Searching for the Laughter. I spoke Friday evening to the First Baptist Church of Moss Point, Mississippi. Many of their people suffered extensive damage from Katrina, the entire area is still digging out and rebuilding, and Pastor Michael Perry felt his people needed some laughter. He invited me to bring my easel and markers and do some caricatures and tell some of my funny stories. I was glad for a break from our usual routine over here.

The traffic out of New Orleans on a late Friday afternoon used to be a nightmare, particularly heading east toward Slidell, so not knowing what to expect, I left early. With almost no one living in East New Orleans, the traffic was alarmingly light. I arrived at Gulfport ahead of schedule and decided to take a 30 minute break and throw a little business to the Krispy Kreme folks. I ordered two glazed and a small coffee and bought the latest edition of the “Sun-Herald.” The contrast between what these folks on the Mississippi Gulf Coast are going through, recovering from the storm, and what New Orleanians are experiencing was stark in some ways, the same in others.

Three hundred homes on the Gulf Coast will have to be checked out for their historical value before owners will be allowed to rebuild. The Mississippi legislature has approved a bill which will lend rebuilding homeowners up to $25,000 at zero-interest for 20 years. Some coastal towns are discussing elevations and stronger building codes as their communities come back. Meridian is trying to find trailers to house its evacuees. Mardi Gras parades will be held as usual on the coast. Oxford was burying legendary football coach Johnny Vaught, 96, who had assured former player and now pastor, Gerald Morgan of St. Peter’s Episcopal Church, “I’m ready. I know Jesus Christ has forgiven me for my sins.” The news from tiny Pass Christian, location of the state Baptist conference center and wiped out by Katrina, read: “Today is the last day for ‘Right of Entry’ forms to be turned in.” Fellow writes in to “Sound Off,” that he returned to his slab–the only thing left of his home–and found that the American flag he had erected had been stolen.

I said to the Moss Point folks after dinner, “Let me tell you what happened today at our associational offices.”

I arrived this morning to find Baptist volunteers from Arkansas and Kansas rebuilding the sidewalks in front of our property. The city had had to take out our big tree and the walk to repair a busted water main not long after the hurricane, and it’s been a mess. Under Freddie Arnold’s direction, the men were pouring new sidewalks. I went over and introduced myself to them, expecting the usual friendliness and bonhomie. Instead, they were quiet and intent on their jobs. Later, we ordered po-boys for lunch and the men sat around the table in our break area, had prayer, and dived in. I joined them and we swapped names and I tried to get a little conversation going. No luck. Finally, it occurred to me what was going on. They were still in Katrina shock. The devastation throughout our city had stunned their minds, sapped their strength, and depressed their spirits. We live with it every day, but they were still adjusting. So, I decided to try something.

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One. Here’s what a pastor told me Wednesday. He leads a church–or led it, to be exact–which was completely erased off the map by Katrina. He’s back in the neighborhood now and, without a church building of any kind, gathering 60 people for worship on Sundays in what he calls a porch and someone else said is a shed. Before the hurricane, his little church did good to run 25. “Half of the sixty we’re running now are Catholics,” he said. Two things make that remarkable. “They used to ridicule us,” he said, “that we were some kind of sect or cult. Now we’re the only church down there.” And the other thing. “We’ve been told the Catholic diocese had only 14 million dollars insurance on all their buildings in the whole area. With so many church buildings destroyed, they don’t have the money to bring them all back, so they’re closing down the churches in the outlying areas. And you know that good Catholics have to go to church each week, and they are taught if you can’t get to a Catholic church, go to another one.” He smiled and said, “So, they’re coming to our Baptist church.” He says he grew up in that same remote area decades ago, himself a Catholic and persecuting the Baptists.

(Do I need to say again that we’re not anti-Catholic. I know many dear brothers and sisters in Christ who are Catholic. I’m just reporting how things are changing around here, sometimes for the better, sometimes the worse.)

(An inserted note: 24 hours after posting this article, the Friday, Feb 10, Times-Picayune announced in a front-page article that the New Orleans Catholic Archdiocese is indefinitely shuttering 30 local churches, out of a total of 142 in the area. They are closing many schools and completely shutting down seven church parishes. This is due to the tremendous damage to the buildings, the loss of hundreds of thousands of local citizens, and the staggering $84 million in uninsured losses the churches incurred.)

Two. Thursday, I went to see for myself the FEMA base camp on the West Bank where we are now boarding hundreds of volunteers from all over, people who come to help us gut out and rebuild houses and churches. Terry Henderson directs the disaster relief work for Southern Baptists’ North American Mission Board. He and several volunteers sit at computers in a house adjoining Calvary Baptist Church in Algiers answering e-mails and taking phone calls from churches interested in coming to help, getting and giving information.

“There are two of these camps,” Terry said. “One in St. Bernard Parish and this one. Each tent contains several hundred cots.” The one we stuck our head into had perhaps a dozen men sleeping across a darkened area; this was two-thirty in the afternoon. A large tent nearby served as the feeding station. “They get three meals a day here,” Terry said. “The workers will pack a lunch for a volunteer to take to his job site. It’s actually pretty good food.” Down the path was a row of large pods. “Shower units,” he said. And on what was obviously a playing field, tent after tent in a row, one of them designated “Women.” This base camp easily accommodates two thousand people.

“No one under 18 is allowed to stay in a FEMA camp,” Terry said. “The church groups with kids have to try to get into one of our mission centers or take over a church fellowship hall somewhere.” (To arrange for that, call Aaron Arledge 504-235-6462.)

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“Joe, I might be late for the pastors meeting Wednesday morning,” the e-mail note said. The writer, one of our displaced pastors, explained about his wife’s surgery and the death in his family. His job is in jeopardy and he still doesn’t have direction on what to do with his flooded church, which has been gutted by teams of volunteers and needs to be restored internally, but what’s the point if no one lives in the neighborhood.

Now–not knowing any more about him than this–would you say there’s a brother who needs your prayers?

Last August, one of our pastors evacuated the area ahead of the storm and found shelter in his home state, only to see both his daughters in car accidents and his father come down with a serious disease and die a few weeks later. Internal stresses with his congregation led him to resign and take a temporary position in another church.

One pastor who lost both his home and his church had a stroke and while he was in the hospital recovering, his mother died.

Want me to go on? I could. I can tell you of another dozen New Orleans ministers who have come through the storm and its devastation only to turn around and find more trials coming, one after another, each one worst than the one before.

We keep asking for prayer for our ministers down here. Only the Lord knows what pressures each one is enduring and only He has the resources and strength to get us through this.

I’ve been camping out in Psalm 84 lately. I was first attracted to that short passage several years ago when a college-ministry committee I was chairing met in a classroom at the old First Baptist Church of New Orleans on St. Charles Avenue. Someone had gone to the trouble of cutting out large letters and stringing on the walls around the room verse 11 of that psalm: “The Lord God is a Sun and a Shield. The Lord gives grace and glory. No good thing does He withhold from those who walk uprightly.” I sat there transfixed, drinking that in, thinking, “What a great verse. What a wonderful praise, what an incredible promise.”

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(Twice in North Carolina on Sunday, January 29, I told my tarheel friends some discoveries we are making post-Katrina. I keep tweaking that message, and today–February 5–I’m sharing it with the folks at the First Baptist Church of Luling, on the west bank from New Orleans, and this week with the directors of missions at the Texas Baptist evangelism conference at the FBC of Euless.)

“How blessed is the man whose strength is in Thee; in whose heart are the highways to Zion! Passing through the valley of Baca (weeping), they make it a spring… They go from strength to strength.” (Psalm 84:5-7)

1. Everyone down here was affected by the hurricane.

At first, we thought you had to have at least some building damage to be among the suffering. Of course, hundreds of thousands lost their homes due to the flooding that followed the hurricane, but another hundred thousand or more in the western half of the metro area had typical storm damage caused by wind and rain. What we’re finding out, nearly six months post-K, is that every single person down here was affected.

Every church lost some members, every church had members who suffered, every person has friends who were hurt. Every business suffered and many thousands remain shuttered. And in the rare case of a citizen who came through unscathed and knows no one who was hurt, whose business is prospering and whose church is normal, they still see the devastation of New Orleans every time they drive that way and they hear of it continuously. It’s all the news there is in the Times-Picayune and on the radio talk shows. Everyone is affected. It follows therefore that…

2. Everyone is sick and tired of the subject.

On the NBC Nightly News the other evening, Brian Williams told of some critical letters his network is receiving because of the on-going coverage of the rebuilding of New Orleans. “Enough with New Orleans already” and “Give it a rest” were typical. He explained that since millions were displaced by the two hurricanes, the coastline of the USA was rearranged, a major city was devastated, with hundreds of thousands of homes destroyed, and billions of government money being spent to reclaim the area, this was a major story which they intended to cover to the completion, and how people feel about it is beside the point. I wrote him an email that evening thanking him and said, “We surely understand the people who are sick and tired of the subject. We are, too. We’re ready for it to go away. We wake up every morning wishing it had all been a bad dream. But there it is.” The result is a witch’s brew of depression, sadness, the blues, fatigue, and who knows what all else, all of it poured upon this entire population. No one is unscathed, everyone has been affected, we’re all weary.

When Emeril Lagasse pleaded stress as his excuse for saying some negative things about New Orleans, columnist Chris Rose answered, “Hey, this just in: we’re all stressed out.”

A friend said, “Out where I live we have a saying: ‘Too blessed to be stressed.'” I respond, “We’re blessed also. But is it possible to be blessed and stressed at the same time?”

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Severe storms tore through this part of the world early Thursday morning. The headline in Friday’s paper read, “Tornadoes knock down what hurricane didn’t.” I confess that I’m not much of a Christian because, as the storm raged outside, I lay in bed feeling snug, thinking that my house is strong and the roof is new. Only later did it occur to me that thousands are living in flimsy, FEMA trailers. Some took a lot of damage. A friend arriving at our airport Thursday morning said it’s the first flight he’s ever had where people screamed. “The bottom would drop out and the plane would fall. It was really scary.”

Local celebrity Emeril Lagasse has been in the news, slamming his adopted hometown. I must have missed it, but according to columnist Chris Rose, Emeril was being interviewed by New York Post gossip columnist Cindy Adams. He told her, “The mayor’s a clunk. The governor is also a clunk. They don’t know (blank-blank) from a hole in the ground. All my three restaurants got hit. I’ve reopened Emeril’s, but only a few tourists come. There’s no tourists. No visitors. No money. No future. No people. It’s lost. It’ll never come back.”

Emeril was already under fire from a lot of local citizens for his absenteeism in the weeks and months following Katrina. His people said he had a heavy schedule of appearances that had been booked in advance. And now this. Chris Rose writes, “Nobody is asking Emeril or our politicians…to be civic-boosting automatons. No need to be in denial about business prospects here. No need to say what you don’t believe.” But how about a little common sense, he asks. “To tell the country’s most famous gossip columnist that New Orleans is dead is not wise. Particularly if you own three restaurants here.”

In his defense, Emeril said he was stressed out when he said that. Rose writes, “Well, this just in: We’re all stressed out. Particularly those of us who have been here and not spending time in New York City or touring for our book.”

I told some friends Friday that much of my stress is probably self-induced. I wake up in the morning, overwhelmed by a city that is almost empty and the political land-scape in disarray, the news all discouraging, and wonder what in the world I can do to make a difference. I make a few phone calls, answer dozens of e-mails, spend a few hours in the office, visit a church where volunteers from a church in another state are working, and at the end of the day ask myself what possible difference anything I did made today.

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Ken Taylor has pastored our Elysian Fields Avenue Baptist Church for the past 18 years, watching it transition from suburbia to inner city without moving an inch. He has seen the neighborhood deteriorate somewhat over the years, yet has steadily led his members into the community with loving ministry and the truth of the gospel. All the time, he has served as a professor at the nearby New Orleans Baptist Theological Seminary. Right now, he’s on campus teaching Monday and Tuesday classes, then in North Alabama where he evacuated with his family until his residence on campus is made habitable again. I received an interesting report from him Tuesday afternoon.

In an internet spot where Ken’s classmembers register their comments on his classroom material, a student waxed eloquent on the depravity of New Orleans. He said, “I found New Orleans utterly disgusting in almost every facet. I wouldn’t deny a few aspects of the city will be missed; but on a scale of overall good versus evil the city was clearly due for destruction. After being there for three years, living on campus, and discovering how ineffectual the Christian community appeared to be, the best thing that may have ever happened for the souls in New Orleans was to be disbursed.”

Ouch. That was brutal.

(Incidentally, the student probably did not mean ‘disburse,’ which means ‘to pay out,’ but ‘disperse,’ meaning ‘to scatter.)

Ken responded on the site, “I react strongly to the words ‘utterly disgusting,’ ‘clearly due for destruction,’ and ‘ineffectual Christian community’ applied to New Orleans and to its churches. Clearly there was the disgusting, and the evil, and the imperfect church…. I challenge anyone to show me a city that does not have great evil. Were (this) to be the determination of what or who was to be destroyed, how many of us…would be saved?”

For two more pages, Ken gently and kindly answers his student. He tempers his words and softens their impact by explaining that he has mulled over the student’s comments during his 380-mile drive that afternoon to North Alabama. “Nothing personal is meant by this response,” he cautions, “so please do not feel that I am attacking you.”

You are too kind, Ken. So, let me do it for you.

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Wednesday’s pastors meeting was attended by forty to fifty pastors and guests. Among the developments we are rejoicing in are the resumption of worship services on February 12 in three places.

The Baptist churches of Chalmette will meet for worship on Sunday, February 12, at 10:30 am in Chalmette High School. Paul Gregoire (St. Bernard church) and John Jeffries (FBC Chalmette) and possibly others are working together to pull this off.

Same day, same time, Poydras Baptist Church, a few miles further downriver, will be having its first service since the storm. Pastor John Galey is excited to be getting back in business. Last I heard, there was still no electrical power down there, but adopting churches have worked hard to restore the church sanctuary.

Same day, but not sure of the time, Edgewater Baptist Church on Paris Avenue in New Orleans, will hold its first service at the church site, outside in a tent. They’ve been meeting in the West Bank home of Charlie and Cheryl Ray until now.

I have passed along to the Baptist Press a couple of stories we learned of Wednesday which I’m eager to learn more about, and which everyone will find fascinating.

Alberto Rivera, pastor of the Getsemani (Spanish) Baptist Church on Elysian Fields Avenue in New Orleans–the church with “1 DB (dead body) in rear” spray-painted on the building by the National Guard–has been leading worship services at Frost Chapel on the seminary campus while workers have been restoring his buildings. Some of the thousands of Mexicans who have come to help rebuild the city have been attending these services. One Sunday recently, they entered the chapel in soggy clothing. “What happened to you?” Alberto asked. They were sleeping in small tents on the parking lot of Community Grocery across the street, and it had rained the night before and drenched them and everything they owned.

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I left home last Friday morning driving toward Charlotte. “Why don’t you fly?” asked a friend. “You can be there in two hours, for Pete’s sake.” She didn’t understand. Getting there was only half the point. Getting away was the other.

A longtime friend on the staff of First Baptist-Statesville, NC, had invited me to preach Sunday morning. And since our granddaughter Darilyn had recently made her profession of faith at their church in Charlotte, Idlewild Baptist, we asked Pastor Keith Whitener if I could baptize her Sunday night. “You can,” he said graciously, “if you’ll preach for us.” So I was headed north.

I love to drive, and love the solitude in the car. Once when my car radio broke, I went for a year without getting it repaired. I think out loud, pray, recite Scripture, and do nothing.

We could call this by many names. De-stressing. Finding yourself. Resting the mind. Restoring the creative impulse. Escape, maybe. Whatever.

At times, driving along the interstate, I worked in a blacksmith shop shoeing horses. I sweated across burning western deserts while buzzards circled above and Apaches lurked behind every rock. I fought it out with bad guys in saloons and led cattle drives up the Chism. All of which is to say, I listened to a package of Elmore Leonard’s Western Stories on CD, read by actors like David Strathairn and Tom Wopat.

For a while each day, I was a teenager back on the family farm singing gospel songs at the top of my lungs, heard only by my mule and ten acres of knee-high corn we were plowing. I turned up the volume and let the car vibrate with the sounds of “No Other Name,” the incredible Nashville trio which has blessed me so much lately. I wept a few times and laughed at others, and worked at finding my harmony line on the choruses.

I memorized the 20th Psalm. Ever since Pastor Greg Morrow of California, Missouri, sat in our conference room two weeks ago and read all nine verses to New Orleans Pastor Lionel Roberts, I’ve been stunned at how perfectly it fits our situation, and convinced that it is medicine to the burdened to have it blessed upon them. I’d copied it out by hand on a huge sheet of newsprint so I could read a verse at a glance and not endanger anyone on the highway.

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Thursday morning, visitors in our associational offices represented Southern Baptists from Texas and from Michigan. Freddie Arnold and I pulled up chairs and chatted with them about the best way to bring work groups into New Orleans, as well as how not to do it.

A diverse group met at New Salem Baptist Church in the Upper 9th Ward Thursday after lunch. Pastor Warren Jones returned from evacuation in Grapevine, Texas, three weeks ago and is living in a make-shift room across the street from the church. He has nothing but praise for the fine hospitality the members and staff of the First Baptist Church of Grapevine showed him for months, and for that, we thank them also.

A dozen of us sat in a large circle in the hollowed out sanctuary, with Pastor Warren and BCM director Keith Cating astride stacks of drywall in front. Baptist leaders from Texas and Arkansas were present, as well as Northshore Director of Missions Lonnie Wascom, and others from our local BCM. “Who cleaned out your building?” I asked Pastor Jones.

“Anybody and everybody,” he answered. “I never knew who was going to show up. The doors are wide open, as you see, and people just walk in and we put them to work.” Right now, it appears the folks from Russellville, Arkansas, are going to be helping.

The Upper 9th Ward is, as you would expect, close to the disastrous Lower 9th. The main difference is that its buildings are still standing. But drive down any street and you quickly decide this is one devastated area. Without knowing the residents, you could see yourself as mayor deciding to bulldoze the entire place. Sad, sad, sad. But it is home to Dr. Warren Jones and his congregation, all of whom are scattered across America at the moment. It is completely uncertain how many, if any, will be returning.

Warren Jones is what is affectionately known as a piece of work. He’s one of a kind, a truly beloved and kind man of God. The joy of the Lord seeps out the pores of his skin. “See that sign out front,” he said. “We put a verse of Scripture every week on it. In fact, some of our people and I have a meeting each week about that. We pray and take suggestions, then decide. And when we’ve not put up a new verse, we get calls. People say, ‘What’s the verse for this week?’ There’s a lot of traffic out there.” He was referring to North Claiborne Street, three steps outside the front door. “We’ve had people come to know Christ because of the verse of Scripture on that sign.”

I was glad to hear that. I wish pastors knew what a great tool they have for drawing people into the kingdom and their church just by the creative use of the sign in their front yard. My spirit grieves when I see a nice sign carrying a message about an event that occurred a month ago. And almost as bad, no indication as to when the services begin on Sunday. Worst of all are the negative ones. I recall a sign in front of a Mississippi church years ago that read “Repent or burn in hell forever” and on the other side “Are you driving your children to hell?” Some pastor had a hell fixation and had forgotten the word “gospel” means “good news.”

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Wednesday evening on the NBC Nightly News, Brian Williams talked about the network’s continuing in-depth coverage of the Gulf Coast and New Orleans in particular. “We’ve had lots of support and thank-yous,” he said, essentially, “but we’ve also gotten the occasional negative response.” Some wrote to say, “Enough with the New Orleans thing” and “Give it a rest.” But Williams pointed out how 2 million people were displaced by Katrina, hundreds of thousands lost their homes, the southern coastline has been redrawn by this hurricane, and billions of tax-payers’ dollars are being spent to correct and rebuild. “This is our assignment,” he pointed out, “and we intend to cover it.” Pow, take that. Thanks, Brian. That felt good.

I sent Williams a note after the program to thank him. In so many words, I pointed out: “I fully understand those who say ‘enough’ and ‘give it a rest.’ Those of us who live in the middle of this mess feel the same way. We wake up every morning wishing it had all been a bad dream and that it would go away.” I told him I had intended to write sooner to say thank you for his sympathetic coverage of our story. I ended my note with, “I wish to God I knew how to say ‘thank you’ better and stronger and deeper than with mere words. But thank you.”

We give thanks for so many friends who are coming to help us.

At Wednesday’s pastors meeting at FBC-LaPlace, we had fewer than the usual number of ministers present, but twice the normal allotment of friends. Chip Turner, vice-president of Southern Baptist’s television channel, FamilyNet, was on hand to talk about the coming of this great resource to our community through Cox Cable. When people watch FamilyNet, they can call a number on the screen for counseling, and those making decisions for Christ will be directed to local churches in their neighborhoods. I told the group that even though FamilyNet has not been available locally, I receive a dozen referrals a year from this service. I look up the person’s address on the local map and find the nearest Baptist Church and call the pastor with this information. With the cable channel available now, that number should increase dramatically.

Dan Fuller from Oklahoma told how the telephone company will pay some churches in East New Orleans a large fee for the right to set up a small building for his company on their property. “Every little bit helps,” he said to some interested ministers. Gibbie McMillan of Southern Baptists of Texas Convention was on hand, offering encouragment and assistance. Eddie Honeycutt of Henry County Baptist Association in Virginia came to see the area and offer teams of his people to help local churches with backyard Bible clubs and block parties this summer. Eddie is working on a feeding unit on the West Bank this week.

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