The Danger Season: When Disasters Become Normal

However, Pharaoh’s heart was hardened, and he would not listen to them, as the Lord had said. - Exodus 7:13 
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Do not be conformed to this age, but be transformed by the renewing of the mind, so that you may discern what is the will of God—what is good and acceptable and perfect - Romans 12:2

According to the Union of Concerned Scientists, 288, 250,111 people in this country are facing an extreme weather warning as of the time of this writing. 98% of those people have been under a warning of some kind since May 1. There was a week in early July that had four once in a thousand year storms. These same scientists are now calling the months between May and October, “Danger season”. Whether it’s drought, wildfires, extreme storms or excessive heat, the middle of the year has become a time when it feels almost impossible to avoid news about some natural occurrence that is putting lives at risk…

… and that has become the new normal. What were once thought of as “disasters” are now being considered to be regular occurrences. We’ve forgotten that it wasn’t that long ago that these events were more rare. We’ve talked ourselves into thinking that it’s always been this way. The truth is that in most of our lifetimes, weather patterns have changed dramatically and, like the proverbial frog in a boiling pot, we’ve adjusted as the temperature rose. The phenomenon in which we gradually begin to change the idea of what “normal” is, is called shifting baseline syndrome. As Bryan Hamilton wrote in this 2022 article on the National Park Services website, “Our tolerance for environmental degradation increases and our expectations for the natural world goes down”. 

Certainly there is something to be said for human resilience. We adapt to the new circumstances and develop ways to survive in changing conditions. It is part of the genius of our species. And yet our resilience often happens at the expense of those who are not able to adapt so quickly, both human and no-human. Those on the frontlines of these climate emergencies aren’t always afforded the time necessary to make their habitat more liveable. And though resilience could be one positive explanation for our shifting baselines, there is another possibility that must be considered. 

The Exodus story is one of those that we know so well that we sometimes think it has nothing new to teach us. As Moses confronts Pharaoh with the demand that the latter release the Israelites from their slavery, he performs a sign, turning his staff into a serpent. While the court magicians are able to duplicate the trick, Moses staff devours their staff-turned-serpents. It’s an ominous sign, but in the immediate aftermath, we are told that “Pharoah’s heart was hardened”. So the plagues begin. With each new plague, each an environmental disaster of some sort, we’re told either that Pharaoh hardened his heart or that God did. In any case, Pharaoh’s hardened heart allowed swarming flies, festering boils, devouring locusts, and rivers of blood to become the new normal. In fact, the only new normal to which Pharaoh couldn’t adjust was the liberation of the Israelites, again because his heart was hardened. 

I fear our adjustment to our changing climate is less a function of resilience and more that of our hearts hardening to the world around us. We call it “compassion fatigue” or say it’s all too overwhelming and we allow ourselves to adapt to a reality in which the most vulnerable in our communities spend half of the year exposed to the elements in life-threatening fashion. It’s becoming easier and easier to say “that’s just the way things are now” and keep scrolling. In a chaotic world, a hard heart feels like an adaptation for survival. 

And yet it is because of this shifting baseline that Paul’s words ring out as a loud caution for those of us who are trying to faithfully navigate this danger season. We cannot conform to a world that has become complacent in its struggle for environmental justice. We can’t allow the extremes of weather that we are experiencing to become normalized to the point of invisibility. We can’t continue to hide behind our temporary adaptations while frontline communities are consumed, especially not as the frontline is getting closer to each of us everyday. 

The renewing of our minds can happen in many ways. For some of us it will be actively seeking information about what is happening to our climate while authorities actively work to silence that information. For some of us it will mean finding ways to be of service to those dealing with the aftermath of the climate disaster nearest you because, make no mistake, there has been a  climate disaster near you this summer. For many of us it will be remembering that it hasn’t always been this way and considering what has been lost for our children and grandchildren. 

Whatever that renewal looks like for each of us, it should lead to the kind of transformation that softens our hardened hearts and fills us for compassion for those for whom adaptation is either costly or impossible. It should be the kind of transformation that resists a status quo that continues to tilt toward environmental collapse. It should be the kind of transformation that stands boldly in the face of the increasing heat, the rising storms, the raging fires, and the insistence that we be silent on these issues and loudly proclaims, “this is not normal and this is not okay!” 
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Bob Pierce, the founder of the relief organization World Vision, is often credited as being the first to pray a prayer that echoed across the decades:
"God, break my heart with the things that break yours."
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Instead of allowing ourselves to grow numb during this season of rising danger, may we be transformed into people with hearts of compassion, conviction, and courage. ​