I was watching the news a few days ago when footage of the fires that overtook parts of Los Angeles not too long ago began to play. Flames leapt across the screen — alive, unpredictable, roaring with a force that swallowed everything in its path. My heart tightened as I watched families evacuate, homes burn, and the sky glow a haunting red. I remember my prayers rose instantly back then for those who were touched by the flames, because I know — even in a small way — what that terror feels like.

Years ago, I found myself driving down a California highway with fire on both sides of the road. I remember the way my hands shook on the steering wheel, the way the smoke thickened the air, and how every instinct inside me screamed for safety. It is frightening, overwhelming, and humbling. Nothing reminds you of your own smallness quite like the raw, consuming power of fire. In moments like that, you feel the fragile truth of being human — vulnerable, dependent, and deeply aware of your need for God.

As I watched the news, though, something unexpected stirred in me. Fire, for all its devastation, is also one of the most life-giving gifts we have. And I was struck by how God created something capable of both destruction and warmth — something that mirrors the power of our own words.

Because fire isn’t only what we see on the news, is it?

Fire is the golden light of a fireplace on a freezing night — the kind you curl up beside with a blanket, letting its warmth seep into your bones. Fire is the glow of a bonfire under the stars, where friends gather, marshmallows melt into sweetness, and stories rise into the night sky. Fire is the heartbeat of summer evenings, campouts, and moments of connection that would feel empty without it. Even our family BBQs — those times of laughter, food, and belonging — are made possible because a spark is lit.

And as I sat there watching the news, it dawned on me so clearly:

Our words are just like fire.

One tiny spark — a sentence spoken in frustration, a careless comment, a moment when emotions override love — can ignite something we never intended. The damage can spread fast, burning through trust, relationships, and peace. Sometimes the aftermath leaves people standing in ashes they never deserved. Even when healing begins, even when rebuilding happens, the memories of the burn can linger like scars.

But just like fire, words also have the power to warm, to comfort, to bring people together, and to illuminate the darkness. A kind word can soften a weary heart. A gentle truth can guide someone home. Encouragement can spark hope in someone who thought their flame had gone out. The right words at the right time become holy — a reflection of God’s breath moving through us.

This truth speaks even louder as we step into the holiday season. The rush, the pressure, the desire for everything to be perfect — it can shorten the fuse in even the kindest hearts. I feel it in myself some days. The stress, the hurry, the expectations. But I keep hearing that quiet whisper in my spirit: What are you choosing to ignite?

Will my words set a wildfire, burning through moments meant for joy?
Or will they light a bonfire — a welcoming, steady glow where memories are made, love is shared, and peace is protected?

I want my words to build, not break. To warm, not wound. To shine with the kind of love that reflects Christ, especially now, when hearts are tender and people are carrying more than we can see.

This season, and every season, I want to ask God to guide my tongue the way firefighters guide their hoses — with precision, humility, and awareness of the incredible power in what they hold.

Scripture reminds us again and again of this truth:

Proverbs 15:4
“A gentle tongue is a tree of life, but perverseness in it breaks the spirit.”

Proverbs 18:21
“Death and life are in the power of the tongue, and those who love it will eat its fruits.”

May our words be life.
May they be warmth.
May they be light in a world that knows enough wildfires.

And may we choose, every day, to spark something holy.