Today is Tuesday, July 8, 2025. Please pray 🙏🙏 for everyone affected by the flooding in Central Texas. Don’t pretend you didn’t see this. I say the world needs God…
👇🏼👇🏼
The rain didn’t just fall — it poured, like the heavens were sobbing with the people below. For days, Central Texas has been under siege by catastrophic flooding. Rivers overflowed like open wounds, streets became violent streams, and homes—once filled with laughter—turned to islands of heartbreak. Lives have been lost. Families torn apart. Livelihoods destroyed. And as the waters rise, so too does the desperation.
But amid the wreckage, one truth echoes louder than the thunder overhead: the world needs God.
It started with a warning.
Meteorologists had predicted heavy rains, but no one imagined the sheer magnitude. Over 20 inches fell in less than 36 hours across some areas, transforming peaceful towns into disaster zones. The Blanco, Llano, and San Gabriel rivers swelled beyond their banks. Flash flood warnings blared across devices. But for many, it was already too late.
In Hays County, a family of five clung to their roof for nine hours, surrounded by nothing but black water. A father, holding his toddler above his head, prayed out loud while debris rushed past. “God, please. Don’t take my baby,” he whispered again and again.
And the stories keep coming.
A mother, swept from her car while trying to drive her daughter to safety, was found miles downstream — her daughter, miraculously, survived, clinging to a tree.
An elderly couple in Williamson County refused to leave their home, not out of denial, but because the husband was too weak to move. Neighbors formed a human chain, risking their own lives to get them out.
In Travis County, a volunteer firefighter cried as he carried a soaked golden retriever from the ruins of a house. “I know it’s just a dog,” he said, voice shaking, “but it’s someone’s whole world.”
Shelters are full. Supplies are thin. And hearts are heavy.
School gyms have been converted into emergency shelters. Church pews now hold people instead of prayer books. Volunteers are serving hot meals with trembling hands. Some people show up to help with nothing but a backpack, a flashlight, and faith.
Faith is what’s holding so many together right now. Not answers. Not certainty. Just faith.
Faith that somehow, the waters will recede.
Faith that tomorrow might not hurt as much as today.
Faith that even when all feels lost, God still sees. God still hears.
Don’t pretend you didn’t see this.
Don’t scroll past. Don’t shake your head and keep moving. These are not distant tragedies happening to strangers. These are our brothers, our sisters, our children, our neighbors. These are people who laughed at barbecues just a week ago, who planned weekend trips, who kissed their loved ones goodnight not knowing it might be the last time.
And if we do anything—anything—in response, let it be this: pray.
Pray for the families still waiting for news.
Some haven’t heard from loved ones in days. Roads are gone. Communication lines are down. Every hour without word feels like a year.
Pray for the first responders.
They are exhausted. Some haven’t seen their own families since the rains began. They are risking everything—for strangers.
Pray for the volunteers.
The ones bringing blankets, cooking meals, organizing donations, and comforting children who don’t yet understand why their house is underwater.
Pray for the grieving.
There have been deaths. Each one is more than a number. Every name represents a soul now gone. A story cut short.
Pray for the leaders.
City officials, pastors, and emergency directors who are tasked with impossible decisions in impossible times.
And pray for the forgotten.
Those in rural areas not making headlines. The elderly alone in homes. The undocumented afraid to ask for help. The poor who had little before and now have nothing.
The world needs God.
In moments like these, no amount of wealth or technology or strategy can hold back the tides. We are reminded of how fragile we really are. How quickly life can change. How powerless we become before nature’s fury.
But that doesn’t mean we are without hope.
Because even in tragedy, there are miracles.
Even in loss, there is love.
Even in darkness, God shines brightest.
A child pulled from rubble and placed into his mother’s arms.
A stranger handing a bottle of water to someone who doesn’t speak the same language.
A group of teenagers forming a bucket brigade to save an elderly man’s home.
It’s easy to feel numb. Easy to feel like the world is spinning out of control — war, division, disaster. But this is the moment to wake up. To look up. To remember what truly matters.
To remember that we are all connected.
To remember that love requires action.
To remember that prayer isn’t a last resort — it’s the beginning.
So today, let’s stop scrolling.
Let’s put down the distractions.
And let’s take a moment — a real moment — to pray.
Not just with our words, but with our hearts.
“God, be near. Comfort the broken. Strengthen the weary. Calm the storms — both outside and within. Heal this land. And use us, your people, to be your hands and feet. In Jesus’ name, Amen.”
🙏🙏
Don’t pretend you didn’t see this.
Let this be the day we remembered that the world still needs God.
