By Matt Friedeman
September 16, 2005

(AgapePress) - There is no finer job in the world, I suspect, than to host a radio talk show and ask for "stories of encouragement, stories of hope, stories of challenge" amidst the devastation of Hurricane Katrina. Our radio towers are up on the Gulf Coast of Mississippi, and people have been hearing that challenge and phoning in.

The stories of those who can get to a phone that actually works are nothing short of breathtaking. Houses, gone. Cars, gone. Family members, lost. Funnels, apart from the hurricane, destroying homes. Businesses, finished. Domestic animals floating away from their homes on mattresses. Water up to the second floor. First floors giving way below those seeking refuge in the house above. Jobs -- history. Churches, ravaged.

But while those messages comprise something of the first minute of any single phone call to our station, there is always more delivered with a bounce in their voice.

"I lost my house, my cars, some of my family was lost. I found a cardboard box to lay down on ... there was little else around. I looked up at the stars and I said, 'Thank you. Thank you, Lord, for giving me that house that we lived in for so many years where we were able to celebrate Christmases and birthdays and share meals. Thank you for all the family I have loved and are soon to be together. Thank you for the cars that drove me around that I can't find. Thank you for my future.'"

"I am from Baltimore and got three truck loads of stuff from my church to help those on the Coast. We are here because we love God and love those on this Coast that have been so devastated by this hurricane."

The first Sunday after the hurricane? "Sure we had church. We got a bunch of people together and sang hymns and preached the Word. Why not?"

"I know that we have been hit, and life will never be the same. But for some reason I am thanking God and I definitely have the joy of the Lord rushing through me. We have all learned that our 'stuff' is just that."

"Matt, the Church has been terrific. That is the untold story. Everyone in the media seems to be griping about this or that with the federal response, but really, the people of God are down here swarming around from place to place acting like the Church. It is phenomenal."

And that last comment probably does encapsulate the greatest message of all in this catastrophic scenario. The people of the Lord have definitely stepped forward. Saints in Mississippi, sure. But also saints from Kansas, and Ohio, and Maryland, and Colorado, and ... well, from everywhere it seems. Descending on the places of hurt with healing hands and words of compassion. Audio-visual Christians, I have heard it described lately.

And the words of Saddleback pastor Rick Warren are substantially challenging, and not impossibly so, when he says that this could be the Church's finest hour. It may well be, when suddenly the pictures and reports come to the people of God and they recognize that they can do nothing less than to carve out some time from work, or retirement, or local ministry and head to another locale to be counted for the sake of compassion, for the sake of Christ.

Or they write out a check, like a small church which recently spent its entire building fund on the crisis effort. Or gather up basic items to truck down to the place that looks like, in Gov. Haley Barbour's assessment, "Hiroshima." Or decide to house one or more families when, frankly, they really have no business financially or in terms of space to do so.

Kind of reminds me of what Lenny Skutnick said about diving in after a lady who was drowning in icy Potomac River waters in 1982 after Air Florida Flight 90 crashed. "Someone had to do something," he said. So he dove in. Or when they asked his mother why Lenny did it when it meant certain hypothermia for him: "Lenny told me," she said, "that the Lord looked down on that group of people and said 'Eenie, meenie, minie, mo,' and your name is Mo!"

So he went. And so it would seem, local churches are thus hearing their name called and are heading to the Coast to be counted for their finest, self-giving hour.

Oh yes. One more comment. My producer Jim got off the phone a few days ago and said that a caller didn't want to go on but that he said he was absolutely destitute. No where to go. No money. No hope.

So, dear Church, keep it up. And thanks.