Her red eyes stream tears underneath horn-rimmed glasses. Shirley Ellis's long, strawberry-blonde hair is dirty like her hands, which wring violently. "We just don't know yet what the future holds," she says, as Emmett, her heavy-set husband, stands by. Almost a year after Hurricane Katrina, thousands remain uncertain.

Hundreds of Katrina victims on the Gulf Coast still struggle, many matriculating long Mississippi miles weekly to a tent city in Bay St. Louis called "Field of Dreams." There, people in need find basic canned goods, clothes, and other necessities. "It's wonderful," says Shirley. "It's meant the world to us. We couldn't have survived without it."

A jovial lady in a flowing pink skirt, white T-shirt, and ankle-high boots hugs as many visitors as possible. Pastor Bonnie, as she's known to the locals, moved from New York State last September, giving up "everything." Field of Dreams, a ministry of California-based CityTeam, has attracted many workers like Bonnie.

"This is the kingdom of God," Bonnie, 44, proclaims, her arms open as wide as her huge smile.

Following the worst natural disaster in U.S. history, a coastline known for gambling and carousing is now suffused with Christian life so robust that hardened seamen sing its praises. Churches, faith-based organizations, and compassionate volunteers from around the country leaped to the forefront of disaster relief when the U.S. Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA) failed to deliver its aid promptly in Katrina's wake. FEMA has since retreated into administrative offices, while state workers and contractors laudably rebuild the region's infrastructure, and Christian groups continue to feed, clothe, and house those displaced by the hurricane.

"People initially rally during a disaster," says Leisha Pickering, wife of Mississippi 3rd District U.S. Congressman Chip Pickering. "It's a wonderful thing. But after a few months, that's when the hard work began. People are just now starting to rebuild their lives."

Pickering, along with a handful of other Christians from the Jackson, Mississippi, area, rallied the day after the storm, creating a massive clearinghouse for goods and workers called HANDS—Helping Americans Needing Disaster Support. Today, HANDS runs a donated 10,000-square-foot building in Jackson, several 24-foot trucks, and a portable cooking trailer. At one point, the group was delivering 75 loads a day of food and supplies, and the volunteer base swelled from 10 to over 500 people.

"It took a lifetime for people to build their lives," says Pickering. "Now, as the months pass, many are sinking into depression and despair. Now is the hard part: We are called to sustain the effort long enough to make a real difference."

HANDS funnels volunteered goods and services to Field of Dreams and countless other facilities, including public schools and churches. "I don't know what we would have done without the ministry of HANDS," says Richard Williams, CityTeam executive director.

Doing God's work
Just a mile down the coast in Gulfport, Pastor Tyrone Dastuque, 47, turned Word of Faith Christian Fellowship's sanctuary into a virtual mini-Home Depot. Tables display hundreds of screwdrivers, wrenches, and hammers, along with circular saws, drills, and other power tools. A sign above the church entrance reads: YOU ARE ENTERING YOUR MISSION FIELD.

Unbelieving locals gawk at the persistent assistance Word of Faith offers. "They have been impressed with the church, seeing all the people rising to the occasion, coming down and sending supplies," remarks Dastuque. "The church is actually doing what it should have been doing before."

About 40 pastors gather weekly at Word of Faith, praying to discern God's long-term will after the storm. They hope for renewal and revival. Meanwhile, Alva Wilson, a native of Trinidad and long-time member of Van Nuys, California's Church on the Way, knows she is in God's will.

"I had to come and see what I could do," she explains, just minutes after laying out an uncanny feast of chicken, fresh shrimp, vegetables, and breads to nourish tired relief workers. This accomplished chef knew upon her first visit to the Coast that her skills were needed, and her church commissioned her for a year stint to the area, where she lives in a small room provided by Word of Faith. "From the time I stepped in here, I knew it was the place the Lord wanted me to be."

About two miles from Word of Faith, Ben Lapp, an Independent Mennonite, helps 50 Old-Order Amish unload from a bus that their faith actually prohibits them to ride. They could not withhold their roofing and framing skills from the needy, however, and Ben arranged the gas-powered transportation to the Coast for these horse-and-buggy believers.

"It is more blessed to give than to receive," Ben explains. These servants are missing a key portion of their agricultural season, but Ben doesn't worry. "I think we are getting the biggest blessing. We are trying to be about the Lord's work."

Others are heeding the call, too. The Rev. Ramsey Gilchrest of The Falls Church (Episcopal) in Virginia contacted HANDS and has adopted a family, committing his church to completely rebuild their obliterated house. HANDS has started a program to recruit thousands of individual churches like Gilchrest's to adopt a single family to rebuild their lives (see "How You Can Help" ). "This is what God is doing," Gilchrest says as he travels the coastline with HANDS. "You just come down and get in it, and you feel God's presence here."

From mercy to justice
Back at Field of Dreams, volunteers have lived in green Army tents named "Joshua" and "Caleb," as well as other biblical heroes. Without complaint, they endure sweltering heat and swarming gnats to deliver aid. In an adjacent, gargantuan tent, Shirley and Emmett Ellis are given a care package from HANDS filled with goods they especially requested.

Another lady unfurls a brown, white, and pink quilt hand-sewn for victims by a fellow Mississippian who calls them "comfort quilts," made from "tons of quilting material" her mother had bequeathed her. A letter attached to the quilt explains, "I had stored [all the material] in my garage, waiting to be inspired. Well, then Katrina hit. God does work in strange and mysterious ways."

>> Next