We have a candidate for the densest criminal of the year. He was caught yesterday going 125 mph in a school zone two blocks from my house. But wait, it gets worse.

When the Jefferson Parish Sheriff’s deputy ran a check on his car, it came back as stolen–but belonging to this man, the driver who had just been pulled over. “Nope, not stolen,” he said. “That was all a mistake.”

Just to be safe, the deputy called for a policeman from nearby Harahan to come over, since it was that town’s complaint about the car’s being stolen.

The car was stolen all right–from the police compound. The Harahan Police Department had confiscated the car recently when the owner–our speeder–was caught with drugs. So what he did was break into the police compound and steal his car back. The cops weren’t real happy with our boy.

What I can’t figure out is, if you are in possession of a stolen car, why would you drive 125 miles an hour anywhere, let alone through a school zone?

Unless he was whacked out on drugs. That would account for the bizarre behavior and would surely make him the dumbest crook of any year, for my money.

Monday night, prior to the BCS championship game at the Superdome, plainclothed cops circulated among the fans on the streets in search of crooks selling fake tickets for big money. The newspaper did not say if they arrested anyone or how many, but Wednesday’s paper tells the story of some disappointed fans who traveled half a continent to get to our city, then blew $500 each for several tickets that turned out to be fakes. They ended up watching the ball game from a bar near the dome.

In this case, it wasn’t only the scammers who were dumb. The reason this kind of con works at all is that people are too trusting and unwilling to double check before handing over their money.

It would have been so simple to say to the seller, “Come with me over here to the turn stile. If they take this ticket, you get the money.”

Monday morning in Baton Rouge, they’re inaugurating Bobby Jindal as Louisiana’s newest governor. The boy wonder, this brainy young man who has impressed people all his life with his smarts has gone from success to success in his career. From all reports, he is assembling an all-star team of advisors and colleagues. We’ll be watching eagerly to see what he proposes and is able to pull off in the way of rebuilding New Orleans.

Bobby Jindal is from Kenner, our New Orleans suburb just to the west (the airport sits inside the city limits of Kenner), and has been our congressman for a couple of terms. He’s an active Catholic with a born-again testimony, and has the outspoken support of most of the politically active evangelicals I know.

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1) All day Tuesday in New Orleans, the talk was of Monday night’s championship football game. I had calls and emails from all across the country, mostly expatriate LSU-ers who watched the contest on television and wish they could be here to share the excitement.

Alas, most of the excitement I saw was limited to two kinds: party-ers in the French Quarter (which I saw only on television) and people calling in to talk shows. The rest of us read the paper (4 inch headline: CHAMPS and underneath: Tigers First to Win Second BCS Title) and caught people talking about it on the TV or radio. We just felt good and went on about our business, the same way Greg did in Alexandria, Virginia, Justin did in Acworth, Georgia, and Jerry did in Paris, Tennessee.

Interestingly, Ohio State people were calling in to register their appreciation for the city. Caller after caller said things like, “Great city. Wonderful people. We had a lovely time.” One fellow said people downtown would see his Ohio State shirt and call out, “Tiger bait!” and that would be followed by a smile and “Welcome to New Orleans! Thanks for coming!”

I was thinking this, then the radio host voiced it: “Not like when our Saints fans go to Chicago and are treated like the scum of the earth.”

Someone then said, “Well, we have some bad apples down here, too. Let’s not forget that and get too self-righteous.”

The people who study such things are saying the financial impact of last night’s game–with all the tourists in town, hotel and restaurant expenditures, etc.–was a greater boon to the local economy than the last Super Bowl that met here. “The greatest thing for New Orleans since Katrina,” one economist said.

2) The Corps of Engineers is looking for clay to line the levees. They only need a hundred million cubic yards of the stuff, a kind of clay also known as “borrow.”

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It’s surprising how God’s people awaken one day and suddenly realize they have fallen away from the closeness they used to enjoy with the Lord. The signs have been there all along, but they were not paying attention.

Here are some tests I have discovered for spotting signs of slippage in my own walk with the Lord, evidence that I’m losing the intimacy with Him that always meant so much in my personal life.

10. You know you’re slipping when the big thing you look forward to on a Sunday is a football game.

9. You know you’re slipping when reading the Bible no longer excites you, angers you, or challenges you.

8. You know you’re slipping when you finally get up off the couch and get involved in some ministry the Lord has been laying on your heart and the first thing you do is start criticizing all the other couch potatoes who are only doing the same thing you have been doing all this time.

7. You know you’re slipping when, after slacking off in your tithing over the past year, instead of feeling guilty, you find yourself criticizing the regular tithers for their self-righteous and legalistic attitudes.

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Faith Baptist Church gets their own building!

This wonderful small congregation was formed five or six years ago by a group of members of First Baptist-New Orleans when the mother congregation voted to move from St. Charles Avenue out to the Lakeview section. The “Faith” group felt someone should maintain a ministry in the uptown section of New Orleans.

The church has not had a permanent location or a permanent pastor all this time. For a long time, they shared space with the First Presbyterian of New Orleans, and since Katrina, they’ve met at Rayne United Methodist Church on St. Charles. They’ve had excellent interim pastors, including Roger Sullivan, Argile Smith, and for the past 3 years or so, Tim Searcy.

Friday, Faith’s leaders met at the lawyer’s office in downtown New Orleans to sign the papers and make official the purchase of the property at South Claiborne Street and Fern which was formerly the Second Church of Christ, Scientist. That congregation, which had dwindled to 25 prior to Katrina, never reassembled afterwards due to the damage on their buildings and the resettlement of their members.

I was present for the signing, just to share their joy.

Faith will be renovating the sanctuary and educational building before moving in, but they are elated and we are for them. That neighborhood would be jumping for joy, too, if they knew how the Lord has just blessed them with these new neighbors.

The Baptist Crossroads Foundation Board held its annual meeting Saturday morning.

No matter what part of the U.S. you live in, you’ve probably seen on television or in print the homes that are being built by the Baptist Crossroads. The houses all have the same architecture and are multi-colored in some vividly bright hues. Pastor David Crosby heard a volunteer say he was working “down at Skittles-Land!”

Pastor Fred Luter and I were the only two non-First Baptist Church boardmembers present. Looking around the church’s youth room where we were meeting, I noticed two lawyers, a banker, an educator, and several businessmen. One businesswoman. I told them I wanted to make an observation.

“I’ve been in a lot of churches and have pastored seven congregations. But I have never seen a group of church members get behind the vision of the pastor–and that’s what you have done–and bring it to reality the way you folks have done. It is most impressive and I’d just like to say to you, ‘Well done.’ The Lord is honored by what you are doing. Each one of you brings certain gifts and expertise to this ministry.”

A couple of people said, “You should have been in church the day David presented the vision to the congregation. You knew immediately that this was of God. There wasn’t a dry eye in the house. It has been a privilege.”

The church group (we can call it the Baptist Crossroads “Board”, but let’s face it–it’s a ministry of the First Baptist Church of New Orleans) has taken into their hearts not only the charge to build new homes in this 70 block area, but to do all in its power to help in the rebuilding of other homes and the rebirth of the people who live there. We’re glad to know that Pastor Fred Luter’s Franklin Avenue Baptist Church is also helping minister to the residents.

Board members were presented with maps–aerial photos actually–of the assigned area, with symbols to indicate which homes are gutted, which have had no activity of rebuilding of any kind since Katrina, and which are in good shape. With slightly more than 2,000 homes on the map, nearly one-fourth have had no rebuilding/renovation activity at all since Katrina.

Without the work of the Baptist Crossroads in the Ninth Ward, it would still be a most depressed section of New Orleans. As it is, there is hope and excitement.

One of the most impressive things I heard today had to do with the financial aspect of the Baptist Crossroads. Not that I understood it all. Just listening to our financial people outlining the details brought back why I made a ‘C’ on Economics 201 as a sophomore at Birmingham-Southern College over 45 years ago! This subject is most definitely not for us right-brained people!

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Studying Paul’s Epistle to the Romans over the last few weeks and spending the holidays posting insights from the book on this website, I’ve become extra aware of the Scripture’s teachings on salvation-by-grace-through-faith and not of works. Today, I saw a great picture of what a “works salvation” would look like.

On this Friday prior to the Monday night, January 7, BCS championship game at the Superdome between the Ohio State Buckeyes and the LSU Tigers, our Times-Picayune ran a front page article to feature the two marching bands. LSU’s elite group is called “The Golden Band from Tigerland,” while Ohio State’s is called “The Best Damn Band in the Land.” (Excuse me, mom.) They’re said to be the two best marching bands in the country.

The LSU band will be 325 players strong, if you can believe it. Ohio State has 224 who will be suited up and strutting Monday night. Those numbers are a little inflated for the championship game, but still, those are huge musical groups.

Now, here’s where it gets interesting. During the football season, the LSU band practices 90 minutes each afternoon Tuesday through Friday. On Saturday nights prior to home games, they practice for up to 2 hours during a dress rehearsal open to the public.

The Ohio State band members practice from 4 to 6 pm each weekday, one hour inside and one hour outside, regardless of the weather.

With both bands, there are no “returning starters” among the musicians. That is, each band member must earn his own spot anew each fall and maintain it through weekly competitions.

More than 450 people tried out for the 192 regular spots on the Ohio State squad, and–get this–anyone can challenge a band member each Monday. If one is challenged for his position, the two musicians have a “play off” and the winner is chosen by band squad leaders and directors.

All music is played from memory, and musicians must pass a test each Friday. Those who fail 3 times during the year will be cut permanently.

Ohio State director Jon Woods said, “It’s possible a veteran may not make the band. It happens several times a year.”

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“You’re putting me on, right?”

“I’m telling you the truth. I want you to send out a letter to all the pastors telling them that from now on, I am their lord and I will give them instructions on how to do their job.”

“And how long have you had these delusions?”

“Ever since I got that letter from Pastor Sam Hickson over at Calvary-Industrial Church fussing at me because I was not at the community prayer walk he scheduled that Saturday a couple of weeks ago. He was really blistering.”

“Yeah. I thought it was a little over the top.”

“Over the top! He was banishing me to the nether regions because I didn’t buy into his agenda.”

“I don’t think it was that bad. And it wasn’t just you.”

“Well, I don’t mean I’m taking it personally, like he was attacking just me. I assume he sent the letter out to all the pastors.”

“You’re the third one this week who says he’s gotten the letter. The others feel about like you do.”

“So, what are you going to do about it? You’re the director of missions!”

“Let me make a note of that.”

“You know what I’m saying. You need to do something about Sam. He’s ruining the fellowship of the pastors and besides, think of the presumption of what he did–schedule an event and then make it a matter of loyalty whether we show up or not.”

“I don’t plan to do anything. I’m not his Lord. And, frankly, you’re not either. Let’s let the Lord take care of him.”

“Well. I guess so. It just ticked me off is all.”

“Bobby, do you have a few minutes?”

“Sure. What do you have in mind?”

“There’s another pastor in our association I’d like to get your input on.”

“Another loose cannon, huh? Shoot. What’s up with this one?”

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Gary Pearce was “the” personality on the campus of Mississippi College at Clinton, MS, in the early 1970s. He knew everyone’s name and never met a stranger. When he walked into a room, he filled it up–in every way conceivable. I was one of the ministers at his church, the First Baptist Church of Jackson, and that’s more or less how he became one of our sons.

During those three years, from 1971 through 1973, Margaret and I “adopted” four college students as our own. Three were boys–Bill Garrett of Harrisville (he used to say he was from “Hot Coffee”), Tom Hearon of Memphis, and Gary Pearce of Baton Rouge–but the fourth outshone them all: Mary Baronowski of Sardis. Looking back from this vantage point 35 years later, I wonder how we chose so well.

Bill Garrett went to Hollywood and did lots of things before dying of a heart attack in his 50s. Tom Hearon married Bonnie and they became Southern Baptist missionaries to Brazil and then Italy. These days, they work for the International Mission Board in the personnel department, based out of Nashville. More about Gary Pearce in a moment.

Mary Baronowski married Steve Smith and they became the kind of church members every pastor would give his right arm for. They belong to Istrouma Baptist Church in Baton Rouge, where she teaches college students, gives piano lessons, and serves as prayer leader for the association. I’ve told Tom and Gary–but don’t plan to tell Mary–that she is probably the finest Christian woman any of us will ever know. (We will now see if she reads this blog.)

Gary Pearce is married to Caty and they live in the Hammond-Independence area. Gary is the senior chaplain at the Dixon Correctional Institute in Jackson, Louisiana. He still has that infectious joy-in-the-Lord and the incredible attitude. Even when he went through a partial foot amputation from diabetes a couple of years ago, nothing slowed him down. He is so unbelievable.

And would you believe, Gary is a cartoonist. The newspaper in that part of the world–I’ve forgotten exactly which one–runs his drawings on a regular basis and soon they will be included in their on-line edition. He says he inherited it from his “dad.” I will happily take all the credit.

I had a letter from Gary this week, which prompted me to tell you about him. The letter was sent to the people on his mailing list because, frankly, he needs our help in his prison ministry.

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1) If you enjoy Bible study or will be teaching Romans anytime this year, we’d like to encourage you to stop by www.joemckeever.com and look at the three offerings inside the “Features” box: the cartoons on Romans, “10 Things to Know about Romans,” and a chapter-by-chapter analysis called “Getting a Handle on Romans.” You might find some help there.

Today, Wednesday, we put a few more cartoons in the mail to Marty who will be posting these with the Romans group. We plan to add some more in the next week or ten days, so stop by later to see if there’s anything you can use.

Also, as I learn more about Romans from continuing to study it and from teaching it, I’ll be coming back into these articles and tweaking them, adding insights, changing anything I’ve learned more about, and refining the English. (Not too much on that last point. Hey, I’m from off the farm in Alabama and you should expect only so much.)

So, where will I be teaching Romans? Here’s the schedule. You’re welcome to drop in for any that are near you.

Thursday, January 10 – We’ll do a two-hour preview of Romans twice at our Baptist Center, 2222 Lakeshore Drive, New Orleans. In the morning from 9 to 11 am and that evening at 6:30 pm. This is primarily for pastors, but anyone is welcome. (My cell phone is 504/615-0149. Call if you need directions.)

January 14-16, Monday-Tuesday-Wednesday mornings from 10 to noon at Oak Park Baptist Church, 1110 Kabel Drive, in the Algiers section of New Orleans. Pastor Bobby Stults says this is primarily for the senior adults who don’t like to get out at night, but you’ll surely be welcome.

January 18-19, Friday night (6:30 to 9 pm) and Saturday (8 am to noon), also at Oak Park Baptist Church. This is for everyone else.

January 20, Sunday, through Wednesday night, January 23, at Rocky Creek Baptist Church, Lucedale, Mississippi. Contact that church for the exact schedule. Note: We’ll not have a Tuesday night session; I’ll be speaking at the annual associational men’s banquet at the same church. Jimmy Holcomb is the Associational Director of Missions. He can give you directions or information: jimmy@ggbaptist.com.

2) We had gridlock in New Orleans today.

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Two or three years ago, having heard that my Dad needed a new large-print Bible, I drove across town to the Lifeway Christian Store and purchased him one. Of course, it was the King James Version, the only kind he had ever known.

I wrote his name in the front and added this: “In appreciation for the Bible you bought me for Christmas, 1948.”

In presenting it to him, I said, “Dad, I want you to do me a favor. Mark it up. When you read something you particularly like, underline it or write in the margin.” That was a new thought to him.

Dad grew up in the generation that was taught not to mark in Bibles. That’s why the Bible which belonged to his mother, my Grandma Bessie, who died in 1982, and which Bible I own, has very few notes in the margin. She was such a godly woman with excellent insights; I would have loved for her to have marked that Bible up.

On November 3, 2007, at the age of 95 years and 7 months, my dad went to Heaven. The next day, when I arrived, one of my sisters handed me the Bible. “Pop wanted you to have this back,” she said.

There on the presentation page where I had lettered his name and written my appreciation, he had added, “At death, give back to Joe.”

A word about his handwriting. For a man with only a 7th grade education, and a lifelong coal miner at that, Pop’s writing style was impressive. He used to tell us how the schools in his childhood taught classical penmanship to the students. He would hold the pen in a certain way and move his hand around in circles. “We practiced these exercises until we learned to write well,” he would say.

The other morning, two months after Dad’s death, when I remarked to Mom about his notes in this Bible, she said, “Even at the last, he still had this beautiful handwriting.”

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