My Brother Danny

I said goodbye early this morning to the crew of six men and one lady who built the floor system for our homeless shelter.

Their leader and pastor, Daniel Crosby, is my younger brother. He works like a Trojan.

We have been building things together all our lives including our tree house construction phase when we successfully (without falling) established a perch on a branch 30 feet above the ground followed by our excavation phase when we successfully (without dying) tunneled 20 feet into a sandy hill in the desert. These and other boyhood follies still stand as our major preparation for pastoral leadership.

We have often been confused. By that I mean that he is Pastor D.E. Crosby, Ph.D., and so am I. We received each other’s denominational mail through the years, and often corrected colleagues who thought they knew who we were.

Danny has led five volunteer teams to work in New Orleans since the great devastation. His chainsaw crews were phenomenal in removing the tallest trees from the smallest yards without damaging (significantly) surrounding structures. Pictures of his exploits in tree removal and demolition feature his red truck connected with sagging ropes to the tops of towering trees. No crew members have been lost, officially, despite the risks.

I hugged them all before they piled into the church van this morning for the long trip back to Fort Worth, Texas. They were a great encouragement to me, and they arrived, providentially, at the very moment we needed a skilled carpentry crew to help us build a floor for the emergency sheltering program.

I told them that many homeless people will enjoy in a warm bed this winter because their capable crew took six days out of their lives to bless the people of our city.

Floor for Tent Is Completed

An emergency shelter for the homeless population in New Orleans is moving forward thanks to a volunteer crew from Cleburne, Texas. In just two days they completed the wooden floor for the climate-controlled tent which will accommodate 126 individuals.

The tent dramatically expands the capacity of the New Orleans Mission which will administer the facility and provide bathrooms, showers, and meals for the residents.

The project was spearheaded by First Baptist New Orleans in partnership with the North American Mission Board and Lousiana Baptist Convention. Mayor Ray Nagin has made a verbal commitment to provide funds as well.

The homeless problem in New Orleans is near crisis stage as the colder months approach. This effort to care for the "least of these" will be accompanied by spiritual teaching, evangelism, and other efforts to bring transformation to those who are now living on the streets.

Sleeping warm and dry

Janet and I have been hosting a volunteer team from First Baptist Church of Cleburne, Texas, this week. They removed five trees yesterday from two properties, and today they will begin the construction of the floor system for the climate-controlled tent at the New Orleans Mission. The tent, an emergency solution for these colder months, will help us bring 126 homeless people out of the cold and into a warm bed for the night. A partnership is being forged now between the City of New Orleans and Baptist entities to underwrite the cost of this operation. Keep me in your prayers today as I talk with people and try to expedite this operation.

I made a visit to Duncan Plaza yesterday and saw a hundred or more people at noon being fed from a truck parked in the street. This homeless community of 300 people has developed in the shadow of City Hall and has taken over all overhangs, porches, and pavilions in the area. The grounds of the plaza and surrounding buildings are littered with blankets, mattresses, and clothing. Heaps of used clothes are here and there. Truthfully, the place looks like a Goodwill Store after an explosion.

Neither the homeless nor those seeking to help can continue indefinitely to use Duncan Plaza as a distribution point. The site lacks everything that the homeless need: security, bathrooms, showers, drainage, shelter, and climate control. Its only advantage is visibility to the community. We realize that some of the inhabitants of Duncan Plaza will not want to move where they have a warm bed and bathrooms. But many of the homeless in our city are seeking warm and dry shelter every night.

When Mary and Joseph could find no room in the inn they were glad to accept the shelter and warmth of a stable. The accommodations we will provide for the homeless will be gratefully received by many of them and will exalt the Savior as we connect our good deeds with a clear presentation of the Christmas story.

Waiting on you

Unity for the Homeless estimates that 12,000 people are living on the streets of New Orleans, twice the number pre-Katrina. No one knows how many more are living in flooded homes without heat and other utilities. We are facing a winter unlike anything we have seen in a generation.

The homeless crisis in New Orleans continues to mount as colder weather settles upon us. More than 300 people are now living in and around Duncan Park, according to latest estimates I have seen. Restrooms facilities are unavailable or horrific. It is a growing community of employed and unemployed persons with or without a political agenda but certainly without proper shelter and other essentials.

All functioning homeless facilities in the city are full now for both men and women. The shelters are turning away many people every day. Long lines trail for hours from the doors of these helping agencies.

I have heard many people asking why something has not been done. I stumbled on the answer this week in a meeting with Ruby Bridges. She desegregated public schools in New Orleans by walking into the William Frantz Elementary School as a six-year-old in 1960 escorted by four U.S. Marshals. Wednesday I met with her to talk about her old neighborhood and school. It just happened to be the 47th anniversary of that amazing moment in her childhood.

Ruby told us about an incident with her youngest son, Malcolm, several years ago when he was nine years old. He saw pictures of the Presidents of the U.S. and asked his mother, "Can a black person be president?" She thought about it for a moment and said, "Yes, Malcolm. A black person can be president." "Then why are there no black presidents?" Malcolm asked. "Well, Malcolm, I guess they're waiting on you," his mother replied.

Many important matters are still unattended in our city including the perplexing problem of homelessness. Somebody might ask why these problems remain unsolved. My first reply now is this: "I guess they're waiting on you."

The size of the homeless population is certainly daunting. But good people are addressing it one by one, providing food and warm clothes and shelter for a day. Truthfully, we can all help with this one. You may not be able to fix potholes or water lines or levees, but you can drive down to Duncan Plaza with last year's winter clothes and give them away. Your church or fraternity can collect items for the homeless and take them to the shelters.

I always feel better about a problem when I am actively doing what I can rather than standing back and cursing the darkness. In fact, you will feel hope rise up within you as you transfer your unused coat to someone who is shivering in the cold.

An initiative is now in the offing at New Orleans Mission to provide shelter and food for many more people through the colder months upcoming. We hope it will be up and running in a few days. It is likely to be full as soon as it opens.
Many of the homeless in our city are people who had a job before they came and thought they could work out their living situation when they arrived. They have discovered that rents are beyond their reach and that flooded homes are not decent shelter. Almost all persons staying nightly at the New Orleans Mission now are fully employed, the director told me.

No children should be lying cold and hungry in the streets of New Orleans tonight. We have the means to make sure that every child in our city is warm and fed. It's all a matter of deploying ourselves and our institutions, public and private, to address the need.

When you think of the homeless in our great city, think this: they're waiting on you.

Stop and drop!

Emotional exhaustion is settling upon many of us. We have fought long and hard to reclaim our families, our homes, our companies, and our lives. And now we are just about to drop.

I have read that a great race horse has so much heart that he will run for the jockey until he kills himself. The jockey riding a great horse has to be acquainted with the physical limits and protect the horse from his own determined will.

So maybe it is time to stop and drop. You don’t have to drop hard, and you don’t have to stay down long. But for the sake of everyone you love, you have to take a breather.

I think that is why the account of creation in the Bible records God resting on the seventh day. We are made in the image of God in that we can initiate, innovate, communicate, relate, and correlate. But he knows we do not have unlimited stamina. So he stopped to rest and hoped we would pay attention.

Sometimes we refuse to stop and drop because we are in crisis mode. Our lives are incinerating, and we are running without thinking. The “stop and drop” instruction works when your clothes are on fire. You should not run then. You should stop, drop and roll.

It also works when your mind and heart and emotions are on fire. You cannot outrun your racing mind. You will run yourself into the ground. And that will not be good for anyone.

I can hear your thoughts churning. People are depending on you—important people like children and spouses and aging parents. You are a caregiver every day. You are the chauffeur, the nanny, the nurse, and the maid.

You are the sole provider. You generate the only income stream. Everything goes south if you stop producing. Everyone depends on you.

All the more reason to stop and drop. Warn the people around you. If they truly care for you, they know that you are approaching your limit. They may already be urging you to take a break.

Listen to what they are saying. The rat race will be okay without you for a day or two. You will not fix everything that still needs repaired and recovered in one fell swoop. We are in a 20-year marathon down here on the bayou, and we have to move out of crisis mode and into a sustainable pace with appropriate breaks.

The stress of this mess is straining the most important relationships of life. The mountain of things yet to do seems overwhelming. Sometimes we fear that we are just digging futilely at the edge of the pile. Frustration combined with futility will wear out any hearty soul.

Stop and drop. It will give you a new perspective on life in general and the pace of your own personal recovery. It will increase your energy, lower your anxiety, and bring your world into better focus.

After all, everyone on the planet is recovering in some way. We are all “getting over” troubles of some kind. We cannot postpone love and life and recreation until we are fully recovered. You can see where that would leave us.

This week I examined a butterfly with two of my granddaughters. It danced through the yard and landed on the tiniest lavender blossom. We sneaked up close, faces pressed together, and watched it feed on the pollen. We noticed the amazing pattern of bright colors on the perimeters of its wings. We studied it upside down and right-side up until it noticed us and flitted away.

Now that was a moment when the cares of the world were suspended. It didn’t last long enough, but it reminded me how good it feels to stop the spinning wheels of my mind, drop to my knees, and enjoy a moment of beauty and grace.

Sheep and Goats

The Sheep and the Goats

Jesus’ story of the sheep and the goats (Matthew 25:31-46) has far-reaching implications. It continues a central theme of Jesus. If you ask Jesus about eternal life he is likely to suggest that you sell everything you own and give it to the poor or that you take care of the victims of crime.

The sheep and the goats have treated “these brothers of mine” differently. The blessed, who have an inheritance prepared for them by the Father, unconsciously ministered to Christ by caring for the needs of others. The cursed, who departed to eternal punishment, unconsciously neglected Christ by neglecting the needy.

“These brothers of mine” must be present in every time and place in human history. This alone makes their treatment the sole criteria in the final judgment of the nations, the church, and the world.

We are tempted to whittle on “these brothers of mine” like the expert in the law was tempted to whittle on the definition of “neighbor.” Jesus is here reinforcing the truth that we have encountered the neighbor we are to love whenever we see the opportunity and have resources to apply to that need.

Jesus does not render judgment here in the same terms that we use daily to evaluate the believing status of those about us. We usually base our judgment of the religious status of others on 1) the house of worship they might attend and 2) the religious creed to which they might subscribe. These criteria—worship practice and belief system—are the most common religious evaluators used by humans.

Jesus goes instead to the treatment of the needy. This is the great indicator of an individual’s true relationship with God. Not which house of worship you attend, but how you treat the needy you pass by on your journey there is likely to be the focus of the final judgment.

Jesus also collapses the First Commandment—love the Lord—into the Second Commandment—love your neighbor. When you care for the needy (love your neighbor) you have actually loved the Lord (you did for me). The blessed are surprised that Jesus was “wearing the mask” of hunger and thirst although the doctrine of the Incarnation itself points to this. The cursed are surprised that they missed the King, too, for they intended to bless the King even though they were consciously neglecting the poor.

The only way to prepare for this final exam is to pour out your life completely for the King who has done the same for you.

Hope

Here is a picture of my granddaughter, Hope (written on her stocking cap), with the levee behind her.

The most precious things in my life are protected by the government levees in and around New Orleans.