Bearing Witness
We invite you to encounter 14 Stations of Witness — a pilgrimage of photos and stories collected from across our diocese. These 14 stations echo the sacred tradition of the Stations of the Cross, reminding us that bearing witness is a holy and courageous act.
Please note that, while most photos directly tie to the story they are shown with, some are taken by someone else and curated to match that story.
The Rev. Canon Augusta Anderson
Canon to the Ordinary
That first night it was so dark. The electric grid had been destroyed. We scrambled to find flashlights and candles to bring some light into the devastation and fear. At some point I realized that it was the small points of light that were going to help us recover. For some, it was a single candle that brought first responders and saved their lives. For others, it was a small campfire in someone’s driveway that brought neighbors together to share food, comfort, and encouragement.
For me, it was the stars in the night sky. For a week, before electricity was restored, I could see the holy gift of light twinkling against the dark reminding me that even when things feel bleak, God is ever-present, ever-loving, ever-merciful.
Craig Setzer
Black Mountain
The early days of Helene were bizarre. I remember leaving my house for the first time after about a day. When I drove around to check on friends at their houses, it took me four or five times longer than usual because trees were down on most streets in my neighborhood—trees blocking the road, trees that had fallen on houses, trees blocking access to and from homes. I would try a back way to get to someone, and more trees would be down. It was really challenging. At that point, the only resource we had was ourselves and our neighbors, so we grabbed our chainsaws and got to work. I helped friends, neighbors, and strangers alike cut up trees and move them out of the way.
It made me realize that even the most basic necessities like road access were a huge blessing.
The Rt. Rev. Bishop José A. McLoughlin
VII Bishop
After Helene hit, I remember searching for any cell signal to contact family, clergy, and diocesan staff. Within the first week, I went on the air with 570 WWNC radio to give updates on our parishes, to share resource information, and to offer messages of hope and shared humanity. When our usual means of communication—cell phones, social media, and the internet—were stripped away, we witnessed something both humbling and holy. Radios crackled to life, handwritten notes were passed from hand to hand, and neighbors knocked on doors just to check in.
At the heart of it all was a deep, God-given impulse to connect, to care, to be present with one another. The creativity and determination people showed reminded me that even in silence, God's Spirit moves among us, drawing us together. In the absence of digital noise, we rediscovered the sacredness of human connection.
The Rev. Toni Belhu
Rector at St. Francis & St. Gabriel's, Rutherfordton
Early Sunday morning (September 29), the power came on at St. Francis. I was able to send a … message to St. Francis... and St. Gabriel’s letting everyone know there would be Sunday service as usual at St. Francis and that the Parish House at St. Francis would be open that day for anyone who needed to charge phones, use the WiFi, or just needed a hot cup of coffee from 8:30 am to 6:30 pm. We were fortunate that our Music Director, Steven Noll, was able to drive over from Hendersonville, and that Richard and Stephanie Williams, parishioners at St. Francis, were able to come across the street. Richard was the preacher that day. We had ingredients to make quesadillas at the Parish House so anyone who came by was able to be fed, and we gathered all the snacks we had around to give out, too.
Beginning Monday morning, we again opened the Parish House at St. Francis for anyone who needed power to charge or needed WiFi... We made sandwiches to give out along with the snacks and drinks. On Wednesday, we gave out hotdog meals at St. Gabriel’s so those who normally would pick up on Wednesday at the Soup Kitchen were still able to receive a meal. On Thursday and Friday, we fried fish all day long and were able to feed anyone who came by along with those at the local hotel. We were also able to share some of the fish we had with St. Paul’s in Edneyville...
We continued to receive deliveries over the next few weeks of supplies and clothes, and we continued to give out anything we had here at St. Francis... We are thankful for our lay leadership and the support of the parishes. We thank God who sustains us in our time of need and in our time of plenty.
The Rev. Kelsey Davis
Bishop's Deputy for Disaster Response
When our power went out, I remember opening and closing the refrigerator as quickly as possible to preserve the cool air. After a few days, our refrigerator was no longer cool. Our two year-old is Type 1 Diabetic. As her insulin warmed, a clock began to count down on how long the insulin would last. With no pharmacy, closed roads, and little cell service, we turned to a neighbor, who mapped us a route to Georgia.
With half a tank of gas, prayers, and determination, we made it to family, resources, and a pharmacy.
Unable to transfer our prescription, I pleaded with a local pharmacist. An hour later, she slid three vials of insulin across the counter. No cost. No questions asked.
When I asked our two-year-old what she wanted to offer to kids back in North Carolina, she told us she wanted them to have diapers and wipes. So, we purchased diapers and wipes from the same Walmart that gifted us insulin. She helped us pack up the supplies, and I drove them back home a few days later. Living through this disaster has solidified for me: God is present in the cycles of giving and receiving. We all have something we need to receive, and we all have something to give. Ultimately, there's enough to go around when we share what we can with each other.
Zebbi Sampler
Hendersonville
We lost our home due to downed trees. We were able to salvage most of our items, but our youngest son lost 90% of his belongings... My husband and I are still dealing with the trauma, grief, and pain of losing our home of 12 years... It’s easy to go through the motions and deal with everyone else’s trauma. Being accountable for our own was a little harder to do.
We have never felt more connected as a family and more loved by our community than we do now. We have always been the caretakers and support system for others, but we never had to have that support for ourselves. We now have a first-hand experience of what it’s like to share grief and call upon our community for action and support.
The Rev. David Hensen
Rector at St. James, Hendersonville
Before cell service got too spotty ... I sent a message to a fellow priest and friend, Fr. Brad Landry, of All Saints Birmingham, and asked for help - supplies and assistance. Their response was nothing short of amazing. “Just tell us what you need and absolutely we will,” he replied.
A member of the parish was a pilot, and within less than a week they had shopped for thousands of dollars’ worth of relief goods, water, and even heavy-duty chainsaws. They filed a flight plan, set to arrive the Tuesday after the storm, which would be the first of two flights and one large land-based delivery. Brad was the first person I had seen from outside the disaster area. I remember hugging him in gratitude—not just for the supplies, but for his companionship.
In the midst of what felt like hell, we caught a glimpse of a world made right: the kingdom of God, where everyone had enough, no one wanted too much, and every stranger became a neighbor to love.
More than anything else, I witnessed God’s abundance through the overflowing generosity of friends, neighbors, and parishes from around the region who showed up and said, “Let me help. Here am I. Send me!” Small gifts and simple gifts were often the most meaningful—a fresh bunch of bananas, a grocery run, a hot homemade meal, a quick check or visit. Every offering mattered, and every gift matters.
Raymond Nordfors
Spruce Pine
On the 28th we checked the house, and we had no damage and neither did our neighbors. However, when we went exploring... we couldn’t believe what we saw. A few hundred feet below our lot there was a major landslide that was 100 feet across and took out everything for at least one hundred feet down the mountain... (Another) landslide at the largest waterfall obliterated the road, which was the only way in and out. There was no way we could get off the mountain.
The neighbors joined together and met to strategize and make plans for finding a way off the mountain... Over the course of the next six days the six people that lived on the mountain cut down dozens of trees, took gravel from one of the neighbor’s yards to fill in the huge ruts in the driveway... so we could get to the logging road. Despite the destruction, or maybe because of it, we had a great deal of fun during our evening meals - the direness of the situation cemented our friendly acquaintances into true friendships.
Once the driveway and road were semi-passable, the other two men set out in a four-wheel drive “gator” to see what was on the other side of the pasture. The other four people continued to try to fix the driveway and logging road... They followed the road for a while to find that there were multiple trees down on the dirt road and neighbors from the other side of the mountain trying to clear it away... Once that was done, not only did we finally have a way out, but we also had a few more friends.
We thank God for putting us on the mountain with the other two couples.
The Very Rev. Sarah Hurlbert
Dean, Cathedral of all Souls in Asheville
I remember the smell of the mud, I remember the feeling of unsteadiness as I walked through our office. My body was unsteady, my heart and mind were unsteady. Making my way down the cluttered hallway to my office I saw the water had reached the ceiling. Everything was destroyed and yet one item of memorabilia remained - a six pack of canned water I got when doing Katrina relief work with my campus ministry students 20 years ago.
Can this be real? That water connected me back to colleagues who had been where I was standing and that connection point became the stabilizer I needed to step forward with hope.
McKayla Knowles
Black Mountain
Our wedding was scheduled for October 19th in Black Mountain. Then the storm came, and we wondered if we could still pull it off. We asked our friends, and they all said yes.
I remember excitement that fizzled into exhaustion from long days collecting water and searching for cell signal to contact family. Hours and days and weeks were spent focusing on the most basic necessities for ourselves and our community.
And then, a sacred 48 hours began. Our chosen family from near and far stepped in to help us carry excitement and joy again. Local farms donated flowers. Strangers offered tables and chairs. Friends rationed their leftover energy to hang string lights, build bouquets, bake cookies, and set tables. I remember the tension felt trying to create beauty while surrounded by destruction. And I remember things falling perfectly into place. We made commitments to love and support one another no matter what, inspired by the example of our community.
Most importantly, we promised to do so with God’s help.
The Rev. Dr. Robert Wetherington
Rector at St. Mary's, Asheville
With no water, power, or communications, the neighbors around the church began to gather in the back yard of one of our neighboring homes. In fact, it was at Bishop Henry’s previous residence that we all gathered. There we listened to radio transmissions and tried to make communication with friends and family. We shared food, water, and ready hands to help each other through the first couple of days...
Connections through the various members of our community started with a few U-Haul vans with water, food, and cleaning supplies... Over the next two weeks, we received seven tractor trailers carrying 63,000 pounds each... In total, including the U-Haul trucks, we had nearly 500,000 pounds of food, water, personal hygiene, and household cleaning items desperately needed by the people in our area.
At one point, we received so much bottled water that we had to store it in the lower level of the church, and the line of volunteers looked like sailors loading a battleship for deployment. As the last cases of water were set down, we were informed that the Asheville School System was working to reopen but needed drinking water for at least two weeks. We had that water. We began to shuttle water to the schools and delivered two weeks of water, based on the number of students, to all of the elementary schools and some of what was needed at the middle school. It was astounding the effort and creativity that took place during these efforts.
On numerous occasions, volunteers commented to me how refreshing it was to see the church doing what we say we do.
Heather Davis
Asheville
"Autumn, you glorious season, you" (Oct 25, 2024)
did i miss it...
the raucous fanfare
the effortless release
the flocks of pilgrims donning cameras
tipsy with altitude
the geese flee the crowds
honking goodbyes in the traffic overhead
i must have missed it
all
of us twisting our hands
dirty nail beds
waiting
on water to boil
Fr. John Roberts
Rector at Church of the Transfiguration, Bat Cave
After the storm, I noticed the pastoral care questions we often ask to check in on each other were anything but “normal.” Instead I found myself asking and answering questions that focused on simple human need - “do you have water, a place to sleep, access to medical care, enough food, are you safe, have you heard from…?” For me, the questions behind these questions were harder still - “why me, why us, what is dignity, what is the role of the church in the face of so much loss, death, and need, where are you God?” In answer, our little church tried to become home for those who had lost theirs, and the simple answer required was, “yes.”
For months there was hardly room to grieve, the need to grieve was very real. Yet, I think I now understand the story of the people of God more than I ever have before: God is present and faithful to humanity when we are at our worst and our best. I’ve seen both in the year since Helene, and God is still here among us.
Thanks be to God.
The Venerable Brenda Gilbert
Archdeacon
In the wake of Helene’s devastation, a simple truth began to anchor us: we could find something beautiful to look at, breathe deeply, and remember that God is with us.
A quiet strength emerged with our community as we held onto that truth, reminding us that even in chaos, God’s presence provided an unwavering foundation.
