**When Truth Matters Most: The Power of Integrity in Crisis**
As many of my readers know, I have several close friends who live in the Redding, California area. Between 2012 and 2022, I travelled there often. That’s why the 2018 wildfire hit close to home—literally and emotionally.
Back then, the Carr Fire tore through more than 100,000 acres in just days, destroying over 700 homes. Ninety-five percent of my friends had to evacuate. Some left early to protect their young families. Others were forced out with only minutes to spare. Many waited for days before they could return. A few had no homes left to return to.
I watched something beautiful rise up from the ashes—quiet, faithful service from the local church community.
One church in particular, where many of my friends worship, stepped forward with compassion and readiness. They offered their facilities as a shelter to evacuees. However, due to its location near the fire zone and limited access roads, city officials—out of safety concerns—declined the offer. The church respected that decision and remained in contact with the Red Cross and the Salvation Army, offering help in any way they could.
When the winds changed and the danger passed, those same agencies invited the church to act as a distribution centre for evacuees. Within 24 hours, doors were open and supplies were flowing to those in need.
But even before that green light, the church’s trained crisis team—comprised of doctors, nurses, mental health workers, and experienced volunteers—had already been serving behind the scenes. They were present at temporary shelters from day one. And as neighbourhoods reopened, they were among the first to walk alongside families returning to heartbreak.
Sadly, as this quiet care was unfolding, a storm of social media misinformation began to swirl.
The church was falsely accused of turning its back on the city. Online commentators—many with no ties to the region—spread half-truths, conspiracy theories, and outright slander. They ignored the facts and rushed to judgment, assuming apathy where there was actually obedience, service, and honour.
This wasn’t an isolated incident. Just two years earlier, during the 2016 Houston floods, another large church faced nearly identical accusations. Officials had declined their offer to serve as a shelter because of safety concerns due to rising waters in the building. That didn’t stop self-appointed watchdogs from spreading doctored photos and misinformation.
It’s easy to forget that behind every building are people. People serving.
People praying. People giving everything they can to help in the midst of chaos. Church leadership trying its best to help their region effectively.
So what’s my point?
Gossip—especially online—can spread faster than any wildfire. And its damage can be just as devastating. The rumour mill doesn’t need facts to fuel its fire. It only needs assumptions, outrage, and a few clicks.
As I grieved what I was seeing in 2018, I turned to Scripture. The Lord brought this to mind:
**James 3:3–12**
*“If we put bits into the mouths of horses so that they obey us, we guide their whole bodies as well. Look at the ships also: though they are so large and are driven by strong winds, they are guided by a very small rudder wherever the will of the pilot directs. So also, the tongue is a small member, yet it boasts of great things.
How great a forest is set ablaze by such a small fire! And the tongue is a fire, a world of unrighteousness. The tongue is set among our members, staining the whole body, setting on fire the entire course of life, and set on fire by hell. For every kind of beast and bird, of reptile and sea creature, can be tamed and has been tamed by mankind, but no human being can tame the tongue. It is a restless evil, full of deadly poison.
With it, we bless our Lord and Father, and with it, we curse people who are made in the likeness of God. From the same mouth come blessing and cursing. My brothers, these things ought not to be so. Does a spring pour forth from the same opening both fresh and salt water? Can a fig tree, my brothers, bear olives, or a grapevine produce figs? Neither can a salt pond yield fresh water.”*
Take a moment to reflect on that.
Are we using our voices—and our platforms—to tear down or build up? To wound or to heal?
I’ve written about gossip before, and you can find those pieces elsewhere on this site. But I’ll leave you with this: In times of crisis, the Church is often at its best. Let’s not let keyboard cynics drown out the faithful acts of love taking place quietly, without hashtags or headlines.
I leave you with this quote, attributed to Billy Graham.
“The world, in the last few years, has reverted to a sort of barbarism. As practical Christianity has declined, rudeness and violence have increased. Neighbours quarrel with neighbours. Fighting is a major problem in our schools, and the “gang wars” of the teenagers have come to present a serious menace in our cities. Fathers and mothers wrangle and bicker. Homes are disintegrating.
High government officials in Washington engage in name-calling and in heated disputes not at all in keeping with the dignity of their office.
Why and how has all this savagery crept into our social life?
It is because we have forgotten Jesus’ words, “Happy are the meek; for they shall inherit the earth.” I have seen tough, rough, hardened men open their hearts by faith, receive Christ as Savior, and become gentle, patient, merciful gentlemen.”
Updated in 2025 with renewed reflections on how we, as believers, can respond to misinformation that still swirls with both truth and grace—even years after the fire.
Until Next Week
©2018, 2025 Katherine Walden
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