Dear Friends,

Alan sat in shocked silence. His head was spinning with images of the chaos that had crashed down on him only a few hours earlier. He and his wife awoke at midnight to what sounded like a freight train roaring through their farm. The house had shuddered as a massive tree limb slammed through the back porch and staring into the inky darkness, Alan realized the barn was gone. Just gone. Now he waited in the hospital ER, silent amid the bustle of nurses and doctors scurrying frantically among the many injured.

Alan felt a rage building inside him. How could this be? What are we going to do? “I can’t believe this is happening!!” His shouting surprised everyone, including himself. Most people slid away from him but one woman sat down right beside him. She introduced herself as the Chaplain on duty that evening. “I notice you’re in some distress.” she said gently. “I just want you to know that I’m here if you’d like to talk.” Alan had never spoken with a counselor or clergyperson for a personal matter before, but this night he poured out his heart. He cried and complained and cursed. The Chaplain sat with him listening to his lament. She encouraged him to share his feelings and held his hand when he cried. Alan was surprised at how grateful he was for her simple touch. In the end, she prayed with him, asking for God’s presence in the midst of these difficult times.

When the Parkview Mission Team travelled to Galveston, we went with the express intent to pound nails. We were about the business of rebuilding, helping people put their lives back on track after the destruction of Hurricane Ike. We knew we’d be doing hard work and we were ready for it. We had packed our gloves and safety glasses. We wore old, gnarly work clothes that we were willing to get dirty or paint splattered.

We recognized, also, that there would be a spiritual dimension to our mission. We were equipped for both morning and evening devotions. We knew that we trusted God to lead us in our ministry among the people of Galveston.

What I don’t think we were prepared for was the fact that God was using us to minister to the people of the Emmanuel Presbyterian Church. There was much healing to be done. Even 2 years after the destructive disaster, these folks were still hurting. You could see it in their eyes. You could hear it in their stories.

I think anytime we go out in mission, we go with bandages and ointment in hand. But the other part of the mission is to minister to the broken hearts of those who have lived the disaster. They have lost much of their lives: homes, precious possessions and even family and friends.

The school gymnasium was packed. Alan and Helen sat near the back waiting for the Memorial Service to begin. The massive room hummed with conversation and the scrape of chairs, but Alan didn’t hear anything. He was remembering the stream of days since the storm. So much had happened. So much still needed to be done. The names of the dead were read. The words stung Alan’s heart. Most things could be replaced, but people can never be brought back.

A hushed stillness covered the room. One Holy Reading was shared at the service. It spoke for many as they struggled to make sense of what had happened to their community. “Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the Lord. But the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earth-quake. After the earthquake came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. After the fire came a gentle whisper.”

That still, small voice continues to speak to the brokenness in God’s world. May we continue to listen to God’s voice, to do God’s will.

Your Pastor and Friend,