Not too many years after Mt. St. Helens erupted, I had the chance to visit the area. Everything seemed perfectly normal as we approached the volcano and then –– suddenly –– everything was not. An imaginary line seemed to mark the spot where nature stopped and devastation began. Like match sticks, large trees lay toppled and charred right next to perfectly healthy ones.

Closer to home, and closer in time, I am surrounded by fire-stricken habitats. Once healthy forests and grasslands now look like moonscapes. If is unnervingly eerie.



But in both cases, one other thing was noticeable. Nature hadn’t given up. It was coming back. In both places one could see the beginning of new growth. Grasses first, then flowers, and finally trees re-sprouting.

I grew up near Kings Canyon and Sequoia National Parks, home of the giant sequoias, trees that can live up to three thousand years. However, Sequoias require fire to reproduce: to clear land for space for the seedlings, to allow sunlight, and to heat up its cones and release the seeds.

And there you have it –– seeds––from which everything springs: both life and ideas.

Twenty years ago today, in the wake of the 9/11 attacks, a military and political presence began in Afghanistan. Today it is gone. A “firestorm” surrounded the evacuation of American citizens and Afghan aids from Afghanistan, leaving a lot of concern about what will happen to the people of Afghanistan now that the Taliban has taken over, a concern that is merited based on the group's past history. But one commentator made an interesting remark during the evacuation regarding those left behind (and I paraphrase). The young, he said, have only known life ––a life of freedom and opportunities––under the twenty years of American protection.

So the seeds of freedom and opportunity have been planted––not only in the youth, but also in their fellow, older citizens. Will those seeds be allowed to grow naturally, or will it take the heat of oppression to open them?

I do not know the future of Afghanistan, but I do know the God who knows the number of hairs on my head, the God who cares for the sparrows, and I believe He also knows every individual still living in Afghanistan. I also believe there are––a few––some––many––whom He has left  purposefully to do great things for Him and for the country.

Though the U.S military and political presence is no longer in Afghanistan, we, as Christians, don’t have to “leave.” We can stay involved. We can help those who have now been planted here and help them flourish, and we can pray for those God has “allowed” to stay there. May His will be done in both places.

There is a plant here in the West that every time I walk by it, I am reminded of God’s definitive involvement in creation and his care for each and every one of his creations. It is the Manzanita.

Whether one describes it as a shrub or a tree, the Manzanita is perfectly suited for its life in hot, water-stingy climes.

Its leathery leaves, which form a protective canopy over the plant, will tilt during the hottest part of the day, thereby reducing overheating and water loss. Those same leaves are equipped to capture any water droplet and send it directly toward its roots.

Both the smooth mature red bark, which peels away easily, and the marble-like surface underneath provide a quick, proficient, and expedient route by which each drop of water reaches the root without loss. Every water droplet gets to the bottom. No drop is wasted.

Likewise, the berries are good to eat fresh, dried, or ground into meal. Native Americans used the leaves to create medicinal poultices and also used them for toothbrushes. Nothing was wasted.

And while the wood itself is difficult to cure, and prone to cracking, when worked with in small pieces, it can produce some beautiful works, such as the vase shown.

Sometimes we take God’s creation for granted and our place in that creation, and don’t realize the specialness of both.

Matthew 6:28-29 reminds us that flowers, without worry or work, are more beautiful than Solomon’s attire.

Matthew 10:29 tells us that not even the smallest of birds falls without God knowing or caring.

And then the clincher: Matthew 10:30-31––“And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. So do not be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.”

Creation shouts God’s involvement and His love.

Spring means both flowers and the fresh, vibrant green of new growth. But not until my sister shared the picture above after a recent road trip, did I remember that spring also means clouds . . . those nice, beautiful cotton-ball fluffy or spun-sugar wispy clouds that stir the imagination and the soul. Around here, they arrive for about three weeks … right after the two months of dense winter cloud cover, heavy with rain, and right before the three to four cloudless months of summer.

And these are the clouds on which cartoonist mistakenly place heaven and its multitude of harp-playing residents. However, there is perhaps a reason this image is in their minds, for there is a strong association of God and clouds.

One of the first mention of clouds is in Genesis 9:13, when God promises never again to destroy the earth by flood, and says, “I have set my rainbow in the clouds, and it will be the sign of the covenant between me and the earth.” God’s promise was against a backdrop of clouds.

Then when God leads his people out of Egypt, He “went ahead of them in a pillar of cloud to guide them on their way and by night in a pillar of fire to give them light, so that they could travel by day or night” (Ex. 13:21). God’s provision came through a cloud.

Then when God met Moses on the mountain top, God met him there in a cloud: “When Moses went up on the mountain, the cloud covered it, and the glory of the Lord settled on Mount Sinai” (Ex. 24:15). God’s glory was in the cloud.

On the mount of transfiguration, God spoke from a cloud: “… a voice from the cloud said, ‘This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased. Listen to him!’” (Matt. 17:5) God’s presence was wrapped in a cloud.

And most importantly, Christ’s second return will be on a cloud: “At that time they will see the Son of Man coming in a cloud with power and great glory” (Luke 21:27). God’s power, majesty, and sovereignty will be demonstrated on a cloud.

So it is right for us to look to the skies and to ponder the clouds, for they will always turn our eyes, and our hearts, and our minds toward heaven and Jesus and his second coming. So keep your eyes heavenward, looking for the clouds, because Jesus said in Revelation 22:20: “I am coming soon.”

I am a hypocrite.

Two of the things I look forward to each day are the daily challenges for my online sudoku and solitaire. It is my chance to test my intellectual and problem-solving abilities and congratulate myself when I succeed. Though not a daily challenge, I also enjoy hitting the golf course at every opportunity to see if I can improve on my previous round. Suffice it to say, I look forward to these tests of my abilities.



However (and here is where the hypocrisy comes in), I do not look forward to the daily challenges to my spiritual life. My unstated prayer for each day is that I won’t run into anything that might cause me to have to “up” my spiritual game. I want Satan to be on a permanent vacation.

A couple of weeks ago, I restarted Priscilla Shirer’s Armor of God bible study, and I now understand why I have this difference in perspective.

In the former challenges (sudoku, solitaire, golf) all possibilities of success lie within my own capabilities: my problem-solving skills or my golfing abilities and my willingness to improve both.

In the latter (my spiritual battles) it doesn’t––but that’s what I was trying to do. Improve or succeed on my own. But the study reminded me that we are to “put off” our old self (which would include that reliance on self-sufficiency) and “put on” the Armor of God. And that is what I had forgotten: It is God’s truth, God’s righteousness, God’s peace, God’s shield of faith (faith = trust and reliance on God), God’s salvation, and God’s word. These are the attributes that defeat Satan, and they are God’s not mine.

In light of this new revelation, I think I can now look at those daily challenges to my spiritual life in a new way. Each one provides me an opportunity to witness all that God is able to do if I just rely on Him.

If this past year has taught me anything, it has taught me two things.

First, right when I think I have a handle on things … I don’t; and second, semantics does matter.

Last year was a tough one in many ways. Plans were interrupted. Life was put on hold. Dreams were deferred. I don’t know what the normal “grief” cycle for something like this is, but I personally went from compliance––to weariness––to anger to ______––and here is where I had a choice between two words –– resignation or surrender. And no, this decision was not “just a matter of semantics”—of personally ascribing a different meaning to a word to promote my own meaning. In this case, there is consensus that these two words do indeed mean something different.



Though both at their core mean “giving up,” resignation connotes a hopelessness, of not seeing a way out of a situation, of throwing one’s hands up in defeat and giving up on possibilities. 

Surrender also denotes giving up, but in surrender, a person gives himself over to someone else. He submits to someone else's authority. A stronger force. And with surrender, there is still a hope that life will be good if not better.

We know from history that surrendering to another human being will not always end up well. However, surrendering to God––an omniscient, omnipotent, omnipresent, just, and loving God––who has our best interests in mind––will always be better. It just doesn’t seem like that to us because surrender means giving up our personal freedom and right to make our own choices and dictate our own lives … which always seems like a good idea until … we realize there is only so far that will really go.

A while back a friend of mine shared the following series of statements by Dr. Gary Smalley from his book The DNA of Relationships. They are statements of surrender––not resignation. Of surrendering to God. Here they are:

Today I will reduce my earthly expectations to as close to zero as I can get.

I will accept anything that happens as filtered by you.

I will use any disappointment as an opportunity to worship you.

I will sit quietly and ask you what you are telling me to do.

Last year, I realized there was only so much control I had over what happened around me––both on the world and the personal stage. There were things I wanted to happen that I had no power to make happen––but God did. There were disappointments and difficult times I wanted to avoid––but God didn’t. There was confusion and questions about why things were happening that I couldn’t answer––but God could. And there were walls I was butting my head against hoping I could make them move, but I couldn’t––but God could.

So this year, I decided I would start each day with reading and thinking about those four statements, realizing that if I began each day reminding myself that God was indeed in control, that perhaps I could better handle what the day brought.​

The result? Not surprisingly, because He said it would, it has brought a “peace … which surpasses all understanding” (Philippians 4:7).