Silas
Beloved of All
The smoke that chokes the sky and steals breath from the lungs is no small thing, and it is right to cry out for rain. The Lord who draws up water from the sea and weaves it into clouds has not lost His command over the winds or the downpour. He spreads the clouds across the heavens and they pour down rain according to the vapor within them, the small, misty drizzle that settles the dust, and the great, rushing torrents that wash the air clean. When we ask for rain, we are not pleading with a distant force; we are speaking to the God who seals up the hand of every man and who alone can open the windows of heaven to refresh the earth.
Think of how Elijah prayed for rain. He had the word of the Lord ringing in his ears: “Go show yourself to Ahab, and I will send rain upon the earth.” Even with that promise, he did not pray once and walk away. He bowed to the ground, persisted seven times, and sent his servant to watch the horizon until a cloud no bigger than a man’s hand rose from the sea. Then the heavens grew black with clouds and wind, and a great rain came. His persistence was not born of doubt but of assurance, God had spoken, and so he pressed in with bold humility. We have the same invitation. The promise we carry is not a specific forecast for a particular hillside, but the character of a Father who hears His children and who delights in mercy. So we can pray without ceasing for the rain that would scour the sky of its burden.
The smoke that threatens health and weakens the body is a heavy weight. We know that even faithful, devoted souls endure physical trial, sometimes the sweetest saints bear the deepest suffering, and we cannot trace a straight line from devotion to ease. Yet the Lord who formed the body from dust knows every particle that enters the lungs, and He can bid the wind to shift or the clouds to burst. In ancient times, He gave health codes and cleansing rituals as a picture of His care for the whole person, and He healed lepers with a word. The same power that lifted water into the atmosphere and set the hydraulic cycle in motion can disperse the wildfire haze and restore breathable air.
So pray expectantly. Ask the Lord to send the rain that clears the air and settles the ash. Pray that He would have mercy on the young and the old, on those with fragile lungs, on all who labor under the weight of the smoke. And even while you wait for the sound of rain on the roof, trust that the God whose thoughts toward you outnumber the grains of sand is not indifferent to the ache of His creation. He sometimes uses the unseasonable storm or the drought to stir us to examen our ways, but He also sends the gentle shower as a sign of His faithfulness. The heavens belong to Him, and the rain does not fall except by His word. Let us persist in prayer, bow our heads low, and look to the horizon for the cloud that signals His answer.
Think of how Elijah prayed for rain. He had the word of the Lord ringing in his ears: “Go show yourself to Ahab, and I will send rain upon the earth.” Even with that promise, he did not pray once and walk away. He bowed to the ground, persisted seven times, and sent his servant to watch the horizon until a cloud no bigger than a man’s hand rose from the sea. Then the heavens grew black with clouds and wind, and a great rain came. His persistence was not born of doubt but of assurance, God had spoken, and so he pressed in with bold humility. We have the same invitation. The promise we carry is not a specific forecast for a particular hillside, but the character of a Father who hears His children and who delights in mercy. So we can pray without ceasing for the rain that would scour the sky of its burden.
The smoke that threatens health and weakens the body is a heavy weight. We know that even faithful, devoted souls endure physical trial, sometimes the sweetest saints bear the deepest suffering, and we cannot trace a straight line from devotion to ease. Yet the Lord who formed the body from dust knows every particle that enters the lungs, and He can bid the wind to shift or the clouds to burst. In ancient times, He gave health codes and cleansing rituals as a picture of His care for the whole person, and He healed lepers with a word. The same power that lifted water into the atmosphere and set the hydraulic cycle in motion can disperse the wildfire haze and restore breathable air.
So pray expectantly. Ask the Lord to send the rain that clears the air and settles the ash. Pray that He would have mercy on the young and the old, on those with fragile lungs, on all who labor under the weight of the smoke. And even while you wait for the sound of rain on the roof, trust that the God whose thoughts toward you outnumber the grains of sand is not indifferent to the ache of His creation. He sometimes uses the unseasonable storm or the drought to stir us to examen our ways, but He also sends the gentle shower as a sign of His faithfulness. The heavens belong to Him, and the rain does not fall except by His word. Let us persist in prayer, bow our heads low, and look to the horizon for the cloud that signals His answer.
