The church that keeps silent while working

Last week, a report was presented in Salt Lake City. No spectacular press conference. No trending hashtag. Just a panel of humanitarian organizations taking stock together of what has been done in the past year. It is called the Caring for Those in Need 2025 Report and it describes what The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints does worldwide for people in need.

I'll be honest: these kinds of moments are rare.

Our church communicates little about what it does. Not because there is nothing to tell. But because that is simply the culture. You help. You don't talk about it. That has been the case for generations. But here, in this report, facts are shared for once. And those facts are impressive.

Facts you won't quickly read anywhere else

Together with the World Food Program, 88,000 school meals were distributed in Haiti alone last year. Haiti, a country that is barely accessible. And the result? School enrollments increased by 80 percent. Not because a new law was introduced. But because children received food.

Through UNICEF, 170,000 children in four African countries are prepared for school through the Learning for Life-program, where more than 10,000 teachers were trained. Together with CARE, work was done in Nepal on food security for mothers and children under five through vegetable gardens, chickens, and access to markets. Small interventions, big consequences.

And then this: neonatal tetanus still caused 50,000 deaths per year in 2010. There were 59 countries where the disease was endemic. Now there are only eight. Not because a vaccine suddenly appeared, but through years of silent cooperation. Persistent. Unseen.

Shelterbox works with the Church in conflict areas where, as an organization without that local embedment, you would never gain access. In Chad, Cameroon, Myanmar. Tents, solar lanterns, mosquito nets. The moment someone's life collapses, someone is at the door with the most basic thing imaginable: a roof.

Silent, but ready

What people don't see is the system behind it.

The Church has relief supplies permanently in stock worldwide. Not for if something goes wrong. But for when it goes wrong. And that is a fundamental difference. Last year, an ultramodern warehouse was opened in Barbados, together with the World Food Program. When Hurricane Melissa, as the first ever Cat-5 storm, hit Jamaica, Shelterbox was able to load material onto a ship and deliver it directly in the shortest possible time. That is logistics that requires years of preparation.

And that logistical thinking also exists locally. As a bishop, I am personally involved in the emergency plans for our region. We have ready-made protocols in case a disaster occurs in Flanders or the surrounding area. Who will be contacted. How the coordination proceeds. How people are cared for. And no, it's not just about our members. We look at the broader community. That's not just a good intention. It's on paper and it's practiced.

Wallonia, 2021

You don't have to look at Africa or Haiti to understand this.

In the summer of 2021, devastating floods hit the province of Liège and surrounding regions. Houses destroyed, basements flooded, people who had lost everything. What followed from our church was inconspicuous but constant. Week after week, teams of volunteers from our districts in Flanders traveled to Liège. Clearing rubble. Cleaning houses. Providing drinking water. Not just once, as a gesture. But repeatedly, as a habit.

That didn't make the newspaper. Nor was that the intention.

Without asking questions

Bishop Waddell said during the panel: 'We focus on the two great commandments. Loving God and our neighbor as ourselves.' That sounds simple. But whoever consistently applies that will soon arrive at a question you'd rather not ask aloud: who exactly is my neighbor?

The answer of our church in practice is clear. The neighbor is the Muslim whose mosque burns down, and to whom you offer your church building for Friday prayer on Friday. The neighbor is the child in Sierra Leone whom you will never meet, but whose arm circumference is the size of a quarter and whose life you can save with a $50 packet of peanut paste. The neighbor is the neighbor in Liège who doesn't know how to make her house habitable again.

Christian charity is not a theory. It is also not reserved for those who share the same conviction, speak the same language, or carry the same flag. It is for those who need it.

Pride in silence

I am not writing this to admire what we do as a church. I am writing it because this report is one of the rare moments when facts are shared. And those facts deserve attention. Not to show off, but because they can encourage people.

Because the system only works if people are in it.

You don't have to fly to Salt Lake City or read a report to contribute. Via JustServe you'll find projects near you. But you can also just start close by. Your neighbor. Your street. Your city.

The church works best when it works silently. But there's nothing wrong with saying that out loud sometimes.