While we on the Gulf Coast have experienced our own version of 9-11 just two years ago in the form of a devastating hurricane, we all still feel the sadness of September 11, 2001. We will join the rest of the nation in remembering next Tuesday, the 6th anniversary of that awful event. We will think of the thousands who died in their offices, those who died rescuing them, those who died on the plane and in the Pentagon, and all who were affected by these deaths. We will remember that day, recall the pain, and recommit ourselves.

The wound from 9-11 has mostly healed, but it has left a lasting scar on the soul of America. We are determined not to forget.

However, let us bear in mind that remembering is often a problem for us.We recall what we need to forget and turn loose of the very things we should remember.

In some ways and some areas, but not all, remembering is a necessary part of the human experience. We write notes to help us remember a grocery list or chores. We carry calendars and day-timers to get us to important assignments on time. We work to remember appointments, anniversaries, and the names of people. Teachers give tests so that we might remember the lessons they have presented to the class.

“Do this in remembrance of me” has been carved across the front of Lord’s Supper tables in almost every Protestant church in the land. Our Lord ordered this memorial supper to keep before us the matter of His death. “As often as you eat this bread and drink this cup, you do show the Lord’s death until He come.” He gave us baptism–the original kind, full immersion–to keep His burial and resurrection before the church and the world. With these two ordinances, the Lord’s Supper and baptism, we portray the great events of Jesus’ death, burial, and resurrection to one another and the world.

In many situations, not remembering but forgetting is the right action. Some matters cry out to be erased from the mind and never brought up again. The slights of a friend, harsh words from a lover, the failure of someone we counted on, all should be forgotten. Love keeps no account of evil, we read in I Corinthians 13. God forgives our sin and then assures us, “I will remember it no more.” That’s Hebrews 10:17, a quote from the Old Testament.

Forgetting is a handy device of the human spirit that allows us to close the doors on sad events and unpleasant chapters and go forward. Unkind words, harsh treatment, neglect, cruelty, misfortune, accidents, great pain–we need to forget. “Forgetting those things which are behind,” Paul wrote, “I press forward.” (Philippians 3:13)

“How can you treat her so well after what she did to you?” someone asked a friend. “Oh,” she answered, “I distinctly remember forgetting that.”

Continue reading →

Mickey Caisson of the North American Mission Board said today, “I tell people the best thing they did in New Orleans after the hurricane was to get the pastors together. That weekly meeting became a place for them to minister to each other and encourage one another, yes, but it was also a place where outsiders came to meet with the pastors, to bring information and get connected with the people needing help.”

He added, “I can show you lots of places that came through disasters where they wish they had done that.”

His comment, spoken in our conference room Wednesday afternoon, was especially meaningful, coming as it does just after the second anniversary of Hurricane Katrina. Last Wednesday marked the last of the weekly pastors’ gatherings. Today, the first Wednesday of September, was the beginning of our new schedule. From now on–and indefinitely we hope–the pastors will gather the first and third Wednesdays in our association Baptist center from 10 to 11:30 am.

We had 40 or 50 in attendance this morning, and began with our monthly associational executive committee meeting. We approved two new church starts, one an African-American mission at the Carver Center in Uptown, the other a Vietnamese mission in New Orleans East.

As if to underscore the heart of these weekly meetings as encouragement, pastor after pastor emphasized the blessing they had received from coming together, getting to know one another, praying with one another, praying for each other. And the fellowship. Just talking. Being in each other’s presence.

Who knew when we started this that God had this blessing in store.

Harry Lewis, vice-president of the North American Mission Board, was visiting in our offices this afternoon. He asked Freddie Arnold and me, “What are the chief lessons you have learned?”

We named three and could have given him a dozen.

Continue reading →

As the caravan stretched out for miles across the burning desert, one camel says to another, “I don’t care what they say–I’m thirsty.”

Some people say Christians don’t get discouraged. But you don’t care what they say, you get discouraged. And tired. You think about quitting.

“One more hurricane and I’m gone.” One more family moving away from my church. One more heartache, and I’m quitting.

Dr. David Hankins was preaching to some 25 or 30 couples–New Orleans pastors and wives–who were attending the retreat Hankins’ staff at the Louisiana Baptist Convention office had arranged for us. The above was part of his introduction.

We had driven up on Friday afternoon, feasted on barbecue at the LBC building that evening, heard Evangelism Director Wayne Jenkins do an incredible comedy routine, had Saturday to ourselves, enjoyed a fish fry and the Pine Ridge quartet that evening at Kingsville Baptist Church, and now on Sunday morning, we were completing the weekend with a 10 o’clock worship service. Hankins was speaking to a group of warriors who battle discouragement and fatigue daily, and his message could not have been more apropos.

His text was I Kings 19:9ff, the hard times Elijah went through following his great victory at Mount Carmel. The man of God was tired, spent, lonely, hungry, and discouraged. “Just let me die,” he said repeatedly.

“How did Elijah get this way?” David asked. He did it the same way the rest of us find ourselves down in the dumps and thinking of tossing in the towel.

Continue reading →