The first worship service I led after the Camp Fire was at the Sycamore Glen retirement community on November 18th. I kind of drew together a collage of scriptures that had come to mind both in the moments of crisis and then afterwards in reflection on all that happened. Here’s a summary of the thoughts and scriptures I shared.
One was Job 1:21, which says “Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return. The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.” Hillary and I found ourselves as homeless guests in a friend’s apartment right after the fire with little more than the clothes on our backs. The host couple was very gracious, but all the same, it’s always a bit inhibiting when you’re not in your own place. For one, in sharing space with friends you have to cover yourself as you move around the house. And nakedness in general involves some vulnerability; if you ever have had dreams where you’re naked or exposed, that’s what it goes back to – the feeling of vulnerability. And the fire certainly left a lot of us feeling vulnerable. Many things were lost in fire: clothes, cars, homes, etc. But these help us turn our thoughts to what is more enduring. I was reminded of the three-fold stained-glass windows at the front of the old chapel where I preached in Paradise – which was also destroyed in the fire. They showed Easter lilies, which remind us of the resurrection. And below them was the text of Jesus’ sixth beatitude: “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God” (Matthew 5:8). It was put in by the building architect in in 1909 in memory of his mother, no doubt reminding him of her character. The windows are gone, but her impact is enduring. Another verse from the Sermon on Mount came to mind while we were stranded in traffic during the evacuation: Matthew 6:19-21 is where Jesus says “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” That came to mind when I wasn’t sure if we would make it out alive. It helped me to place my focus on what is lasting and indestructible. A dear friend of our family named Zula Bennington Greene lost her rural Kansas home in a fire many years before we knew her, back in the 1930s. Her observations in her autobiography (now entitled Peggy of the Flint Hills) about their recovery showed the positive side of their losses. She wrote: “We found we could live in two rooms about as well as in eleven, with indeed some advantages – fewer rooms to clean, no unnecessary furniture, clothing, dishes, or ornaments to take care of. Many things were gone which no one wanted, but which we would’ve hesitated to destroy, mellow old things that had been full of tender memories for someone now long gone. The accumulated clutter of two or three generations was disposed of in a roaring conflagration which lasted only a few hours. We could not have known what to do with it. It would have filled up useful space for years. Now it was gone and no feelings hurt. We had nothing that we did not need.” Placing that in perspective, I thought that the real winners of the fire were my niece and nephew. I’ve never wanted any of my belongings to be a burden to them or their lives, but I know how it can become with old heirlooms. Our house was loaded with old furniture, pictures, and keepsakes going back generations. Who knows if they ever would’ve wanted it? Now it’s no longer around to hinder anyone. Stuff is just stuff. But that said, the losses we experience are real – and the feelings of loss can be significant. I remembered in our bedroom I had a dresser with two little shelves, and on it I had pictures (one on each shelf) of each my two grandfathers. I also had rings that I had inherited from each one. Today the pictures are gone and the rings are gone, but their influence and the blessing of their lives continues. Some things are indestructible. In the same spirit, I was drawn to I Corinthians 15:42, which says “So it is with the resurrection of the dead. What is sown is perishable; what is raised is imperishable.” I share this one with a qualifier; I don’t believe in treating Bible like one of those old magic eight-balls, where you ask God for a verse, open the Bible at random, put your finger down on something, and hope it’s just what you need to hear. I’m normally more methodical in how I approach Bible study. But when I was stranded at the corner of Skyway and Wagstaff in Paradise, with smoke and fire all around, in what seemed to be an interminably long wait, I needed a word from the Lord. Houses nearby were on fire, no firefighter was in sight, and I was getting anxious. So I opened my little Gideon Bible I plopped my hand down on that verse, and it gave me the hope I needed. Even if we perished in the fire, the resurrection still gives us hope. Life will carry on. A final verse that I’m drawn to is an excerpt from Ecclesiastes 9:11, where the wisdom author observes that “…time and chance happen to them all.” There is a certain randomness in life, and it was that way with the fire too. With so much that had burned, somehow there were houses that were left standing virtually unscathed in the middle of it all (several of them belonging to members of our church). Some homes were left as the sole remnant of their original neighborhood – with acres and acres of devastation surrounding them. Who can explain this? Occasionally Christians will say that there’s no such thing as luck, but I’ve never agreed with that. God has made this world with a certain amount of randomness and chance in the created order. The message of the gospel is not that we somehow avoid the chaos that comes with that. Rather, the message of the gospel is found in the cross: Whatever befalls us in this chaotic world, there’s another day that comes afterwards. However bad Good Friday may be, Easter Sunday follows. And there’s where we find our hope. God bless you, Pastor Andrew McHenry
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Andrew McHenryI am a husband, a Congregational pastor, and a native Kansan currently living in Thermalito, California. In the past I have also been a prison chaplain and a youth pastor. Interests include reading, railroads, prog rock, KU, and the KC Royals. Archives
February 2024
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