I had the immense privilege of traveling with a group of about 20 people into Joplin, MO yesterday. For anyone who is unaware of the significance of this privilege - let me fill you in. On Sunday, May 22nd an EF5 tornado leveled approximately 30% of the city of Joplin, MO - destroying over 8,000 structures (primarily homes as well as one of the major hospitals, several schools, businesses and churches). It is reported as the SINGLE DEADLIEST tornado in US history (since the records started in 1950) with 122 confirmed dead and hundreds of people still unaccounted for.
After the magnitude of that sinks in - let me share with you about the few hours that yes, I was privileged to spend in this city. We had a diverse group of about 20 people gather at our church building in Lamar, MO around 9am, yesterday, May 24th. Our primary purpose was to organize, prepare and serve a free lunch to 1500 people. Just a note here on God's timing: our church was prepared to offer this service at the drop of a hat because on the night of the tornado our small community was merely "rained-out" of an event where we were prepared to serve 1500 people. Little did we know that our seemingly over abundance of hamburgers, hot dogs, chips and the works would be so desperately needed only 40miles away - and would be no where near enough to meet the need.
We assembled, loaded, and left. We were working in conjunction with a church located on the North end of Joplin only 4 miles from what has been deemed "The War Zone." Our team showed up, took over, whipped everything into shape and was prepared for the crowd at least one hour earlier than the news had reported we would be. So we waited. And waited. No one came.
How naive we had been. OF COURSE they didn't come. They COULDN'T come. The masses of people in need of a free hot lunch were knee deep in mud, debris, and the mere splinters left of their existence.
So we sent pick-up load after pick-up load of 3-5 man teams into the wreckage. Drivers were using side streets to get around blockades, driving over downed power lines, through flooded streets, and across miles of devastation. Team members were riding in the back of trucks and vans barking out, "Hot Food!, Hamburgers, Hot Dogs!," to attempt to draw people out of their storm shattered homes to receive an ounce of love and compassion in the form of lunch. Stories were shared, blessings were given, and back they went - into the dark, wet dungeons searching for anything of worth or meaning - all while more storms were approaching.
We heard stories of how people survived in their homes, we met one man who was on the roof of his home when he witnessed the mile-wide, multi-vortex, terror take out St. John's Hospital. He ran down his ladder and took cover. We served him a couple of hot dogs - after he came back down off his roof. Among those we served were volunteer police officers, utility workers, friends & family of victims who were tirelessly working on clearing trees, debris, and even vehicles from their loved one's homes. We met a faithful postman out delivering mail to any mailbox he could find, whether under a car or tree, or to the front step of a pile of rubble. As we stopped and talked with him he told us that the streets we were standing on were indeed the worst on his route. As I again looked around, it was dumbfounding to see the sights we were witnessing. Even a national news anchor who's career began in Joplin, MO said in a local television interview that outside of Baghdad, Iraq he had not seen such devastation.
It took my team about 2hrs to hand out all the food we had been designated to distribute. We were handing out from the back of the truck and walking on foot where vehicles couldn't travel. Over and over again the responses were "No, We're OK." Directly followed by a "Thank you so much!" after they took us up on the offer. One of my personal favorites was an older gentleman, covered in dirt and insulation who said, "I'm fine, but the kids might want some." Then when his wife and grandkids came out of the rubble and were grabbing this and that behind me I heard, "Now that's a piece of heaven!" from this same gentleman who turned out to be the first of his family to unwrap and bite into a hamburger. Even after all that loss. Each one we met was so willing to sacrifice for the next completely negligent of their own personal need. Thankfully, we had more than enough for that family and even Grandpa was able to taste that "piece of heaven" in the midst of what frankly has to be Hell for that family.
We heard the constant sound of chainsaws, dragging branches, utility trucks, and voices of family members saying, "Here, take this," or "No, leave that." The unmistakable smells of mold and mildew had already polluted the air after less than 48hrs of exposure to the rain & humidity. We noticed people slaving away for what seemed to the onlooker to be lost causes and on the other hand we saw people just sitting on what used to be their front porches with empty expressions, not knowing what to do next.
It was absolutely obvious that the difference in the two scenes was hope. I pray that the hope we were able to offer - albeit simply a hot dog and a hug - might have sparked their appetite for a grander hope: the hope that is found in Christ alone. And for me to share the hope of Christ is the ultimate privilege. God be with Joplin, MO.
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