In 2020 and 2021, six of Californias’ ten largest fires in its history swept through the state. 

The August Complex, a collection of multiple fires that grew together, ravaged over one million acres of land in California. In the California fires of 2020, thirty-one people lost their lives and whole towns were swallowed by the massive blazes. One estimate claimed the cost was $10 billion in damages to the economy from the year 2020 alone. And 2021 hasn’t been much better. 

Only recently was the Dixie wildfire mostly controlled, after almost reaching one million acres itself. It is the second-largest wildfire, following close behind the August Complex.  

The desolate aftermath of these massive wildfires leads many to wonder if we could have done something more to prevent them. 

For decades, US policy put its efforts into preventing fires at all costs. The beloved Smokey the Bear reminded everyone to put out our campfires completely and dispose of cigarettes correctly. His catchphrase, riffing off of the World War II Uncle Sam poster, says, “Only YOU can prevent forest fires!” 

Though somewhat effective in preventing unintentional, man-made fires, this sentiment only covers part of the problem. Certainly, accidents have sparked destructive wildfires in the past, yet as our methods for fighting fires have become more advanced, the wildfires seem to be getting worse, not better. 

Surprisingly, the policy of complete fire prevention has fueled, not prevented, the new massive wildfires. 

The paradox of fire suppression

On a family trip to Wyoming many years ago, I remember surveying the pristine forests of Yellowstone National Park with wonder. I also remember the words of my grandfather, a professor with a Ph.D. in forestry. He warned against the blanket policy for national forests: never let anything burn. Like a prophet of the trees, he sagely rubbed his beard and predicted the disasters that this practice would lead to. 

And he was right. 

Though some pin the problem on climate change and others point out the record droughts in recent years that add to the problem, one expert says, “The biggest piece I’d still say is the condition of our forest. I’d say it’s 75% of our problem.” 

What is the condition of the forests in California? 

Well, interestingly, since we’ve aggressively fought the fires for so long, brush and dead forest matter have increasingly built up to frightening levels. One analysis aptly called California a “tinderbox.”

In the normal life cycle of a forest, lightning will cause natural forest fires that allow for greater biodiversity as it clears out deadwood and brush. The carefully balanced ecosystem depended on fires long before humans were there. These natural fires generally don’t kill large trees because they’re small and burn at a low level. According to one estimate from Pewtrust, before the 1800s approximately 5–12 percent of the land of California would naturally burn every year.  

Most critically, natural, low-burning forest fires act as a reset button.

Ironically, the fact that we’ve fought fires so well for so long means that the forests are like powder kegs, with forests full of dead material that will fuel more destructive fires.

A lesson from Indigenous people

Centuries ago, Native Americans regularly intentionally burned forests as part of their cultivation practices. The legacy lives on today in people like Bill Tripp, who is part of the Karuk tribe in California. He and others are leading the way to go back to the centuries-old practice of methodical burning to cultivate forests and hopefully prevent more massive wildfires.

Though some steps in the area of controlled burns are being made, California in particular has a long way to go. 

One article which I’ve drawn on several times in this article is provocatively titled “We must burn the West to save it.” In it, the author concludes, “without concerted action now, the risks will only get worse.”

Wisdom lies in the past. Very quickly, the indigenous practice of forest burning became outlawed when the United States spread to the West, taking American Indian land. The American Indians lived in the Americas for thousands of years and knew how to tend the land of America with responsibility. Practical wisdom lies in the past, in practices from old and diverse cultures. 

They can lead to great lessons if properly understood.

God uses fires in our lives

The second piece of wisdom lies in a more metaphorical lesson. 

When difficulty enters our lives, it can burn like a fire. However, in my experience, times of hardship also reveal the pervasive deadwood of sin. 

Lying like unobtrusive, innocent twigs and leaves, sinful practices and postures build up in our hearts over time. If we approach hardship rightly, then God can use them as a fire to burn through the deadwood. 

Fire can also represent the Scriptures themselves, a difficult word from a friend, or some frustrated desire. All of these can lead us to get the deadwood out of our lives. 

God’s discipline can be a mercy that prevents a massive wildfire from overwhelming us and destroying our lives in a deeper way, like using a small fire to prevent a big fire. As James writes, “Sin when it is fully grown brings forth death” (James 1:15). 

Fires are hot, and they can burn. “For the moment all discipline seems painful rather than pleasant, but later it yields the peaceful fruit of righteousness to those who have been trained by it” (Hebrews 12:11).

Yet, Dr. Jim Denison reminds us of this truth: “God redeems all he allows.” 

The next time a door is closed, a season becomes fraught with hardship, or an inconvenience happens, reflect on your response. If you can say, “I have learned to give thanks in all circumstances” with Paul, you’re further along than me, but it’s something for everyone to strive for. 

Allow God to clear the deadwood from your heart, praying that he would reveal your hidden sins, even if it’s painful.

Maybe God is allowing a controlled burn in your life to make way for new growth.

Denison Forum

The story of Sodom and Gomorrah’s destruction is among the more well-known tales of the Old Testament. It is also included in the Qur’an (11:74–83 and 29:28–35) and is cited by Jesus as a clear example of God’s judgment against sin (Matthew 10:14–15). 

For a long time, it was presumed that something like the great earthquake that rocked the region around 1900 BCE was the cause of the two cities’ destruction, turning it from a fertile land with plenty of fresh water into a barren waste. While this account never fit all that well with the biblical description, it at least offered a plausible explanation for what might have happened and why those who witnessed it could have passed down that account in the fashion we have today. 

Recent research, however, offers another explanation.

A meteor may have destroyed Sodom and Gomorrah

After fifteen years of excavations and study, archaeologist Christopher R. Moore and his team found evidence that, around 1650 BCE, a massive meteor burst through earth’s atmosphere near the ancient city of Tall el-Hammam—the location where Sodom and Gomorrah are commonly thought to have existed—and exploded 2.5 miles above the ground, raining fiery debris on the cities below. 

The ensuing blast was roughly a thousand times more powerful than the atomic bomb that destroyed Hiroshima, and everything in its wake would have been instantly incinerated as air temperatures rose to more than 3,600 degrees Fahrenheit. The shockwave that followed a few seconds later raged at speeds of up to 740 miles per hour as deadly winds destroyed whatever the initial blast did not.

Ultimately, there’s no way to know this side of heaven if the meteor is what God used to destroy Sodom and Gomorrah or if it was something else entirely, but the plausibility of that scenario offers us an important reminder for how we should look at the Bible today. 

Is the Bible true?

As Christians, we don’t need historical evidence to believe that the Bible is true (See Dr. Jim Denison’s “Why do we believe the Bible is actually the word of God?“) But that doesn’t mean it’s not welcome when it happens. 

The meteor that very well could have destroyed Sodom and Gomorrah is far from the only time history has backed up the Bible. 

Daniel’s prophetic description of events in chapters 7–12, for example, is so accurate that it forms the primary reason many scholars today date the book to the second century BCE rather than when Scripture claims Daniel actually wrote it. 

The Pool of Bethesda in John 5 was thought to be a myth until it was uncovered exactly where the Bible said it would be, and now it serves as a common stop on tours through Jerusalem. 

Pontius Pilate was considered by many to be a fictional character until a Roman inscription documenting his office and life was discovered. 

And that’s just to name a few examples. 

The truth is that regardless of how many times history proves the Bible to be correct, there will always be enough gaps between what Scripture describes and our ability to prove it that those who want to doubt its veracity can find reasons to do so.

But just because holes in our understanding exist does not mean that the fault is with Scripture rather than us. When weighed against evidence to the contrary, the balance tips heavily in favor of the Bible’s veracity. Believing that God’s word is true is the most logical approach to take, even if arguments can be made to the contrary. 

At the end of the day, though, what Abraham Lincoln once said of the Bible remains the best advice for us today: “Take all that you can of this book upon reason, and the balance on faith, and you will live and die a happier man.” 

Adopt that approach today, and you will learn just how right he was. 

Denison Forum

NOTE: I want to thank Shane Bennett, Ryan Denison, and Mark Legg for their outstanding work in writing the Daily Article last week while I was traveling with my wife. I am honored to share this ministry with them and excited to return to writing this week.

We might not expect a typical garage sale to make the Washington Post. But what happened recently in Arlington, Virginia, was anything but typical.

Susan Thompson-Gaines recently staged her third annual “Kindness Yard Sale” outside her home. The two-day event was a “kindness” sale in two ways. One: You could pay whatever you chose for any item; if you wanted to hand over $5 for twenty dresses or $10 for a bike, she simply thanked you. Two: She will spend the money not on herself but to help others.

After last year’s sale, she and her husband threw a virtual beach party for a group of people living with Alzheimer’s disease, kept an outdoor pantry filled with food, and added coffee pods to a teacher’s lounge. They also helped 111 neighborhood children write letters to Santa; Thompson-Gaines then wrote each child a personalized letter from Santa and gave them a wrapped present under a tree adorned with ornaments from people across the neighborhood.

This year’s sale raised more than $11,000. People across the next year will be helped by her remarkable kindness as a result.

My recent travels in Vermont

What Susan Thompson-Gaines does with her “Kindness Yard Sale” is both extraordinary and ordinary. She touches hundreds if not thousands of lives with her unusual generosity, but her yard sale is something nearly anyone with a yard could do. It requires no advanced degrees, special skills, political influence, or financial wealth.

She typifies the best of humanity. And that’s my paradoxical point today.

I am writing after spending last week with Janet in Vermont. We had always wanted to see this beautiful state in the fall, and our experiences exceeded our expectations. The mountains are majestic, the changing leaves are magical, the small towns (many are called “villages”) are quaint and picturesque, and the people are hardworking and welcoming.

And yet, surrounded by such reminders of God’s creative genius and grace, the vast majority are apparently oblivious to his presence and power. World Population Review ranks Vermont as the third-least religious state in the US, one percentage point ahead of New Hampshire and Massachusetts. According to Baptist leaders, 97 percent of the state’s population is unreached with the gospel.

The people we met appear to be doing the best they can to be the best they can. So far as many seem to know, that’s the best anyone can do.

But that’s not good enough.

Funeral services for Gabby Petito

Funeral services were held yesterday afternoon for Gabby Petito as the manhunt for her fiancé, Brian Laundrie, continues this morning. (For more on this tragic story, see Mark Legg’s excellent article, “Gabby Petito and the search for perfect justice.”)

In other news, investigators arrived last night at the scene of Sunday’s deadly Amtrak derailment in Montana that killed three people and left seven hospitalized. A mother and her two-year-old son died Saturday after falling from the upper deck at Petco Park before the San Diego Padres’ baseball game. The day before, a school bus driver was fatally stabbed in front of students after picking them up from a Washington state elementary school; more information is expected to be released today.

A study published today by Oxford University shows that the life expectancy of American men decreased by two years during the pandemic. A recent salmonella outbreak has more than doubled in infections in over a week. And the US in 2020 experienced the biggest rise in murder since the start of national record-keeping in 1960, according to previews of a report to be issued later today by the FBI.

Here’s what these stories obviously have in common: they illustrate our undeniable mortality. Whether we hold kindness yard sales or commit homicides, the Greek playwright Euripides (died 406 BC) was right: “Death is a debt all mortals must pay, and no man knows for certain whether he will still be living on the morrow” (Alcestis 1:783–4).

Meeting a man who is spiritual but not religious

One reason Christians know everyone needs Christ is that we know everyone needs a Savior. We remember what Jesus said of himself: “Whoever believes in him is not condemned, but whoever does not believe is condemned already, because he has not believed in the name of the only Son of God” (John 3:18). And we know that “if anyone’s name was not found written in the book of life [through saving faith in Christ], he was thrown into the lake of fire” (Revelation 20:15).

However, most of the unreached people in Vermont, Texas, or anywhere else in our secular culture apparently do not know or believe these biblical facts. If they believe in heaven at all, they believe that their good works are good enough to earn their place in it.

Last week, Janet and I were on a history tour where our speaker confidently told our group that he is “spiritual” and highly committed to living with integrity but has no personal religious commitment. He was apparently untroubled by any concern that he would spend eternity separated from God in hell as a result.

How can we help such people see their need for Jesus?

“They had been with Jesus”

We’ll continue this conversation tomorrow. For today, let’s close with this fact: all people are created by God with a “Christ-shaped emptiness” (paraphrasing Pascal), whether they know it or not. When lost people meet Christians in whose lives Christ is active, empowering, gracious, and compelling, what they are missing draws them to the only One who can satisfy the deep hunger of their souls.

When the religious authorities “saw the boldness of Peter and John . . . they were astonished. And they recognized that they had been with Jesus” (Acts 4:13).

Will the people you meet today say the same of you?

Denison Forum