The smell of smoke filled my house. When I stepped outside, sixty-mile-an-hour winds blasted me with a tsunami of embers and ash. As I drove away, I could barely see past the hood of my car. Some of my neighbors’ homes were already ablaze. What started as a distant haze had quickly become a roaring inferno descending upon our quiet hillside neighborhood.
The southern California “Mountain Fire” moved faster than I thought possible, consuming more than 120 homes in just a few hours. The smoke, the heat, the flames, and the sheer force of the destruction overwhelmed me as if chaos itself had become incarnate.
In the middle of it all, I found something surprising. I found God’s faithful promises.
When all feels lost, we discover how deep our trust in Christ really is. That day, as the fire spread, not knowing the status of my home and everything in it, I was reminded of the truth of the psalmist’s words, “The righteous cry, and the Lord hears and delivers them” (Ps. 34:17).
It’s one thing to talk about trust and surrender in the abstract from a stage or pulpit, but it’s another to lean entirely on God when flames threaten to consume everything you own. But there he was, listening to me.
As I hurried to gather my dogs and a few precious belongings, I texted Rheanna, “This looks really, really bad.” Then I prayed. I prayed prayers for protection, prayers for peace, and prayers of gratitude even in the midst of uncertainty.
Ultimately, though, I realized that what I prayed was less important than to whom I prayed. At that moment, all my work as a pastor and apologist coalesced in my mind. I was praying to the God who says, “Call upon Me in the day of trouble; I shall rescue you, and you will honor Me” (Ps. 50:15). I was praying to the God who is there. God, in his mercy, heard my cries.
In moments like these, it’s easy to feel small, powerless, and afraid. Even then, though, I was reminded that the Lord is my refuge and my fortress. He is my God, and I trust him (Ps. 91:2). Over and over, the words “God is my refuge” echoed in my mind as I sped down winding roads lit by an eerie, orange glow. Even though I could not see what lay ahead, I trusted he was with me and my family.
When I finally reached safety at the school where my wife teaches, the weight of everything caught up with me. I felt an overwhelming mix of relief and heartbreak. Relief that we were alive, together, and unharmed. Heartbreak for the neighbors and friends who lost their homes and earthly possessions. In that moment of uncertainty about our own home, I thanked God for our safety and for his sustaining presence.
Eventually, we received word that our home was still standing but the fire had burned all around it. That afternoon, I went back to my neighborhood to survey the damage. Driving up the hill, I did my best to brace myself for what I was going to see. Hebrews 13 reminds us that God will never desert us or forsake us. We can confidently say, “The Lord is my helper, I will not be afraid” (Heb. 13:6).
I found rest in those words as I drove past so many destroyed homes, even before seeing the extent of the damage to my property, because I knew he would be with me no matter what. The fire had burned both my front and back yards but not my house, and I spent that afternoon and evening giving thanks to God while I fought back small fires around my home and in my neighborhood.
It’s now more than a month since the fire, and we’re finally back in our house, but I’m still overcome with gratitude. I’ve seen God’s grace so clearly, even amidst the ashes of burned houses.
I’ve seen God’s grace in the kindness of neighbors coming together to help those who lost everything. I’ve seen it in the firefighters who worked tirelessly, risking their lives for the sake of others. I’ve seen it in my community sharing both tears and hope. Through the ashes, I see God’s light breaking through, a reminder that the God who is there brings beauty even from destruction.
This experience has changed me. It has reminded me that nothing in this life is guaranteed—not our homes, not our possessions, not even tomorrow. And yet, God’s love and faithfulness remain constant, a foundation we can stand securely on even as the world around us is in flames.
This fire helped me realize apologetics and theology serve a greater purpose than winning arguments or even defending the faith. The lessons we teach and the sermons we preach build a firm foundation for you and me to rely on when the world around us is shaken. They provide hope in hopeless circumstances.