Whose hands?

“He’s Got the Whole World, In His Hands”

While standing precariously on the back of Illahee’s Dodge Dump Truck, balanced atop four 300-gallon IBC water containers, I heard in the distance the strumming of a guitar and the soft singing of “He’s Got the Whole World in His Hands.” Anyone who has grown up in the church knows this tune. An older woman a few houses down serenaded us as my volunteer partner, and I filled up her neighborhood’s potable water container in Swannanoa. Like many communities in this part of Western NC, there was still no running water two weeks after the destruction of Hurricane Helene.

I volunteered with Be Well AVL, a grassroots organization that started after Helene, to transport water across Asheville and the surrounding area so people could accomplish the once simple but now challenging tasks of drinking, bathing, and flushing. (They are taking donations via Venmo on their Instagram page to continue funding this much-needed service.)

While we were aiding a bit with the tangible needs of this porch-front amateur musician and her neighbors, I struggled with the overwhelming nature of the carnage. I struggled with the homes piled high with mud, the mobile homes knocked off their foundations, the massive trees snapped like toothpicks, and the crushed Semi-Truck swept away, now sitting amongst the stones in what was once the peaceful Swannanoa River.

Looking around, I thought, “Does God really have the whole world in his hands?”

That’s a big question of theodicy. It’s a question debated by armchair theologians for centuries. It’s one that many devout and devastated Appalachians are asking themselves as they sort through their scattered livelihoods entrenched in layers of unwelcome mud. I’ve come to believe God doesn’t sit by manipulating hurricanes or controlling the weather with hands on dials or fingers on switches. No, I believe instead that the God of the universe weeps with us amid despair and, through ways far beyond my understanding, gives us the courage and fortitude to pick up the pieces when the storms of life sweep through without warning. God’s most radical act was giving us the agency to affect the world. I think of a favorite benediction a pastor once gave, “God has no hands on this earth, but ours. So let’s use them for good.”

Yesterday, the team from Illahee volunteered with an organization that was uniquely gifted to do just that. The organization is called Project: Camp. It is a mobile day camp that shows up after natural disasters such as hurricanes, wildfires, and floods. Their staff and volunteers run a free trauma-informed day camp for the kids of these communities to play, process, and be kids for a time.

Nearly 50 kids showed up to the upstairs of a church, where Gardner, Claire, Denice, Gretchen, and I, along with a few staff from Project: Camp, played games, did crafts, and watched kids do what they needed to do: play. It was hard work, and it’s a worthy organization. If you have any interest in supporting them financially, I’d recommend it.

Recovery from Hurricane Helene will be an ongoing project, and we each have our roles to play. Many of you all have asked how to help. We encourage you to support these two awesome organizations. Others include, The Sharing House in Brevard, a non-profit working to provide housing and resources to those displaced by the hurricane, and MANNA foodbank in Asheville, an organization focused on distributing food throughout Western, NC.

We at Illahee will continue to help those as we can and also do the work of getting camp ready for next summer to welcome the hundreds of excited girls to this special place. Camp teaches us the importance of community and resilience. The people of Western North Carolina are teaching us all the true meaning of those two words.

We are grateful for the continued support and prayers and for the thousands of folks pulling up their bootstraps and being the eyes, feet, ears, and hands of Christ in a stormy world.

Lucas

One response to “Whose hands?

  1. Thank you Lucas. You have a gift for writing. Thank you for reminding me to be the hands and feet of Jesus when so many desperately need to see His love.

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