Anyone could have told Bartimaeus not to make a fool of himself that day when Jesus came to town. As soon as someone said the Man of Galilee was on His way into the city, the blind beggar commenced to yell and carry on, trying to attract the Lord’s attention. When the city fathers tried to shush him–“Hey, we’re trying to make a good impression here, friend. Hold it down!”–Bartimaeus hollered that much louder.

Anyone could have told him he would have other opportunities to meet Jesus, that the Lord was still a young man–some said in His early 30s–and He would be back this way again. No need to lose one’s dignity. All things come to him who waits, someone must have said.

They were wrong of course. This was Jesus’ final trip through Jericho and the last chance Bartimaeus would ever have to meet Him. He had no way of knowing that. All he knew was that Jesus Christ was the fulfillment of his hopes and dreams, and that given the opportunity to meet him, nothing and no one would stand in his way.

Bartimaeus, the smartest man in Jericho.

Anyone could have told Zaccheus he was wasting his time trying to get near Jesus that same day in Jericho. This little shrimp of a man–tax collector, dishonest businessman, traitor to his nation, and thus despised by one and all–lost what dignity he had that morning, running around trying to find a good spot to see the Savior. He ended up climbing a tree and roosting on its branches, just for a glimpse of the Man of Galilee.

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The newspapers piled up while I was away in Nashville and Kentucky. So, this afternoon–Friday–I stacked them up on the kitchen table and went through them. Briefly, I hope, here is the news….

1) The population of New Orleans is up 14 percent. According to GCR and Associates–if you need a name for that organization, it’s Mike Flores, deacon in FBC of New Orleans–the present population of New Orleans proper is 255,137. That compares to 223,001 a year ago. And bear in mind, it’s just within the city limits, and has nothing to do with the 400,000 to 500,000 who live next door in Jefferson Parish.

2) The Times-Picayune of May 4 produced a map of the city subdivided into the various neighborhoods, showing how the population has grown in that area. Lakeview, for instance, counts 8,216 residents, which is up 36 percent from a year ago and about 35 percent of its pre-Katrina population. Gentilly counts 17,275 residents, up 42 percent from last year and about 37 percent of its pre-K population.

3) The city of Kenner has closed its tourist center, a longtime fixture at the intersection of Loyola and Interstate 10. Originally erected for the 1984 World’s Fair, it continued to serve the public until this week when Mayor Ed Muniz decided the $135,000 annual budget could be better spent. Marilyn Woodward, longtime member of FBC-Kenner, has done great work for the city there.

4) More letters to the editor, beating dead horses. “What are all those thousands of unused FEMA trailers doing sitting in the open fields up toward Hattiesburg?” someone wanted to know. (Answer: FEMA ordered them. Duh.) “I’m 86 years old, living in Dallas with my son, and can’t get any information out of the Road Home Program.” After letters and repeated e-mails. Answer: your guess is as good as mine.

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Two weeks ago, I asked six young pastors, “What text have you chosen for your Mothers Day sermon?” No one had an answer. The common response was, “That’s a hard sermon for me to preach; I’ve not found my sermon yet.”

Two nights ago, while in revival in Kentucky, I asked two veteran pastors the same question. We were having dinner together, and–bear in mind–it was Wednesday night before Mothers Day. Both of them shook their heads and said, “I don’t have my sermon for Mothers Day. That’s a hard one for me to do.”

Why is it so difficult for pastors of all ages to preach Mothers Day sermons? My hunch is it has nothing to do with faulty relationships with their mothers. It has more to do with two realities: a) they do not want to go all-sentimental and just preach a “how wonderful is motherhood” sermon, and yet are not clear what to do; and b) they are men. Let us admit the obvious here, we men are out of our league trying to assess what mothers go through and the challenges they face.

So, we will cut the pastors some slack and pray for them, that the Father will give them the sermons He wants them to preach.

That said, I have some stories/ideas/suggestions.

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I clipped the neatest cartoon out of our newspaper the other morning and sent it to Neil and Marty.

Two elderly ladies were sitting in rocking chairs on the porch of the old folks’ home. One says, “My son never visits my website.” The other is saying, “Mine does, but he never buys anything.”

That’s too hilarious.

Both my boys visit my website. In fact, Marty keeps it up when he’s not doing computer stuff for the Bank of America in downtown Charlotte, NC. (And no, they don’t buy anything.)

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“Freddie Arnold was taken to the hospital in Baton Rouge Sunday night. Chest pains. They’re running tests.”

That early Monday morning call got my day started with a bang. With a prayer, actually, lifting Freddie up to the Father for His well-being. I called his room an hour or two later. Said he was feeling fine, and will be there at least a couple of days. We’ll appreciate the prayers.

The Unlimited Partnership teams (7 seminary students, 7 pastors, Bill Taylor, Professor Joe Sherrer, and some out of town guests) were meeting all day today at the seminary’s Leavell Center. I ran by for an hour, long enough to hear the reports from the 7 church teams. Everything is moving well. Wish I could have heard the guests.

At 11 am, I picked up Dr. Charles Wade and his colleagues, Charlie Singleton, who heads up the African-American work with the Baptist General Convention of Texas, and Rolando Rodriguez, who does the same for the Hispanic Churches. Checked them in at the hotel, then spent the better part of the day touring the city with them—meeting with Dick Randels at Lakeview Baptist Church, touring the seminary campus, circling Franklin Avenue Baptist Church, checking out the Baptist Crossroads/Habitat homes on Alvar Street and the Ninth Ward, then back to a late lunch in Kenner. I’ll be picking them up at 6:15 as we head to FBC Luling for the Spring meeting of our association where Dr. Wade is speaking.

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Think of this as letting you peek over our shoulder at our calendar. For me personally, it may be the busiest two weeks in a while.

Monday night, April 30, 7 pm, Dr. Charles Wade of the Baptist General Convention of Texas is the guest preacher at our annual Spring meeting of the Baptist Association of Greater New Orleans. We’ll meet at the FBC of Luling, which is in St. Charles Parish on the West Bank. Dr. Bill Taylor will also speak on the exciting “Unlimited Partnerships” project. You’re invited.

Tuesday, May 1, I’m driving toward Nashville and spending the night with my parents at Nauvoo, Alabama. Wednesday afternoon, will be setting up for the three day biennial meeting of the National Association of Southern Baptist Secretaries meeting at the Lifeway Christian Resources building in Nashville. I’ve mentioned before that this gathering of perhaps 700 church office staffers is the best audience any speaker will ever find, the sharpest and sweetest bunch of ladies on the planet.

Among the massive slate of conferences the secretaries (call them administrative and ministry assistants) will be attending are six I’ll be doing. How about this for relevant conference subjects:

“Keeping the Joy in Ministry.” “Dealing with Crisis Situations.” “How to Love the People Who Irritate You the Worst.” “How do I Minister When I Need to be Ministered to?” (Four subjects, six conferences, with two being repeats.)

Quick word on each topic.

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“I understand Lakeview is gone,” the caller told the Times-Picayune columnist. The writer was stunned. “Gone?” he said. “Yes,” the caller said. “I lived there and lost my home. We’re now in (some distant state) and a group of people want to come help the city rebuild. I know we can’t work in Lakeview, so I was wondering where you think we should put our efforts.”

The columnist assured the lady that Lakeview is most definitely not “gone,” and that people are rebuilding everywhere throughout that area.

In Saturday morning’s paper, another columnist told of a face-to-face conversation along similar lines. A man, perhaps a tourist, was riding a bike through her neighborhood. He saw her in the yard and commented on how sad everything looks and maybe these empty houses will sell in time. The columnist, food editor Judy Walker, had a ready answer for him.

“Sir, that house is already sold. Also that one, and this one over here.” Furthermore, she pointed out, the people who bought them were young adults, people who will be bringing children and raising families, and they’re already working on restoring the houses.

Judy Walker points out that what may look like a mess to a casual visitor is a sign of progress to residents. That pile of junk on the sidewalk in front of the house means someone has cleaned it out and is planning to restore it. That vacant lot means a damaged house has been demolished so a new home can be built. FEMA trailers being towed from the neighborhood indicates that people are moving back into their homes.

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Martha Bailey is someone you ought to know. Now, unless you live on what is euphemistically called “New Orleans’ Northshore,” so you can drive to the First Baptist Church of Covington where her husband Waylon has been pastor for some 20 years or more, you may not have had the opportunity. Until now.

She’s written a book. And I guarantee you that after reading it, you will feel that a) you know Martha Bailey and b) you like this lady.

Some will recall that in December of 2005, the FBC of Covington hosted all our ministers and spouses for our annual Christmas banquet. Now, they are not part of our association, being separated from us by 25 miles of Lake Pontchartrain, and they had taken massive damage from Hurricane Katrina themselves, but under the leadership of Waylon and Martha, the church did that banquet, did it first-class, and rolled out the red carpet for nearly 200 of our folks. Not only was it free, but they gave everyone gifts of money. Lots of money which was sorely needed by our hurting ministers.

I told you how Martha took it upon herself to fill up gift bags for each couple that night, gifts such as Wal-Mart cards and other nice things, including shelled pecans. She marched into the grocery store, found herself talking to the district manager of Winn-Dixie, and asked if he wouldn’t like to donate pound bags of shelled pecans for the ministers of New Orleans, in fact, 75 or 100 pound bags. The local manager stuttered, “Uh, sir, do you know what these sell for?” The district manager did. He told Martha and his store manager that he lives in Diamondhead, Mississippi, and that when his family evacuated for Katrina, a Baptist church took them in and ministered to them, and he had been looking for a way to say thanks.

Anyway, that’s Martha. Big visions, go anywhere, do anything, just move out of her way. You want a job done; she’s your lady. Martha is most definitely worth knowing.

The book is called “Putting My Dress-Up Clothes Away,” and subtitled “because big girls live in the real world.” The publisher is Insight Press, P. O. Box 5077, Covington, LA 70434. I don’t know what it sells for, but have already ordered 20 copies for some women in my life.

Here’s the story behind the title.

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Number One.

Since they’re my only congregation now, I sometimes enjoy pointing out a sermon to our pastors, either something they might consider preaching or something that preaches to them. Case in point: our Sheriff of Jefferson Parish, the one and only Harry Lee.

How to describe him. He’s Chinese, but thoroughly, completely, 100 percent American and pure Southern, used to weigh over 300 lbs but had stomach stapling surgery and now weighs considerably less, and has been our sheriff for 27 years. He’s 75 years old, I believe. And he’s up for re-election this fall. And he has leukemia. The really, really bad kind, we’re told. The kind that will be aggressively treated with chemotherapy and who knows what else, treatments that will take a great toll on his strength. But he is adamantly declaring not only that he will run for re-election, and that he will win, but he will whip the backside of anyone who dares oppose him.

He has sounded confident about every election in the past, but there is a strident tone to his pronouncements this time that sounds unhealthy.

The police chief of one of our suburbs, Chief Dale, has been a longtime friend of the sheriff’s. But someone informed Sheriff Lee that Chief Dale plans to run against him this fall. That was all it took for Harry to uninvite the chief to his annual picnic, an affair attended by all the sheriff’s longtime supporters. Not only did the chief get uninvited, but Harry lambasted him up one side and down the other, throwing in some juicy profanity. “It’s a surprise to me,” said the chief. “I’m not running against Harry. I’m his friend and a supporter.”

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