People asked, “What impact are you making there?”
The longer we’ve been here, the more I think that’s the wrong question.
Everyone is making an impact. And everyone is being impacted.
Heartbreak and joy somehow coexist at ground zero. Grief is everywhere, yet so is incredible courage. One thing has become very clear: Jesus’ fingerprints are left everywhere. In every stone that has fallen from a broken wall. In every smile. In every “Welcome to Venezuela.” In every person who has opened their heart, their hands, and even their agenda to help someone else.
Over the past week, we’ve simply tried to be present where people are hurting.
We’ve been assisting with body recovery alongside Gideon Rescue and an Argentinian search and rescue team. Working with them has been such a blessing. Together we’ve searched for signs of life, lived in the tension of hope being given and hope being taken away, and stood alongside families waiting for news. It isn’t our pain to carry, but our hearts ache because theirs do. Not pity, but shared compassion. Simply being there.
We’ve spent days digging with families looking for their loved ones. One story that will stay with us is Lucas, a nine-year-old footballer. After fourteen days of searching, his body was finally found. It was heartbreaking. Yet being able to bring him home gave his family something precious: the beginning of closure, and a place from which they can start to grieve.
We’ve handed out food to people working tirelessly to find family members, serving meals on streets filled with dust, exhaustion, and uncertainty.
We visited a safehouse that can no longer operate because of the damage. The volunteers who have faithfully loved these children are heartbroken and unsure what comes next. We were able to bring practical aid, but perhaps even more importantly, we could listen, encourage them, and be a shoulder to cry on.
We’ve spent time in refugee camps, talking with families, playing clapping games with children who still find reasons to laugh, helping set up a tent, and assessing needs so support can continue where it’s most needed.
We’ve also been able to support Operation Blessing in their ongoing relief work, serving wherever extra hands were needed.
And throughout all of it, we’ve prayed. With people. For people. Sometimes with words. Sometimes in silence.
This week has reminded us again that God is not the author of our pain, but He refuses to waste it. Even here, among the rubble, the tears, the waiting, and the uncertainty; we have seen glimpses of His presence. In compassion. In resilience. In people choosing, over and over again, to love their neighbour despite their own loss.
Please continue to pray for Venezuela. Pray for the families still waiting. Pray for comfort for those grieving. Pray for strength for the rescue teams and volunteers. And pray that, in the middle of unimaginable loss, people would continue to encounter the hope that only Jesus can give.
