Two weeks ago, I traveled from Raleigh, North Carolina, to Helena, Arkansas, with a group of lively volunteers from my church. We spent over a week working with Together For Hope, a rural development coalition that focuses on engaging the 339 counties of persistent rural poverty in America.
While the primary purpose of our presence in Helena was to teach the community’s people how to swim, as my church has for the past twenty years, I quickly came to realize we were also there for other, more surprising reasons. We were in Helena to see the version of God we thought we knew expand and swell beyond our preconceived understandings.
We couldn’t squeeze God into our overpacked luggage. We couldn’t stuff God into the pockets of our shorts. We couldn’t bury God into the crevices of our Bibles.
God couldn’t be dragged into Arkansas because the God of Helena was already at work before we even arrived, untamed by the confines of locational boundaries. Seeing God’s immeasurable depth and width dwelling in Helena transformed our hearts and added zest to our theology.
We were in Helena to experience what happens under the shade of trees.
Each weekday from 8:30 am to 2:30 pm, we put on what has come to be known as “Swim Camp” for children in the community. When they weren’t learning how to swim in the pool, you could find the kids and their group leaders under a large canopy of trees, separated into teams at different stations. The trees provided a refreshing oasis during a heatwave, allowing the children to learn new dances, create and craft, and encounter God through stories and games.
In the shade, they traded chips from their lunches, played tag, and showed off their cartwheels and handstands. In the shade, we shared in their childlike wonder and excitement as they pointed us to the simplest and yet holiest of joy-filled actions.
We were in Helena to hear the encouraging cheers as people faced their fears of water.
For some, fully submerged toes in the pool were a cause for celebration. For others, putting their face under the water and blowing bubbles was met with squeals and claps.
From diving board backflips to mastering floating, all week, we were applauding those who dared to face what scared them most. It was a lesson for many of us that God cares about what we care about.
Witnessing kids and adults alike reach out and bravely jump into the open arms of strangers like us was a reminder that beautiful things happen when we take a chance and put our hope in something bigger than ourselves. The children do it so easily, and so can we.
We were in Helena to learn what heaven on earth can look like.
In the afternoons, as camp came to a close, we huddled and said the Lord’s Prayer together, substituting “on earth” with “in Helena.” Local teenage group leaders, community members and volunteers, including us, held hands as we prayed, sharing our dreams of what Helena could look like together.
The time we spent in Arkansas remains one of the holiest trips of my life. But you don’t have to fly across states to witness what we came back proclaiming.
Wherever you find yourself today, there’s a bigger God to notice. What’s happening under the shade of trees, bus stops and apartment awnings? Who’s encouraging the children, the frightened and the courageous?
Will you join God’s story and Helena’s story in praying for eyes to see that heaven can be found where you call home, too?
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Anna Parish, originally from Auburn, Alabama, earned a B.S. in Applied Health Sciences from Troy University and is currently in her second year of the M.Div. program at Campbell University Divinity School. She serves as an intern at Hayes Barton Baptist Church in Raleigh, North Carolina, where she enjoys walking alongside people of all ages as they explore their callings. Anna is passionate about cultivating authentic communities through holistic spiritual development. She is pursuing a vocation in hospital chaplaincy and authorship and is interested in religious social science research and preaching.
