Kipuka (kee-POO-kah) is a Hawaiian word meaning “an opening in a lava bed”
— a patch of land untouched by the molten destruction that surrounds it.
In nature, a kipuka is an island of life and green, encircled by black lava fields.
I’ve learned that my soul needs kipukas.
They are my safe havens — places where I can breathe again when the heat of life presses in.
My church is one of those places.
When I walk inside, I can finally unclench my shoulders, slow my breathing, and rest in God’s presence.
In bed at night, listening to whispered prayers, I feel covered and safe, wrapped in the stillness of Jesus’ presence.
Life still erupts around me — housing transitions, uncertainty, the resurfacing of old fears.
These challenges flow like lava, changing the landscape.
But my kipukas remain.
I find them in photography, capturing beauty that outlasts chaos.
I find them in journaling, where I pour out my heart and rediscover my own voice.
I find them in prayer, where I rest in the One who never changes.
A kipuka doesn’t erase what surrounds it, but it offers sacred ground to pause, to grow, and to gather strength.
Prayer:
Lord, help me to tend these places well.
Keep my heart fertile and my spirit rooted in You
— my greatest Kipuka.
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