Reflection - You Are Mine - August 9, 2026

Sermon: “You are Mine” Okanagan Fires/BC State of Emergency

August 9, 2026                           Traci Hubbard

There are some words that mean something different after you have lived through them. “Fire” is one of those words. For some people, fire is something you see on the news. For most of us in Lake Country, fire means smoke in the distance. It means checking the wind. It means looking at our phones. It means wondering which way the smoke is moving. And for some people in this community, fire means something much more personal.

It means remembering. It means remembering the home you lost. It means remembering the day or night you had to leave. It means remembering what you put in the car, and what you couldn't. It means remembering the things that were irreplaceable. And sometimes, when another wildfire emergency is declared, something happens before we even have time to think about it. Our bodies remember. Our hearts remember. We can be sitting safely in our homes, and suddenly we hear the words “state of emergency,” and something inside us says, “Here we go again.” And if that is you today, I want to say something…You are not weak because you are afraid. Your faith is not failing because your heart races. And you are not somehow less trusting of Infinite LOVE because you feel unsettled.

Sometimes fear is simply what happens when we have been through something frightening before. The body remembers what the mind would sometimes like to forget. And that is why I believe these words from Isaiah are so important for us today.

Listen to what the Lover and Keeper of our souls says, “Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are mine.” I love that the Universe begins there. Not with the fire, or a river, or a crisis.  The Spirit begins with our name. “I have summoned you by name.” Infinite LOVE knows who you are…knows what you've been through…knows what you remember…knows what you're carrying today. And then Our Keeper says something even more remarkable, “You are mine.”

I wonder if we sometimes hear “Do not fear” the wrong way. We hear it as though the Divine were saying, “Come on. Don't be scared.” As though fear were a spiritual failure. As though a faithful follower of the ways of Jesus would look at a wildfire and say, “I'm completely calm about this.” I don't believe that's what the prophet Isaiah means. Why? Because the Hebrew and Christian books and letters are full of faithful people who were afraid. The Psalms are full of people who are afraid.

Jesus, in the garden, knew what it was to be overwhelmed by what was coming. One could say he was almost scared to death. So perhaps “Do not fear” doesn't mean, “You shouldn't be afraid.” Perhaps it means, “Fear doesn't have to have the last word.” And that, my friends, is very different. Our loving parent isn't scolding us for being afraid. The angel of her presence, the Spirit, is reminding us.

And then Isaiah gives us this extraordinary promise, “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you.” Not if you pass through the waters. When. “When you pass through the rivers…” Not if. “When you walk through the fire…” Not if. Climate change is here and she, climate, is the physical and spiritual reaction of our hurting betrayed Mother Earth.

“Not if, when…” There is something wonderfully honest about that. LOVE doesn't promise us a life without difficult things. LOVE doesn't promise that there won't be rivers. LOVE doesn't promise there won't be fire. LOVE doesn't promise that we will never lose something we desperately want to keep. LOVE promises to be with us.

I believe this is important for us in a place like this, Lake Country on fire…again. Because we don't need a God who says, “Don't worry….be happy…nothing bad is ever going to happen.” That's not a spiritual wisdom we can believe in.

We've lived too much life for that. We've seen too much. We've known people who have lost homes. We've watched friends and neighbours evacuate. We've witnessed the generosity that comes after disaster. We've lost words for thanking people who open their homes. We've watched people load up trailers, cars, open gates and let their beloved animals escape, run wild, knowing they may never see them again. We've been recipients of people, sometimes strangers, bringing food. We've witnessed people making room for strangers. We've watched humans stand together, often hand in hand, when everything else feels uncertain. And perhaps one of the things we discover in a crisis is that Infinite LOVE often comes to us through other people.

Sometimes the answer to our prayer is a neighbour knocking on the door, or a firefighter who shows up. Sometimes it is someone saying, “Come stay with us.” Bev and Don, and Norrie and Bob have said more times than I can count, “A bed is ready for you and Ruby any time.”

Sometimes it is someone who doesn't have anything profound to say at all. They simply sit beside us, walk with us, stay with us in the silence of uncertainty and loss. And somehow, that is enough. Because the Holy says, “I will be with you.” And she is, through all of us, through strangers, through the sun rising again. Friends, sometimes LOVE's presence looks like another human being simply saying, “I'm here.”

I want to say something especially to those who have been through wildfire before. Some of you have already walked through this fire. You have already experienced the evacuation. You have already packed and you have already lost. And perhaps you've discovered that even when the fire is gone, the fire doesn't always leave you immediately. The smoke clears. The news moves on. The roads reopen. Life begins to look normal again. But something inside you remembers. And then another wildfire comes. Another alert comes. Another plume of smoke appears. And suddenly you are back there.

If this is your current experience, hear this, LOVE has not forgotten what happened to you. LOVE does not say, “Why are you still upset about this?” God does not say, “You should be over it by now.” LOVE says, “I called you by name. I know your soul. I know what you've been through. I know what you lost. I know what you're afraid of. And you are mine...and I am yours.”

There is something else in these verses that I find beautiful. The Spirit says, “When you walk through the fire…” She doesn't say, “When you stand at a safe distance and watch the fire.” LOVE says, “When you walk through the fire.” There is movement in that sentence. You walk. We walk. You keep going. We keep going. One step after the other.

We don't have to know everything about tomorrow. We don't have to have the whole future figured out. Sometimes faith is simply taking the next step. The next breath. The next prayer. The next phone call. The next conversation. The next day. A shared meal. And maybe that is enough. Because we sometimes think faith means being absolutely certain about the future. I believe faith is something much simpler. I believe faith says, “I don't know what tomorrow holds, but I know who will be with me tomorrow.” And that changes the way we understand hope. Hope is not pretending that everything is fine. Hope is not saying, “Nothing bad is going to happen.” Hope is not denial. Hope is not closing our eyes to reality. Hope looks directly at reality and says: “Even here, God, by whatever name you understand God to be, is present.”

The fire is real. The fear is real. The loss is real. But so is Infinite LOVE. So, the fire does not get to have the final word. I believe this matters because fire can take a lot. It can take a house. It can take trees that have stood for generations. It can take sentimental priceless things we thought would always be there. It can change the landscape. But there are things it cannot take. It cannot take the love between people. It cannot take the kindness of a neighbour. It cannot take the courage of a community. It cannot take the memories of the people we love. And it cannot take away the indwelling presence of Infinite LOVE. The fire cannot burn its way into a place where the Divine is not. There is nowhere we can go where LOVE says, “I won't go there with you.”

Folks, today, we don't need to be fearless. Perhaps we simply need to remember that we are not alone. Maybe that is what this passage is asking us to remember. Not, “Don't ever be afraid.” But “When you are afraid, remember who you belong to.” We are not our fear. We are not our worst memory. We are not the worst thing that has happened to us. You are not the house you lost. You are not the evacuation order. We are not the smoke. We are not the fire. Before all those things, there is this, “I have called you by name and you are mine.”

We don't know what the next days will bring. We don't know exactly where every fire will go. We don't know what tomorrow's news will say. But we do know this, we will not face it alone. We will watch out for one another. Care for one another. Make time and room for people who are afraid. We will ask for help when we need it. We will offer help when we can. We will prepare wisely. We will pray. And we will hope. Not because we are certain that nothing difficult will happen. But because we are certain about who will be with us when it does. The waters may rise. The rivers may run strong. The flames may burn. But LOVE’s promise remains, “I will be with you.” And maybe, for today, that's enough. Enough for the next breath. Enough for the next step. Enough to check on a neighbour. Enough to hold the hand of someone who is frightened. Enough to say, “I'm scared too, but we're going to walk through this together.” And enough to hear LOVE say, “I know your name. You are mine. I will be with you.” Not someday. Not only when the crisis is over. Now. Right here. In this community. In this moment. With us. And when we walk through the fire, LOVE will be there.

Namaste