“God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth should change, though the mountains shake in the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam, though the mountains tremble with its tumult.” (Psalm 46:1-3)
The U.S. Geological Survey reports that there were upwards of 2,000 landslides caused by Hurricane Helene, a vast majority of those in western North Carolina where I live. My family was trapped for days by several. A mile down the road, 11 members of a single family were swept away by another in a torrent of land and water that so altered the landscape it has been rendered unrecognizable. Standing in the rain at the height of the storm, I watched a normally placid creek rage through the forest, ripping trees from its bank. In the span of a few hours, the mountains shook and the earth changed in front of our eyes. And we were afraid.
At first glance, a turn to the birth narratives of the Bible offers little by way of encouragement as to what Emmanuel, God with us, could have done to help as the world fell down around us. An infant, while a most blessed gift, is not a particularly useful one in an emergency. They’re fragile and in need of constant attention. They cannot hold a hillside or prevent a flood, nor do they shatter armies or bring down empires. What do we make of God’s presence made manifest as a baby who whimpered in the night?
Tiffany Theriot (right) of the charity Cajun Commissary surprises Cristin Trahan with a donated Christmas tree on the property of their destroyed home in Lake Charles, Louisiana, on Dec. 4, 2020. Cristin, her husband, and a son were living in tents on the property after Hurricane Laura hit. (Gerald Herbert/Associated Press)
What can we say about such Divine hope and love when the mountains tremble?
Only this: On Sept. 27, I watched the waters roar and foam and God was a pair of young men on ATVs with chainsaws making their way down broken roads to clear trees. And God was a stranger who showed up with tools to get a generator running again. And God was in dark kitchens preparing meals for anyone who came by. And God was making phone calls on behalf of stranded neighbors letting their families know they were alive. And God was sharing their homes and resources. And God was making music in ravaged buildings and making art out of the floodwater detritus. And God was fragile people being generous and kind and good to one another, one precarious moment after another.
And God may not have been powerful or mighty, but we can say alongside the psalmist and the Gospel writer that Emmanuel is come, that God is a very present help in trouble.
Lauren Graeber is a writer, artist, and writing coach in the mountains of North Carolina. She leads workshops and seminars for folks who love the idea of writing but who struggle to find their words. Her stories, musings, and slightly wonky art can be found on Substack @laurengraeber and on Instagram @definitelysometimes.
