How to Help the Hurting

From Wildfires in California to Hurricanes in the Carolinas

About five minutes after we returned home from Switzerland, we boarded another plane for Los Angeles. It wasn’t really five minutes. Maybe five days. In any case, my husband needed to be in L.A. for work, and I tagged along.

The fun part about flying into LAX (Los Angeles International Airport) is that the flight path goes past our old suburb. If you’re sitting at a window on the right side of the plane (Any Seat F), you can see the crisscross of freeways below that mark our hometown of San Dimas.

But this time, you couldn’t see anything. The sky had turned an ominous orange with a thick haze of smoke as three separate wildfires engulfed thousands of acres close by.

When we checked into our hotel, the concierge told us that the rest of the hotel was filled with evacuees and firemen.

The next morning, I took the elevator to the first floor where they served a complimentary breakfast. Normally, these breakfast areas are filled with lively chatter as people scoop tiny packets of butter and jam for their toast. But on this morning, the room was eerily quiet as the large flatscreen TV mounted on the wall showed news footage of the local fires.

As I scanned the breakfast area, I saw parents feeding their children with worried looks on their faces; I saw firemen dressed in heavy gear, grabbing a bagel before heading out the door.

Everyone ate in silence.

The worry in the room was palpable.

I was surrounded by people in genuine crisis.

Everyone knows the reality of these fires. Will their homes be standing when they return? Or will their lives as they know it disintegrate into ash?

I felt a familiar pang — a strange mix of emotions. I hurt for the strangers I ate scrambled eggs with, and at the same time I recognized that, in this current moment, I am not in a season of crisis.

When we flew back to North Carolina, the headlines quickly shifted to the headwinds of a coming hurricane.

We live in an age where we can access live updates on our phones regarding any crisis happening in real time. With the swipe of our thumbs, we can fill our screens with the latest news on the wildfires in California and the hurricane in the Carolinas. This nonstop influx of crises can be overwhelming, but it’s still worth repeating:

We can’t help everyone, but we can help someone.

If we are in a season where life is pretty calm and steady, how can we help those who are hurting?

Hurricanes. Tornadoes. Wildfires. Floods. Earthquakes.

When natural disasters strike, a path of widespread destruction is left in their wake, leaving people to pick up the pieces of their broken lives.

Perhaps you’ve lived through one of these catastrophic events. If you have, then you know.

You know how hard and how long it is to recover.

When I was eight, my family moved across the country. Everything we owned was in a moving truck. During the cross-country trip, we woke up one morning to discover our moving truck had been stolen in the night and everything we owned was gone. We were left with nothing. Not because of a natural disaster, but because of a crime.

I know what it’s like to start over again with nothing. Instead of moving into our own home, my family had to move in with my grandma until we could accumulate some basic necessities for living.

Grandma lived in a small town, and when folks heard about our plight, they left plastic trash bags filled with hand-me-down clothes and other household items on Grandma’s front porch. Even though I literally had nothing to wear other than one or two changes of clothing, I hated sorting through those bags. Most of them contained dirty clothes with stains and holes, or a sock without a match.

One day a lady came to the front door with a box of dishes. She sounded so cheerful. She said she heard we didn’t have any dishes, and she had just bought a new set herself, so she didn’t need her old dishes anymore. She was so happy someone could use her old dishes. It must have been God’s special timing, she said, that she happened to buy new dishes that week. She handed my mom the box of old dishes and left.

I followed my mom as she carried the box to Grandma’s kitchen table. When she pulled out a plate, I must have grimaced. They were the ugliest dishes I’d ever seen. My mom never said a word. She just turned around, walked to her borrowed bedroom, and closed the door.

We were pretty squeezed in Grandma’s tiny house. Eventually we were able to move into a rental, but for the next two years, we ate off those dishes.

I hated every meal.

Those ugly dishes reminded me of our poverty. We couldn’t afford to buy new dishes, not when so many other basics were needed.

I sometimes wondered about the woman who gave us her old dishes. She must have had an entire home full of possessions she selected herself, while our home was an odd mishmash of hand-me-downs and donations, usually the junk nobody wanted for themselves anymore.

What if that lady had given us, a family with nothing, her new set of dishes instead of her old ones?

How might that have brightened an otherwise dreary day every time we sat down for dinner?

In the early church, many believers knew the sting of poverty. And it was about this time that James wrote his letter, encouraging believers to put their faith into action. James says it’s not enough to tell someone in need, “I wish you well,” but then do nothing for their physical needs (James 2:16). True faith is evidenced by caring deeds.

This past week Hurricane Helene hit the Southeast hard. Many will be left with nothing. I’m sure organizations will help, which is great. But whenever something like this occurs, it reminds me of the time I was on the receiving end of such help. Some of that help was beautiful and received as a gift. But some of that “help” merely added to the pain.

So I am reminded once again:

When we put our faith into action, let’s do so with generous hearts.

Let’s not “give” our unwanted junk to other people. Let’s emulate our heavenly Father, and let’s be givers of good gifts.

As we each personally consider the ways we can help the hurting, especially those in our local contexts, let’s remember:

One of the most important gifts we could ever give another human being is dignity.

Selah.

~ Denise