Happy “not snowing yet but expected again soon” Saturday! (At least at my current location and time of writing).
This morning I’m thinking about a phone call I got at about 2:00 am on July 10, 2010.
My administrative assistant called to tell me that our office building was on fire.
I got dressed as quickly as I could and drove the 26 miles from my house to the office and stood in the street and watched the fire department keep it contained because it was too far gone to save.
The building was a total loss as were almost all of the contents. When I was finally allowed to walk through the rubble and ashes, I rescued a box of sermon notes from a file cabinet drawer. There was very little value to those old sermon notes. It was just the act of carrying out SOMETHING.
My collection of family Bibles (some over 100 years old), my collection of about 40 old hymnals, my ministry library, diplomas, ordination certificate, personal memorabilia from 26 years of ministry—all gone.
I’m thinking about that this morning as I think of the people in Southern California who have lost everything.
At least, in my case, I still had a home. And no one was harmed.
It was just stuff, but it was my stuff, and I still grieved.
When I think back to the texts, phone calls, emails, offers of help, donations of replacement supplies—even the church that gave us space for a temporary office (that lasted 22 months)—I’m grateful.
But what I most remember was the friend who came that first day and sat in the parking lot with me while we watched the fire department extinguish the last of the smoldering hot spots.
He spoke very few words. He just sat with me. He let me lead the conversation. He grieved with me. When midday rolled around, he took me to lunch. He prayed with me.
He demonstrated the presence of Jesus.
Since then, he’s become one of my closest and most trusted friends.
I’ve seen a lot of posts over the last few days questioning whether we really should be sending resources to help the rich people in California when there are still poor people suffering as a results of the floods a few months ago in North Carolina.
My response—as someone who now works with one the flagship disaster relief ministries in the world (Texans on Mission)—is twofold:
1. Much of the criticism/questioning is simply coming from a lack of understanding of how disaster relief works. Disaster relief is the first wave of response after the first responders deal with rescue and safety issues.
There are immediate needs to be met for people who have been displaced and are in a time of confusion and despair. Our ministry (and other similar disaster relief ministries) respond to the unique, immediate needs of each situation for a short period of time.
We have laundry and shower units that are in place where people can come to have access to those basic needs. Our ministry partners with local churches set up a base of operations, so that a connection is made between people in crisis and people who will still be in the community when our teams return home.
Our trained volunteers will provide ash out teams (mud out teams in the case of floods) to sift through the ruins to see what personal items can be salvaged.
Our feeding units are often deployed to provide meals (thousands per day) to displaced people who have no other means for meals in the initial days.
Our clean up teams are often deployed to help remove debris so that recovery and rebuilding can begin to take place.
Our trained chaplains will be onsite to listen to hurting people and demonstrate the character and presence of Jesus.
After a few weeks of responding to those immediate needs, the Disaster Relief volunteers from all these different ministries and organizations will go home, and the long work of disaster recovery and rebuilding will be entrusted into the hands of local ministries and organizations.
That’s a bit of a lengthy explanation to say that Disaster Relief and Disaster Recovery/Rebuild are two different things, and we don’t have to choose one or the other. Sending disaster relief resources to one place does not make fewer disaster recovery resources available somewhere else.
2. (This one will be shorter, I promise). Disasters are a great equalizer. Fires, floods, tornadoes, hurricanes, and earthquakes do not distinguish between those of different economic status, political persuasions, cultural practices, religious beliefs, ethnicities, or sexual orientations.
If we are going to be the hands and feet of Jesus to people who need help, hope, and healing, we mustn’t let those distinctions influence our relief efforts.
I want everyone everywhere to know that Jesus is enough.
But they are more likely to be open to that when they see people who already know that stepping into their crises moments and loving them well.
Please pray for the disaster relief efforts in California right now.
Here’s some of the latest information about our disaster relief efforts.
Also, here’s a link to how you can help with donations toward the ministries I’ve described (if you are interested).
Be amazing today, my friend.
