The Body of Christ at Work
Few of us expected Hurricane Helene to be as destructive as it turned out to be when it hit on Friday, September 27. In rural upstate South Carolina, many homes and businesses are still without power. There was a serious rush for gasoline for the next three days immediately following the storm. Trees lay across the roofs of some houses, and I’ve seen one house completely split down the middle by fallen timber. Those who weren’t prepared found themselves in long, wending lines for fast food at the few restaurants open. People need help. And in this unforeseen situation, it has been an unexpected joy to watch my community pull together.
Perhaps you’ve heard about how rude, selfish, and sometimes violent people have been at grocery stores and gas pumps. After a natural disaster, when we feel desperate, it’s instinctive for us to only look out for “me and mine.” But there is a force of people determined to stay cheerful in adversity and to help others. This is known as the Body of Christ at work.
The Methodist church down the road offered free meals under a blue pop-up tent. At the local community center, civilians set up a stand with free snacks and drinks. FEMA gave out food and water at the fire station. It’s not hard to find strangers helping one another.
When the storm hit, a local small business buckled down and focused on selling essentials such as propane, milk, and bread. They extended their hours and their hands to help the community. They committed to staying open as long as people kept coming for three days, and even opened on Sunday.
A little farther away, there’s a beloved mom-and-pop restaurant. In its friendly atmosphere, the owner sings to you on your birthday and signed one-dollar bills are thumbtacked to the counter. They’ve told everyone to come eat - with or without payment.
Life hasn’t been peachy keen for all of us in my area since the storm hit. But we definitely have much to be thankful for. Not far away, the effects of Helene are much more catastrophic. Some of the worst and most historic damage is in western North Carolina. As of the writing of this article, authorities have verified that 230 have lost their lives. The number of missing is disputed, but most sources agree that there are hundreds of people yet to be found. Trees, cars, homes, and human beings were swept away by the ferocious flood waters. Bridges were destroyed. The flood dumped bodies and debris were into the formerly beautiful Lake Lure. There is an entire swath of towns and forest that has become a wasteland.
With all this destruction, one family is thankful to be alive. For security purposes, pseudonyms will be used in this article. The Smith’s eldest daughter, Sarah Martin, is part of my church. She began worrying about her family on Friday when Helene hit, and she couldn’t tell her father happy birthday.
Before the storm, the Smiths had planned to move out of their house on Tuesday, October 1. Their belongings were packed and ready to go. But they lived near the Saluda River, and as the river swelled, their plans changed. Their neighbors evacuated, but authorities told them that they would probably be okay where they were. The empty homes across the street were completely leveled. Torrential rain washed the nearby roads away. As the water inched closer to their house, they moved in with their neighbor, a firefighter, a little farther away from the angry river and stayed there for three days. During that time, they grew closer to their neighbor, who they had barely spoken to before, and soon began calling him Uncle.
With no phone service, rapidly dwindling supplies, and the river ominously approaching, they knew that they needed to get out of the river valley.
Two kayakers came all the way up from Greenville, SC, transporting a mobile Starlink cell tower that they set up near the Smiths. On Sunday morning, they were finally able to communicate with Sarah. They made plans to bring them to her house in SC that day.
They knew they needed to be airlifted out of the area. The roads were gone, and they were trapped. But originally, they were told that the helicopters were too busy for them, and that they needed to make a four hour hike up out of the valley to a gas station, where hopefully someone could get through to pick them up. This would be a difficult task for anyone, but the family of nine had even more struggles. One of their sons, nine-year-old Malachi, is autistic and doesn’t usually walk much, and the family had barely eaten or slept in three days. Trusting in God, they decided to make the journey.
Later, the escape plan changed, and they were told that they could be airlifted after all. So, they hiked two miles up the road, working around downed trees and power lines. Malachi courageously walked a mile and a half of the way, surprising his family members. If the dam broke, they would be directly in the surging flood’s path. Nineteen-year-old Belle told me that her parents and siblings near her age didn’t tell the children “Because they wouldn’t have hiked as hard.”
They were able to make the trek to a Blackhawk helicopter. They all crammed in together and it flew them to an elementary school in a nearby town. Ten-year-old Anna smiled when she told us about getting to wear the headphones and hear what the pilots were saying. After they landed, Belle heard a servicemember tell her father to leave the school parking lot soon if he didn’t want his children to see the dead body that was being flown towards them.
While the Smiths were preparing to set out, my church was worshipping. Sarah shared the story with us after service. Immediately, men offered their trucks to help with the rescue. Our friend Lucy Hayes said, “I’ve got dinner tonight,” even though she didn’t have electricity and hadn’t been able to go grocery shopping since before the storm. People who had been without power for days forgot themselves and were willing to give anything they could to help the family.
A few hours later, we stopped by the Hayes’ house to help with dinner. Mr. Hayes, Mr. Martin, and another friend had all left for the elementary school. It was a roughly forty-five-minute drive. Sarah and her three children were at the house too, waiting for their family’s safe arrival.
We cooked and cleaned and talked until they came. At approximately 5:15, the vehicles pulled in, full of exhausted sojourners. We served them bean soup and naan bread and handed out bottles of water. They ate, but they didn’t eat very much. Their stomachs had to recover from eating so little in the past few days. However, Sarah said that the next day, they devoured thirty eggs.
While we were there, Mr. Hayes found a way to power the water heater with his truck, so that they could take warm showers. Their hiking backpacks, stuffed full of all their belongings, filled the entryway. Some children roamed around outside, while others played with a water table. The young adults in the house sat quietly.
Less than two hours after they had arrived, it was time to transport them to the Martin’s welcoming but small house for the night. My family helped shuttle them over. During those ten minutes in the cars, we heard more of their amazing story. We dropped them off with some air mattresses and bedding.
Throughout the evening, they were kind and thankful, despite their difficult situation. It was a clear testimony of Christ in them. I hope I never forget the sincerity in Mrs. Smith’s voice when she said, with a steaming paper bowl of soup in her hand, “Thank You for the Body of Christ.”
The story is spreading. A friend set up a GoFundMe, and a family in our church started a drive at their homeschool co-op. People freely gave them enough necessities to move into their new house this past Tuesday, just like they had planned to do before the storm. Belle’s boss let them borrow a minivan, and Mrs. Smith said that they now have so much food, she won’t have to cook for a week. They still don’t have power or cell service, but they are borrowing a generator. While times are still hard for them, and they deal with the loss of almost everything they owned, they no longer have to fear for their lives.
The Smith’s story is like what many others are going through right now in North Carolina, Georgia, and Tennessee. We may be alright, but others are suffering. These Americans, and those who have ventured into the wasteland to rescue them, need the Lord’s protection, provision, and guidance. Let us pray unceasingly for them for as long as it takes and thank God for the Body of Christ at work.