After flooding devastated his home in the Texas Hill Country, Roy O'Donnell watched the PCG Disaster Relief team gut it, rebuild it, and then come back a year later when the water rose again even deeper. Rev. Andy Hunt reflects on why returning matters.
Topic:
Contending for Mission
In July of 2025, we met a man named Roy O'Donnell in the Texas Hill Country. He was kind. He was gracious. He was also desperate for help.
The flooding had taken his home apart. When we pulled up there was mud everywhere: inside the house, across the yard, filling the swimming pool to the brim. The bottom level was destroyed. For Roy and his family, that bottom level was where they lived. Their whole life had been turned upside down in a matter of hours.
So we got to work. The PCG Disaster Relief team helped Roy clear the mud off his property. We helped demo the home, gutting the inside so the rebuilding could begin. Later we came back with building materials and had the privilege of helping put the inside of that house together again.
What stays with me is Roy's gratitude.
Roy and his family were thankful for every hour spent there, and as we worked our way across the Hill Country we saw that same gratitude in home after home. That is part of what makes this work matter. You are clearing out a house, tearing out damaged walls, hauling ruined furniture to the curb, and you are standing beside people in one of the worst weeks of their lives.
Then, a little over a year later, the water came back.
Roy flooded again. This time it came in about a foot deeper than before. From what we understand, he and his family had been back in their home for roughly two months. Picture spending months rebuilding, finally getting your kitchen and your beds and your ordinary evenings back, and then watching all of it go under a second time. Devastating is the only honest word for it.
When we returned after that second flood, I could tell Roy was relieved to see us. We were glad to see him, too. We were glad we could be there. So we picked the tools back up, helped with the demolition, and started the recovery over again. We plan to go back for more of the rebuilding.
It is hard to sit with Roy's story and not think about how many other Roys are out there. People who never asked for a disaster. People who worked hard for years to build a home and a life for their families, only to watch it damaged in an afternoon. People who are overwhelmed and wondering where the strength to start over one more time is supposed to come from.
That is why compassion matters. That is why community matters. That is why we go.
We cannot stop the rain. We cannot undo what the water did. We can show up. We can pick up the tools, clear out the mud, tear out what has been ruined, and help rebuild what can be rebuilt. And sometimes, maybe most importantly, we can return.
Roy and his family have carried more than anyone should have to carry. My hope is that they get their home back together soon, get on with their lives, and someday live without listening for the river every time it rains.
Until then, they have people beside them. Because when disaster strikes, that is what we do. We go back. We show up.
Want to ask a question, tell a story, or share what you've learned? Let us know!
Connect with our Team
Looking back on the history of the Pentecostal Messenger with editors Charlotte Beal, John Mallinak, Randy Lawrence Jr., and Spencer Ming.
After 100 volumes of the Pentecostal Messenger, we pause to review significant changes in form and style through each decade of the magazine's existence.
In celebration of the Pentecostal Messenger's 100th volume, we review the early foundations and legacy of this important publication.
© 2025 Pentecostal Church of God. All rights reserved.
