The wildfires in Los Angeles right now feel like something out of a nightmare. The sky glows red, and thick, choking smoke hangs over neighborhoods. It’s devastating. As of today, over 27,000 acres have been burned to ash. Families have fled their homes—more than 137,000 people evacuated. And some haven’t been as lucky. At least five lives have been lost, with others injured and fighting to recover.
Think about that for a moment: homes reduced to rubble, entire neighborhoods gone, and thousands of people unsure where they’ll sleep tonight. Over 2,000 buildings have been destroyed or severely damaged. This isn’t just news. It’s personal. Every destroyed home represents a family—moms, dads, kids—trying to figure out what’s next.
The fire itself is relentless, fueled by high winds and the dry conditions California knows all too well. First responders are fighting around the clock, putting their lives on the line to save others. These firefighters are heroes, but they’re tired. They’re human. They need support, and so do the countless families waiting for the all-clear to return to what’s left of their homes.
What can we do when the destruction feels this overwhelming? For starters, we can pray.
It sounds cliche but prayer is the most powerful thing we have in our tool bag as followers of Jesus. Prayer isn’t just a way to hide from real help. Prayer connects us to the true help needed in this time. Prayer isn’t an excuse to not get involved. Prayer is the first way we should all get involved. Pray first. Then act.
Pray for those who’ve lost loved ones—that they would find comfort in their unimaginable grief. Pray for those who’ve been displaced, that they would find shelter, support, and hope to start rebuilding. Pray for the firefighters and first responders on the frontlines, that they’d have strength, protection, and encouragement to keep going.
And don’t forget to pray for healing—for the scorched land, for the devastated communities, and for the lives forever changed by this disaster.
It’s hard not to feel helpless when the news flashes images of fire tearing through homes and forests. But prayer is powerful. It’s not a last resort; it’s a lifeline. When we pray, we’re lifting others into God’s hands. We’re calling on Him to do what we can’t—to bring peace, restoration, and hope.
Stories of courage are already emerging, even in the midst of the chaos. Neighbors are opening their doors to strangers. Churches and communities are rallying to provide food, water, and shelter. People are showing up for each other in ways that remind us: even in the darkest times, there’s light.
These stories are a glimpse of what God can do through us. Prayer isn’t passive; it’s an invitation to action. After we pray, let’s ask, “What else can I do?” Maybe it’s donating to relief efforts, checking on someone affected, or simply sharing words of encouragement.
Let’s keep praying. For the grieving. For the displaced. For the responders. For the healing of the land and its people.
And let’s hold onto hope—the kind of hope that only God can provide. The fires are raging, but they won’t last forever. And in the ashes, there’s the promise of rebuilding, of renewal, of life springing up again.
Because with God, there’s always hope. Always.