This Fourth of July was unlike any other in the Lone Star State. While millions across the state and the country were popping fireworks and grilling, the small town of Kerville, among others, was hit with a devastating tragedy. In the early morning hours, long before most people are awake, the Guadalupe River rose almost thirty feet in 45 minutes, flooding its banks and leading to death and displacement.
With numbers still coming in, it's certain at this point that over 100 people have died, with many still missing. Countless people have been displaced, and search and rescue operations continue around the clock.
Torrents of water carved through towns, submerged roads, and swept away lives and livelihoods. But as always, Texans responded. Strangers became rescuers. Churches became shelters. Pickup trucks became emergency transport. Hands that once built fences and fed cattle were now outstretched to needy neighbors. That's Texas. That's America.
Tragedy has a way of revealing character. In this crisis, we've seen the true character of Texas—a people rooted in faith and filled with courage, compassion, and sacrifice.
At the heart of this story is Richard "Dick" Eastland, the longtime director of Camp Mystic, whose life was a masterclass in servant leadership. When the floodwaters surged, Eastland did not hesitate. He fought to save the girls entrusted to his care, ultimately giving his life in the effort. His grandson, George Eastland, captured the essence of his sacrifice: "If he wasn't going to die of natural causes, this was the only other way, saving the girls that he so loved and cared for."
Eastland's heroism was not a singular act but the culmination of a life devoted to others, a legacy etched in the hearts of thousands of campers who called him mentor, guide, and friend. His story challenges us to ask: How are we preparing to answer the call when crisis comes?
Equally inspiring is the courage of Coast Guard Petty Officer Scott Ruskan, a 26-year-old New Jersey native on his first rescue mission. Stationed at Camp Mystic, Ruskan saved 165 lives, serving as the sole triage coordinator amidst chaos. Knee-deep in mud, he coordinated rescues and provided care, all while deflecting praise.
"The real heroes were the kids on the ground," he said, honoring the young campers who faced terror with remarkable grit. Ruskan's humility and Eastland's sacrifice reveal a truth about America: our nation is filled with everyday heroes—teachers, farmers, first responders—who live quietly but stand ready to act when duty calls.
They reflect the truth that America is full of people like them. We are a nation filled with ordinary men and women living quiet lives until the moment comes when we are called to do something extraordinary. And often, we answer that call, not for applause or recognition but because that's who we are as a nation.
This spirit is not just Texan, not just American, but Biblical.
In the Gospel of John, Jesus tells His disciples: "Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends." That is the love we've seen on display in the heart of Texas. And it's a love that should challenge us to ask: How far would I go to help my neighbor?
Scripture, which is the foundation of our nation, does not call us to comfort. It calls us to action. The Parable of the Good Samaritan isn't about feelings. It is about faith that moves. A man was bleeding on the side of the road, and others passed him by. But one stopped. One helped. One sacrificed. That's what we've seen in the flood response. Men and women who stopped what they were doing, opened their homes, gave their time, shared their money, and risked their safety for someone else.
In the days since the floods, Texas has been overwhelmed with support. Food, supplies, monetary gifts, labor offers, and—most powerfully—prayers have poured in from across Texas and far beyond. Entire communities have rallied. Volunteers have come by the hundreds. It's as if something inside us knows: This is who we are meant to be.
America is at her best when she remembers and moves in the Spirit of the two greatest commandments. "You must love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, and all your mind.' This is the first and greatest commandment. A second is equally important: 'Love your neighbor as yourself.'"
One of the most powerful hymns ever written was forged in tragedy. It Is Well with My Soul was penned by Horatio Spafford after his four daughters drowned in the Atlantic. He didn't write it from a place of peace, but from a place of unimaginable loss. And yet the song declares: "When sorrows like sea billows roll... it is well, it is well with my soul."
That is the spirit we must hold onto now. Not a spirit of despair, but of defiant faith. Of healing amid heartbreak. Of hope in the face of devastation. The same spirit that allowed Spafford to write those words in his grief is the spirit now on display across Texas.
Let us not forget these moments. Many families in Texas will never get to see their children and loved ones again. Let us not allow them to fade with the news cycle. Instead, let them call us higher. Let them stir us to live not for ourselves but for others and a higher calling. And let us teach our children that real strength is found in sacrifice.
Texas will rebuild. Lives will be restored. The waters will recede—but what will remain is the legacy of those who stood in the gap, who gave more than was asked, and who showed us all what it means to love your neighbor as yourself.
