The Cold Spring Beneath the Burning River

In the summer of 2015, a brutal heat wave settled over Oregon's John Day River basin. Water temperatures climbed past 75 degrees Fahrenheit — lethal territory for native bull trout, whose bodies require cold, oxygen-rich water to survive. Biologists from the Oregon Department of Fish and Wildlife watched helplessly as fish began dying by the hundreds along sun-scorched stretches of river.

But not everywhere. At certain bends and seams in the riverbed, underground springs pushed cold water up through the gravel — forty-eight degrees, even as the surface water simmered. Researchers called these spots "thermal refugia." And the trout that found them survived. They clustered in those cold pockets, sometimes dozens of fish packed into a space no larger than a bathtub, breathing easy while the river around them turned hostile.

The trout did not cool the river. They did not fix the heat wave. They simply knew where the refuge was, and they went to it.

The prophet Nahum wrote during a time of unbearable heat — the Assyrian empire had scorched the earth, and Judah was gasping. Into that moment he spoke a word that must have felt like cold spring water on burnt skin: "The Lord is good, a refuge in times of trouble. He cares for those who trust in Him."

Goodness. Refuge. Care. Not for the self-sufficient, but for those who know where to go when the world turns lethal — and trust Him enough to stay.