The Bittersweet Paradox

For those of you who have lived under a rock for the winter, we've had a few wild fires here in Oklahoma. A couple of weeks ago, I went on a little road trip with my mom to Dallas. Every 30 miles or so, massive patches of charred, black grass met I-35 as we travelled south. I've seen pictures of this for months now, but to see it evidenced in front of me served as interesting food for thought. This seemingly destructive force which volunteer firefighters from small rural towns have contended with all winter long leaves nothing but burnt-out wasteland in its wake, destroying cultivated farmland and wild prairie alike, devouring hundreds of acres of each at a time. All must be lost for the farmers who make their livelihood from this land, the same could be said for the tiny animals who survive largely unnoticed on these huge expanses of grassland. Yes, it would seem that all is lost.

But something more than the blackened stretches of earth caught my eye. Something wonderful. Like a gauzy tablecloth of spring green lace spread over an ebony table, sprinklings of pale green shoots of grass spread themselves across these ravaged stretches of wasteland.

To grant those who mourn in Zion,
Giving them a garland instead of ashes,
The oil of gladness instead of mourning,
The mantle of praise instead of a spirit of fainting.
So they will be called oaks of righteousness,
The planting of the LORD, that He may be glorified.

--Isaiah 61:3 (italics mine)

Life is hard. Satan, our own sin, difficult circumstances. All these can make us feel like vanquished grasslands after a wildfire. Ruined. Desolate. Without hope of redemption. But, take heart in this striking metaphor found in nature. God is in the business of redemption.

great analogy. it's cool because a fire does kill a lot of life, but it also burns out all the dead and useless areas as well. the ash that is left makes the ground more fertile and new life can begin.

He gives beauty for ashes. Amen. Thank you, Alex!