Charred Trunks and New Shoots

Charred Trunks and New Shoots

A shoot shall come out from the stock of Jesse,
  and a branch shall grow out of his roots.
The spirit of the Lord shall rest on him,
  the spirit of wisdom and understanding,
  the spirit of counsel and might,
  the spirit of knowledge and the fear of the Lord.
His delight shall be in the fear of the Lord.

He shall not judge by what his eyes see,
  or decide by what his ears hear;
but with righteousness he shall judge the poor,
  and decide with equity for the meek of the earth;
he shall strike the earth with the rod of his mouth,
  and with the breath of his lips he shall kill the wicked.
Righteousness shall be the belt around his waist,
  and faithfulness the belt around his loins.

The wolf shall live with the lamb,
  the leopard shall lie down with the kid,
the calf and the lion and the fatling together,
  and a little child shall lead them.
The cow and the bear shall graze,
  their young shall lie down together;
  and the lion shall eat straw like the ox.
The nursing child shall play over the hole of the asp,
  and the weaned child shall put its hand on the adder’s den.
They will not hurt or destroy
  on all my holy mountain;
for the earth will be full of the knowledge of the Lord
  as the waters cover the sea.

On that day the root of Jesse shall stand as a signal to the peoples; the nations shall inquire of him, and his dwelling shall be glorious.

Isaiah 11:1-10

The air is sharp as I draw in another deep, icy breath. Stones and dry leaves crunch underfoot while a sulphur-crested cockatoo screeches from the trees along the river below.

I’ve run this trail many times before, but not recently. Not for over a month. Halfway up the spur, I know I’ll see why.

Under the gums, the green tussock grasses and scrubby acacia soon give way to blackness. The undergrowth is gone. Tree trunks stand charred. The few leaves left are brown and brittle, fluttering among the ashes. Even though this fire was a “cool burn,” a hazard reduction, the forest still looks like death.

As I climb further, my mind wanders to the charred remains of Gariwerd (the Grampians). Those fires in January were anything but cool—ferocious, unstoppable, burning everything in their path, leaving a vast trail of destruction.

Lately, the world has felt like that to me. We are facing a climate emergency of catastrophic fires, floods, cyclones, and storms—yet political leaders open new coal mines and gas reserves. We’ve seen wars—bombings, rockets and shells raining down on innocent lives—fuelled by the egos of tyrants in their ivory towers.

Closer to home, just blocks from where I play basketball, children have been murdered in machete attacks. The racist discourse that floods social media afterwards only proves how far we have to go. Sometimes it feels like the whole forest is on fire and there is no way out.

Nearing the top of the 2.5 kilometre climb, I see it: soft, delicate red-green eucalyptus shoots swaying gently in the breeze. Life. Renewal. Hope. A sign that underneath all this blackness and charring, the life-blood of the forest remains. And maybe, just maybe, things will be okay.

Isaiah saw this hope too. In Isaiah 11, the Spirit rests on a new kind of ruler—not an ego fuelled tyrant but one who stands alongside the poor, advocates for the vulnerable, and brings about a justice that restores instead of destroys. This ruler ushers in a world where even the most unlikely of creatures live together in peace.

During Advent, we remember how Jesus came - God in flesh walking among us - showing us the path of Love that leads to peace. Gazing out on the raging bushfires of our world, we wait once more in expectation for his return, and for the renewal of all things.

“How long, O Lord?” I cry out. “How long must we wait for you to act? Why won’t you do something about the injustice and violence in our world? Show me a shoot, a sign of hope.”

In the rustle of the breeze, I sense the Creator’s reply: “I did do something. I made you.”

Jono Ingram lives with his wife Katie, and two daughters, on Wurrundjerri Country in North West Melbourne. He is the Founding Director of We Love Aintree, an environmental nonprofit working to educate communities about sustainable living and biodiversity loss. When he is not working, you might find Jono drinking home brewed beer around the fire pit, running trails in the mountains, or surfing the reefs on the Bellarine Peninsula. 

This devotional is the sixth in a series of daily email devotionals for Advent 2025 reflecting on the realities of our broken world along with the unshakable hope that love still breaks through. It explores how God’s love disrupts, heals, and transforms - breaking through darkness, despair, and injustice to bring light, joy, and renewal.

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Common Grace is a diverse movement of individuals, churches and communities passionate about Jesus and justice. We have come together as those from different Christian traditions who stand in the continuity of the historic Christian faith, centred on the life, death and resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ as witnessed to in holy scripture. This series highlights the diversity of followers of Jesus across these lands. These voices may not agree with one another (or with you), but they are each an expression of longing for the God whose love we see break through in Jesus.

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