In the Aftermath (2008)

While sorting through racks of second-hand coats (in preparation for them to be given to the needy last winter) my friend Bob launched the idea for me to once again make a visit to the city of New Orleans. Bob is one of these people that just doesn’t grasp the true meaning of retirement. Although he’s “retired” he now works on more projects to help the poor and needy throughout the world than most people will in a lifetime. His commitment level to act out his Christian faith is a great benchmark for me, and I love simply being involved with anything he’s working on. Over the past couple of years he’s led several home-building teams into the New Orleans area, and through God’s lead he has helped impregnate an entire church congregation from the foothills of the Smokey Mountains with the idea of adopting that area as an on-going mission field. But enough already about my friend Bob…

Though I’ve been to New Orleans many, many times in the past I haven’t traveled there since Hurricane Katrina slammed into its gulf port three years ago. Honestly, I’ve been a little apprehensive about seeing the devastating changes to the beautiful landscape that I’ve come to appreciate so much over the years. Last week I embarked upon a journey via the Nashville airport - arriving in New Orleans just before sunset.

The next morning arrived early with its usual Bayou two-fisted punch of heat and humidity. By eight o’clock it was already eighty degrees and the air was as thick as the French bread baking in any one of the hundred restaurants within smelling distance of our hotel. I began a modest work that morning by handing out some thought-provoking tracks printed up by the Billy Graham Association to all those that had spent the night (like every other night) sleeping under the stars in Riverwalk Park on the banks of the Mississippi River.

My efforts and handouts were accepted either with a smile of appreciation, or a seemingly couldn’t care-less attitude. Yet mostly what I got was a somewhat confused look from them. That is with the exception of the woman that was in the mist of a full- throttled, raging, cussing, hissy-fit with “her man”. She quickly tucked both hands under her armpits as I approached her and refused to take my offering. Walter (also known as “her man”) gladly accepted a track from us, yet it could’ve been simply out of a heart-felt appreciation for our mere presence. Just maybe for a few moments that morning he was able to stop fearing the thought of being thrown into the muddy Mississippi waters by this crazed woman. Two weird strangers smiling, shaking hands, and talking about love was a welcomed break from the over the top drama for at least one homeless soul named Walter no doubt.

Sunday morning (which just happened to also be the opening day of this year’s Hurricane season) began with a nice long trolley ride down St. Charles Avenue as I gazed out at the marvelous architectural masterpieces from centuries of old. The very same buildings and sights that famed author Tennessee Williams was surrounded by while staying at the Columns Boarding Home as he wrote his masterpiece A Streetcar Named Desire. At the end of the trolley line lays the quaint city of Carrollton where I then began a foot journey down several blocks of busted and broken sidewalks only to land upon the doorsteps of Pastor Jon Lord’s Carrollton United Methodist Church. Dripping of sweat I went in just in the nick of time for the worship service to begin.

I found the service to be as expected, in the traditional manner of the U.M.C. order, yet also as expected it was very enjoyable. During his sermon Rev. Lord shared with the congregation several stories of days gone by while he and his wife served as missionaries in various areas of East Africa. His stories centered round the introductory period of electricity into that region of the world.

He told us how the government had put together a detailed study and then subsequent campaign to curtail the deforestation process which was showing severe and damaging affects on the environment at the time. Then he went on to tell how the powers-to-be directed their citizens to begin using electric stoves as opposed to the traditional wood-burning cooking pits of the day. They compelled the folks to work together to stop the massive burning of trees or face the unfortunate consequences.

The problem with carrying out this directive was all too obvious to the citizens of the villages though - only ten percent of the population had access to electricity at the time. Duh! And even if all of a sudden it became available to the majority of the homes/huts in the area it would’ve still been an unaffordable energy source on their minimal annual incomes.

That sounds a little like an out-of-touch Government doesn’t it? Hard to imagine - huh?

I really liked the simplistic view shared by one of Pastor Jon’s fellow-missionaries as he concluded the problem was un-resolvable in the manner in which the government was attempting to do so for the mere reason that “people prefer eating cooked food over raw”. Some things just aren’t that complicated, now are they? The town’s people weren’t going to stop cutting down and burning trees nor were they going to stop cooking their food regardless of any ridiculous mandate conjured up by their leaders until there was a more reasonable means of preparing their meals. Period!

But before we get too critical of elected-officials (as seems to be the norm of the day in our country) I think that Government leaders are just like we are at times, we often overlook the most obvious situations because we have this really big view of things. So big in fact that we can’t see the real problems and so maybe, just maybe every now and then we come off looking a bit out of touch with reality ourselves?

And with that in mind, let’s go back for a moment to the morning I was handing out a fist-full of tracks, (which by the way clearly communicated a basic level of the Gospel of Jesus Christ and without all that condemning language so many well-meaning handouts and groups use) which is another New Orleans story in itself. Though I was successful at getting a basic explanation of God’s plan of salvation into the hands of the many, many people that needed to know there is a true reason for Hope available to them, I still missed a very obvious piece of the puzzle.

You see, so many of these folks didn’t just lose their homes and worldly possessions in the deep dark stormy waters of Katrina, they also lost their motivation to recover. To pick their self up again, dry off their clothes and begin putting their lives back together. For so many of them Life is now seen as being simply too unfair to give a damn any longer. “Why try if you’re just going to get knocked on your butt over and over again” seemed to be the attitude that many of them were shouting out to us. Now, I know there has always been a great number of homeless people and even a few “bums” living on the streets and park-side benches throughout New Orleans, but trust me when I tell you, there resides on the banks of the Mississippi River today a community of folks that have literally given up all hope.

Their receptiveness to hear or read about a Saving Grace is over-shadowed by their more basic need for food, shelter, and clothing – and this is what I couldn’t see through the steamy air and my so-called “big vision” of how I should minister to them. That is until Walter, (remember good ol’ bout to get his butt kicked by a woman Walter) plainly said “Hey, you know what we really need down here, we need FOOD!” He didn’t ask for money to buy food or booze or whatever, he simply stated the obvious - there were a lot of people needing to be fed – and not just spiritually but physically as well.

I made a commitment to all of them that I would try and fulfill their immediate need for food if they would only be patient with us. After all, I’m an old, fat, slow walking dude. So I headed off on what turned out to be about a half mile hike back into the heat of the day to buy up as many sacks of fast-food items I could afford. As I returned to the park I heard welcoming comments such as “We knew you would come back, we just knew it!”

And there with her hands out was Walter’s woman-friend. No longer in rage, no longer spewing out cuss words at the top of her lungs, no longer wildly flinging her arms over her head and swinging her fist at Walter’s face - yet instead she was simply smiling from ear to ear, hugging us like a little child and asking for seconds. We may have not reached her intellectually with the words of the good news, but I believe we most certainly connected with her heart through the actions of His gospel.

At least on this hot and sultry morning the folks on the banks of the Mississippi were eating like the rest of us, semi-hot, greasy, fast-cooked food that we all know isn’t very healthy for us most of the time. The exception to the rule is that it sure beats starvation. But, most importantly God’s message of love and communion was shared among many of His beautiful, the yet often over-looked and forgotten creations he placed on our pathway this day.

Last week I traveled a bunch of miles to share (in a very simple way) the Good News of Hope that I know personally through our Risen Savior - yet what I also found was that God had sent me into that smelly makeshift outdoor city to get a better view of His beautiful Son. “For as you do unto the least of these”

During our few days in New Orleans I got to taste the delicious flavor, and smell the wonderful aroma of something that folks like my friend Bob and Pastor Jon undoubtedly experience on a regular basis, and now I can also declare; It is good!

He is mighty in His ways indeed! Doug