Burned.
Rebuilt.
Made Whole.

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. 🫶🙏🦾

“When I consider thy heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars, which thou hast ordained; What is man, that thou art mindful of him?” -Psalm 8:3–4 “Believe in God; believe that He is, and that he created all things, both in heaven and in earth; believe that He has all wisdom, and all power, both in heaven and in earth.” - Mosiah 4:9 There are places where the world becomes quiet enough that you remember to look up. This is one of those such places. Standing beneath the stars in Big Bend, far from the lights and noise of the world, I looked into the Milky Way and wondered how anyone could see something so vast and not feel drawn toward God. How I could have ever beheld this before and not felt His divine presence in my past life. There we stood, small figures beneath an ocean of stars, on one little piece of earth, surrounded by a creation almost beyond comprehension and understanding. And yet I really didn’t feel insignificant. I felt closeness. Maybe that’s one of the beautiful paradoxes of God. The more we understand the greatness of His creation, the more astonishing it becomes that He knows each of us. The God who placed the stars also knows our names, our hopes, our sorrows, our wandering, and the road that will lead us home. The heavens are enormous, but perhaps God’s kingdom isn’t as far away as we sometimes feel or imagine. We are already standing beneath His heavens. Already walking upon His earth. Already surrounded by the works of His hands. And yet He is still calling us to look up and pause. Look up and remember Him. Seek Him and you will find Him. Walk toward His light and discover that you were never as far from His kingdom as you thought you were. For when I consider the heavens and the stars He has ordained, I do not only wonder, “What is man, that thou art mindful of them?” I also find myself wondering: How remarkable is God, that amid all of this, He is mindful of me? I have been rocked and moved in deep ways by these experiences, perhaps more deeply than I have felt in years. It has reminded me of that fateful day in the burn center, when God and Jesus Christ whispered to my heart and, in a moment of profound clarity, made me fully aware that They were there. Years later, beneath this immeasurable sky, I felt that familiar stirring again. Not because God suddenly appeared in the stars, but because for a moment the distractions were gone, the world became quiet and still, and I remembered just how near He has always been. Perhaps that is what the heavens are inviting all of us to do: Look up. Be still. Remember who created all of this, and remember that He created you too. We spend so much of our lives searching for meaning, belonging, direction, and something greater than ourselves. Yet above us stretches a testimony written across the heavens, and within us remains that quiet invitation to seek the One who placed it there. So I encourage you to look up. Seek Him. Speak to Him. Walk toward Him. As I will endeavor to do myself. And when you begin to recognize His hand in the stars above you, the earth beneath you, and the quiet whisper within your own heart, we may discover something extraordinary: We were never wandering outside His kingdom. We were standing in His creation all along, being invited to find our way home to Him. 🫶🙏🦾