The wildfires in California rage on,
their flames swallowing landscapes,
their smoke casting shadows of destruction.Amid this devastation,
I return to a friend’s difficult question:
“Why does a God of love
allow such darkness?
Why does God do nothing,
leaving us to carry the weight?” I don’t have easy answers.
I know only this: God is not a puppet
a “Pinocchio God” we command
to dance and fix life’s pain on our terms. Love—true love—doesn’t control.
It allows us to live in freedom,
make mistakes, learn, and grow. Without human freedom,
love would be hollow,
a mechanical act,
not a life-giving choice. Yet freedom is a double-edged sword.
It lets us build bridges of love and connection.
It also lets us blow them up with anger and hate. Freedom to love gives rise to acts of breathtaking beauty
and leaves the door open for heartbreaking pain.
Is God absent when fire engulfs the land?
Does God turn away when death swallows a loved one?
Does the Creator shrug with indifference when friends cast one another aside? Or is God there
in the quiet courage of
those who rise from the ashes,
in the hands that heal,
in the hearts that refuse to hate
even when betrayed? Evil and loss demand answers.
But perhaps the question isn’t why God allows darkness,
but how God keeps the Light alive within us
fragile, flawed human beings
still capable of love in a broken world.
Maybe the questions invite us to delve even deeper:
What is God’s true nature?
What’s the core of God’s divine heart?
God has answered these questions.
His word became flesh
for those willing to see what he spoke. God revealed his true nature through Jesus,
a man who lived among us,
touched the untouchable,
wept with the grieving,
and bore the weight of human suffering. When his beloved son was crucified,
God did not intervene.
He let the darkness take its course. In that moment,
God’s love was revealed;
a love so profound it endured the suffering,
a sacrifice so great it taught us
the reality of unconditional love. From the cross, Jesus proclaimed:
“Father, forgive them.”
With his final breath he surrendered:
“Into Your hands, I commend My spirit.” This is the God who walks with us,
not distant, but present—
a God who encourages us when life’s weight feels unbearable,
a Divine power who inspires us to rise from the ashes,
leading us to be Light for a dark world. God does not watch our suffering from afar.
He moves within us, around us,
guiding our steps with love and healing. In the wildfires,
I see God in the first responders,
risking their lives to save others. I see Divine Presence in neighbors opening their homes,
in strangers offering food and comfort,
in families leaning on one another
when all they have left is each other’s hope. God is not absent.
He moves through
our hands,
our feet,
our voices. Divine love shows up in the ashes—
through people who rebuild,
through hearts that endure,
through an Inner Light that refuses to be extinguished. So, I proclaim with a heavy yet faithful heart:
Love still has the final word.
It moves in and through us. That is what God does.
That is how love endures.
Through us. —brian j plachta
brianplachta.com | 
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