Jeremiah 12 begins with a question many of us might ask: Why does the way of the wicked prosper?

His lament is honest. "You have planted them, and they have taken root; they grow and bear fruit. You are always on their lips but far from their hearts” (v. 2). The prophet is naming the frustration and anger we all feel when wrong seems to thrive while good struggles.

This week, we had another school shooting. Another day of loss, grief and heartbreak. Another day of asking Jeremiah’s question. And, once again, explanations. In years past, when people said we need to take mental health seriously, some scoffed and called it an excuse. Now, mental health is a prominent part of the discussion. But then we also say it's not a gun problem it's a problem of evil.

Sure. I agree.

But what if our evil is also our gun problem? What if our evil is refusing to take seriously what needs to be done, just because we don’t like it, or it doesn’t fit our politics or it requires us to change?

Evil isn’t only in the act of violence itself. Evil festers when we choose inaction. Evil spreads when we turn God’s call for justice into shallow words that never reach our hearts. Evil thrives when children keep dying, and we keep shrugging.

This morning, I watched a video someone sent me. It was the day after Hurricane Harvey hit our area. The electricity had been out, but we had invited anyone who felt safe to come to the sanctuary for worship. By the time we gathered, the lights came back on. The church doors stood wide open because the air conditioner hadn’t yet cooled the building.

The video showed us singing _Leaning on the Everlasting Arms_. Between verses, we read from Psalm 46. In that moment, the words were not just familiar phrases in our worship book. They were living truth for us: God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.

That day, we were grateful simply to have made it through another storm. Others in our community weren’t as fortunate. We faced the hard work of cleaning up at church and at home. There were things to repair, things to replace. That’s the reality of a storm's aftermath. 

But we all know not every storm comes with thunderclouds and wind. Some storms are quieter but just as fierce. The storms of life that unsettle us and frighten us. And those storms often demand long, painful recoveries, too.

Who doesn't love The Lion King? Hakuna matata, if you don't. It's a classic story and a great movie. One of my favorite scenes comes right after Simba sees a vision of his father, Mufasa, in the sky. "You have forgotten me," Mufasa says. A lot has happened to separate Simba from his past, his family and, might I say, his calling.

Then Rafiki shows up. He listens to Simba wrestle with his past, and suddenly bops him with his staff. You don't see that coming. That hit on the head becomes a part of a larger lesson and wake-up call for the soon-to-be king.

We all need those kinds of moments.

Ezekiel can be our Rafiki today, though without the jokes and singing. There's a lot in his writings that might shock or surprise you. In chapter 20, God gives the people their own bop, saying, "Go serve your idols, every one of you now and hereafter." That's not what you expect God to say. But that's what they were already doing. God's point, then, becomes clear: Don’t pretend you can serve idols and me at the same time. Don’t imagine I’ll be satisfied with your offerings if I’m just one more option among many. Those idols didn’t make you who you are. You have forgotten me.

And don't we forget God sometimes, too? We'd rather keep doing what we want, sprinkling a little Jesus on top. But that's not our calling. Thankfully, God promises to gather us back, just as the people could regather to the holy mountain. For us, it's Jesus who calls us home. When we turn back, God says, "you shall know that I am the Lord when I deal with you for my name's sake, not according to your evil ways or corrupt deeds."

In AD 17, a massive earthquake struck modern-day Turkey. Known as the Lydia earthquake, it devastated more than a dozen cities. Some were completely destroyed. Thousands of people died, and the ruins stood as haunting reminders of what some considered to be the worst earthquake in history. Even more traumatic, tremors continued for years afterward. One city especially marked by this was Philadelphia. Imagine surviving the terror of the “big one.” Now think about having aftershocks stir that memory again and again.

I’ve never experienced an earthquake. I’ll take a hurricane over that any day, and I’ve been through several. Growing up in Galveston, even though I was eighty years removed from it, the great 1900 storm still shaped part of who I thought I was. In the same way, I can imagine how the Lydia earthquake continued to shape the identity of Philadelphia for generations.

By the time Philadelphia is mentioned in the book of Revelation, the city had been rebuilt. The church there, apparently, was small and poor. But Jesus praised them for their faithfulness. He encouraged them to hold fast to their faith, promising, “I will make you a pillar in the temple of my God. You will never go out of it.”

That image would have been powerful. After the earthquake, many Philadelphians moved to the countryside, never certain when the next tremor might strike. And yet, here was God’s promise: You are not fragile. You are a pillar in my temple. You are a part of the strength that will not be shaken.

It’s easy to underestimate the power of a kind word or a gentle reminder of God’s presence. But haven't you had some experience where those kinds of little things have inspired you? We all need that from each other. Hebrews might call that every day encouragement. 

The Bible shows us that this daily blessing is not optional to a life with God. It's essential in keeping our heart focused on God's goodness and faithfulness. In keeping our faith strong.

Life wears on us. We all face challenges, disappointments and temptations. If left unchecked, they can slowly harden our hearts. That's why daily encouragement isn't just nice. It's necessary.

Now, encouragement doesn’t always have to be some grand gesture. It can be a text to a friend, a quick note of gratitude to a coworker or a willingness to just listen patiently to someone. I always thought people were being nice when they responded to the daily text messages I send. But I've come to realize people appreciate not just the words, but the thoughtfulness behind them.

All our small acts remind those around us, and ourselves, that God is alive and at work in our lives. Each act of encouragement pushes back against doubt, fear and the hardness that the world can bring.