Out of the ashes. . . .

When the Lord God made the earth and the heavens— 

and no shrub of the field had yet appeared on the earth and no plant of the field had yet sprung up, for the Lord God had not sent rain on the earth and there was no man to work the ground, but streams came up from the earth and watered the whole surface of the ground— 

the Lord God formed the man from the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, 

and the man became a living being.

--Genesis 2:4b-7

I admit it. This past week I have become a bit preoccupied with the news coming out of my former home, Colorado. The forest fires, always a problem-- but this year, earlier and more powerful than ever.

The media is flooded with images of the devastation: people chased from their homes, firefighters wiping sweat from their exhausted brows as they battle the flames in 100-degree-plus temperatures. Neighbors working together to decide what is of deepest value, weeping as they grab what they can-- and go.

At times, the fire seemed to have a mind of its own, hop-skipping across a river like so many pebbles across a pond, starting a fresh blaze or launching balls of fire into the air and across town, landing on the roofs of houses still  deemed to be "safe." 

Horrible devastation. Hundreds of thousands of acres of charred earth, entire forests burned like so much tinder.

But then last night, the pictures started taking on a different look to these eyes. 

As I talked with friends this morning about these verses, I realized that this description of pre-Creation is also a vision of re-creation. In the face of drought-stricken lands, still new life will prevail. When the forests have been burned to the ground, when the earth has been blackened and scorched-- slowly, from this fertile ground will arise signs of new life. Tiny green shoots, unable to find sunlight under the heavy forest canopy, will now begin the process, as old as time, of restoration.

Like the legendary phoenix, it seems, the next generations of flora-- and fauna, as well-- are preparing to rise from the fire that sought to end all life, emerging in a beautiful, new form.

It works in our personal lives, as well. 

Ours is a God of life, of "do-overs," in many ways. 

This God who loves us so much, that even in the face of death, there is a door creaking open, a sliver of light shining through, offering hope and promise. All we have to do-- is claim it.

Even when it feels as if life is over, when we have been used and abused, humiliated and devastated by circumstances we may or may not have been able to change-- still there is the hope and promise of a new day.

One more breath. One more sunrise. 

And the indomitable spirit of Adamah, the first human created from dust, from a handful of earth watered not by rains, but by springs of living water that come from within the earth, unseen until called upon-- this Spirit will prevail. 

As in the beginning, God is already restoring what has been destroyed. The Spirit of life, the ruah fills and revives the landscape of our souls.

Praise God, from whom all blessings and all life flow and continue to flow. Amen.