Showing Up First: Aaron Stetson ’02 on Leading with Hope at Hope Force International

Can you tell us a bit about Hope Force International’s overall mission?

The short version is that we’re a rapid-response disaster relief ministry. Our mission is to alleviate suffering caused by disasters and chronic need.

The main emphasis is rapid response. We try to be among the first there to assess damage and help survivors and then connect them with next steps. When something happens, we go. If there’s a tornado, I’ve booked a flight at 9 a.m. and flown out at noon—countless times. We focus on what we call triage. We primarily work on individuals’ homes, and our goal is to stop the damage from getting worse.

In a flood, for example, that means getting contents and drywall out, so mold doesn’t set in. In a wind event—like a tornado or hurricane—it’s covering roofs with tarps so the next rain doesn’t cause more destruction. It’s practical, immediate work.

But what’s somewhat unique about us is that we emphasize emotional and spiritual care simultaneously for the people we serve. We have chaplains and emotional-spiritual care providers who walk alongside survivors. We’re not overtly evangelistic, but we’re always looking for opportunities to pray with people. It’s our conviction that it’s not always appropriate to lead with, “Do you want to give your life to Jesus?” Instead we lead with care and support. Those conversations often happen—but they’re not our starting point.

We also primarily operate through partnerships and churches. As we exit a disaster, we share information about those we’ve helped and encourage local partners to stay involved—whether that’s rebuilding or continued care. And because we serve all over the world, every situation is different.

Aaron standing in front of a decimated car during a tornado response in Greenfield, Iowa, May of 2023

Can you walk us through a recent deployment?

I was on call when Hurricane Melissa hit Jamaica at the end of October 2025. Our medical coordinator and I staged in Miami and were on the first flight into Kingston Airport once it reopened.

Black River, Jamaica, experienced a 13-foot wall of water. Entire back walls of concrete block buildings were blown out, and the devastation was overwhelming. Many homes had to be torn down completely. 

We ended up reroofing several homes, and we partnered with two Christian organizations already on the ground: one focused on Bible teaching in schools, the other operating a physical therapy clinic. We lean heavily on local partners internationally because we don’t know what we don’t know and cultural sensitivity matters.

As we wrapped up, we handed off information to our local partners and stayed open to potentially returning. Disaster work is always a balance of funding, volunteers, and need.

What misconceptions do people have about disaster relief?

I don’t think most people know much about it. I didn’t.

The work is trickier and more complex than it looks. Sometimes, like with Tornado coverage, you see massive destruction on the news, and assume there’s something obvious to do, but it’s actually intense destruction over a small space, and the same four houses being shown repeatedly. Other times, like in Jamaica, there’s devastation everywhere, but nothing within our lane that we can realistically fix. I remember calling my boss before we found a good pathway in Jamaica and saying “there’s everything to do and there’s nothing to do.” Because a lot of those homes are concrete, and we’re not concrete builders. We may assess and realize there’s not much we can do within our skill set. 

That’s emotionally hard. You want to help everyone. But we have core competencies, and we have to operate within them. Every disaster is different. The damage manifests differently and it requires agility and discernment. 

Can you tell us about the impact of your role at Hope Force International?

My role is twofold. In the field, I often serve as Incident Commander—leading the team, coordinating volunteers, managing supplies, food, housing—basically making sure everything runs smoothly and everyone is cared for.

On “blue sky” days, I’m the Training Director, where I run a training program for volunteers, who we call “Reservists.” While we do train on some skills in the field, like cleaning of debris or tarping roofs, our training is more about preparing our volunteers for what they’re going to encounter in the field and helping them understand the question, “What is it like to sit with someone who’s just lost everything?”

We prepare them for the visual and emotional impact. Videos don’t capture the sights, sounds, and smells. We train them how to listen well, because survivors often need to tell their stories repeatedly as part of healing. We ask volunteers to assess whether they’re emotionally ready to deploy because we don’t want volunteers processing their own trauma through survivors. Our emotional-spiritual care providers monitor that closely because we care equally for survivors and for our volunteers.

We want our volunteers to provide stability. Being emotionally prepared is part of that.

Aaron carries an ice covered tree trunk as part of relief efforts for Nashville homeowners after the city experienced a damaging ice storm in January 2026.

What’s one thing you wish every volunteer understood before deploying?

Humility. It’s a collective effort to serve survivors. 

We have highly skilled people who sometimes need to do dirty, unpleasant jobs. A house underwater for two weeks is not pleasant at all. But it means everything to someone who doesn’t see a path forward. Humility is core to our DNA. There’s not much room for ego when you’re hauling wet insulation to the curb.

Have you seen training clearly shape how volunteers show up?

Yes.

On one deployment after Hurricane Helene in North Carolina, our cook—who had gone through training twice—was incredible. She prepared meals but also went into the field when she could, sitting with survivors, listening, asking gentle questions. She later said she could clearly see the difference between volunteers who had trained and those who hadn’t.

Training doesn’t fully prepare you—nothing can prepare you for the sights and smells—but it makes a big difference.

As the training director, you're shaping the culture of Hope Force's volunteer community. What values do you hope are most visible in the field to the survivors?

That we showed up. There's an adage that 50% of life is showing up. Isolation and loneliness are compounded in disaster situations, and there's something deeply impactful about sitting with a survivor and talking with them. When they find out that one person flew in from California, and another from Kentucky, and another from Minnesota, and another from New Jersey, it’s so deeply moving to them that people would give their time to come and help. It’s like “Why me?” 

There's something about it that mimics the incarnation of Christ. He came to our turf and he showed up for us. The work we do is not glamorous, it's not spectacular, it doesn't even take a professional, but the fact someone just showed up allows survivors to see that they're loved and honored.

When did you realize this work was your calling?

There were a few moments.

The first was 9/11. I was a senior at Gordon, and I was walking across campus from Frost Hall to the Barrington Center when I heard a plane had hit the World Trade Center. I hurried to class and we turned on the TV and watched everything unfold. I felt this overwhelming sense that I needed to go, that I had to be there. I didn’t end up going, but it was the first time I really felt that feeling like I had to do something. 

Later, while serving as a youth pastor in New Hampshire, I joined a trip to West Virginia where we built a house over a mobile home so that an older couple could keep custody of their grandchildren. I was doing electrical work, and I remember realizing my ministry background and construction background were intersecting in a powerful way.

The final moment was during Hurricane Harvey in 2017. I had been through Hope Force training, and we were mucking out a home. It was hot and miserable, but the team was upbeat. Our senior chaplain came in and told everyone to stop what we were doing and pray because the homeowner’s wife hadn’t returned to the home since evacuating by boat. In that moment I realized that if we had only been about construction, we would have missed that moment of how awful it would have been for her to come back and see us throwing her precious possessions to the curb. And then if we had only been about the emotional-spiritual care, we wouldn’t have addressed the house. And so seeing the two of those intersect firsthand, I was just like—this is something I need to be a part of. 

What have you learned about hope from serving in disaster-stricken places?

Nothing is irredeemable, and hope often comes through people. Theologian and Greek scholar N.T. Wright once suggested that, based on the Greek translation, Romans 8:28 might better translate to, “God makes all things good through those who love him.” That simple shift on how he interprets that scripture means that God brings about hope through others. God often works through people showing up. Now I’m not a theologian but I’ve seen it in my own life, how God uses people as vehicles. And so I think most of the time hope shows up when people show up.

Aaron standing on top of a concrete form, pouring footings for a Christian school in Tarija, Bolivia, as part of a student trip with Gordon Chaplain (then Youth Ministries professor) Bob Whittet in 2000. 

How did Gordon prepare you for this work?

The mentorship of my professors was greatly formative. My Youth Ministries classes (Now Christian Ministries) have been really important to me. I’m still in contact with Bob Whittet, my Youth Ministries professor and now the Chaplain of Gordon, on a regular basis. He’s been a phenomenal mentor for me over the years and is someone I can call and ask, “What the heck do I do with this?” 

La Vida and a mission trip to Bolivia with Bob were also pivotal. The mission’s trip to Bolivia opened my eyes to other countries and cultures. And La Vida, especially, taught me about vulnerability, community, and how quickly deep bonds can form in adversity. That mirrors what happens on deployment.

My role is one that blends leadership, logistics, and service, and so the theological grounding was huge. I couldn't be more grateful for the depth of theological education to ground my faith in scripture, understand God's sovereignty, and learn that even though things seem completely chaotic, he still got this.

What advice would you give students drawn to humanitarian work but aren’t sure how their skills might fit?

You’d be surprised how many skills can be used!

Humanitarian aid is so complex and needs logistics experts, IT professionals, spreadsheet wizards, communicators, everything. The “run into the fire” people often start organizations, but sustaining them requires systems. The people and volunteers who help run those back-end systems have been such an incredible gift to us as an organization. It’s allowed us to be able to operate effectively, to be able to communicate effectively. It is so incredibly important. 

And you don’t have to be a construction professional. If you’re willing to learn, you can serve.

Aaron and Elizabeth stand with their daughter Emily at her high school graduation.

What makes Gordon distinctive in your mind?

It’s grounded in Christian faith without being narrowly dogmatic. There’s freedom to ask real questions within a solid theological framework, and you get to see the broadness of the Christian faith in a context of learning. I think it’s such a healthy environment for young people who are exploring independence and wanting to make their faith their own. 

I love that every student takes Old Testament and New Testament courses. That may not seem relevant at the time, but I think it’s such an incredibly important thing to really know scripture as a whole instead of cherry-picking verses. 

Also, the professors are so intentional in their care for students. That’s a special attribute of the Gordon community. My daughter Emily is a freshman at Gordon, and I’ve seen that same intentionality of professors from the other side as a parent. Students truly get known. That relational investment makes a lasting difference.