This summer, wildfires have forced numerous First Nations across northern Ontario to evacuate their communities. Families have left with little notice. Elders have been separated from the lands that hold memory and belonging. Children have exchanged the familiarity of home for uncertainty. In some communities, homes and buildings have been lost to the flames, leaving families and businesses with little to nothing to return home to. Hundreds of firefighters continue working to contain the blazes, but even after the fires are extinguished, the work of rebuilding homes, restoring community life, and recovering from displacement will continue for months—and in many cases, years.

For many of us, the smoke has meant hazy skies, cancelled outdoor plans, and checking the daily air quality report. For our Indigenous neighbours, it has meant leaving home, wondering what will remain when they return, and carrying the uncertainty that follows long after the smoke has cleared.

So what does this have to do with the Christian Reformed Church?

Everything.

In 2015 the Christian Reformed Church made a public promise. We acknowledged the painful legacy of residential schools and colonialism. We committed ourselves to turning from the systemic evils that had shaped our history and, with the help of our Indigenous neighbours and Creator God, to "live into a sacred call of unity and reconciliation." 

Since then, we have sought to live into that promise. We have repudiated the Doctrine of Discovery. We have participated in Blanket Exercises. Through Hearts Exchanged, hundreds of people across Canada have listened to Indigenous stories, built relationships, and begun to understand our shared history in new ways. We have affirmed that reconciliation is not an event but a lifelong journey. 

These have been important and faithful steps. But every promise eventually encounters a moment when it must move from words into action. I believe this is one of those moments.

In its Action for Reconciliation, the CRC committed itself not only to reflection but to action. It promised to continue learning our common story and to act "in immediate and tangible ways." 

Perhaps this is exactly the kind of moment we were preparing for.

James reminds us that "faith by itself, if it has no works, is dead" (James 2:17). The same can be said of reconciliation. If it never moves beyond workshops, reports, public statements, or educational programs, it risks becoming something we admire rather than something we live.

The immediate needs are significant. Families require food, clothing, transportation, temporary housing, medications, and financial assistance. But our calling does not end when the smoke clears.

Recovery will continue long after the evacuation orders are lifted. Communities will rebuild homes, schools, gathering places, and the rhythms of daily life. Relationships, too, require perseverance. If reconciliation is truly a covenant, then our concern must last longer than the news cycle.

The commitments we make today will become part of the story future generations tell about the church.

That thought has stayed with me because it echoes a question I continue to ask in my own life and ministry:

What kind of ancestors are we becoming?

One day, people will remember this wildfire season. They will remember the communities that were displaced. But they will also remember how the church responded. They will remember whether the promises we made in 2015 remained words spoken before the Truth and Reconciliation Commission—or whether they became acts of generosity, shared responsibility, and faithful presence.

Reconciliation has never been only about remembering the past.

It is about choosing how we will walk together today.

May we be found faithful.