An absolutely fool-proof way to stress yourself out is by staying glued to the television newscasts about the economy. “Wall Street dropped another 700 points today!” “Here is our panel of experts to tell you why the news is just going to get worse!” “Big Plants, Inc., is laying off another 4,000 employees!”

Oh great. Just what I needed to hear.

That’ll send your blood pressure through the ceiling, no matter your situation, but particularly if you are a heavy investor in stocks.

You’re not? Don’t be too sure, friend. If you have a retirement account with some agency somewhere, you might be one of those (like me!) who is being severely affected by the free-falling stock market. The headline on the front of Friday’s Times-Picayune asked, “How Low Can It Go?”

Frankly, I don’t want to know.

Twenty years ago, when the market did a sort of “correction”–we’ll be generous and call it that–I recall someone asking either Ted Turner or Donald Trump, one of those big boys, “You lost a billion dollars. What do you have to say?”

He answered, “It was a paper loss. I’m not selling anything today. I’ll still be here tomorrow and first thing you know, I’ll have it all back.”

And that’s precisely what happened.

My neighbors, Bill and Sandra, are both retired from long careers in the commercial world, and this is scaring the daylights out of them.

A news report this week indicated that 80 percent of Americans admit the economy is stressing them out.

The funny thing–did I say “funny”?–about this craziness in the economy is that we’re told the actual businesses of America are just fine. What is driving the roller-coasterness of Wall Street is a little thing called fear.

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The primary failure of 9 pastors out of 10 in the Southern Baptist Convention–I have little knowledge of any other denomination; I have no figures to back this up, but I believe it with all my soul–is the lone ranger syndrome. Their ministry is a solo act.

They’re trying to do the work of the Lord alone.

Now, they have their staffs and they have their family and church members. But it’s not the same as having two or three or four preacher buddies.

What most pastors do not have is a few good friends in the ministry whom they meet with regularly for fellowship, prayer, study, confidential talk, accountability, a round of golf, a good meal, and rest.

A preacher needs a friend with whom he can hang out.

That omission has seriously limited the ministry of almost minister I know. It surely weakened my service for the Lord.

I think of two critical times in my own ministry when I needed a few good buddies in the worst way.

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My heart was so full during the 90 minute service in the Leavell Chapel of our New Orleans Baptist Theological Seminary Tuesday morning, I couldn’t decide whether I needed to get alone and have a good cry or move off by myself for a prayer time. I did neither, but followed the service by greeting members of the Leavell family and friends old and new who had come to honor this esteemed friend.

“Dr. Leavell was a hundred-percenter who gave all he had to the Lord and the people around him,” said Dr. Chuck Kelley, successor to Landrum Leavell in the president’s office at NOBTS.

The memorial service contained several surprises for me. I was thrilled to see Larry Black leading the hymns. This veteran minister of music–over 30 years at the FBC of Jackson, Mississippi, and a dear friend–is clearly the best we have at leading a congregation in worship and praise. Don’t let the white hair fool you; he’s younger now than at any time in his life and keeps getting younger. These days he serves as the interim minister of music at the FBC of Richland, MS. Over several decades, when Dr. Leavell preached revivals, Larry often led the worship music.

Clay Corvin, long-time vice-president for business affairs at NOBTS, did what Clay does best: read a poem of tribute which he had composed. The last part of “One Man” read….

“He was our preacher, teacher, leader and friend

Strong guts, no quit

He hated dirt, debt, and the devil

One man–Landrum Leavell II

We love him.”

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Monday night, the North American Mission Board held an appointment service in our city, the first time in anyone’s memory and perhaps the last for a generation. I wish all our people had been there. It was beyond inspiring.

I worried a little about whether enough of our people would attend to keep the building from appearing too empty, but shouldn’t have given it a thought. When you commission 108 missionaries and count their families in the audience, then add to that the trustees and staff of the NAMB who are present, you don’t need too many locals to pack out the place. The lovely First Baptist Church of New Orleans was filled–with people, with joy, and with love.

I wondered what this appointment service would be like. Three decades ago, while serving as a trustee of the old Foreign Mission Board (now, International Mission Board), I attended many such services in which our new missionaries gave testimonies and were commissioned. It was much the same, and every bit as great a blessing.

There are differences in IMB and NAMB missionaries. For one thing, in the case of an international missionary, the person(s) being commissioned has almost always never been to the country which is about to become their home. The NAMB missionary, however, has usually been laboring in their particular ministry for several years and only recently came under the auspices of the NAMB. A NAMB missionary, too, may receive only part of his/her financial support from this national missionary organization, and some from other sources–a local church, the association, the state convention, or even their friends and supporters. Each entity rightfully claims him/her as their missionary.

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The Barataria Baptist Church is located in the town of Jean Lafitte, named for the infamous pirate whose headquarters were hidden in those wetlands and who assisted General Andrew Jackson in defeating the British at New Orleans early in 1815. The pastor at Barataria is Eddie Painter, a down-home son of Mississippi who has brought his wife and teenage daughter to live among the people down there in the swamps.

I’ve told on these pages how Eddie wasted no time in connecting with the people of this fishing village: he bought himself a boat and some crab traps and went into business for himself! He moved into the pastor’s residence next door to the church and commuted to the seminary, perhaps 25 or 30 miles upriver and across town. Eddie is 40 years old and sports a salt-and-pepper beard.

Under Eddie’s leadership, the church has been prospering. A few months ago, they went to two morning worship services–the first time I recall that happening at Barataria. And then Hurricane Gustav hit.

Most of us in and around New Orleans had little damage from that hurricane and from Ike which followed on its heels.(I’ve mentioned how two of our churches–Williams Boulevard in Kenner and Memorial in Metairie– lost roofs and had interior damage to parts of their facilities.) But the town of Jean Lafitte was completely underwater.

The church is built up somewhat, so they had no flooding of the building, but lost portions of the roof and had some water damage inside. Next door, however, the pastor’s residence was drowned and suffered total loss of furniture and appliances.

Eddie tells me they managed to get his family’s clothing out before it was ruined. The minister of youth–Matthew–suffered lots of water damage and total loss.

Sunday, I drove down to Barataria Baptist Church to worship with this congregation. They were holding only an 11 a.m. service, which was filled. (Eddie says the bathrooms are out of commission and will have to be rebuilt, so they’re unwilling to ask the congregation to stay beyond the time for one worship service.)

How to describe this congregation….

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If you love all things Cajun or most things Louisiana, you will enjoy “Poor Man’s Provence,” the new book by Rheta Grimsley Johnson.

First, a little about Rheta.

We met nearly 30 years ago when I was visiting with her (then) husband, Jimmy Johnson, the editorial cartoonist at the Jackson (MS) Daily News. Jimmy was in the process of leaving the paper to begin his own comic strip, a fantasy of everyone who ever picked up a pen and doodled. At his home, he showed me the new strip, “Arlo and Janis.” (Some of our readers see this strip in your local paper; alas, it does not run in the Times-Picayune.) That’s when I met Rheta.

Rheta Grimsley Johnson was a features writer for the Memphis Commercial Appeal. She traveled over the South interviewing characters. Really. Sounds like a dream job for a writer. And that’s how she came to interview me in Tupelo in the Spring of ’82 when I was preaching a revival at Calvary Baptist Church there. (Not that I’m a character, you understand.) Somewhere around here, I have a clipping of that article. Being written about by Rheta Grimsley Johnson is akin to being mentioned in a sermon by Billy Graham.

In the late 1980s Rheta wrote the authorized biography of Charles Schulz, the cartoonist, called “Good Grief.” I own a copy and have it dog-eared from all the great stories it contains. (www.alibris.com can find you a copy cheap.)

And now, Rheta has written “Poor Man’s Provence,” the subtitle for which is: “Finding Myself in Cajun Louisiana.”

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The most bizarre thing is happening: my 92 year old mother has become intensely interested in the presidential campaign this year for the first time in anyone’s memory. Is it because her husband of nearly 74 years died last November and this is the first election she’s endured without him? Dad watched it all and had convictions on everything and everyone. (I still recall sitting by the radio with him listening as Harry Truman campaigned against Thomas Dewey in ’48.)

Dad was the dyed-in-the-wool labor Democrat and Mom the Republican-because-that’s-how-I-was-raised. Now, without Pop to interpret the debates and comment on the political shenanigans, she keeps up with them and wants to discuss them with her children. She thinks women are jealous of Sarah Palin and that’s why they’re not supporting her.

As I say, it’s totally strange and unlike anything we’ve seen from her all these years. And, we think it’s absolutely wonderful.

How many 92-year-olds do you know who don’t have a clue which century they’re living in? We’re more than blessed and know it.

Watch yourself, Governor Sarah and Senator Biden; Lois is watching.

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When Paul Newman died last weekend, every media outlet in the land ran a feature on him. More than one quoted his line about how his marriage had survived the temptations of Hollywood: “Why go out for hamburger when you have steak at home?”

We all smiled at that. But there’s a massive fallacy running through that kind of thinking.

What if I have hamburger at home and find steak outside? Some have done exactly that. Is adultery all right if it’s an improvement over what you have at home?

What if I have, not hamburger, but baloney at home?

What if I’m starving at home?

The strongest brand of marital fidelity is when the person has little or nothing at home and still is faithful to his/her spouse. On the surface, they have every excuse and the perfect reason to “find comfort” outside, yet they remain true to their marriage vows.

A pastor I know has admitted to cheating on his wife. When the news came, it hurt so bad, it felt like I had let him down some way. I have intensely lifted him and his wife to the Father in prayer ever since.

In a situation like that, what I’d like to say to the couple is that the news is not all bad. The “innocent” spouse has a reason to leave, if he/she chooses, but there are so many more reasons to stay. First and foremost is the children. But high on that list, too, is the assurance that God can heal a fractured marriage and make it stronger in the broken places.

That will not happen without counseling, however. By that I mean your marriage needs a strong friend, someone wiser than you, someone willing to walk with you and your spouse over the next year or so while you rebuild trust and the relationship.

That counselor needs to be a Christian if you are and if you value spiritual things. Adultery is almost always a spiritual problem, and the remedy is spiritual. But not just any Christian is qualified to help you put a marriage together again. Ask around. Pray for guidance.

Recently, sitting with a group of young pastors over coffee, I asked how they were protecting themselves against the possibility of committing adultery.

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He left us far too early. Landrum Leavell II died last Friday in Wichita Falls, Texas, at the age of 81. We needed another 15 years from this good man.

The easiest way to describe this former pastor and longtime president of our New Orleans Baptist Theological Seminary is that he was larger than life. Everything he did, he did in a big way. He laughed big, believed big, loved big, and dreamed big.

In one way, it makes little sense to say he was “one of a kind,” as he hailed from a large family of Leavells who all made deep impressions and had lasting impacts upon the Lord’s work, particularly the Southern Baptist portion. Landrum’s uncle, Dr. Roland Q. Leavell, served as president of the seminary and led in its relocation from the Washington Street campus (near Commander’s Palace restaurant) to the Gentilly Boulevard site. He was succeeded by Leo Eddleman and Grady Cothen, who were in office the two times I graduated from NOBTS. Then, in 1975, the “modern era” of NOBTS arrived when Landrum Leavell II assumed leadership of the seminary.

I had known Dr. Leavell slightly prior to that time. His oldest son, Lan (aka, Landrum Leavell III), was a student at Mississippi College in the early ’70s and sat in the college Sunday School class I taught at the FBC of Jackson. I still recall the moment Lan introduced me to his father. That was 35 years ago, but he left that kind of powerful impression.

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