A flood is a horrendous event to endure or observe. It is almost evil in its relentless consumption of everything in its path. The images coming out of the Hill Country spark vivid emotional responses within us all. Especially to those who are familiar with these types of disasters.
I know what it is like to watch torrents of flood water surging down streets and into homes. I have seen cars floating past in brown swirling waters of debris and flotsam. The roaring sounds of torrential rain, rushing water, and desperate prayers for all of it to simply stop. I have seen the torrid fear in people’s faces as they arrive to shelter with only the clothes on their backs. Or the desperation in children’s faces because the rescuers could only fit them in their boat and had to leave their parents behind. I have prayed over, wept with, and attempted to comfort those who have lost everything. All the while trying to make sense of overwhelming destruction. While serving as a Pastor of a church in Houston in the epicenter of Hurricane Harvey’s wrath, I was stranded at a hospital for over 12 hours after trying to drive home through flood waters and nearly being carried away by an overfl owing creek. The devastation that floods can cause is mind boggling, it washes away everything and leaves behind broken lives and devastated dreams.
But there is something else that arises in these moments. It is the Body of Christ. The Hands and Feet of Jesus.The Church.
