Walking through the burn scar of a recent forest fire in the mountains of Colorado is an eerie thing. It sort of feels like a ghost town, abandoned and barren. Charred remnants of trees lay blackened and oddly shaped all around. I felt overwhelmed by sadness to see all the once proud trees cut down to just burnt sticks. And then, as He always does, God lifted my hanging head to show me the beauty. Beauty from ashes.
I suddenly saw the fantastic beauty of the flowers, especially the one called fireweed which grows abundantly after a fire. Apparently the fireweed is the first plant to grow after a forest fire burns through. The grass that was popping up through the ash was bright green, and gave a colorful contrast and spoke of hope for a new future. None of the beauty minimized the pain of the fire, but it seemed to give it new meaning—calling it forward to new growth.
I talk to so many people who have had a forest fire in their lives, and some have had a few. They feel like their whole worlds lay blackened and reduced to ash. Sometimes they lit the match that started the fire, and other times it was someone else. Regardless of who started the blaze, they now stand in the middle of what seems like a hopeless burn scar.
