The Shroud

By Rebekah Largent

The wildfires rage. Families wait, fearing the unknown. Others sink in the knowledge that their homes have been snatched away by the hungry flames. Strong arms strain to beat back the insidious blaze. There is waiting, exhaustion, despair, fear.

Smoke covers the city in a grey shroud, as if to symbolize God"s grief for His creation. Even in the grand scheme of the endless universe, we are not small to Him. His all-seeing eyes rest on us, crying with us.

God did not cause this evil. Light does not create darkness—darkness fills the void where the light is blocked out. It creeps into the nooks and crannies where the light is not allowed to shine. In the same way, evil fills the void man has created in his rejection of the Almighty. But praise our Father—He is not overcome or beaten by evil. His power is strong, mighty, overwhelming.

Truly, His heart grieves for us. He feels every pang of loss, sees every tear and tremble. His love and compassion well up and overflow. And it will be seen. It will be seen in the helping hands of a community. In the kind words of a neighbor. In the gifts of friends. In the strength of family. He will provide, comfort, and tend. Those who have fallen down will be lifted up.

This city is not forgotten.

Cross-posted at Scribblings

Rebekah Largent is a Colorado Springs resident and the editor. She lost her house in the Waldo Canyon Fire in 2012. You can read about her personal experiences in her article God in the Hard Times.

Photo Credits:
Burning house with flag:
Smoke over houses: Kersley Fitzgerald
Rainbow in the smoke: MeLissa LeFleur
Firefighter with fawn: United States Air Force Academy

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Published 6-14-13