My wife says if there is money on the street anywhere, I will find it. Once I found a ten dollar bill and twice five dollar bills in my early morning walking. Last Sunday morning, walking on the paved track atop our levee that parallels the river, I spotted two quarters lying together. Then, today, Wednesday morning, a quarter of a mile away, I found two more quarters lying there just waiting for me. Too, too strange.

It pays to walk early in the mornings.

I told our pastors, “It pays to attend these Wednesday meetings.” We handed out lots of money today.

I gave James Melerine the last $500 of the money the Louisiana Baptist Convention gave me just after the storm to assist our pastors. “Boogie,” as everyone calls him, had just driven in from Florida. He and his wife are living in cramped quarters there and hoping to get back this way. Problem is their church was on Delacroix Island, and has disappeared from the planet. Only the concrete block pilings still stand where the church once rested. Boogie was born and raised down there in that fishing village, and many people will tell you he has the most authentic ministry of any pastor of that little church in memory. He came to know Christ as His Saviour in his middle years and used to be a deacon at Poydras church before the Lord called him to preach in his middle 50s.

Our committee of three–Tony Merida, Lionel Roberts, and Gonzalo Rodriguez—met after the gathering to receive requests from pastors for financial assistance of three types: for themselves, for their churches, and for their churches to minister to their members. Last week, they made plans to give away $90,000 of the Lord’s money, and today, the figure was estimated to be around $80,000.

I read a letter from the Louisiana Baptist Convention in which Missions and Ministry Director Mike Canady informed me they were transferring $250,000 to our association’s Katrina ministry fund with the Louisiana Baptist Foundation. This is money given to the state convention to assist the hurricane-damaged regions. The group dropped their collective jaw when they heard the amount.

My wife says I used to dream about being rich and going around and giving away money. This is as close as I ever expect to get to that. Evangelism Director Wayne Jenkins handed me a number of envelopes addressed to our churches, each one containing checks for several thousand dollars. Some of the churches receiving this money were devastated by the storm, others took a great deal of damage to buildings and memberships, while others are running major ministries from their parking lots and need help with their bills.

Re-reading the above, I fear someone on the outside may think we are awash in money. Far from it. A pastor comes in telling of several members who lost everything, he wants to help them, and the committee may give him $10,000 for the church to minister to them. That’s a lot of money, but if you give that much to only 20 churches, you’ve just given away $200,000. And we have over 100 churches and missions.

Just trying to put it in perspective.

I’ll tell you this. Every man and woman walked out of that meeting today giving thanks to God for generous Christian people who are sacrificing to help us down here. We are in awe of God’s goodness and their kindnesses.

We will meet next Wednesday at 10 am, rather than 9, at the usual place. Our Louisiana Baptist Convention will meet at West Monroe on Monday and Tuesday, and many of us will be driving back on Wednesday and will miss the pastors’ gathering. The following Wednesday–the day before Thanksgiving–we will not meet at all, since the LaPlace church will be closed.

Two stories to report to you today.

One of the pastors told of hosting a group of church volunteers from several states away. One of them approached him and said, “Would it be all right if we stored our beer in the church fridge?” The pastor thought he was kidding. He wasn’t. The fellow said, “You see, we’re rather liberal about these things.” The pastor said, “Friend, let me put it this way. If you think Katrina was bad, wait til you see the storm that erupts when our members find you’re putting beer in the church refrigerator!” Request denied.

I read an email I received yesterday from William DeoGracias of San Diego. Our recent article on the trip down to Reggio and Delacroix Island had brought back lots of memories, “having grown up there in the 40s and 50s, living in a shotgun house on the Reggio Canal.” He shared a number of his memories, particularly of seminary students coming out there to bring the gospel. “All my family attended the Reggio mission,” which started out as a brush arbor. He sent along some pictures, and said, “We are standing next to the old blue seminary bus. Many sermons were preached from this bus by students who parked next to the bayou….I remember some to be hellfire and brimstone. We were all labeled holy rollers by our mostly Catholic friends and relatives.”

When I finished reading the letter, Boogie Melerine, who grew up in the same locale about the same time as Mr. DeoGracias, said, “I remember him. We were friends. I was one of the ones throwing rocks at the church and calling them holy rollers.” As someone said, It was a ‘God’ moment.

We have a pastor in this state named LaRocque. I told Randy Tompkins the other day, “That’s the best name: LaRock!” He laughed and agreed. But I think I’ve found a better one: DeoGracias. The Grace of God. If I ever get a chance to change my name, I’m becoming Joe DeoGracias. Joe by the grace of God.

It’s the only way to live.