The Presence of Christ in Every Neighborhood

"So, has anyone asked you yet whether you think God directed this Hurricane to Galveston or not?" The question hovered in the air for a moment like a hawk waiting to dive on its prey.

"No," I answered, "and I hope nobody asks me that."

"We were talking about it at work the other day. It was a pretty lively discussion." I couldn't even bring myself to ask what was said. If the discussion was lively, people must have been on both sides of the issue. I know people look for explanations at a time like this, but I can't find resolution in the idea that God decided to wipe out Galveston (or New Orleans, San Francisco, New York, et al.). It's hard enough to deal with the fact that God allowed it happen without implying that He wanted it to happen. I just swung the sledgehammer one more time. Standing in the middle of a flood-ravaged house, I imagined my own family watching all our worldly goods being hauled out on the curb, and I prayed. Life is truly more fragile and less certain than the fantasy we believe. Even American middle class "security" turns into vapor more often than we'd like to think.

The stakes are higher than money or houses or goods, or even health. When you've lost everything, the way the families on Maple Lane in Galveston have, you develop an opinion about God. Is He the problem or the solution? Did He decide to ruin my life, or did He send people to help me when I needed it most? We went to Maple Lane on Sunday with hope that at least three families would choose the latter: twenty or so people and those who supported them by taking care of the kids or providing food and supplies, trying to make a small dent in a giant pile of debris that used to be a neighborhood. We worked hard for a day. We were ambassadors for Christ. We did demolition, gave comfort and a little hope.

Joan suffered a stroke a while back, then lost a husband, then a son, then a house. Two weeks after Ike, her house still sat in almost the same condition in which Ike had left it. When we arrived Sunday, she was doing the best she could with her one good arm to move a few things out of the house. When we left, there was still a long way to go, but the house was cleaner and safer and the process of recovery had been jump-started. More importantly, someone cared. Someone gave Joan a reason to believe that God is for her, not against her. Christ was present on Maple Lane.

I hope we're just getting warmed up.