http://tungsongs.vietut.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/08/5p12a2-FAITH-IN-THE-FLOOD-George-Strait-and-Max-Lucado-Lead-.jpg
Fredericksburg, Texas — In the heavy quiet of a summer evening, under a vast Texas sky still bruised and weeping from recent storms, a different kind of concert took place. This was not about hit songs or roaring crowds. This was about community, resilience, and a desperate, powerful hope in the face of utter devastation. When the legendary George Strait walked onto the stage, it wasn’t to the familiar cheer of a stadium, but to the hushed reverence of a town bound together by a shared tragedy.
The air itself felt thick with sorrow. Just weeks after catastrophic floods tore through the heart of Texas, turning homes into memories and lives upside down, the raw pain was palpable. But as George Strait stood beside his longtime friend and dedicated philanthropist, Tom Cusick, another feeling began to surface: an unbreakable Texan resolve. For over a decade, this powerhouse duo had raised millions for wounded veterans. Tonight, however, the wound was fresh, and it was right here at home. The cause was for the Texas flood victims, their neighbors, their friends.
The story of how this night came to be is a testament to true friendship and immediate action. Tom Cusick, his voice trembling slightly with emotion, recounted the moment he heard the news. “On July 6th, my wife and I were out of town when the news of the flood hit. We couldn’t sleep,” he shared with the hushed audience, painting a picture of helpless agony familiar to so many. “So I called George. And just like that, he said, ‘Let’s do it.’ No hesitation.” Those three words—’Let’s do it’—became a rallying cry, a promise that no one would be left to face the darkness alone.
Joining the effort, renowned author and pastor Max Lucado brought a message of spiritual fortitude, his words a balm on the community’s aching soul. “When the waters rise, so does our faith,” Lucado declared, his voice resonating with profound conviction. “Tonight, we are not just rebuilding homes; we are rebuilding hearts. We are reminding each other that even in the deepest mud, the strongest foundations of love and community hold fast.” His presence underscored the event’s powerful theme: finding faith in the flood.
As George Strait finally addressed the crowd, his words were simple, yet they carried the weight of the moment. “We’re just so thankful y’all came out tonight,” he began, his famous voice a source of comfort and strength. “You—people like you—are the heart and soul of Texas. And that’s what makes this state great.” In that moment, looking out at the faces etched with both loss and determination, it was clear that the spirit of Texas was not just alive—it was fighting back with everything it had.
Video
What followed was a logistical miracle. Without a year of planning or dozens of committees, the benefit event came together within days. Tom’s four daughters, his wife Diane—whom he lovingly credited for “working like a horse”—and dozens of local businesses and sponsors all rallied behind the mission.
“I told George we could raise $5 million. He said, ‘Let’s raise six.’ And friends—we’re almost there.”
The night wasn’t about perfection. It was about presence. Even delays at the gate and last-minute adjustments didn’t dampen the spirit of the gathering. What mattered was that they were together.
Then came Max Lucado, beloved pastor and author, invited by George himself.
“George asked me once, ‘What if we cuss around Max?’” Lucado laughed, breaking the tension. “I told him, don’t worry—I’ve heard it all before.”
But Max’s message was no joke. He turned the evening into something sacred.
“In the back of our minds,” he said, pausing, “we all know why we’re here. Our hearts are still heavy. And we still have questions.”
Max offered a metaphor: a stitched bookmark, its front chaotic with threads and knots—but when flipped over, the backside read clearly: “God is love.” That, he said, is how we must learn to view tragedy—from God’s perspective, not our own.
“Life is hard. Life is brief,” he continued. “The Bible compares it to grass that fades, or smoke that vanishes. But even in suffering, Paul wrote, ‘These brief and momentary troubles are not worth comparing with the glory that outweighs them all.’”
Max didn’t dismiss the pain. He acknowledged it deeply. But he reminded the crowd that hope has not left us—and neither has God.
“On the night before His crucifixion, Jesus said: ‘Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God… I go to prepare a place for you.’”
And then, softly but firmly, Max said what no one expected but everyone needed:
“With all my heart, I believe that those young girls in Mystic Cabin—when they saw the flood, they saw Christ. Because He walks on water. He enters the storm. And He meets His children in the valley of the shadow of death.”
The air stood still. No applause. Just silence—and tears.
When George Strait returned to the microphone, he didn’t need to sing a single note to move the crowd. His presence, like the event itself, spoke volumes.
This wasn’t just a benefit concert. It was a moment of healing. A promise of unity. A night where country music met courage, and where the truest lyrics were written not in rhyme—but in love.
