On the morning of August 26, a glacier collapse near Langtang in the
Himalayas triggered a massive ice-rock avalanche that thundered down the Lhende
Khola–Bhote Koshi–Trishuli river system on the Nepal-Tibet border. Water in the
Trishuli reportedly rose as much as nine meters in just thirty minutes, tearing
through settlements across a 72-kilometre stretch and devastating the districts
of Rasuwa, Nuwakot, and Dhading. As of early September, over a thousand deaths
have been confirmed in Nepal, with thousands more still listed as missing, and
hundreds injured. Bodies were carried as far as 240 kilometres downstream into
India. Tunnels at hydropower sites became makeshift shelters and death traps
alike, with rescue teams still working to reach those trapped inside.
What troubles me is not only the disaster itself, but what has followed it.
The government took charge of the rescue operation, yet was slow and, in the
crucial early hours, reluctant to let neighbouring nations join the effort when
every hour mattered most. Relief has been collected, and continues to be
collected, yet distributing that aid to the people who actually need it has
proven difficult. Many NGOs and international agencies are asking for help.
However, I have watched something painful unfold alongside the genuine
generosity: a kind of competition on social media over who can be seen reaching
the affected areas first. Too often, the people arriving on the actual site are
not truly helping but creating confusion among people, sharing their pictures
on social media. Imagine being a flood survivor and having one visitor
after another ask you to recount your suffering, over and over, for the camera.
That is not relief but torture-a dehumanizing of the victims. In many cases, it
does more harm than good. Why have we lost our sense of humanity in the midst
of humanitarian work? What is needed is for individuals and agencies to step in
together where the government has fallen short, rather than working in
isolation, each trying to attach their own name and reputation to the story of
their generosity.
Where is our thinking about the future, about how people will actually
rebuild their lives? Instead, we have spent our energy debating whose fault
this is. Who is responsible for glacier melt in the Himalayas? There may be
real truth worth examining in that question, but that conversation belongs in
the right forum, at the right time. It is not the conversation for a moment
when people in Trishuli and Rasuwa need food and clean water today. It is
telling that the government of Nepal has, at times, seemed more eager to
advocate on the global stage about climate justice than to do the hard, humble
work on the ground.
Another side of this story is how Christian NGOs and churches have projected
themselves in the media, and not always wisely. Even mainstream Christian NGOs
appear competitive in displaying their staff, their rescue vehicles, and their
relief materials in the social medias. What message do we want to convey to the
world, and especially to the victims on the ground, when one person's tragedy
becomes another's viral moment. It is when I look at Christian NGOs and
churches that my grief deepens further. I have seen leaders posting images of victims-some of
whom have never spent meaningful time among rural communities, having lived
comfortably in metros their whole lives. Now I see their vehicles and their
sunglasses at flood-affected sites, curated for the camera. They can reach a
global audience and raise support quickly. But too often, the affected people
become little more than material for sustaining an organisation's image and
funding. I want to be careful here that I am not speaking in general terms.
There are those who quietly and genuinely serve people in need, and one will
not notice them on social media. Their work is real, and it deserves honour even
in its invisibility.
I sometimes wonder why Christian NGOs show less urgency in sharing the good
news than they do in a high-urgency situation like this one. Perhaps the
sustainability of the NGO, and fear of the government, matters more to them than
the sustainability of the people themselves. Far less have we heard anyone
speak of the urgency of eternity, and of the good news that people desperately
need in moments exactly like this one. Why do we hesitate to name the urgency
of sharing the gospel? Why do we not see how deeply the good news is needed, not
only for bodies only, but for souls?
May the Lord give us eyes to see this moment rightly- to serve without
seeking to be seen, to set aside our arguments about blame until people have
bread and shelter, and to remember that the hour is short and the harvest is
great. May we be found faithful stewards of both bread and gospel in the days
ahead.
