communities.

Yes, we need justice, but we also need mercy and grace. Think of the sorry state we would all be in if God only dished out justice, for we are all guilty of unkind and unjust actions, statements, and/or thoughts (which God views as all the same––1 John 3:15; Matthew 15:9), just as we have all been the recipient, no doubt, of the same.

I am sure there are actions that need to happen on the national stage to address issues of inequality and injustice, but those ultimate, sweeping decisions lie with others. We have an element of control only in our small circle of influence. And on this personal, human-to-human level, actions like those of C. Cooper and Mark McCarter seem to provide the most healing.

Tenth Avenue North has a song entitled “This is Where the Healing Begins” which speaks to the walls we build up around us to protect ourselves, and only when we let them down and let God in can the actual healing begin.

Over the years, walls have also been built between the many layers of our society . . . from social to political . . . and while our government may be contemplating a broad, bulldozer approach, we can do our bit by removing one crumbling brick or warped picket at a time. Let’s do our part. Let’s show “God’s light” in these dark situations. This is how the healing begins.