While in college, Colleen Douglass interned with the Angeles National Forest in California, and later received training in the various activities of the United States Forest Service, such as wildlife, fire management, and recreation. She designed a nature trail, collected and analyzed animal and plant materials, and worked in a base camp during an enormous forest fire that drew firefighters from throughout the state and beyond.

Few people living in Southern California in past weeks would be surprised to discover that this region is considered one of the three most fire-prone areas in the world, along with southeastern Australia and southern France. Our flora and fauna haven't seen much rain for quite a while.

In the best of times, the region's chaparral shrubbery supports a semiarid ecosystem that embraces summer droughts and occasional wildfires. In fact, seeds from various indigenous plants require some kind of "fire cue"—heat, charred wood, smoke, or a post-fire condition—to germinate successfully. But combining dry brush with warm weather and "devil winds" (the high-velocity easterly Santa Ana winds that come in from the desert) makes for a particularly combustible environment. All it takes for a conflagration is a few embers from a downed power line, a cigarette flicked out a car window, a campfire left unattended, or—the worst-case scenario—an arsonist determined to wreak havoc. This was proved devastatingly true in October, when fast-moving wildfires swept over mountaintops and through valleys, consuming more than 500,000 acres, over 2,000 homes, and at least seven lives, at a cost expected to crest at around two billion dollars.

A recent article by Dan Wood in The Christian Science Monitor points to several reasons why these fires are taking on mega proportions; they're ten times as large as 20 years ago. He writes: "The trend to more superhot fires, experts say, has been driven by a century-long policy of the US Forest Service to stop wildfires as quickly as possible. The unintentional consequence was to halt the natural eradication of underbrush, now the primary fuel for megafires" ("California's age of megafires, " October 24, 2007, The Christian Science Monitor, http://www.csmonitor.com/2007/1024/p01s04-usgn.html).

So the question again arises: Is it possible for people to live in harmony with the environment when it appears that human wants and needs are in conflict with their surroundings? This, of course, isn't just a question in the chaparral, but any place around the world where people build in areas where there's a strong potential for natural disaster—in areas prone to hurricanes, eroding beachfronts and mountaintops, tsunamis, floods, tornadoes. In California's case, the chaparral fuels the wildfires it requires to promote its own growth—not ours. Climate change leads to hotter and longer fire seasons, while communities continue to expand into wildfire-prone areas, still wanting assurance of safety.

While it's tempting to stay glued to news reports regarding disasters, I've found deep, thoughtful prayer proves a much more effective use of time. For me, prayer has answered numerous questions regarding the environment, especially what and where it is. As I've prayed about these recent fires in California, I've turned to Christ Jesus' words and deeds.

One message of his that seems so applicable is that "the kingdom of God" is right at hand. Mary Baker Eddy, a faithful student of Jesus' life, saw that this kingdom is the consciousness of heaven here and now, within each one of us. It is still a reality today, 2,000 years later. In the Glossary to Science and Health, she defined the kingdom of heaven as "the reign of harmony in divine Science; the realm of unerring, eternal, and omnipotent Mind; the atmosphere of Spirit, where Soul is supreme" (p. 590). Mind, Spirit, and Soul she defined as synonyms for God. And so the kingdom of heaven, the kingdom of God, and this "reign of harmony" are also synonymous.

Jesus never left that "reign of harmony," never reacted negatively to conditions around him, whether they were a storm at sea, 5,000 hungry individuals who came to hear him preach, a much-loved friend who had died and been buried four days earlier, or even his own crucifixion. But he always responded with love—by calming the storm, feeding the hungry, raising Lazarus from the tomb, and rising from the grave himself. To have done so, Jesus must have understood that nothing could invade the kingdom of heaven, despite testimony to the contrary.

This is not to say that we should do as we please, irrespective of geological or weather assessments, like the proverbial ostrich that buries its head in the sand. But to follow the Christian example, we can gain an unshakable sense that, as Mrs. Eddy observed, "This kingdom of God 'is within you,'—is within reach of man's consciousness here, and the spiritual idea reveals it." She went on to say, "In divine Science, man possesses this recognition of harmony consciously in proportion to his understanding of God" (Science and Health, p. 576). In other words, a greater understanding of divine Principle's nature as all-powerful, benevolent, eternal Life and Love reveals that God could never have created anything so unlike Himself as a devastating fire or any other disaster.

To see God as the sole Cause, and that this Cause is good, isn't always easy. But a conscious reliance on God's goodness and guidance eliminates any suggestion that natural disasters are the product of the divine will or punishment for things we—individually or collectively—may have thought or done. This conscious acknowledgment of the kingdom of heaven right here, right now, can lead us to safety when we are confronted with frightful circumstances, and give us a sense of home, even during an evacuation or loss of property. What's more, it can open our thoughts to a variety of solutions that will allow us to live in greater harmony with our environment. Sometimes this may mean building elsewhere or more wisely. It may include developing and adopting procedures for managing the environment that will guarantee harmony for everyone and everything involved.

The Bible is rich with examples of notable individuals who were unfazed by threatening conditions. Moses parted the sea that lay between the children of Israel and their safety from the Egyptians. Elijah didn't react when he had to face an earthquake, wind, and fire, but responded to the "still small voice" that promised his deliverance. Three Hebrew men remained untouched by a fire designed to consume them. Jesus walked through an angry crowd unharmed. The same eternal God, the divine Principle that is Life and Love, also supplies our every need in the 21st century.

Like Jesus, we must become keenly aware that our environment is within, not without—and that we discover it in thought, by knowing God better. When his disciple Peter longed to walk on water as he saw Jesus doing, the master Christian invited him to step out of the boat. Peter walked a few steps toward Jesus, before a storm welled up. But when he took his sights off the Christ—described in Science and Health as Jesus' "divine nature, the godliness which animated him"—and looked at the storm, he began to sink (p. 26). That describes well how we can lose our way. When we take our sights off the Christ, the spiritual idea of God's kingdom, we may become consumed by the threats around us. Yet, with God-given authority, Jesus reached down and lifted Peter to safety. He promised that this same authority would be with us. With it we can reach right through the storm to elevate humanity to greater safety.

We don't need to expect more and more disasters, either because of humanity's own actions or natural climatic cycles. Instead, we all can come to increasingly understand the nature of God and the guarantee of His peaceable kingdom, both within and without.

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