Louisiana Baptist Convention 2008
Meeting in New Orleans Monday and Tuesday
An employee of the Road Home program will move into his own new home in January, years after Hurricane Katrina destroyed the home he lived in for many years. Another family announced last week that they will be returning to their refurbished home in Old Metairie by the end of this year. New Orleans has a long way to go before all displaced families fulfill their desire to get back home. In fact, our community faces years of rebuilding in all dimensions including streets, housing, education, businesses, and healthcare.
“Second Wind” is the theme for this week’s meeting of the Louisiana Baptist Convention here in New Orleans. Baptists descended in force upon our city to help with the initial relief efforts. “Yellow caps” were everywhere preparing and serving millions of meals in the devastated areas.
Baptist volunteers, along with many others, plunged into the work of picking up debris, clearing fallen trees, towing ruined cars, and cleaning flooded homes. LBC President David Hankins has challenged Baptist churches across the state to “get their second wind” in the work of recovery and restoration in the New Orleans area. Some 2,000 messengers from 1,600 churches will gather to take care of this and other business.
The local association of Baptist churches, which includes a hundred congregations, has already reorganized its work to address recovery issues in the city for the next decade. Specialists in recovery and rebuilding will join those involved in more traditional efforts such as church planting and homeless ministry. The state convention and national Southern Baptist entities are focused on the health and well-being of New Orleans for the long term. The local association lost 60 congregations due to the devastating flood. The restoration effort will not be limited to restoring congregations but will attempt to create and restore rehabilitation programs, schools, medical services, housing, and general economic development.
The great flood and its aftermath may have been forgotten in some parts of the country. But Louisiana knows the difficulties of New Orleans, and Louisiana churches understand and have made the long term commitment to restoration of our devastated region.
Monday, November 10, 2008
Monday, September 29, 2008
Tomorrow You Will Eat Your Words!
If Jesus himself were running for political office, I would not give him an endorsement as pastor of my church.
But Jesus is not now—nor will he ever be—running for political office. He taught us clearly that politics itself is far too feeble a tool to get done what he is trying to do on this earth. Jesus is not blind to politics and politicians—he sees right through them.
The church is a force for good in this world because it is beholden to no politicians. It speaks and ministers by the authority of no earthly government. It salutes the flag of God Almighty and answers to him alone.
This transcendent task and independent status of the church is essential to its nature. If the church becomes the benevolence branch of government, it loses its own soul.
So the church rightfully insists that government not intervene in its internal affairs.
The vote is a sacred trust in our democracy. It is our most fundamental right and responsibility as citizens. Every eligible citizen should be registered to vote and should take the time and make the hard choices on Election Day.
Pastors should not be endorsing political candidates as part of their official duties in the church. Such an endorsement trivializes the house of worship and threatens the constitutional separation of the institutions of church and state.
Tax exempt status has been granted to the churches for generations because churches are partners with government in seeking the well-being of the citizenry. Churches and other houses of worship seek to care for the sick and dying, reach out to the poor and needy, and help those who cannot help themselves.
Additionally, churches are supported financially through the voluntary gifts of citizens who pay taxes. Taxing these charitable gifts amounts to double dipping by government.
Pastors who endorse political candidates threaten the balance of this arrangement between the church and the government. They do so, not because they are denied opinions on current issues, but because they seek to reconstitute government in their own image.
The founders of our country did not want pastors running the affairs of government. Such an intrusion would violate the democratic principle of elected representation. So the U.S. Congress was prohibited by the First Amendment from making any law which established a favored religion or prohibited the free exercise of any religion.
That means that churches do not do their work with tax money, and government does not do its work with church money. The institutions operate separately but jointly in an effort to bless the citizenry.
Pastors are at liberty to address any and all moral issues in this country, complimenting and criticizing government and government leaders for successes and failures as they see them. These comments do not threaten their tax exempt status.
But when churches start acting like political parties, rallying their constituency and endorsing candidates for office, they are intruding on the institutions of government and seeking by religious means to achieve political goals. Their tax exempt status is in jeopardy.
Houses of worship are properly concerned with eternal standards of behavior like justice, truth, and love. Pastors endorse these qualities of human conduct as ideals toward which we strive both as individuals and as societies. Pastors are responsible for speaking out when these standards are violated whether that failure is individual or systemic.
Individual politicians and political parties never embody these perfect virtues perfectly. A word to the wise: if you choose today to endorse a candidate or a political party as “Christian,” tomorrow you will eat your words.
But Jesus is not now—nor will he ever be—running for political office. He taught us clearly that politics itself is far too feeble a tool to get done what he is trying to do on this earth. Jesus is not blind to politics and politicians—he sees right through them.
The church is a force for good in this world because it is beholden to no politicians. It speaks and ministers by the authority of no earthly government. It salutes the flag of God Almighty and answers to him alone.
This transcendent task and independent status of the church is essential to its nature. If the church becomes the benevolence branch of government, it loses its own soul.
So the church rightfully insists that government not intervene in its internal affairs.
The vote is a sacred trust in our democracy. It is our most fundamental right and responsibility as citizens. Every eligible citizen should be registered to vote and should take the time and make the hard choices on Election Day.
Pastors should not be endorsing political candidates as part of their official duties in the church. Such an endorsement trivializes the house of worship and threatens the constitutional separation of the institutions of church and state.
Tax exempt status has been granted to the churches for generations because churches are partners with government in seeking the well-being of the citizenry. Churches and other houses of worship seek to care for the sick and dying, reach out to the poor and needy, and help those who cannot help themselves.
Additionally, churches are supported financially through the voluntary gifts of citizens who pay taxes. Taxing these charitable gifts amounts to double dipping by government.
Pastors who endorse political candidates threaten the balance of this arrangement between the church and the government. They do so, not because they are denied opinions on current issues, but because they seek to reconstitute government in their own image.
The founders of our country did not want pastors running the affairs of government. Such an intrusion would violate the democratic principle of elected representation. So the U.S. Congress was prohibited by the First Amendment from making any law which established a favored religion or prohibited the free exercise of any religion.
That means that churches do not do their work with tax money, and government does not do its work with church money. The institutions operate separately but jointly in an effort to bless the citizenry.
Pastors are at liberty to address any and all moral issues in this country, complimenting and criticizing government and government leaders for successes and failures as they see them. These comments do not threaten their tax exempt status.
But when churches start acting like political parties, rallying their constituency and endorsing candidates for office, they are intruding on the institutions of government and seeking by religious means to achieve political goals. Their tax exempt status is in jeopardy.
Houses of worship are properly concerned with eternal standards of behavior like justice, truth, and love. Pastors endorse these qualities of human conduct as ideals toward which we strive both as individuals and as societies. Pastors are responsible for speaking out when these standards are violated whether that failure is individual or systemic.
Individual politicians and political parties never embody these perfect virtues perfectly. A word to the wise: if you choose today to endorse a candidate or a political party as “Christian,” tomorrow you will eat your words.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Not Again!
The cancelations are rolling in. Formal Katrina remembrances are being replaced by an unstoppable barrage of unwanted, terrifying memories. Productive work is now on hold. All eyes are on the Gulf of Mexico and the unseeing, unfeeling specter of Hurricane Gustav.
He has me churning already. His powerful winds and deadly aim at New Orleans are dredging up suppressed memories of midnight runs, stranded plans, and emotional partings.
An emergency meeting to batten down the hatches turned into a torrent of tormented remembrances. Pets are a problem. The elderly need help. Temporary office accommodations are available in Montgomery, Alabama.
The post-Katrina newcomers are staring at me, maybe a little mystified. I am waving my arms too much. My voice is strained, and my animation seems bigger than the situation calls for.
Someone voices the “no evacuation” sentiment. A Katrina survivor who fished his loved ones out of the flood jumps back in his chair, shaking his head violently. “No, sir! I’m not staying.” No one knows how to escape this gaping fissure running through our collective lives.
Lunch is now the hour of dark speculation and ominous prediction. “If we flood again, that’s the end for New Orleans. No one will come to help us.”
Everything in me resists. I don’t want to do this, not even think this.
But my mind steals inexorably to the edge of the cliff. I peer into a murky, imagined future where New Orleans has become the modern Atlantis after Gustav completes a deadly one-two punch.
Close the shutters again. Find the power drill and long screws. Cover the windows. Load the files. Fill the gas tanks. Remember how we missed the tools and computers last time. We know this routine.
Move the valuables to the second floor. Clean out the freezer. Take—what? Am I preparing for a three-day vacation or three weeks of waiting for the bowl to finally empty?
I am screaming inside—and shaking. My worst nightmare comes at me hour by hour from every quarter in vivid color with all the numbers perpetually displayed: 75 mph sustained winds, 4 mph WNW. These spinning currents are peeling off the scabs and breaking open the unhealed wounds of Katrina’s beating.
My usual “tropical storm confusion” about when to say what to whom is compounded by an unshakable sense of doom gripping the back of my neck. I don’t want to go there. How do I stop myself? What will this storm cost me? Everything?
Our levees seem so formidable when I push my bicycle to their crest. But they shrink to tiny scratches in the sand when viewed from these thunderheads. I feel panic. Did the Corps of Engineers fix those weak spots along the Industrial Canal? What about the MRGO?
My brother’s bedrooms are full, and our son has too much on his plate. We will evacuate to Texas, my wife has decided, so she can tend to her aging father for a few days. How many days, I wonder.
Someone is singing. My heart slows down. I cannot live in this emotional quicksand. My refuge in this storm of memories is a firm faith anchored somewhere beyond government, nature, and science.
I wrench my mind back to all the familiar faces, people that I love. Here lie the real values of my life. These I can protect. My possessions may be looted, soaked or mildewed, but if my loved ones are safe, I have scarcely lost a thing. This, too, I learned from Katrina.
Back to the task at hand. Make sure we have a good plan when the Mayor blows his horn. And this time we get on the correct side of the contraflow so we can actually go to Texas.
He has me churning already. His powerful winds and deadly aim at New Orleans are dredging up suppressed memories of midnight runs, stranded plans, and emotional partings.
An emergency meeting to batten down the hatches turned into a torrent of tormented remembrances. Pets are a problem. The elderly need help. Temporary office accommodations are available in Montgomery, Alabama.
The post-Katrina newcomers are staring at me, maybe a little mystified. I am waving my arms too much. My voice is strained, and my animation seems bigger than the situation calls for.
Someone voices the “no evacuation” sentiment. A Katrina survivor who fished his loved ones out of the flood jumps back in his chair, shaking his head violently. “No, sir! I’m not staying.” No one knows how to escape this gaping fissure running through our collective lives.
Lunch is now the hour of dark speculation and ominous prediction. “If we flood again, that’s the end for New Orleans. No one will come to help us.”
Everything in me resists. I don’t want to do this, not even think this.
But my mind steals inexorably to the edge of the cliff. I peer into a murky, imagined future where New Orleans has become the modern Atlantis after Gustav completes a deadly one-two punch.
Close the shutters again. Find the power drill and long screws. Cover the windows. Load the files. Fill the gas tanks. Remember how we missed the tools and computers last time. We know this routine.
Move the valuables to the second floor. Clean out the freezer. Take—what? Am I preparing for a three-day vacation or three weeks of waiting for the bowl to finally empty?
I am screaming inside—and shaking. My worst nightmare comes at me hour by hour from every quarter in vivid color with all the numbers perpetually displayed: 75 mph sustained winds, 4 mph WNW. These spinning currents are peeling off the scabs and breaking open the unhealed wounds of Katrina’s beating.
My usual “tropical storm confusion” about when to say what to whom is compounded by an unshakable sense of doom gripping the back of my neck. I don’t want to go there. How do I stop myself? What will this storm cost me? Everything?
Our levees seem so formidable when I push my bicycle to their crest. But they shrink to tiny scratches in the sand when viewed from these thunderheads. I feel panic. Did the Corps of Engineers fix those weak spots along the Industrial Canal? What about the MRGO?
My brother’s bedrooms are full, and our son has too much on his plate. We will evacuate to Texas, my wife has decided, so she can tend to her aging father for a few days. How many days, I wonder.
Someone is singing. My heart slows down. I cannot live in this emotional quicksand. My refuge in this storm of memories is a firm faith anchored somewhere beyond government, nature, and science.
I wrench my mind back to all the familiar faces, people that I love. Here lie the real values of my life. These I can protect. My possessions may be looted, soaked or mildewed, but if my loved ones are safe, I have scarcely lost a thing. This, too, I learned from Katrina.
Back to the task at hand. Make sure we have a good plan when the Mayor blows his horn. And this time we get on the correct side of the contraflow so we can actually go to Texas.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
The Omnipresent Storm
Friday the 29th is the third anniversary of the landfall of our omnipresent storm, Hurricane Katrina, the most powerful storm to strike America since scientists began measuring such calamities.
Hurricane Katrina was three times the size of Rita or Andrew or Camille in the sheer energy it generated, lifting the waters of the sea at least 10 feet above sea level for a span of 200 miles. This storm surge, 30 feet high at the midpoint, filled Lake Pontchartrain to unprecedented levels and toppled the walls of the city’s drainage canals at seven different locations.
And there you have it—Mother Nature’s swirling gift that just keeps on spinning.
Not a day goes by—maybe even a waking hour—that I don’t somehow encounter this storm in my memory. Driving through Lakeview I see a new home and think, “They didn’t elevate it much. I guess they’re betting on the levees.” I see a vacant lot where a home used to sit and wonder, “Is that family living nearby or still displaced by the storm?”
I walk our church parking lot and lament the loss of trees, poisoned by salt water, that we worked so hard to keep alive the first year at our new site. I’ll think to myself, “Where is that cabinet we used for display?” and then remember, “Oh, yes, we lost it in the storm.”
If my surroundings don’t remind me of Katrina, the people around me are sure to do it. Every conversation about education, healthcare, housing, economic development, or criminal justice has its Katrina component. I visited the Orleans Parish House of Detention a few days ago and was reminded that hundreds of inmates still live in tents—remnants of the great storm.
Someone moves away, and I think of Katrina. Someone new arrives, and I think of Katrina. Is this coming and going related to the storm? Often it is.
Pick any day. Three of the five front page stories in our local newspaper will likely feature some dimension of recovery from the storm. Brad Pitt is building homes in the Lower Ninth Ward. Potential locations for the new VA hospital are being debated. A billion dollars is available to rebuild Orleans Parish school facilities.
The great storm stalled directly above us and continually pumps its downpour on our city. Across the span of our individual and collective lives, we have had precious little relief from this barrage in these three years.
And there’s more to come. The reminders will not evaporate with the passing of August 29.
Am I stuck in this fierce wind forever? Can my mind ever paddle out of this flood?
It’s too soon to tell, I guess, even after three years. As long as gaping caverns in our streets threaten to devour my vehicle, I will think of Katrina. Until the new hospitals are part of our skyline, until the inmates are eight to a cell instead of 14, I will think of Katrina. Until the schools, the levees, and the vast stretches of flood-blighted neighborhoods are rebuilt, I will always think of Katrina.
And, I guess, if our new approach to public education really works, and students enjoy an environment more conducive to learning, I will enjoy some measure of gratitude for Katrina. If Charity Hospital re-emerges as a state-of-the-art haven for the sick, I will give thanks for Katrina.
For heaven’s sake, if the Saints win the Superbowl or the Hornets top the NBA, I am going to be thinking of Katrina—the difficulties we have overcome, the problems we have solved, and the joy we have experienced in the journey from what felt like a watery grave to what looks like a successful community bequeathing a spirit of courage and determination to coming generations.
Hurricane Katrina was three times the size of Rita or Andrew or Camille in the sheer energy it generated, lifting the waters of the sea at least 10 feet above sea level for a span of 200 miles. This storm surge, 30 feet high at the midpoint, filled Lake Pontchartrain to unprecedented levels and toppled the walls of the city’s drainage canals at seven different locations.
And there you have it—Mother Nature’s swirling gift that just keeps on spinning.
Not a day goes by—maybe even a waking hour—that I don’t somehow encounter this storm in my memory. Driving through Lakeview I see a new home and think, “They didn’t elevate it much. I guess they’re betting on the levees.” I see a vacant lot where a home used to sit and wonder, “Is that family living nearby or still displaced by the storm?”
I walk our church parking lot and lament the loss of trees, poisoned by salt water, that we worked so hard to keep alive the first year at our new site. I’ll think to myself, “Where is that cabinet we used for display?” and then remember, “Oh, yes, we lost it in the storm.”
If my surroundings don’t remind me of Katrina, the people around me are sure to do it. Every conversation about education, healthcare, housing, economic development, or criminal justice has its Katrina component. I visited the Orleans Parish House of Detention a few days ago and was reminded that hundreds of inmates still live in tents—remnants of the great storm.
Someone moves away, and I think of Katrina. Someone new arrives, and I think of Katrina. Is this coming and going related to the storm? Often it is.
Pick any day. Three of the five front page stories in our local newspaper will likely feature some dimension of recovery from the storm. Brad Pitt is building homes in the Lower Ninth Ward. Potential locations for the new VA hospital are being debated. A billion dollars is available to rebuild Orleans Parish school facilities.
The great storm stalled directly above us and continually pumps its downpour on our city. Across the span of our individual and collective lives, we have had precious little relief from this barrage in these three years.
And there’s more to come. The reminders will not evaporate with the passing of August 29.
Am I stuck in this fierce wind forever? Can my mind ever paddle out of this flood?
It’s too soon to tell, I guess, even after three years. As long as gaping caverns in our streets threaten to devour my vehicle, I will think of Katrina. Until the new hospitals are part of our skyline, until the inmates are eight to a cell instead of 14, I will think of Katrina. Until the schools, the levees, and the vast stretches of flood-blighted neighborhoods are rebuilt, I will always think of Katrina.
And, I guess, if our new approach to public education really works, and students enjoy an environment more conducive to learning, I will enjoy some measure of gratitude for Katrina. If Charity Hospital re-emerges as a state-of-the-art haven for the sick, I will give thanks for Katrina.
For heaven’s sake, if the Saints win the Superbowl or the Hornets top the NBA, I am going to be thinking of Katrina—the difficulties we have overcome, the problems we have solved, and the joy we have experienced in the journey from what felt like a watery grave to what looks like a successful community bequeathing a spirit of courage and determination to coming generations.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
True Love
Janet and I celebrated 36 years of marriage July 17. That’s a long time.
I often remind couples during the wedding ceremony that they are making a promise for a lifetime. They make this promise without knowing what the future holds. Many challenges await them, but they promise to be faithful.
How can two people, not knowing the future, make a promise of faithfulness one to another?
God’s love is the guarantee of the promise. Love never fails, as the Apostle Paul eloquently reminds (1 Corinthians 13:8). The gift of God’s love is the reason that two people can make a promise for a lifetime without knowing the future.
The power of love is not that we love God or one another. It is that God loves us. Can you capture this with your heart and head? God loves you—passionately and beyond explanation. This love is the central power of the universe. It holds together the Trinity. The Three are One because of divine love.
So two can become one through the power of this love.
The freedom to love is granted us by the Creator God. Love must be free to be real. How could anyone coerce true love?
Love freely given and freely received—this is the ebb and flow of the divine nature and the true description of the greatest cosmic force. You will never run across anything greater than the love of God.
What are you waiting for? Leap into the current of love and discover what the Creator intended for your life.
I often remind couples during the wedding ceremony that they are making a promise for a lifetime. They make this promise without knowing what the future holds. Many challenges await them, but they promise to be faithful.
How can two people, not knowing the future, make a promise of faithfulness one to another?
God’s love is the guarantee of the promise. Love never fails, as the Apostle Paul eloquently reminds (1 Corinthians 13:8). The gift of God’s love is the reason that two people can make a promise for a lifetime without knowing the future.
The power of love is not that we love God or one another. It is that God loves us. Can you capture this with your heart and head? God loves you—passionately and beyond explanation. This love is the central power of the universe. It holds together the Trinity. The Three are One because of divine love.
So two can become one through the power of this love.
The freedom to love is granted us by the Creator God. Love must be free to be real. How could anyone coerce true love?
Love freely given and freely received—this is the ebb and flow of the divine nature and the true description of the greatest cosmic force. You will never run across anything greater than the love of God.
What are you waiting for? Leap into the current of love and discover what the Creator intended for your life.
Friday, June 27, 2008
Immediate Neighborhood - Lakeview
The population around our church is now almost 40 percent of what it was before Hurricane Katrina hist our shores. We consider this great news.
The bad news concerns blighted properties. The Lakeview Civic Improvement Association estimates that 1,400 properties remain blighted.
All of Lakeview, population 24,000 before the storm, went under water, some of it as deep as 11 feet. Lakeview is the neighborhood into which the breached 17th Street Canal poured its flood waters.
More good news—900 homes in Lakeview are under construction. When these homes are occupied the population should jump to around 13,000. Many of the new residents of Lakeview are young people. Our church is eager to reach out to these families.
The excellent elementary school, Hines Charter, should be housed in new facilities in Lakeview by the end of next year. This will be a huge incentive for young families to relocate in our area.
Lakeview now has 1,900 vacant lots as a result of widespread demolition of flooded properties. Many of these lots will be purchased by neighbors next door and become green space.
Even more good news--our Early Learning Center, the only full-time day care facility in Lakeview, now has 112 children enrolled and is gaining new enrollees almost daily. This ministry is bringing new faces to our door step and provides us an opportunity to teach little children about the love of God. Our excellent faculty uses the LifeWay curriculum for age-appropriate learning.
The best news of all—First Baptist New Orleans has an opportunity to reach out to these new residents with the message of salvation in Christ. We are privileged to be part of an active community. And we are called to communicate the love of God found through Jesus Christ our Lord.
The bad news concerns blighted properties. The Lakeview Civic Improvement Association estimates that 1,400 properties remain blighted.
All of Lakeview, population 24,000 before the storm, went under water, some of it as deep as 11 feet. Lakeview is the neighborhood into which the breached 17th Street Canal poured its flood waters.
More good news—900 homes in Lakeview are under construction. When these homes are occupied the population should jump to around 13,000. Many of the new residents of Lakeview are young people. Our church is eager to reach out to these families.
The excellent elementary school, Hines Charter, should be housed in new facilities in Lakeview by the end of next year. This will be a huge incentive for young families to relocate in our area.
Lakeview now has 1,900 vacant lots as a result of widespread demolition of flooded properties. Many of these lots will be purchased by neighbors next door and become green space.
Even more good news--our Early Learning Center, the only full-time day care facility in Lakeview, now has 112 children enrolled and is gaining new enrollees almost daily. This ministry is bringing new faces to our door step and provides us an opportunity to teach little children about the love of God. Our excellent faculty uses the LifeWay curriculum for age-appropriate learning.
The best news of all—First Baptist New Orleans has an opportunity to reach out to these new residents with the message of salvation in Christ. We are privileged to be part of an active community. And we are called to communicate the love of God found through Jesus Christ our Lord.
Changing Central City - Prayer Walk Saturday!
Dozens of churches in Greater New Orleans are mobilizing Saturday to strike at the root of violence in our city. Hundreds and perhaps thousands of members of local churches will walk through the streets of Central City praying for the residents there and praying for an end to the bloodshed.
Central City is an important part of our community and home to thousands of our citizens. The area includes some great churches, schools, neighborhoods, businesses and public instititutions.
It also continues to be plagued with drug wars and senseless killing.
Churches from across the region will converge at 10 a.m. Saturday, June 28, at New Hope Baptist Church, 1807 LaSalle Street, just off Claiborne Avenue and Martin Luther King Boulevard. Groups of 50 persons will fan out in the area, praying for needs and talking with residents.
All Christians are invited to participate in this unique, interdenominational effort sponsored by the Greater New Orleans Pastors Coalition.
Southern Baptists will host a major evangelistic and prayer effort in Central City in November. The prayer walk this Saturday, June 28, is part of a continuing effort to saturate our community with prayer and witnessing.
Only God’s love can change the culture of violence that makes New Orleans the perennial homicide capital of America.
Central City is an important part of our community and home to thousands of our citizens. The area includes some great churches, schools, neighborhoods, businesses and public instititutions.
It also continues to be plagued with drug wars and senseless killing.
Churches from across the region will converge at 10 a.m. Saturday, June 28, at New Hope Baptist Church, 1807 LaSalle Street, just off Claiborne Avenue and Martin Luther King Boulevard. Groups of 50 persons will fan out in the area, praying for needs and talking with residents.
All Christians are invited to participate in this unique, interdenominational effort sponsored by the Greater New Orleans Pastors Coalition.
Southern Baptists will host a major evangelistic and prayer effort in Central City in November. The prayer walk this Saturday, June 28, is part of a continuing effort to saturate our community with prayer and witnessing.
Only God’s love can change the culture of violence that makes New Orleans the perennial homicide capital of America.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
This is Daddy
“This is Daddy’s truck,” Hope told me when she was two years old. She was pretending to drive, her little hands barely moving the steering wheel. I reached for the steering wheel. “This is Daddy’s truck,” she said again, protectively.
She loved her Daddy, that was clear to me, and she missed him every hour when he was away.
Fathers have a special place in the lives of their children.
I spoke of my father last Sunday in the message—the wrestling matches when he pinned me and my four brothers all in a pile in the living room floor. I have wonderful memories of a Dad who loved me.
I forget sometimes that some people—lots of people—did not grow up with a loving father. A person reminded me this week of that painful reality.
The absence of a loving father is one of the great tragedies of the present time for millions of children and adults. It is a wound that does not heal easily.
Loving fathers are in great demand. There is no role in the family where so little means so much—a little time and attention, a little listening and talking, a little affection and direction. So many kids are longing for it—just a tender look or loving touch from Dad.
Fathers, you are heroes, know it or not. You cast a shadow that lasts a lifetime.
She loved her Daddy, that was clear to me, and she missed him every hour when he was away.
Fathers have a special place in the lives of their children.
I spoke of my father last Sunday in the message—the wrestling matches when he pinned me and my four brothers all in a pile in the living room floor. I have wonderful memories of a Dad who loved me.
I forget sometimes that some people—lots of people—did not grow up with a loving father. A person reminded me this week of that painful reality.
The absence of a loving father is one of the great tragedies of the present time for millions of children and adults. It is a wound that does not heal easily.
Loving fathers are in great demand. There is no role in the family where so little means so much—a little time and attention, a little listening and talking, a little affection and direction. So many kids are longing for it—just a tender look or loving touch from Dad.
Fathers, you are heroes, know it or not. You cast a shadow that lasts a lifetime.
Friday, May 16, 2008
Kneeling at Their Work
Update from New Orleans
A former president in his mid-80s is entitled to do whatever he wishes with his time. So it wrinkled my brow to see President Jimmy Carter and his wife, Rosalyn, on their knees affixing boards to a porch in the Upper Ninth Ward this week.
I decided, watching them work, that this presidential couple really believe they are changing the world with these small acts of kindness. Looking around, I saw many of the hundreds of volunteers who graced our city this week pausing in their own work to observe this famous man and woman accomplishing their humble service. These young faces, eyes shining, are portraits and symbols of faith and hope. They come to our city with the express purpose of lifting our spirits, holding up our arms, and joining us in the grunt work that moves our community forward.
Former presidents in their 80s seem empowered to say whatever they wish, as President Carter has demonstrated over high-level objections. They also appear empowered to do whatever they wish. And driving nails to build decent and safe houses for working people is just what this president wants to do.
He and Rosalyn are all smiles as they greet people, grab their tools, and hit the deck with gusto. They request routinely that admirers not interrupt their construction time so that they can get something done.
Harry Connick, Jr., and Ellis Marsalis dropped by to greet the volunteers and visit with the Carters. I thanked Harry for giving high visibility to our work of rebuilding, but he turned that thank you right back on me. The Carters did the same, and instructed me to pass on their gratitude to my congregation.
Sometimes, around some people, it is hard to get a thank you in edgewise. I suspect that people who are busy trying to change their world are also very grateful as a matter of disposition.
Our environment here in New Orleans is being changed one hammer stroke at a time. For us, the progress is visible and palpable. It may be hard to extrapolate our progress to the rest of the world, but all the same principles apply whether we are looking at changing a city or changing a world. The accumulated effect of millions of tiny hammer strokes is the rebuilding of a devastated region. If multiplied throughout the world, the goal of eradicating poverty housing seems truly within reach.
Of course, the only people who hope for and expect such a transformation in our city or our world are the people swinging hammers. Hope springs eternal only when we are busy building what we hope for. If despair or resignation benched us, our inactivity reinforces the despair and quells the hope.
Billy Puckett, construction manager for the New Orleans Area Habitat for Humanity, challenged a thousand volunteers one morning this week to persevere in their good work. Perseverance, he said, would build character. And character produces hope.
When you see the Carters kneeling at their work, your own heart swells. You start to imagine a world where people give of themselves in this way. You begin to believe that people can make a difference. Their determination and courage ignite hope in you, the observer. Maybe genuine hope has always traveled on these arcs of imagination and admiration that connect people. Maybe hope always emanates from the sweat of honest labor and the embrace of active love.
A former president in his mid-80s is entitled to do whatever he wishes with his time. So it wrinkled my brow to see President Jimmy Carter and his wife, Rosalyn, on their knees affixing boards to a porch in the Upper Ninth Ward this week.
I decided, watching them work, that this presidential couple really believe they are changing the world with these small acts of kindness. Looking around, I saw many of the hundreds of volunteers who graced our city this week pausing in their own work to observe this famous man and woman accomplishing their humble service. These young faces, eyes shining, are portraits and symbols of faith and hope. They come to our city with the express purpose of lifting our spirits, holding up our arms, and joining us in the grunt work that moves our community forward.
Former presidents in their 80s seem empowered to say whatever they wish, as President Carter has demonstrated over high-level objections. They also appear empowered to do whatever they wish. And driving nails to build decent and safe houses for working people is just what this president wants to do.
He and Rosalyn are all smiles as they greet people, grab their tools, and hit the deck with gusto. They request routinely that admirers not interrupt their construction time so that they can get something done.
Harry Connick, Jr., and Ellis Marsalis dropped by to greet the volunteers and visit with the Carters. I thanked Harry for giving high visibility to our work of rebuilding, but he turned that thank you right back on me. The Carters did the same, and instructed me to pass on their gratitude to my congregation.
Sometimes, around some people, it is hard to get a thank you in edgewise. I suspect that people who are busy trying to change their world are also very grateful as a matter of disposition.
Our environment here in New Orleans is being changed one hammer stroke at a time. For us, the progress is visible and palpable. It may be hard to extrapolate our progress to the rest of the world, but all the same principles apply whether we are looking at changing a city or changing a world. The accumulated effect of millions of tiny hammer strokes is the rebuilding of a devastated region. If multiplied throughout the world, the goal of eradicating poverty housing seems truly within reach.
Of course, the only people who hope for and expect such a transformation in our city or our world are the people swinging hammers. Hope springs eternal only when we are busy building what we hope for. If despair or resignation benched us, our inactivity reinforces the despair and quells the hope.
Billy Puckett, construction manager for the New Orleans Area Habitat for Humanity, challenged a thousand volunteers one morning this week to persevere in their good work. Perseverance, he said, would build character. And character produces hope.
When you see the Carters kneeling at their work, your own heart swells. You start to imagine a world where people give of themselves in this way. You begin to believe that people can make a difference. Their determination and courage ignite hope in you, the observer. Maybe genuine hope has always traveled on these arcs of imagination and admiration that connect people. Maybe hope always emanates from the sweat of honest labor and the embrace of active love.
Monday, May 12, 2008
Unique and complicated
Unique, interesting, and charming—these are great descriptors for the Crescent City.
But it is also tough duty these days to live here, and we do ourselves no favors by insisting otherwise.
I just spoke to a former resident who relocated and is enjoying the experience of "normal"—a landscape without Katrina litter.
Every time I drive through New Orleans East, particularly at Read Boulevard, I fight a surge of despair. The vacancy—empty frames and windswept lots and abandoned medical facilities and sparse population—thunders with emotional and physical challenges for our people.
And it wears on us all whether we are directly involved in rebuilding or whether we are trying to do life without reference to the greatest devastation of our times.
Encouragement flows, as it always does, through healthy relationships of mutual support. Family and friendship circles sustain us. Tempting as it may be when we are weary, when we are conserving our energies, we should not withdraw from the oasis of loving connections. Now we need our dinner parties and holiday gatherings and summer vacations and backyard barbeques more than ever before.
Do not waste energy blaming those who have relocated. Instead, view the rebuilding of New Orleans as a great relay with many runners. Some carry the baton for short distances. Others invest for the long haul. Every assignment in this setting is unique to the individual gifts and temperament. We are not "abandoned" when friends leave. That is simply one stop on the road to getting healthy when we are grieving.
And we are grieving, make no mistake, each in his own way. The losses continue to weigh heavy upon us and our community. At some point we must accept the realities of our new way of life, create and sustain the new relationships that are required, and settle into a pace that we can manage for the years to come. Anger, resentment, and jealousy work against our greatest good and must be rejected in favor of contentment (not resignation), peace (not inactivity), and joy in the journey.
Can people be healthy and happy in the wake of great devastation? Of course they can. Right now in New Orleans, great friendships are flourishing, marriages are growing stronger, and families are learning to lean on each other as never before.
Great teams are being built in all sectors of our economy and community. These dynamic new connections are already lifting us beyond our pre-Katrina environment in many instances. The chaos--the sloshed and sloppy soup of flooded New Orleans—together with the influx of great resources has produced here the richest seedbed in the world for new ideas, art, poetry, social structures, business relationships, and break-through alliances.
Tomorrow’s amazing advances are germinating now in our city’s slippery scramble toward its emerging order.
Some will pass up this chance of a lifetime. Some will contribute significantly from a distance or in short tenure. Others, sensing the moment laden with potential, will dive into this history-making mix and discover the wave that carries them to their greatest accomplishments.
Honestly, not everyone is cut out for post-Katrina New Orleans. But for those who want to slip "the surly bonds of earth and dance the skies on laughter-silvered wings," for pioneer stock and cliff-dwellers, this flattened expanse of swamp by the river is the Promised Land of opportunity.
This is where we are, where we live—this bustling nexus of hope and despair, glitter and litter, yearning and possibility. Hear the saxophone on the breeze, a mournful and beautiful improvisation, a brand new tune for our times.
But it is also tough duty these days to live here, and we do ourselves no favors by insisting otherwise.
I just spoke to a former resident who relocated and is enjoying the experience of "normal"—a landscape without Katrina litter.
Every time I drive through New Orleans East, particularly at Read Boulevard, I fight a surge of despair. The vacancy—empty frames and windswept lots and abandoned medical facilities and sparse population—thunders with emotional and physical challenges for our people.
And it wears on us all whether we are directly involved in rebuilding or whether we are trying to do life without reference to the greatest devastation of our times.
Encouragement flows, as it always does, through healthy relationships of mutual support. Family and friendship circles sustain us. Tempting as it may be when we are weary, when we are conserving our energies, we should not withdraw from the oasis of loving connections. Now we need our dinner parties and holiday gatherings and summer vacations and backyard barbeques more than ever before.
Do not waste energy blaming those who have relocated. Instead, view the rebuilding of New Orleans as a great relay with many runners. Some carry the baton for short distances. Others invest for the long haul. Every assignment in this setting is unique to the individual gifts and temperament. We are not "abandoned" when friends leave. That is simply one stop on the road to getting healthy when we are grieving.
And we are grieving, make no mistake, each in his own way. The losses continue to weigh heavy upon us and our community. At some point we must accept the realities of our new way of life, create and sustain the new relationships that are required, and settle into a pace that we can manage for the years to come. Anger, resentment, and jealousy work against our greatest good and must be rejected in favor of contentment (not resignation), peace (not inactivity), and joy in the journey.
Can people be healthy and happy in the wake of great devastation? Of course they can. Right now in New Orleans, great friendships are flourishing, marriages are growing stronger, and families are learning to lean on each other as never before.
Great teams are being built in all sectors of our economy and community. These dynamic new connections are already lifting us beyond our pre-Katrina environment in many instances. The chaos--the sloshed and sloppy soup of flooded New Orleans—together with the influx of great resources has produced here the richest seedbed in the world for new ideas, art, poetry, social structures, business relationships, and break-through alliances.
Tomorrow’s amazing advances are germinating now in our city’s slippery scramble toward its emerging order.
Some will pass up this chance of a lifetime. Some will contribute significantly from a distance or in short tenure. Others, sensing the moment laden with potential, will dive into this history-making mix and discover the wave that carries them to their greatest accomplishments.
Honestly, not everyone is cut out for post-Katrina New Orleans. But for those who want to slip "the surly bonds of earth and dance the skies on laughter-silvered wings," for pioneer stock and cliff-dwellers, this flattened expanse of swamp by the river is the Promised Land of opportunity.
This is where we are, where we live—this bustling nexus of hope and despair, glitter and litter, yearning and possibility. Hear the saxophone on the breeze, a mournful and beautiful improvisation, a brand new tune for our times.
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
Esther
Esther is a woman of courage and virtue, a fitting place to be as we think of Mother’s Day. She is in a very difficult position. Her life is filled with limitations. She is young and inexperienced, and the future of her family and her nation is in her hands. Her adoptive father, trying to encourage her and help her do the right thing, says to her, And who knows but that you have come to royal position for such a time as this? (Esther 4:14).
Everyone should consider these words of Mordecai to Esther. We do not select our time, and much about our place is also assigned to us.
You are at this moment blinking on God’s GPS screen. He knows right where you are. Is it possible that you, too, have come to this exact time and position to accomplish the purposes of God?
No matter how alone you feel--or how afraid--you are in the presence of your memories, your loyalties, and your enemies. Always. Your memories chronicle the story of your life. Your loyalties constitute the pledges and promises that you have made and that have been made to you. Your enemies remain present because you are not yet delivered from the presence of the world, the flesh, or the devil. One day you will be, but not yet.
Make your choices knowing that God alone controls the compass and the timepiece.
Everyone should consider these words of Mordecai to Esther. We do not select our time, and much about our place is also assigned to us.
You are at this moment blinking on God’s GPS screen. He knows right where you are. Is it possible that you, too, have come to this exact time and position to accomplish the purposes of God?
No matter how alone you feel--or how afraid--you are in the presence of your memories, your loyalties, and your enemies. Always. Your memories chronicle the story of your life. Your loyalties constitute the pledges and promises that you have made and that have been made to you. Your enemies remain present because you are not yet delivered from the presence of the world, the flesh, or the devil. One day you will be, but not yet.
Make your choices knowing that God alone controls the compass and the timepiece.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Rebuilding
No interventions of the supernatural "miracles" are recorded in Ezra, Nehemiah, and Esther. However, prayer, faith, courage, and hard work are on every page. In truth, God was mightily at work through these times, restoring the house of worship and the Holy City.
Nehemiah wants to show reverence for God. This is how he describes his motivation for courageous and faithful living. He knows that his behavior is an outcome of and a declaration of his faith.
God could have snapped his fingers and restored Jerusalem to its full grandeur. Instead, he moved the hearts of his people and strengthened their hands for the difficult work of rebuilding. And through the process, inch by inch, he forged stronger bonds among them and drew the people to himself.
Ezra and Nehemiah restored the worship of God. They opened the word of God and brought it to the center of worship. They read for the people all that God had done for previous generations. They reminded the people of all that God promised them and of their obligations in the covenant of love.
And they turned a nation back to God.
We all enjoy instant answers. We like immediate rewards. We chafe under the restraints of development, cultivation, delay, and incremental process.
Residents of the City of New Orleans could decide to move to bright and well-manicured suburban areas with new schools and no crime. We do not have to live in a community struggling to lift itself from the muck.
We continue the work of rebuilding our community because we believe that this community is important to our security and economy as a nation. We believe that its rich culture and heritage are important aspects of America’s soul. And we believe that God has planted us here to help shape her future through faith and good works.
We pray for revival and for the harvest of souls that will surely follow the pervasive sowing of love and good deeds here. But no instant cure for the ills of New Orleans is likely to emerge. Instead, God has called us to a long journey of courage, faith, and determination.
The journey itself must become delightful and rewarding for each of us. We must learn to celebrate the small steps taken on a daily basis. We must mark with praise and thanksgiving the turning points as they occur and as we notice them.
And we must, like Ezra and Nehemiah, find our strength and focus in the worship of God, the power of prayer, the reward of good deeds, and the healing effect of God’s word.
Nehemiah wants to show reverence for God. This is how he describes his motivation for courageous and faithful living. He knows that his behavior is an outcome of and a declaration of his faith.
God could have snapped his fingers and restored Jerusalem to its full grandeur. Instead, he moved the hearts of his people and strengthened their hands for the difficult work of rebuilding. And through the process, inch by inch, he forged stronger bonds among them and drew the people to himself.
Ezra and Nehemiah restored the worship of God. They opened the word of God and brought it to the center of worship. They read for the people all that God had done for previous generations. They reminded the people of all that God promised them and of their obligations in the covenant of love.
And they turned a nation back to God.
We all enjoy instant answers. We like immediate rewards. We chafe under the restraints of development, cultivation, delay, and incremental process.
Residents of the City of New Orleans could decide to move to bright and well-manicured suburban areas with new schools and no crime. We do not have to live in a community struggling to lift itself from the muck.
We continue the work of rebuilding our community because we believe that this community is important to our security and economy as a nation. We believe that its rich culture and heritage are important aspects of America’s soul. And we believe that God has planted us here to help shape her future through faith and good works.
We pray for revival and for the harvest of souls that will surely follow the pervasive sowing of love and good deeds here. But no instant cure for the ills of New Orleans is likely to emerge. Instead, God has called us to a long journey of courage, faith, and determination.
The journey itself must become delightful and rewarding for each of us. We must learn to celebrate the small steps taken on a daily basis. We must mark with praise and thanksgiving the turning points as they occur and as we notice them.
And we must, like Ezra and Nehemiah, find our strength and focus in the worship of God, the power of prayer, the reward of good deeds, and the healing effect of God’s word.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Jerusalem
The temple in Jerusalem was built by Solomon and destroyed by the Babylonian army in 587 B.C. The second temple in Jerusalem was built by Herod and destroyed by the Romans in 70 A.D.The city of Jerusalem was destroyed as well, in both instances. Jerusalem stands today as a viable city among the cities of the world, and Israel stands as an independent nation among the nations of the world.
The crosshairs of history seem always trained upon that city which David selected as the seat of his empire. Geographically the city sits at the extreme eastern end of the Mediterranean Sea. It is built on the logical path by land from Africa to Europe and from Asia to both Africa and Europe. It is an intersection of trade routes for the bulk of the planet’s land mass.
But this alone does not explain its prominence in world history or in the modern era. Jerusalem is King David’s capital for the Jews. It is the city of the prophets for the Muslims. And it is the city of Jesus’ passion for the Christians. Jerusalem, in other words, stands out among the cities on the planet as a center of religious thought and life. The majority of people in our world today may in some way be said to look to Jerusalem for their religious roots.
Sunday is the first day of this year’s Passover celebration for the Jews. We turn our thoughts to the city where God deployed his One and Only Son for the ultimate expression of love in human time and space. Here he gave the perfect Lamb who takes away the sin of the world.
Friday, March 28, 2008
Franklin Avenue Church Returns Home
By David E. Crosby , Pastor
First Baptist New
March 28, 2008
The great storm threw our congregations together. We were stunned, stumbling through the debris, overwhelmed by the chaos. We got our legs under us, though, and steadied each other in the damp darkness.
We donned the masks and boots and plunged together into the wreckage with our big snow shovels and wobbly wheelbarrows. We discovered that everyone is the same color in a hazmat suit.
We scrambled to high ground and set up camp. We labored to make sense of life, to discover old friends, to develop new ones.
We worked together, ate together, cried together, laughed together, prayed together, and learned to be comfortable together.
During those months that grew into years, we came to care for one another, respect each other, and value our growing friendship. We learned to really love each other.
The era of sharing the same church building must come to an end. The guest-who-has-become-family is moving on and moving out now, going back home to their rebuilt facilities in the 8th Ward. That is as it should be, I know, but I lament it nonetheless.
I have grown accustomed to their life and laughter, their proximity physically and spiritually. My Sunday morning routine, altered by hundreds of new worshipers filling up the building very early, includes handshakes and greetings from these new brothers and sisters of mine. Every Wednesday evening we talk and walk together. Throughout these weeks we have met intentionally and accidentally, and every meeting has strengthened the tie that binds.
I will miss them when they are gone—no doubt.
From Musician’s Village to New Orleans Mission to City Hall, we have walked these streets and halls together since Katrina purged our dirt and dreams. The months of sharing facilities have led into many shared ministries. The women of our churches work together in ministry and Bible study several times a week. Our men pray together weekly and study the Scriptures together. Health and recreation ministries have been combined for these years along with
Every week I observe and hear from someone about the tremendous dynamics unleashed through the multiple interactions of our congregations,
The lessons of this crisis mode, with its work-together, live-together necessity, are earth-shaking. They should not pass from our minds and hearts. These new truths that have surfaced with the ebbing tide must bring permanent change. Let’s not waste this storm by regressing back to who we used to be.
The hurricane forced us to gather on the high ground, the unflooded areas. It removed the distance between us. For some displaced groups that has caused multiple exchanges of gunfire over disputed turf. But for many others it has meant turning the “neutral ground” into “common ground” and “higher ground.” The higher ground in our city is the place where we work together and learn to love and respect each other.
This is our last Sunday to share worship facilities with our new friends. We have made a mutual pledge that it will not be the end of our partnership in ministry in this city. We have experienced a glimpse of what it means to love one another across the boundaries that usually divide us. We will not back away from this divine call.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Easter for the Weary
Easter for the Weary
By
First Baptist New
March 18, 2008
The birds decided that my tiny tomato plants were good food, so they pecked off almost every leaf. I contemplated replanting but decided to give those tattered stems a chance to rejuvenate.
All it took was a few days. Not only are all nine of them still alive, but they are spreading new leaves and branches, looking healthy and determined.
The first dimension of life to demonstrate exciting recovery after Hurricane Katrina was the natural order. Vines with blossoms draped piles of debris. Twisted trees turned skyward, grew ten feet in that first spring, and opened new leaves to the sun.
Easter is a reminder that the cycle of life goes forward undaunted by life’s storms. The pines of southern
Almost three years post-Katrina, we humans continue to struggle mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. We are contemplative creatures, often tormented more by the reasons for than the realities of our losses.
We must remind ourselves now, in this see-saw Road Home world, of the lessons we embraced immediately after the great storm. These are the truths that still sustain us going forward.
We learned that we can live without the accumulated piles of possessions. The furniture, automobiles, and houses we lost proved to be replaceable after all. If we are dismayed that our current fortune is not as large as our former, we must remind ourselves of those great mountains of debris. All material goods are at some stage on their way to the landfill.
We learned that adaptation is a key to survival. We transported our children to distant schools and patched together an educational experience that eventually got them into the college of their choice. We lived with relatives and really got to know them. We formed relationships that still nurture our families and our souls. If life post-Katrina continues to require adaptation, so be it. Change is an evidence of life—and the spice of life.
We learned that we are stronger than we thought. We flexed new muscles in our bodies, hearts, and brains. We operated on faith, hope, and love. We worked evenings and weekends restoring what was lost and broken, helping our children and our neighbors. And in the end, our Herculean efforts were rewarded. The house is nicer, the furniture is new, the threads on our backs are finally in style, and our neighborhoods are humming with activity.
We look back amazed that we made it through the last 32 months. We look forward and wonder if we can make the next 32.
That is where Easter comes in. Easter is an annual celebration because we need it every year. It comes in spring because our faith needs the evidence of nature’s incredible resilience. We spy tiny green shoots creeping through the cracked concrete and baby ducklings paddling on the industrial canals. And we know this planet is designed for rebirth and renewal.
Three days after his burial, the tomb of Jesus was empty. The executioners were scrambling for explanations and Jesus’ grieving friends were astonished and confused. What day is this? It is Sunday, the first day of the week.
Every week now we believers worship on Sunday. Every Sunday is Resurrection Day. The tomb could not hold our Lord, and the tomb cannot hold us. Life triumphs over death, joy comes in the morning, and hope overflows like an artesian well.
Friday, March 14, 2008
Update on New Orleans' Homeless
Homeless men are now sleeping each night in the emergency shelter at New Orleans Mission built and funded in large part by First Baptist New Orleans and our Baptist partners.
Mayor Ray Nagin has been an enthusiastic supporter of this project and actually redirected a recent speaking honorarium to the mission rather than to his own personal pocket. This indicates both his seriousness in addressing homelessness and his personal support for the mission’s approach to this need.
Expanded services are now being provided at the mission thanks in large measure to Baptist interest and response to the need. Both the North American Mission Board and the Louisiana Baptist Convention aided in this project. The mission will open a new family shelter within the next few weeks. A day room will be opened to provide clean and safe space for daytime activities for the homeless. Chaplains and case workers are being added to the mission staff.
We Baptists are now developing a plan called a “continuum of care” for the homeless in our streets. We hope to identify and connect partners who can put a homeless person on a path that will lead them through spiritual transformation, necessary treatment and rehabilitation, halfway houses, transitional housing, and eventually to permanent housing, employment, and sobriety.
We will discuss this plan in a New Orleans Summit with officials from the North American Mission Board, the Louisiana Baptist Convention, the Baptist Association of Greater New Orleans, and several Baptist pastors in our city.
Homelessness is a complicated problem. Our city council is currently working on legislation that will allow the mayor to force an end to the homeless village which sprang up under the interstate in downtown
We are compelled by the love of Christ to care for the hungry, the naked, the homeless, and the helpless. We cannot ignore their needs and remain faithful to our Lord.
Pray for our churches and all of God’s people in New Orleans as we seek to build coalitions, initiate activities, and address the needs of “the least of these” in a city still crippled by America’s most powerful and costly storm.
Resurrection Day
The death and resurrection of Jesus Christ is the central event of the Christian faith and the greatest event in the annals of human history.
The resurrection of Jesus Christ rightfully changes everything about being human on this planet—the way we approach daily living, the way we handle loss and grief, the way we process data, etc. Nothing in human experience escapes the light which emanates from the empty tomb.
It is the reason that we worship on Sunday, “the Lord’s Day,” as Paul referred to it. Jesus rose on the first day of the week. The Sabbath, or day of rest, has been replaced in our minds by the day of celebration, the day when death was forever defeated.
The resurrection of Jesus Christ changes the way we deal with difficulty and loss including hurricane damage and recovery work. We know for sure that nothing is impossible with God. We know that God can raise new life from the ashes, that a grave is no obstacle for him. We know that we are more than conquerors through him who loves us.
The resurrection of Jesus Christ puts a string in our step and hope in our heart every day. We are enjoying now the eternal life that Jesus gives us, life that never quits or fades. This is the quality of life that abides within every believer in Christ. We share one life with Christ—his life, eternal, invincible, victorious.
Have a great Resurrection Day, now and forever!
David
Monday, March 10, 2008
Donkey
Donkeys are a major mode of transportation for the poor in many countries of the world. Donkeys pulling carts trot down dirt roads and clop along behind diesel buses and sedans in major cities jammed with traffic.
Herds of donkeys have appeared in recent years in the rural areas of Louisiana and Texas. Ranchers keep them in the pastures with sheep and goats because donkeys offer some measure of protection from coyotes and wolves.
These floppy-eared burden-bearers are small packages of useful energy. They are dependable, steady and sometimes sweet though seldom spectacular.
For this reason Jesus chose a donkey as his mount for the royal entrance into the Holy City during that holy season leading up to Passover. The donkey, unlike a spirited Arabian stallion, communicates humility and service.
The crowd on that first Palm Sunday seemed not to care about the beast but only about the rider. Him they dubbed the Son of David. They hailed him as one who came in the name of the Lord. They spread their garments in the path, waved the leafy branches, and sang Hosanna. It was a welcome for a king.
We know now what they did not know that Sunday in Jerusalem. We know that Jesus was riding to his death upon that lowly steed. He who served consistently through all his life would accomplish his greatest service in death. He was a servant to the sick, but in his death he would bring the medicine that heals every disease. He was a servant to the poor, but in his death he would bring eternal riches to the poor of spirit. He was a servant to the widow and orphan, but in his death he would open up the family of God to every troubled heart. He was a servant to the hungry and the hurting, but in his death he would bring access to the table of the Heavenly Father for all who hunger and thirst for righteousness.
This is our Savior, riding on a donkey, his dangling feet almost dragging in the dust. This is our God, sitting, swaying, on the donkey’s boney back. For all who never pictured God this way, here is the unexpected correction to your vision.
Herds of donkeys have appeared in recent years in the rural areas of Louisiana and Texas. Ranchers keep them in the pastures with sheep and goats because donkeys offer some measure of protection from coyotes and wolves.
These floppy-eared burden-bearers are small packages of useful energy. They are dependable, steady and sometimes sweet though seldom spectacular.
For this reason Jesus chose a donkey as his mount for the royal entrance into the Holy City during that holy season leading up to Passover. The donkey, unlike a spirited Arabian stallion, communicates humility and service.
The crowd on that first Palm Sunday seemed not to care about the beast but only about the rider. Him they dubbed the Son of David. They hailed him as one who came in the name of the Lord. They spread their garments in the path, waved the leafy branches, and sang Hosanna. It was a welcome for a king.
We know now what they did not know that Sunday in Jerusalem. We know that Jesus was riding to his death upon that lowly steed. He who served consistently through all his life would accomplish his greatest service in death. He was a servant to the sick, but in his death he would bring the medicine that heals every disease. He was a servant to the poor, but in his death he would bring eternal riches to the poor of spirit. He was a servant to the widow and orphan, but in his death he would open up the family of God to every troubled heart. He was a servant to the hungry and the hurting, but in his death he would bring access to the table of the Heavenly Father for all who hunger and thirst for righteousness.
This is our Savior, riding on a donkey, his dangling feet almost dragging in the dust. This is our God, sitting, swaying, on the donkey’s boney back. For all who never pictured God this way, here is the unexpected correction to your vision.
Saturday, February 23, 2008
The Jordan River was at flood stage. God told the people to go through the river. The priests lifted the Ark of the Covenant to their shoulders and stepped into the water.
God did not part the water until the priests were in it, bearing the Ark. Then the water flow stopped, and the people of God passed through to the other side.
How would you like to have been one of those priests with the most precious and holy object in your nation resting on your shoulders? How would it feel to step into the swollen river having no idea how you would proceed? Must you be ready to wash off downstream and chase the floating Ark on the crest of the waves?
God chooses to wait until our feet are in the water. His intervention seems last-second to us, but he is teaching us to depend upon him and him alone. God has a great opportunity, when our resources are exhausted, to glorify himself through our obedience.
God did not part the water until the priests were in it, bearing the Ark. Then the water flow stopped, and the people of God passed through to the other side.
How would you like to have been one of those priests with the most precious and holy object in your nation resting on your shoulders? How would it feel to step into the swollen river having no idea how you would proceed? Must you be ready to wash off downstream and chase the floating Ark on the crest of the waves?
God chooses to wait until our feet are in the water. His intervention seems last-second to us, but he is teaching us to depend upon him and him alone. God has a great opportunity, when our resources are exhausted, to glorify himself through our obedience.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
My Presence Will Go With You
David E. Crosby, Pastor
First Baptist New Orleans
January 31, 2008
The people craft and worship a golden calf while Moses in on Mount Sinai communing with God, we read this week (see fbno.org; more info on YOTM; daily reading plan).
Moses breaks the tablets of the 10 Commandments written by the finger of God when he sees the people worshipping the gold calf.
God threatens to kill the Hebrews and refuses to accompany them any longer.
Moses has a long discussion with God about God’s presence with the Hebrews on the journey to the Promised Land.
God promises Moses, “My Presence will go with you, and I will give you rest” (Exodus 33:14). In the context of the sinfulness and stubbornness of Israel, God makes a covenant with them. They will be his people, and he will be their God.
You could hardly imagine a more difficult beginning to a covenant that this one. The Hebrew people seem absolutely untrustworthy, unpredictable, and unreliable. But God is willing to display his glory in the earth through them anyway.
You and I, too, have made the golden calf and shattered the 10 Commandments. We think it’s all over between us and God. We have sensed his displeasure, and we have known the alienation with God that puts a stopper on our prayers and pulls us back when we think we might approach him.
Let the hope rise like a flame from the ashes! God is not done with his people. His Presence is not withdrawn, and his peace is still available. He is longsuffering, full of tender mercies. His lovingkindness is better than life.
Embrace his offer of love and forgiveness. Take his hand and never let go.
David E. Crosby, Pastor
First Baptist New Orleans
January 31, 2008
The people craft and worship a golden calf while Moses in on Mount Sinai communing with God, we read this week (see fbno.org; more info on YOTM; daily reading plan).
Moses breaks the tablets of the 10 Commandments written by the finger of God when he sees the people worshipping the gold calf.
God threatens to kill the Hebrews and refuses to accompany them any longer.
Moses has a long discussion with God about God’s presence with the Hebrews on the journey to the Promised Land.
God promises Moses, “My Presence will go with you, and I will give you rest” (Exodus 33:14). In the context of the sinfulness and stubbornness of Israel, God makes a covenant with them. They will be his people, and he will be their God.
You could hardly imagine a more difficult beginning to a covenant that this one. The Hebrew people seem absolutely untrustworthy, unpredictable, and unreliable. But God is willing to display his glory in the earth through them anyway.
You and I, too, have made the golden calf and shattered the 10 Commandments. We think it’s all over between us and God. We have sensed his displeasure, and we have known the alienation with God that puts a stopper on our prayers and pulls us back when we think we might approach him.
Let the hope rise like a flame from the ashes! God is not done with his people. His Presence is not withdrawn, and his peace is still available. He is longsuffering, full of tender mercies. His lovingkindness is better than life.
Embrace his offer of love and forgiveness. Take his hand and never let go.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Don't Mess with Me
Sometimes you don’t want anyone messing with you. My 80-year-old father-in-law has reached that point. He jerked out all the tubes yesterday and insisted on going home. He is in ICU.
ICU stands for intensive care unit. It’s a place where people care for you very carefully, constantly, and intimately. They care so much that you have almost no privacy—well, no privacy, period. They care for you 24 hours a day so you cannot really sleep unless they give you a pill that keeps you under when they’re fooling with your IV, taking your blood pressure and temperature, and checking the beeping machine at 2 a.m.
It really is intensive.
And it’s a lot to put up with, especially when you are old and hurting and want to go home.
Jesus said to Peter, “When you were younger you dressed yourself and went where you wanted; but when you are old you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will dress you and lead you where you do not want to go” (John 21:18).
There you go. It’s the perfect description of old age. And you arrive there remembering the times when you were in charge, in control of the thundering machines, and nobody messed with you.
You stretch out your hands. It’s an act of surrender. Those still-powerful hands have held the babies, gripped the plow, pulled the levers, steered that 18-wheeler around the mountains, wielded the iron wrench that turned the stubborn valve, and cracked a thousand other counter-forces through sheer will power and physical strength.
I remember when Jack tried to teach me how to “peel pecans” with a pocketknife. I saw him cutting through those shells like butter, taking out the meat in whole sections, and I wanted to do the same. I took his knife and cut up my thumb, but my hands weren’t strong enough to push that sharp knife through the wooden shell. I realized again how strong his hands were.
Now they stretch out, palms up, and yield to the demands of the tiny nurse at the bedside. When days have passed and the drugs are coursing through your tired veins and you don’t know whether its sunup or sundown and nothing makes much sense anymore, that’s when you stretch out your hands and let them lead you where you do not want to go.
The faces bob around you, faces of people who really care intensely for you, frantic to help you out of your pain and into tomorrow. But you know—and they know—that all the tests and medicines in the world can’t really fix what’s wrong with you.
Peter was upset about the Lord’s comments to him. He saw John and asked, “What about him?”
And Jesus replied, “That’s not your business. You follow me.”
And so, in the end, we come back to the beginning. We yield to the One who started us on the journey of faith and promise. We follow the one who called us years ago. We continue to do exactly what we have done for all these years.
We trust and obey. We turn our palms upward and go where we are led. We follow, not the nurse or the family, but the Lord himself who walks before us and beside us all the way Home.
ICU stands for intensive care unit. It’s a place where people care for you very carefully, constantly, and intimately. They care so much that you have almost no privacy—well, no privacy, period. They care for you 24 hours a day so you cannot really sleep unless they give you a pill that keeps you under when they’re fooling with your IV, taking your blood pressure and temperature, and checking the beeping machine at 2 a.m.
It really is intensive.
And it’s a lot to put up with, especially when you are old and hurting and want to go home.
Jesus said to Peter, “When you were younger you dressed yourself and went where you wanted; but when you are old you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will dress you and lead you where you do not want to go” (John 21:18).
There you go. It’s the perfect description of old age. And you arrive there remembering the times when you were in charge, in control of the thundering machines, and nobody messed with you.
You stretch out your hands. It’s an act of surrender. Those still-powerful hands have held the babies, gripped the plow, pulled the levers, steered that 18-wheeler around the mountains, wielded the iron wrench that turned the stubborn valve, and cracked a thousand other counter-forces through sheer will power and physical strength.
I remember when Jack tried to teach me how to “peel pecans” with a pocketknife. I saw him cutting through those shells like butter, taking out the meat in whole sections, and I wanted to do the same. I took his knife and cut up my thumb, but my hands weren’t strong enough to push that sharp knife through the wooden shell. I realized again how strong his hands were.
Now they stretch out, palms up, and yield to the demands of the tiny nurse at the bedside. When days have passed and the drugs are coursing through your tired veins and you don’t know whether its sunup or sundown and nothing makes much sense anymore, that’s when you stretch out your hands and let them lead you where you do not want to go.
The faces bob around you, faces of people who really care intensely for you, frantic to help you out of your pain and into tomorrow. But you know—and they know—that all the tests and medicines in the world can’t really fix what’s wrong with you.
Peter was upset about the Lord’s comments to him. He saw John and asked, “What about him?”
And Jesus replied, “That’s not your business. You follow me.”
And so, in the end, we come back to the beginning. We yield to the One who started us on the journey of faith and promise. We follow the one who called us years ago. We continue to do exactly what we have done for all these years.
We trust and obey. We turn our palms upward and go where we are led. We follow, not the nurse or the family, but the Lord himself who walks before us and beside us all the way Home.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Want to Open a Day Care?
By
First Baptist New
January 24, 2008
You would think that facilitating the opening of day care centers in Orleans Parish would be one of the highest priorities of our city government.
Think again.
The storm shut down two-thirds of the licensed centers in the parish. The number of operating centers dropped from more than 275 to 86 in the entire parish.
Thirty months later that number has crept back to 96. Ten centers have been licensed since the storm. A young father told me last week that his unborn child was on a 500-name waiting list for infant care. Two centers in our city have more than 800 children on their waiting lists.
I know the story of two churches that still await permission from local government to take care of the preschoolers of working parents.
First Baptist New Orleans, operating in a nearly new facility and with existing licensure to care for preschoolers part-time four days a week, has worked now for more than eight months to achieve licensure for full day care. We replaced our two-hole sink with a three-hole sink. We installed additional alarms. We secured the approval of the health department and the fire marshal. As far as I know, we completed everything the state and city wanted us to do—four months ago.
We called City Hall 20 times and left messages. The office was too busy to answer with a living human being. We sent emails. We arrived in person at the appropriate office. We were told they could not find a building permit for the construction work on the church. We resolved that misunderstanding after two months by communicating that we are using an existing building for the center, not constructing a new one.
The licensing process for another church has been similar but longer—14 months and still no permission to care for kids.
I know that good people with good intentions are working to grant these permits. We don’t want unsafe conditions for the little ones. I know our city employees are trying to follow procedure and protect children.
And I know that this is no way to respond to an emergency shortage of child care in our city. It illustrates a systemic problem at both the local and state level. It is the reason that many people who want to do business here decide to go elsewhere.
This cumbersome process consumes personal energy, frustrates citizens, and finally steals their enthusiasm and interest for the projects they wanted to launch.
We can do better, and we must do better if our economic future as a city and state is to be different than our past.
Here are a few suggestions.
First, treat requests for licensing day care centers with the urgency and priority that they deserve in our city at this time. We need a hundred new centers open yesterday. Young families moving into our city simply cannot find quality, affordable child care. The permitting process is part of the problem. Let’s fix it.
Second, consolidate all necessary information into one simple and easy-to-understand packet and process. Stop sending citizens from pillar to post, floor to floor in City Hall, and person to person. Showing up downtown should not be a necessary part of this formula.
Third, develop a strategy to assist churches in their quest for licensing. In many cases they already have facilities built for children that are empty during the week. Many churches are well-equipped to provide this service in the community, and many are willing to subsidize costs by providing space without market-value reimbursement.
Fourth, provide economic incentives for new day care centers that will lower the costs and increase their profitability. While our church day care center will be nonprofit, many people are eager to provide child care as a way to make a living.
Somebody can figure this out. Let’s do it now and fix this glaring deficiency in our recovering city.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Calamity Bears Down on Opportunity
That “caught in the headlights” syndrome can be dangerous, even deadly, as I was reminded last week on a trip to the south Mississippi piney woods.
A whitetail deer galloped down the pavement for 20 yards immediately in front of my vehicle. The yearling doe was so close to contact that the hood of the car partially obscured my view of her. She seemed trapped by the headlights in the evening hour, and glanced back toward me with fear more than once.
The doe entered my peripheral vision on the left. Janet saw her coming toward us and called out a warning. I hit the brakes hard and thought she had darted safely across the road.
She swerved, however, and began to race in front of our still-moving vehicle, and Janet cried out, “We’re going to hit it!”
I cannot say for sure that our grill never touched her. But I do know that she bounded safely off the road and into the pine grove and left us both breathless, hearts pounding, with vehicles lined up behind.
We grew up driving in Mills County, Texas, and have struck deer with vehicles more than once. It’s never a pleasant experience and often costly. The greatest danger to humans in vehicles is that they will hurt themselves or others while trying to avoid the animal. Experienced drivers generally stay in their lanes and avoid rear-end collisions even if it means one less whitetail browsing on mesquite beans.
What got me this time was the way the doe turned her head toward the headlights and watched them approach with her brown eyes wide open. I know she could have run faster or taken a safer course had she not been twisted sideways to catch a good view of the oncoming disaster.
All God’s creatures, including deer and humans, may be momentarily captivated by pending tumult, terror, and tragedy. Which of us could turn aside when the twin towers began to crumble?
Part of New Orleans’ endearing and conversational culture is its capacity for thoughtful, front-porch contemplation in the moment of potential disintegration.
At this point in our history we must not be caught ruminating when we should be acting. Almost any action is better than none when the train is bearing down on you. When the warning whistle blows, delay is your worst enemy.
We have arrived at our all-stops-pulled moment. Repopulation is slowing dramatically. By the thousands and tens of thousands, people near and far are reaching the moment of decision about New Orleans.
The time has come to establish a new trajectory. We cannot watch these headlights anymore. We must discover the path that will likely lead to new opportunity, economic advance, and community renewal and dart through that open door.
We have gathered around the plans and examined the blueprints long enough. Let the floodgates open. Release the new ideas. Turn your dreams into brick and mortar now.
What seems like a daring initiative is actually the only way forward for our families and our community. To get out on a limb is no risk at all when the tree itself is quivering. A comprehensive mobilization of our population across the fields of education, criminal justice, health care, housing, and economic development will secure our city’s finest future.
Staring at those headlights does not make you safer. Get up and at it or resign yourself to the dismal fate that overtakes those who cannot move when calamity bears down on opportunity.
A whitetail deer galloped down the pavement for 20 yards immediately in front of my vehicle. The yearling doe was so close to contact that the hood of the car partially obscured my view of her. She seemed trapped by the headlights in the evening hour, and glanced back toward me with fear more than once.
The doe entered my peripheral vision on the left. Janet saw her coming toward us and called out a warning. I hit the brakes hard and thought she had darted safely across the road.
She swerved, however, and began to race in front of our still-moving vehicle, and Janet cried out, “We’re going to hit it!”
I cannot say for sure that our grill never touched her. But I do know that she bounded safely off the road and into the pine grove and left us both breathless, hearts pounding, with vehicles lined up behind.
We grew up driving in Mills County, Texas, and have struck deer with vehicles more than once. It’s never a pleasant experience and often costly. The greatest danger to humans in vehicles is that they will hurt themselves or others while trying to avoid the animal. Experienced drivers generally stay in their lanes and avoid rear-end collisions even if it means one less whitetail browsing on mesquite beans.
What got me this time was the way the doe turned her head toward the headlights and watched them approach with her brown eyes wide open. I know she could have run faster or taken a safer course had she not been twisted sideways to catch a good view of the oncoming disaster.
All God’s creatures, including deer and humans, may be momentarily captivated by pending tumult, terror, and tragedy. Which of us could turn aside when the twin towers began to crumble?
Part of New Orleans’ endearing and conversational culture is its capacity for thoughtful, front-porch contemplation in the moment of potential disintegration.
At this point in our history we must not be caught ruminating when we should be acting. Almost any action is better than none when the train is bearing down on you. When the warning whistle blows, delay is your worst enemy.
We have arrived at our all-stops-pulled moment. Repopulation is slowing dramatically. By the thousands and tens of thousands, people near and far are reaching the moment of decision about New Orleans.
The time has come to establish a new trajectory. We cannot watch these headlights anymore. We must discover the path that will likely lead to new opportunity, economic advance, and community renewal and dart through that open door.
We have gathered around the plans and examined the blueprints long enough. Let the floodgates open. Release the new ideas. Turn your dreams into brick and mortar now.
What seems like a daring initiative is actually the only way forward for our families and our community. To get out on a limb is no risk at all when the tree itself is quivering. A comprehensive mobilization of our population across the fields of education, criminal justice, health care, housing, and economic development will secure our city’s finest future.
Staring at those headlights does not make you safer. Get up and at it or resign yourself to the dismal fate that overtakes those who cannot move when calamity bears down on opportunity.
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Homelessness Comes to Church
My shoes were covered with his tears. My suit was stained with his tears. He just could not stop crying.
His name was Charles. That’s all I learned from him when he came for prayer. He was so overcome with emotion he could not speak.
I prayed with him and promised to talk afterward, and he returned to his place in the pew.
Charles is one of the homeless people who live in tents under the interstate bridge on Claiborne Street. Mark, a man in our church who ministers to the homeless, picked him up that morning, along with two others, and brought them to church.
The message I brought that day was about Abraham, the father of the faithful, and how he lived in tents like a stranger in the Promised Land. I did not realize when I preached the message that at least three people in the congregation actually lived in tents themselves.
Charles said he is drug-free and sober but unemployed. God is using him, he said, to minister to the people in the tent community who are “fighting their demons,” so he is not anxious to relocate. The population in the tents changes continually yet is stabilized by longer term residents who know one another and watch out for each other.
The New Orleans Mission has expanded its capacity in a variety of ways. The large shelter we recently constructed for this emergency will open when the inspection by the state fire marshal is done. Then the mission will have capacity to accommodate everyone in the tent community who wishes to sleep indoors.
The highly visible homelessness in New Orleans these days came as something of a surprise. Immediately after Hurricane Katrina the homeless were gone. Providers of homeless services in the city guessed that homelessness was at a very low level and that it would be five years before the city would see any resurgence of that population.
Overnight, it seemed, a homeless population appeared, a homeless community formed, and it became a highly visible part of our post-Katrina puzzle. Homeless services, including health care and housing, continue to be quite limited in our city, though the capacities of the various shelters are steadily growing.
We hear reports of thousands of people living in abandoned houses in the areas devastated by flooding. These people are at high risk in many ways but especially from criminals who now prey on the migrant workers, the transient, and the elderly. One older man finally moved into his rehabilitated home this week only to be assaulted and murdered.
A hundred square miles of neighborhoods in Orleans and St. Bernard parishes went under water during the great storm. These vast stretches of houses, numbering near 150,000 structures, vary greatly in their current condition and population. Some areas where few people have returned are simply dangerous places to reside.
Long term solutions to our homeless crisis will come very slowly. Homelessness itself is a complicated phenomenon with a wide variety of social and personal causes. Even in “normal” conditions urban communities are hard-pressed to manage, let alone solve, this social puzzle.
The restoration of medical services and residential treatment centers for the mentally ill may do more than any single development to meet the need on the street in New Orleans. Persons suffering from mental illness may constitute a quarter of our current homeless population.
Housing for our workforce in New Orleans remains in short supply and terribly expensive. A high percentage of the current homeless population passing through the New Orleans Mission actually have jobs, according to director Ron Gonzales, but they cannot afford the post-Katrina rents.
Homeownership is the best solution for many in the workforce. Single family home construction projects like the one by Habitat for Humanity and the Baptist Crossroads Project in the Upper Ninth Ward help secure a stable financial future for many families. Homeowners are more likely than renters to keep their properties well-maintained. They pay property taxes directly, another level of investment in the community. And their monthly outlay of cash builds their personal wealth and develops a financial legacy for their families.
A hundred homes have been completed in New Orleans through Habitat partnerships since the storm, and hundreds more are planned. Thousands of volunteers are already committed for blitz building by the Baptist Crossroad Project during Spring Break and the coming summer months. This reproducible and sustainable model for the economic transformation of families deserves full support and cooperation from all community entities, public and private. It addresses many aspects of our recovery by providing safe, new, and affordable houses for families in our workforce.
His name was Charles. That’s all I learned from him when he came for prayer. He was so overcome with emotion he could not speak.
I prayed with him and promised to talk afterward, and he returned to his place in the pew.
Charles is one of the homeless people who live in tents under the interstate bridge on Claiborne Street. Mark, a man in our church who ministers to the homeless, picked him up that morning, along with two others, and brought them to church.
The message I brought that day was about Abraham, the father of the faithful, and how he lived in tents like a stranger in the Promised Land. I did not realize when I preached the message that at least three people in the congregation actually lived in tents themselves.
Charles said he is drug-free and sober but unemployed. God is using him, he said, to minister to the people in the tent community who are “fighting their demons,” so he is not anxious to relocate. The population in the tents changes continually yet is stabilized by longer term residents who know one another and watch out for each other.
The New Orleans Mission has expanded its capacity in a variety of ways. The large shelter we recently constructed for this emergency will open when the inspection by the state fire marshal is done. Then the mission will have capacity to accommodate everyone in the tent community who wishes to sleep indoors.
The highly visible homelessness in New Orleans these days came as something of a surprise. Immediately after Hurricane Katrina the homeless were gone. Providers of homeless services in the city guessed that homelessness was at a very low level and that it would be five years before the city would see any resurgence of that population.
Overnight, it seemed, a homeless population appeared, a homeless community formed, and it became a highly visible part of our post-Katrina puzzle. Homeless services, including health care and housing, continue to be quite limited in our city, though the capacities of the various shelters are steadily growing.
We hear reports of thousands of people living in abandoned houses in the areas devastated by flooding. These people are at high risk in many ways but especially from criminals who now prey on the migrant workers, the transient, and the elderly. One older man finally moved into his rehabilitated home this week only to be assaulted and murdered.
A hundred square miles of neighborhoods in Orleans and St. Bernard parishes went under water during the great storm. These vast stretches of houses, numbering near 150,000 structures, vary greatly in their current condition and population. Some areas where few people have returned are simply dangerous places to reside.
Long term solutions to our homeless crisis will come very slowly. Homelessness itself is a complicated phenomenon with a wide variety of social and personal causes. Even in “normal” conditions urban communities are hard-pressed to manage, let alone solve, this social puzzle.
The restoration of medical services and residential treatment centers for the mentally ill may do more than any single development to meet the need on the street in New Orleans. Persons suffering from mental illness may constitute a quarter of our current homeless population.
Housing for our workforce in New Orleans remains in short supply and terribly expensive. A high percentage of the current homeless population passing through the New Orleans Mission actually have jobs, according to director Ron Gonzales, but they cannot afford the post-Katrina rents.
Homeownership is the best solution for many in the workforce. Single family home construction projects like the one by Habitat for Humanity and the Baptist Crossroads Project in the Upper Ninth Ward help secure a stable financial future for many families. Homeowners are more likely than renters to keep their properties well-maintained. They pay property taxes directly, another level of investment in the community. And their monthly outlay of cash builds their personal wealth and develops a financial legacy for their families.
A hundred homes have been completed in New Orleans through Habitat partnerships since the storm, and hundreds more are planned. Thousands of volunteers are already committed for blitz building by the Baptist Crossroad Project during Spring Break and the coming summer months. This reproducible and sustainable model for the economic transformation of families deserves full support and cooperation from all community entities, public and private. It addresses many aspects of our recovery by providing safe, new, and affordable houses for families in our workforce.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
A New Birth of Public Service
Pastors teach that leadership is a spiritual gift. Governor Bobby Jindal has that gift. It was evident during the campaign and, especially, on his inauguration day.
The Governor sets before us a compelling vision. He dreams of a Louisiana where government is just and efficient. He describes a state that not only keeps its young talent and energy but draws entrepreneurs from around the nation and the world. He envisions both changes to the mindset and changes to the structures and systems in our state.
Our Governor is looking to create a state government that deliberately and consistently serves the people rather than serving itself. This vision of creating true public service among our public servants strikes a chord with all Louisianians.
We share the new Governor’s dislike and disdain for unnecessary bureaucracy and endless red tape. We want our public employees, elected and appointed, to respond with delight and energy when we tell them we are trying to launch a new business or expand a current one. We don’t like the domination of the idea of government "permits." It conveys to us that government is paternalistic, distrustful and afraid of its entrepreneurs. It says to us that someone somewhere is sitting in an office waiting to delay and obstruct our progress with a dozen obscure documents and interwoven treks to untold other government employees sitting in their offices.
The idea of government "permission" for the implementation of new business ventures conveys no sense of urgency or immediacy. Bureaucracy cannot really process the idea of an "emergency." A bureaucrat will sit in his chair while the city is burning and wait for someone to bring him the correct form before he turns on the water.
Police and fire departments are organized to respond with immediacy and energy to any call for assistance. That is what citizens of our city and state long to see in the government offices overseeing building and business permits. We want our public servants to lunge out of their chairs when they hear a new business venture is in the works. We want them to give us a call.
"Say, this is the permitting office at Baton Rouge. I hear you’ve got a new idea for alternative fuels. How can I help you make that idea happen?"
We want to change the mindset from government "permission" to true government service. We want our state and city departments organized around the notion of quick response to new initiatives rather than continual delay. This change is warranted because the clock is ticking. We should all be operating in emergency mode in regard to economic development, housing, heath care, education, and criminal justice.
This change of mindset and approach does not require a loosening of necessary safeguards for our citizens. We want buildings to be safe for occupancy and vehicles to be safe for driving. But we are ready to end the protectionism and territorialism that plagues our public institutions.
Governor Jindal is ready to create a new culture for government and industry in our state. Everyone can help. Nonprofits can examine their operating systems for waste and delay in service to the people. Businesses can begin now to plan expanded services.
Employees in the government sector should make certain that "serve" and "protect" are on an equal footing in their areas of concern. A sense of urgency concerning the development of business, health care, education, housing, and criminal justice must permeate all of our public institutions. Quick response to requests for inspections should become a high priority in all permitting offices.
Departments of state, as well as other organizations, may evolve over time into self-serving institutions—entities without a clear sense of mission that exist primarily to care for employees of that institution. When that happens in our public institutions we no longer have "government of the people, by the people, and for the people."
A new day will dawn in Louisiana as a new attitude of urgency and service permeates our public sector. While individual efforts to recover from the devastation have been Herculean and the churches and nonprofits have been lauded for their response, everyone recognizes the key role of government agencies in facilitating and accelerating our move from last in line to first in opportunity.
The Governor sets before us a compelling vision. He dreams of a Louisiana where government is just and efficient. He describes a state that not only keeps its young talent and energy but draws entrepreneurs from around the nation and the world. He envisions both changes to the mindset and changes to the structures and systems in our state.
Our Governor is looking to create a state government that deliberately and consistently serves the people rather than serving itself. This vision of creating true public service among our public servants strikes a chord with all Louisianians.
We share the new Governor’s dislike and disdain for unnecessary bureaucracy and endless red tape. We want our public employees, elected and appointed, to respond with delight and energy when we tell them we are trying to launch a new business or expand a current one. We don’t like the domination of the idea of government "permits." It conveys to us that government is paternalistic, distrustful and afraid of its entrepreneurs. It says to us that someone somewhere is sitting in an office waiting to delay and obstruct our progress with a dozen obscure documents and interwoven treks to untold other government employees sitting in their offices.
The idea of government "permission" for the implementation of new business ventures conveys no sense of urgency or immediacy. Bureaucracy cannot really process the idea of an "emergency." A bureaucrat will sit in his chair while the city is burning and wait for someone to bring him the correct form before he turns on the water.
Police and fire departments are organized to respond with immediacy and energy to any call for assistance. That is what citizens of our city and state long to see in the government offices overseeing building and business permits. We want our public servants to lunge out of their chairs when they hear a new business venture is in the works. We want them to give us a call.
"Say, this is the permitting office at Baton Rouge. I hear you’ve got a new idea for alternative fuels. How can I help you make that idea happen?"
We want to change the mindset from government "permission" to true government service. We want our state and city departments organized around the notion of quick response to new initiatives rather than continual delay. This change is warranted because the clock is ticking. We should all be operating in emergency mode in regard to economic development, housing, heath care, education, and criminal justice.
This change of mindset and approach does not require a loosening of necessary safeguards for our citizens. We want buildings to be safe for occupancy and vehicles to be safe for driving. But we are ready to end the protectionism and territorialism that plagues our public institutions.
Governor Jindal is ready to create a new culture for government and industry in our state. Everyone can help. Nonprofits can examine their operating systems for waste and delay in service to the people. Businesses can begin now to plan expanded services.
Employees in the government sector should make certain that "serve" and "protect" are on an equal footing in their areas of concern. A sense of urgency concerning the development of business, health care, education, housing, and criminal justice must permeate all of our public institutions. Quick response to requests for inspections should become a high priority in all permitting offices.
Departments of state, as well as other organizations, may evolve over time into self-serving institutions—entities without a clear sense of mission that exist primarily to care for employees of that institution. When that happens in our public institutions we no longer have "government of the people, by the people, and for the people."
A new day will dawn in Louisiana as a new attitude of urgency and service permeates our public sector. While individual efforts to recover from the devastation have been Herculean and the churches and nonprofits have been lauded for their response, everyone recognizes the key role of government agencies in facilitating and accelerating our move from last in line to first in opportunity.
Friday, January 11, 2008
Faith Walking
What does it feel like to respond in faith to the call of God in our day? Walking in faith is exciting. You don’t know what’s around the
Walking in faith is so
Walking in faith is productive. You initiate new directions and travel places your friends and relatives are too afraid or too comforta
The productivity of the faith walk has
I don’t think faith walking necessarily involves geography. You could
Changes in geography are often necessary, however, as the stories of A
You cannot walk in faith, however, without leaving your mental and emotional comfort zone. Faith demands that you experience strangeness—
We want life to make sense. That means that we are most comforta
Faith is going 
ver
Great human endeavors, mighty transformations, earth-shaking innovations, and exhilarating journeys happen in the unknown spaces of faith.
Be an A
Listen closely to God’s Spirit. Every single day you have an opportunity to step
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