In the weeks following two catastrophic earthquakes that struck Venezuela on June 24 — killing more than 5,000 people and injuring 16,000 more — Franklin Graham traveled to La Guaira to witness a field hospital his organization had erected amid the rubble. Samaritan's Purse, the humanitarian arm he leads, had already treated 2,500 patients and reached over 10,000 families, deploying medicine, clean water, and prayer in equal measure. The visit was a reminder that in the aftermath of mass destruction, relief arrives not only in tons of supplies but in the willingness of one person to kneel besi
Franklin Graham visits Venezuela earthquake relief hospital treating thousands
Nobody do that for me—the prayer, the kneeling, the presence.
What struck you most about the scale of this disaster?
The speed of it. Two earthquakes 37 seconds apart. One moment the city was intact; the next, 5,000 people were gone and 16,000 more were broken. A man was six floors underground in the dark for two days. That's not abstract suffering—that's a specific man in a specific darkness.
And the relief operation—how do you measure whether it's working?
Not by the tonnage of supplies, though 295 tons matters. You measure it by a nurse making paper shoes for a man who lost everything. By a pastor still showing up to serve after losing his congregation. By a doctor kneeling to pray with a patient who said no one had ever done that for him before.
Why does the prayer matter as much as the surgery?
Because surgery fixes the body. Prayer acknowledges the person inside the body—the one who's lost everything, who's terrified, who's grieving. In a place of that much death, the presence of another human being who sees you and kneels beside you is medicine too.
Do you think the relief will be enough?
Enough is a strange word after an earthquake. You can provide clean water and tents and medical care—and they're doing all of that. But you can't restore what was lost. What you can do is show up. Stay. Pray. Make shoes from paper. Keep serving. That's what the pastor understood.
What happens when the relief teams leave?
That's the real question. The pastor will still be there. The communities will still be there. The hope is that the infrastructure—the clinics, the water systems, the networks of care—stays behind. That local people are trained to run it. That it becomes part of the fabric, not just a temporary response.
Le Pouls
- Two earthquakes struck Venezuela 37 seconds apart on June 24, collapsing buildings and killing more than 5,000 people in one of the country's worst modern disasters.
- Survivors emerged from the rubble with shattered bones, untreated infections, and the grief of having lost family members — nearly every patient at the field hospital had lost someone close.
- Samaritan's Purse mobilized over 170 relief workers, flew in 295 tons of supplies on six aircraft, and stood up a two-operating-room field hospital that has now treated more than 2,500 patients.
- Franklin Graham and his daughter Cissie Graham Lynch visited the site, encountering survivors whose losses were total — one man wore paper shoes a nurse had made him because he had nothing left.
- Relief efforts are still expanding, with desalination units producing clean water and new emergency clinic modules being installed across the hardest-hit coastal communities.
In the weeks following two catastrophic earthquakes that struck Venezuela on June 24 — killing more than 5,000 people and injuring 16,000 more — Franklin Graham traveled to La Guaira to witness a field hospital his organization had erected amid the rubble. Samaritan's Purse, the humanitarian arm he leads, had already treated 2,500 patients and reached over 10,000 families, deploying medicine, clean water, and prayer in equal measure. The visit was a reminder that in the aftermath of mass destruction, relief arrives not only in tons of supplies but in the willingness of one person to kneel beside another.
On June 24, two earthquakes struck Venezuela in rapid succession — a 7.2 magnitude tremor followed 37 seconds later by a 7.5 — leaving more than 5,000 dead and 16,000 injured. La Guaira, a coastal city, absorbed some of the worst destruction, with entire apartment buildings reduced to rubble. One man spent two days trapped six floors underground before rescuers spent six hours pulling him free.
Franklin Graham, who leads Samaritan's Purse and the Billy Graham Evangelistic Association, traveled to Venezuela with his daughter Cissie Graham Lynch to see the relief effort firsthand. They found a field hospital in La Guaira that had already treated more than 2,500 patients across two operating rooms, performing orthopedic surgeries and treating infections that had gone unaddressed since the disaster. Nearly every person who came through the doors had lost a family member.
The man rescued from the rubble sat with a nurse who had fashioned him paper shoes because he had nothing else to wear. Another survivor had injured his leg pulling a stranger's child from a collapsed 14-story building. A local pastor, who had lost several members of his congregation, was still showing up to serve. Cissie Graham Lynch said she witnessed both immense suffering and remarkable resilience in equal measure.
The logistical response had been swift: more than 170 relief workers deployed across the hardest-hit areas, six Boeing 767 aircraft delivering 295 tons of supplies in the first non-military flights to land in Venezuela after the quakes, and over 10,200 families receiving emergency kits with tents, solar lights, and hygiene supplies. Two desalination units had produced more than 154,000 liters of clean water, and emergency clinic modules were being installed to restore basic healthcare to devastated communities.
Yet what moved survivors most was not always the medicine or the supplies. Doctors were kneeling beside patients to pray with them — an act one survivor described with quiet wonder: 'Nobody do that for me.' In a landscape stripped of everything familiar, the presence of another person, their attention and willingness to kneel, had become its own form of relief.
On June 24, two earthquakes struck Venezuela in rapid succession—a 7.2 magnitude tremor followed 37 seconds later by a 7.5—and the ground did not stop shaking. When it did, more than 5,000 people were dead and 16,000 more were injured. La Guaira, a coastal city, absorbed some of the worst of it. Entire apartment buildings folded like paper. One man was trapped under rubble for two days, six floors down, with no food, no water, no light, before rescuers spent six hours extracting him from the dark.
Franklin Graham, who leads both Samaritan's Purse and the Billy Graham Evangelistic Association, traveled to Venezuela with his daughter Cissie Graham Lynch to see the relief operation firsthand. What they found was a field hospital in La Guaira that had already treated more than 2,500 patients. The hospital had two operating rooms, a pharmacy, a laboratory. Doctors were performing orthopedic surgeries. Nurses were treating infections that had gone untreated since the earthquakes hit. Nearly every person who came through the doors had lost someone—a family member, a close friend, sometimes both.
One survivor, the man who had been trapped for two days, sat with a nurse who had made him paper shoes because he had nothing else to wear. "I lose everything, I don't have anything," he said. "A nurse here made me paper shoes, I feel so happy for that." Another man had injured his leg while pulling a child—not his own child, someone else's child—from a collapsed 14-story building. "It was terrifying," he said. "I thought a plane had crashed." The scale of destruction had unmade the ordinary categories of experience.
Cissie Graham Lynch encountered a local pastor who had lost several members of his congregation in the earthquakes. The pastor was still showing up to serve his community. "I am here to serve and win souls for Christ," he told her. Lynch said later: "I saw both the immense suffering and the incredible strength of the Venezuelan people." Franklin Graham spoke of bringing "the light of Jesus Christ into these places of pain." The medical teams were providing not just surgery and antibiotics but also prayer—doctors kneeling beside patients, praying with them as part of the care.
The scale of the response had been swift and substantial. More than 170 relief workers from Samaritan's Purse were deployed across the hardest-hit areas: La Guaira, Playa Grande, Caraballeda. Six Boeing 767 aircraft had delivered 295 tons of supplies—the first non-military flights to land in Venezuela after the earthquakes. More than 10,200 families had received emergency kits: tents, tarps, solar lights, blankets, hygiene supplies, cooking equipment, Spanish Bibles. Four emergency clinic modules had been installed in local healthcare facilities, with a fifth opening soon, each stocked with medical supplies and generators to restore basic healthcare to devastated communities. Two desalination units had produced more than 154,000 liters of clean water.
But the numbers, large as they were, could not quite contain what was happening. A man with paper shoes made by a nurse. A pastor still showing up to his congregation after losing members of it. A doctor on his knees in prayer beside a patient who had never experienced that kind of attention before. "The doctors pray with me," the survivor said. "That's beautiful when they get on their knees and pray with me. I love that. Nobody do that for me." In the aftermath of catastrophe, when everything tangible had been taken, the presence of another person—their attention, their prayer, their willingness to kneel—had become its own form of relief.
Citations marquantes
I lose everything, I don't have anything. A nurse here made me paper shoes, I feel so happy for that.— A survivor treated at the field hospital
The doctors pray with me. That's beautiful when they get on their knees and pray with me. I love that. Nobody do that for me.— Another survivor describing care at the hospital