Two years have passed since Hurricane Helene swept through the mountains of western North Carolina. I returned to Asheville this spring for a family wedding. The town is healing slowly, but reminders of the destructive power of wind and water in this mountain community are everywhere: washed-out bridges, hollowed-out buildings, closed businesses, eroded riverbanks, and high-water marks that defy comprehension. Large swaths of poplar trees along the Blue Ridge Parkway lie flattened in one direction, lining the mountainsides. Several sections of the Parkway are still closed.
For my Asheville family, trauma from the hurricane lingers just beneath the surface. Seeking to understand their experiences, I asked my nephew, “What was it like for you? How are you doing now?” Tears welled in his eyes as he described the loss of life and the decision to evacuate and relocate his family indefinitely while the city endured power outages and seven weeks without water. He shared his guilt over leaving and his strong desire to return and help his community recover. “It’s the Appalachian way,” he said. Listening to him, I heard expressions of mercy and compassion as he said, “This is my home, and these are my people. Something about this is not right. It shouldn’t be this way.” I’m pretty sure there was a Why God? tucked into his response.
Reflecting on his words, I realized my nephew’s very human response revealed layers of God-given emotion, because we are, after all, made in his image. His responses struck at the heart of how we are created to respond in the face of trials and suffering. God’s Word tells us that, on some level, everyone has an awareness of their creator (Rom 1:19–20). His image is reflected in the characteristics we exhibit.
I cannot explain the hand of God in a hurricane’s destructive power or why he allows that type or any type of destruction to occur, but I do know that creation is groaning (Rom 8:22). Things are not as they were intended to be. One only has to look around to see and feel it everywhere. We exist in a fallen state—in our nature, bodies, and behavior. The Eden that was intended for us has been replaced by one in desperate need of renewal. Collectively, we suffer.
We also collectively hope, for God has promised a future restoration. “Behold,” he says in Revelation 21:5, “I am making all things new.” One day, all creation will be made right again. Until then, we wait. We contemplate this crucial question: On this side of that restoration, how do we live? I find encouragement in these words from Henri Nouwen: “Lord, let me see what you see—the love of God and the suffering of people so that my eyes may become more and more like yours, eyes that can heal wounded hearts.”
In times of trial, it’s natural to grieve, to wish things were different, to lament the loss and deeply feel the suffering. Trials leave scars, sometimes on the land and definitely in our hearts. Yet, these wounds call us to greater compassion, hope, and love for one another. We are invited to reflect God’s love in this way, while still holding onto the hope that renewal is coming. As we wait for all things to be made new, may our lives bear witness to mercy, resilience, and the promise of God’s restoration.
Shirley Ralston (MACE, 2008) is the Global Marketplace Missions Training Manager for The Upstream Collective. She is a writer and pastor’s research team member at Houston’s First Baptist Church (HFBC). Additionally, she is a founding member of the HFBC Missionary Care Team. Shirley and her husband, Jeff, reside in Houston after several years of serving as marketplace global workers in the Middle East and the South Pacific.