Momma, why doesn't God send rain?

As you can imagine, for the residents of Colorado Springs, standing by to see our beloved mountains rage with fire for days, covered by enormous billowing plumes of smoke has been catastrophic. Smoke has filled the air, our homes, and our lungs. Pieces of ash have traveled for miles, arriving on doorsteps, back porches, in yards where kids play. Watching on the news as flames took a sudden, tragic turn tumbling into neighborhoods was nothing short of horrifying. It was hard to believe. At a press conference, the fire chief referred to it as "a firestorm of epic proportions." People have compared the look and feel to what Armageddon would surely be like. Who knows. Maybe they're right.

Our family, like countless others, prayed for rain. Night and day we've prayed. Momma, why doesn't God send the rain we need to put out the fires?  

I have asked myself the same question. Once again, as I have found myself so many times before, I am at a loss for answers. This is becoming familiar territory for me. I couldn't possibly presume to have something as complex and devastating as this figured out. I just don't know, baby.


To ease their minds, I share with them what very little I have to offer. I'm only certain of one thing, really. When events like this unfold, humankind's extreme vulnerability drastically hits home. As far as man has come, we meekly realize the permanence of our monumental limitations. No matter how much we advance, there will always be aspects of life on this earth that are insurmountable to us. It's stunning to think of all that humans can do. We can fly through outer space. We can form viable, living embryos in test tubes. We can take organs out of  deceased bodies and transplant them into a living ones. We can harness and utilize power from electricity. We can grow skin in a lab, then graft it. We can kill cancer cells. We can use technology to track nearly anything. We can look into their faces over our computer screens as we talk to people on the other side of the world anytime we want. We have grown incredibly accustomed and adept at gaining so much of what we desire. We may be lulled into believing that with time, extraordinary effort, discipline, determination, resource, and sheer mental acumen we can do anything.

But it's not true.

We can't stop a forest fire at will. We can't control the direction or speed of the wind. We can't turn back the clock. We can't regulate the weather. We can't open up the sky.

We can't make the rain.

For that, we are still, perpetually, humbly, hopelessly reliant. In epic proportions, we need our God. Always.