Burned.
Rebuilt.
Made Whole.

Learning to trust after fire, trauma, and the struggle to feel safe again

The patience to keep walking, the meekness to remain gentle, and the humility to remember where Christ found us.

Learning the heart of God.

There are some experiences where a photograph captures the beauty and magnificence, but not quite the intense feeling of awe standing there. Watching this monsoon storm come alive over Big Bend National Park was yet another one of them today. We watched a relatively ordinary horizon transform before us. Clouds rose and expanded, the sky grew darker, great shafts of rain descended across the desert as we stood beguiled and intrigued, and then lightning began flashing inside the storm. Against the immense mountains and open landscape of Big Bend, it was an extraordinary reminder of just how powerful creation is, and how small we really are within it. Our lives have horizons too. Sometimes they are clear and beautiful. Sometimes we can see a storm forming in the distance. And sometimes it arrives so quickly that we wonder how everything changed so fast in the blink of an eye and risk being torn down by the weight and power of challenges. God never told us there would be no storms to deal with. Instead, He gave us a way to walk through them. Elijah stood before the wind, the earthquake, and the fire, yet the Lord ultimately spoke through the still small voice. Perhaps there is a lesson in that for us. When the storms of life become loud enough to command all of our attention, the voice we most need to hear may be the quietest one. That was it for me in the fire accident I experienced. There was loudness in the quiet voice that spoke to me when everything was burning on me. It was the most calming voice imaginable yet barely perceptible if I hadn’t been ready to hear. The Lord asks us to trust Him, listen for His Spirit, and continue forward even when we cannot see very far down the road. Standing beneath this enormous West Texas sky, watching lightning flicker through a storm that had seemingly risen out of nowhere, I couldn’t help but think: The storm may command our attention, but it does not command the Lord. The mountains, the rain, the lightning, and ultimately the road ahead are reminders that His perspective is infinitely greater than my own. And when the horizon darkens, perhaps the most important question isn’t, “Heavenly Father, how do I stop the storm?” It is simply: “Lord, Jesus Christ, which way would You have me go?” And then begin walking.. Follow Him. 🫶🙏🦾