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I began seeing the news alerts Friday morning. It was the Fourth of July, and extensive flooding was sweeping across the Texas Hill Country. Many people were already reported missing, including little girls and counselors attending a Christian summer camp.
Later that day, the reports became much graver, as the numbers of people reported missing were rising to a shocking level. By Saturday, it became clear: This was more than the occasional flooding we hear about from time to time. These floods were historic and deadly beyond anyone’s imagination.
My thoughts immediately turned to Hurricane Harvey.
In 2017, I was serving as the missions and evangelism pastor at First Baptist Church in Vidor, a rural town along Interstate 10 between Beaumont and the Louisiana border. Harvey barreled through that August, leaving in its wake one of the worst natural disasters in U.S. history.
I’d never seen it rain so hard for so long in my life. Vidor, like many towns in that region, was pounded with about 60 inches of rain in just a couple of days—still the largest amount of tropical storm rainfall recorded in the U.S. since such data began being tracked in the 1880s, according to the National Weather Service. Sixty percent of our town was covered in water, much of it submerging entire subdivisions. Many people evacuated their homes. Some never returned.
“I understand how critical SBTC DR is to our churches. I understand how an encouraging word has the power to lighten a burden even if just for a moment.”
The recovery was grueling. Our staff quickly transformed into a disaster relief unit, ministering to as many as possible as we waited for the Southern Baptists of Texas Disaster Relief units to make their way east from the Rockport area, where Harvey had made landfall. Supplies poured in from all over the country—so much so that we set up a makeshift receiving dock on one end of our church campus while creating a drive thru distribution center on the other.
I was so grateful to see those SBTC DR and North American Mission Board Send Relief trucks and trailers pull in a week or so later. We were exhausted before the recovery work had even really begun. And even then, we were months and months away from anything looking or feeling remotely normal.
One day I was told we had visitors and that I needed to stop what I was doing to come say hello. When I walked up, I was greeted by Jim Richards, the SBTC’s executive director at the time. His handshake was firm, and the look on his face was sympathetic but reassuring. His wife, June, quietly wept as we told them about what we had been through. They were both so kind. It meant so much to me.
As I’ve watched what has happened in the Hill Country and around Central Texas over the past few weeks, I know I can’t say I know what they’re going through. The loss of life alone is so much different than what most of us who went through Harvey experienced.
But I do feel like, on some level, I understand. I understand how exhausted those folks are. I know that some of their lives have been forever changed. I understand there are pastors working day and night to meet the needs of people grieving heavily. I understand that recovery efforts will continue long after you read about places like Kerrville or San Saba or Hunt in the news.
I understand how critical SBTC DR is to our churches. I understand how an encouraging word has the power to lighten a burden even if just for a moment. And I understand how much our brothers and sisters in that area need continued, persistent prayer.
Because some things only God can heal.
