Hurricane Ike was a storm to remember. Houstonians will speak of him the way they still talk about Alicia of 1983 and Carla of 1961, two names that have since been retired by the World Meteorological Organization. Likewise, Ike is one we will not soon forget.

But I will remember him for different reasons. Oh, I will think of the devastation for sure. From the evacuations to the news coverage to the storm damage to the power outages, there are pictures in my mind that will linger long. Yet, when I tell my grandchildren about Hurricane Ike of 2008, I will tell them about the behavior of our brothers and sisters of the Southside church. Tragedy tends to bring out the best and worst of people. For our folks, it was an opportunity for the brightest lights in the world to shine even more brilliantly.

It started on Sunday morning, the day after the storm passed. The church building, though undamaged, was without electricity. The elders decided to have an abbreviated service for anyone who was able to attend. Forty chairs were set up in the foyer, the only place where enough natural light could penetrate. Communion was prepared for fifty. At 10 a.m., a building that was without power was filled with 140 spirited people who would not allow Ike to diminish the value of the Lord’s Day.

Once more chairs were secured, enough at least for all the ladies to have a seat, one of the most moving and touching worship services I have ever been a part of began. Charlie Summers gave a preliminary report on members’ homes who had suffered damage. You could feel the concern in the air. But that soon took a back seat to the knowledge that Steve Ferguson had developed a blood clot in his foot during his evacuation to Mississippi. I suppose the old saying is true; disasters do remind you of what matters most.

Brendan Mangrum led the singing. His first selection could not have been more appropriate to the hour: Take Time to Be Holy. It was a reminder that no matter the circumstances, God still deserves the very best that we can give. The ladies had wet hair and wore no makeup. They never looked more beautiful. Many of the men were unshaven. Yet there was a dignity and reverence that remained. Having no air conditioning had no effect on the condition of the heart of the worshipers.

After partaking of the Lord’s Supper and reading Psalm 29, we concluded with the song Count Your Many Blessings. In spite of the losses experienced just 24 hours before, there was the realization of how much we had to be thankful for. The prayers offered by Glenn Bollman and Matt Craig certainly reflected as much. Our faith in God was still deeply rooted. Our eternal salvation was still secure. Our hope of a new home free from the storms of life was still anchored. I can’t speak for everyone, but I came to the service with my head spinning in all different directions, wondering what to do next. I left with a grateful heart for what God had already done.

With faith and hope firmly fixed, there was only one element left to express: love. And it didn’t take long for that to be displayed, either. Charlie Summers spent the afternoon driving around to as many houses as he could, checking on people and offering his assistance. Five college students and former members, namely Jared & Taylor Henson, Robert & Reagan Fairchild, and Randy (Gabardi) Hightower, came down from College Station bearing chainsaws, gas cans, water, and food for any and all who might need them. Several groups of brethren have gone out each day since, cutting branches, raking yards, and removing debris from houses. No one was asked to do any of these things. They just saw their brother hungry and thirsty, so they gave him food and drink.

A number of songs have gone through my head the last week or so: We Have an Anchor, Be Still My Soul, This World Is Not My Home. But the one I keep singing over and over is the last verse of There’s A Rainbow in the Cloud. “When the storms all pass, comes a brighter day, there’s a rainbow in the cloud; in that city fair there’s a crown to wear, there’s a rainbow in the cloud.” We have experienced the hurricane. But what I will remember is the rainbow. It’s still shining clearly.

—Bubba Garner