The flash flood and tornado warning sounded as I texted my son who was driving down Interstate 40 on his way to Boone, North Carolina for a football reunion. “They just canceled the App State University football game. I think you should turn around.”
We’d stalked the weather reports and a cancelled reunion never crossed our mind. For the North Carolinians who live hours from the coast, we mimicked the drill for our icy winter storm preparations. With bathtubs filled, gas cans ready for generators, and cozy candles to light, many NC friends tucked into bed awaiting additional alerts. While our area incurred minimal damage, nothing prepared our Western neighbors for the catastrophic devastation that shifted the landscape of North Carolina in hours.
Entire town centers wiped away. Weeks without power or running water. Lives lost. People still unaccounted for. It’s unfathomable.
Whatever you witnessed online doesn’t begin to cast a glimpse of the gruesome reality. Yet amidst the devastation, we also watched everyday heroes birthed amidst heartbreak. On Friday, ordinary folks hunkered down awaiting a storm, but by Saturday, they heroically, miraculously maneuvered through liquid mud.
Scared and sacred moments intertwined as hundreds of everyday heroes trekked miles on foot over downed trees, demolished roads, and through impassable terrain to find and save stranded strangers cut off from society. Neighbors helping neighbors. Requests that only twenty-four hours earlier would have seemed unimaginable. The marvel of the human spirit turned strangers into lifelong friends.
People rally amidst catastrophe.
With so much heaviness, thousands of everyday heroes representing varying social, economic, and political backgrounds descended on Western North Carolina as common folk — people like you and me — became the lifeline of hope and restoration for a hurting world. It’s still happening. The Church is flourishing as it puts on love and intersects the swing pendulum of emotions of the people: grief and gratitude, cursing and courage, anger and awe — all simultaneously simmering amidst water bottles and generators. No one asks for your voting preference or ID. The Church is no longer about a building or budget, denomination or specified expectations; the focus is only enveloping others with unquestioning care and compassion.
And while we react with awe to doors flinging wide open with sweeping gestures of hospitality to strangers, this is nothing new. Did you know that this kind of generous, radical necessity for hospitality began in the Old Testament and it wasn’t only modeled during times of disaster? It was part of their Mosaic Law – a mandate.
“And if a stranger dwells with you in your land, you shall not mistreat him (or do him wrong). 34 The stranger who dwells among you shall be to you as one born among you, and you shall love him as yourself; for you were strangers in the land of Egypt: I am the Lord your God.”
Leviticus 19:33-34 KJV
Throughout the Scriptures, God tells His people to welcome and love the stranger. Within the context of that ancient culture, the Mosaic Law laid out expectations for the host to house, offer food, wash feet, and keep their guests from harm — it was an obligation to focus on the stranger in need. Considered a breach of honor if either the host or the guest refused, strangers and even enemies were welcomed as guests. With no hotel, gas station, or grocery store on the corner, communities lived interconnected and their safety and survival depended on the kindness of strangers.
Does an obligation like this feel overwhelming? It sure does. I received so many texts this month saying something like, “The need seems daunting. I don’t know what to do.”
I believe one of Satan’s tricks is to paralyze us with uncertainty and assault our thoughts by mocking our inability. And yet I page through the Scriptures looking for the verse that states, “You’re scared? Unfit? Nervous to be out of your comfort zone? Then don’t bother because I need someone more capable.”
Nope, it never says that. Scriptures declare the exact opposite. Through His grace and favor God sees fit to use us when we’re completely and unequivocally unworthy and unqualified for the task.
God has given us everything we need to put on love and be an everyday hero in our own hometown. We don’t need a hurricane to shift the landscape of our neighborhood or workplace, school, or playground for His glory, but we need a softened heart sensitive to His spirit. With ears eager to hear and eyes searching for opportunities, every encounter matters to Him no matter how small it might appear.
A casserole meal doubled to share with an exhausted mom.
Fall leaves raked for the neighbor who is struggling.
A favorite coffee brought to a discouraged coworker.
A note of encouragement to a frazzled teacher.
Brownies brought to the house with an opposing political sign.
Everyday heroes write the story of their lives with unseen acts of hospitality and servanthood.
It’s in these everyday moments when the wonder of the gospel is revealed in a new way – an opportunity to be the image bearer of Christ, to be transformed more into His likeness so He gets the glory.
I’m still sad and overwhelmed, but I’m looking for stories of everyday heroes all around me. Won’t you join me?
I’d love to hear your story of an everyday hero who impacted your life.
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