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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Franklin Avenue Church Returns Home

By David E. Crosby, Pastor

First Baptist New Orleans

March 28, 2008

Franklin Avenue Baptist Church will worship next Sunday in their refurbished worship center. This is a significant milestone for that congregation and for that part of our community, and it deserves notation.

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 8^th 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 Vacation Bible School, music camp, and outreach to our hurting city.

Every week I observe and hear from someone about the tremendous dynamics unleashed through the multiple interactions of our congregations, Franklin Avenue Baptist Church and First Baptist New Orleans, one predominantly African-American and the other mostly white. Pastor Fred Luter and I have co-hosted numerous events since Hurricane Katrina including the great gathering of pastors to hear Billy Graham. It has been an incredible experience, and it is for me the most positive product of the terrible storm. It could be her greatest legacy for our churches and our city.

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.

Easter for the Weary

Easter for the Weary

By David E. Crosby, Pastor

First Baptist New Orleans

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 Mississippi are sprouting right now amidst the rotting wood of tattered forests. The giant oaks of our urban forest that were beaten and broken by Katrina’s fury are filling in the gaps this spring and will soon display their oval canopy.

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.