I told the children, “People think of missionaries as unusual people who go to strange lands and do amazing things. But the facts are far different. Missionaries are normal people who go anywhere–perhaps to your own town–and they do simple things.”

“Basically, what they do,” I said, “are four things: 1) they talk to people; 2) they build relationships with people; 3) they ask questions; and 4) they look for ways to help people.”

From 600 to 800 children and their adult church workers gathered Saturday for the annual Mission Jamboree (M-Jam) conducted by the Louisiana Baptist Convention’s Women’s Ministry Division of which Janie Wise is the leader. We met at Louisiana College in Pineville. Jim Chester–Baptist preacher, funny-funny man, and magician/illusionist–formed the parenthesis for the day’s conferences by doing a program at the beginning and the end of the day. He was as effective as I’ve ever seen anyone with hundreds of children. Every pastor who watches Jim do what he does will run out and buy himself a magic kit. He’s that good. And he frequently ties in his tricks with spiritual lessons.

In between Jim’s stuff, several of us “missionaries” were leading four conferences, back to back, with the group divided into segments that would fit into the smaller auditoriums.

After telling what missionaries do, I gave the children a sterling example of the 21 volunteers from the First Baptist Church of Buford, Georgia, who worked in New Orleans this week.

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First, the background. A couple of days ago, the Times-Picayune ran a feature about St. Mark’s Catholic Church and School in Chalmette. That would be in St. Bernard Parish, of course. They ran a photo of a classroom filled with hurricane and flood debris that has not been touched since Katrina hit over 18 months ago. Catholics are incensed, of course, but most have come to accept that due to the scope of this disaster, the decreased population, and the limited funds of the diocese, some of their churches are closed forever.

Thursday, this letter to the editor ran. The writer is listed as Rita Oalmann of the community of St. Bernard.

“I was appalled to see that St. Mark Catholic Church in Chalmette had not been cleaned out yet.”

“The Archdiocese of New Orleans should have called the Baptists. They would have cleaned it out, no questions asked, as they have been and still are doing at other locations in St. Bernard Parish.”

You can’t buy that kind of great publicity.

And in other news….

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Rudy French is teaching us all lessons on faith. When someone mentioned at our Wednesday pastors meeting that he had seen the signs from FBC-Norco inviting everyone to the ribbon-cutting of the church’s new mission center this coming Saturday–March 3, 11 am–Rudy told this story.

“They tell me that Henry Ford used to have a sign on his desk that said: ‘Think You Can. Think You Can’t. Either Way, You’re Right.’ Well, every church has some ‘think you can’t’ members. And even after all the wonderful things the Lord has done at First, Norco, we still have some like that. I wanted to advertise for our dedication this Saturday but some people just don’t see the need. It costs money. Then I saw these little ‘stick in the ground’ signs. They cost 10 dollars each. I didn’t have the money, but I bought 30, and we put them up around the area. Some of you saw them in LaPlace.”

“Our ribbon-cutting is not until this Saturday, but would you believe, we had four visitors last Sunday–people who saw our signs and decided to come worship with us! And just think what’s going to happen on Saturday!”

Rudy laughed and told how the sign in front of that church was still advertising Christmas services. He told a church member that it should be changed every week, and the man volunteered to see to it. “I looked out the other day and he was up on the ladder putting up the letters. And the man holding the ladder for him was our oldest member–89 years old! Neither one of them have very good eyesight. They would pick up a letter and squint at it and say, ‘Does this look like an ‘A’?” But praise God, they’re keeping that sign up to date and even thinking up good sayings to put on it!”

Steve Gahagan, Operation NOAH Rebuild, told the 35 pastors present of a woman calling their offices this week, shouting, “I got it! I got my money!” She had received a check for the full amount the Louisiana Recovery Authority is awarding people with damaged homes, over $150,000. She was ecstatic. Steve said, “That’s about to happen more and more. We’ve been moving slow about rebuilding because we didn’t have money to buy the materials. But as more and more people get their money, that’s not going to be the problem.”

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The First Baptist Church of Buford, Georgia, is here this week, working in St. Bernard Parish, staying in Hopeview Church, helping to construct the new FBC of Chalmette. Mike Rhodes, a former leader of our Kenner church, now belongs to the Buford congregation along with wife Pam and daughter Molly.

Susan, a member of the Buford team, visited our associational offices today (Monday) and said the folks back home are clamoring to be part of the next trip. She is one enthusiastic lady–and this is after her second night sleeping on a foam pad on the church floor! We are delighted these folks are here and we welcome them. (see below for Tuesday’s encouraging update.)

Monday we officially welcomed part of our new Baptist collegiate ministry team which will be working on our local campuses. Corey Olivier has the overall responsibility and came by with Kevin, who will guide the BCM work at Delgado, and Ben, who will spearhead the UNO ministry. Corey is full-time and will work out of the Tulane Center, while all the others will be interns while they’re pursuing seminary degrees. We appreciate the support of Dr. David Hankins and Student Ministries director Mark Robinson of the Louisiana Baptist Convention.

We’re always glad to get good news anywhere it can be found. The front page of Monday’s Times-Picayune announces the rebirth of the Eastover community in New Orleans East. This is an expensive part of town and the 225 homes of Eastover lie inside a high fence with entrances gated.

After the hurricane’s floodwaters receded, residents returned to find the area looking like a bomb had gone off. Authorities say from 6 to 10 feet of water covered this area for weeks.

Today, 87 of the homes are occupied and 81 are being repaired. The other 25 percent have been gutted with a single exception (the owners are still waiting on their insurance).

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If I had the power, I would send Bridgedale Baptist Church of Metairie one new family a month for the next year. I know what would happen: those new members would find themselves gifted with a brand new family of aunts and uncles and grandparents filled with love and ready to teach them in the ways of the Lord.

I worshiped with the folks of Bridgedale Sunday morning at eleven o’clock, and wondered if they are the last of our churches to keep to that traditional hour. Most seem to be meeting at 10:30, some at 10, one at 9:30, and several earlier (Franklin Avenue meets at 7:30 am) or later (Good News and New Vision at 2 pm). Someone told me Celebration’s primary worship service is Saturday night. I love that. Find what works best for you and the people you’re trying to reach, then do it.

The Bridgedale people are the kind I grew up with–about 25 or 30 lovely and saintly veterans of the Christian faith. Richard Dunnam is their pastor and Andy Condrey leads the worship. They have a wonderful location, excellent buildings, and a loving spirit. I wish them new families.

Sunday afternoon at 3 pm, Thomas Glover’s New Covenant Mission held the dedication of their “new” buildings at what was formerly Woodmere Baptist Church, their sponsor. Former pastor Randy Capote drove in from Grand Prairie, Texas, to preach the message. He told us, “A month ago, Pastor Glover and I were on the program of Christ Baptist Church as they dedicated their new facility. I said, ‘I’ll be back in a month for your dedication.’ Jill Glover said, ‘Ours will be longer and louder.'”

It was. It ended at 5 pm. I made a personal commitment that the next time I come to an African-American church service, I’m leaving my watch in the car. But hey, it was a great service. Really.

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If you are not familiar with the 1966 movie “A Man For All Seasons,” may I urge you to rent it and watch it. Lock the door, turn off your phone, and shut yourself in for two uninterrupted hours and I promise, you will be stirred as few movies have ever touched you. At the end, you will wipe away the tears and sit there contemplating the implications of the story you just saw for your own situation.

I was in seminary when this movie was released, and was so touched after seeing it I read everything I could find on Thomas More and King Henry VIII. Then I bought the Robert Bolt play on which the movie was based so I could go back and savor some of the choice lines. There are as many gems in this movie as any play Shakespeare ever penned. Mostly, it’s a photo essay on the high cost of integrity.

Turner Classic Movies played this Academy-Award winning movie Saturday night and I sat there for the full two hours, drinking it in as much out of curiosity as anything. Was it as wonderful as I remembered from 40 years ago?

It was far, far better–one of the true treasures from Hollywood if there has ever been one.

I have one caveat at the end of this short piece, which does not detract at all from the beauty of the movie or its impact upon anyone who would try to be faithful to God when all around him is flowing in the opposite direction. But it needs saying.

You know about Henry VIII’s succession of wives in his search for one who could give him a male heir. You perhaps know that when the Catholic Church would not dissolve his “present” marriage in order to legitimize the next union, Henry pulled his country out of the Roman Church and made himself the head of the Church of England, a condition that exists today.

The story of “A Man For All Seasons” concerns Henry’s Lord Chancellor, Thomas More, the only one of his inner circle who refused to sign off on the king’s shenanigans. For that, he was imprisoned in the Tower of London and then beheaded.

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Eugene Peterson tells us about a little dog he once owned that loved to drag up big bones.

“In his forest rambles he often came across a carcass of a white-tailed deer that had been brought down by the coyotes. Later he would show up on our stone, lakeside patio carrying or dragging his trophy, usually a shank or a rib…. Anyone who has owned a dog knows the routine: he would prance and gambol playfully before us with his prize, wagging his tail, proud of his find, courting our approval. And of course we approved: we lavished praise, telling him what a good dog he was. But after awhile, sated with our applause, he would drag the bone off twenty yards or so to a more private place, usually the shade of a moss-covered boulder, and go to work on the bone. The social aspects of the bone were behind him; now the pleasure became solitary. He gnawed the bone, turned it over and around, licked it, worried it. Sometimes we would hear a low rumble or growl, what in a cat would be a purr. He was obviously enjoying himself and in no hurry. After a leisurely couple of hours he would bury it and return the next day to take it up again. An average bone lasted about a week.”

Dr. Peterson has written a book with the intriguing title “Eat This Book,” which Bible students will recall is what the angel commanded of John in Revelation 10:9-10. Peterson wants you and me to learn to savor the Word of God, to do with Scriptures what his little dog used to do with that bone: spend time with it, enjoy it, work on it at a leisurely pace, and get all the good it contains, to leave it for a day and return tomorrow to see what else we can get from it.

That, you will agree, is a far cry from the hurried way many of us rush through the few verses we scarf down in the morning on our way out the door.

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“Forgive me, Father, for sounding forth on other people’s praying. Acting like I knew something about approaching you they don’t. I do that a lot, and I’m quite sure it’s out of line. Forgive me, Father.

“You have taught me how wrong I’ve been before. Like the times I used to criticize those who pray long prayers that begin by telling you what you already know about yourself. And then I read the Scriptures and saw that is precisely what many of the psalms do and it’s what makes them so special three thousand years after they were first offered up.

“Like Job of old, you showed me I did not have a clue what I was talking about.

“And there are the times I used to quote one of your servants of an earlier generation who said, ‘Prayer is not a touring sedan in which to see all the sights of the city, but a pickup truck. You drive it to the warehouse, pick up the goods and come home.’ You showed me there was enough truth in that to get it quoted a lot and smiled at and even copied down, but not enough truth for it to actually be right. Lots of Bible prayers tour the city and enjoy the sights before heading for the warehouse and home.

“In fact, some of them never seem to know where the warehouse is. And yet your Word records those prayers as authentic and worth our studying.

“Over the years some of the prayers that have inspired me most from your precious older saints began with a comprehensive tour of the city. When I wasn’t feeling too rushed to appreciate what they were doing, I recall being inspired by the sights they pointed out, informed by the things about You I never knew, and rebuked by their insights into your people and methods and values which I had missed along the way.

“You’d think by now I would know to be wary of criticizing other people’s prayers. The way I did yesterday morning.

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I wonder sometimes about our Wednesday pastors meeting, if they have outlived their usefulness, and then the Lord says otherwise in no uncertain terms.

We might have begun our weekly meeting with 10 people today, but they kept coming in and we ended up with around 25. In the course of the sharing, two pastors volunteered how much these weekly sessions mean to them. One said, “I always know you are going to be here. You have no idea how much that means.”

He has no idea how much his words encouraged us. We have 92 churches and missions operating now, and most of our pastors are either knee-deep shepherding their flocks and don’t have time to come to these gatherings or they have second jobs and can’t get off. Either that, or they’re in seminary. But when I’m tempted to think of 25 as a small turnout, I recall that in the pre-Katrina years, that would be a good turnout for our monthly pastors conferences.

A few highlights here. If you want the entire rundown of our Wednesday meeting, this week or any week, go to our associational website www.bagnola.org. Lynn Gehrmann takes notes of the proceedings and posts them there by mid-afternoon.

“We’re prayer-walking this Saturday,” said David Rhymes. A number of folks from outside this area will arrive at the Baptist Center here at 8:30 am Saturday. Within an hour, they will disperse into a number of neighborhoods where pastors have requested prayer-walkers, and return to the center in time for lunch and a report time. We’ll be doing six sessions in 2007. You’re invited.

One of our pastors whose church disappeared from the earth has been meeting with his re-gathered people in his section of St. Bernard Parish. Today he reported that the local Presbyterian church–which had fallen onto hard times before Katrina and whose congregation since the hurricane might be a half-dozen hearty souls–is close to turning over the property to his congregation to move in and use for an indefinite period of time.

“What’s wonderful about that,” he told the group, “is that at first we tried to purchase the property, and they wouldn’t sell it. Then we tried to lease it, and they turned that down. Now, they’re using the money they got from Bush-Clinton to restore the facility and then they’re going to give it to us.” It’s a God-thing.

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Dr. Ronald French, an ear-nose-and-throat physician, has been named “Rex, King of Carnival,” for today. Mardi Gras. Fat Tuesday, before Ash Wednesday kicks off the season of Lent. His queen is Brooke Hastings Parker, a lovely young co-ed from the University of Georgia studying international business. She’s a local girl, of course, with a long tradition of participation in these events.

Don’t ask me why, other than maybe that men plan these things, Dr. French is 69 years old and Brooke is perhaps 21. And it’s always that way–old guy, sweet young thing.

Dr. French has a fascinating thing about books. A friend said French will be reading a book and start talking about it. “You ought to read this,” he’ll say. I’ll answer, “Well, I will, as soon as I get a copy.” At that point, the doctor will tear his book in half and say, “Get started on this.” The friend continued, “Many times I’ll see him walking around reading half a book, and I’ll know what happened.”

Parades are going down St. Charles Avenue and several other thoroughfares of metro New Orleans today. Having just driven in from Alabama Monday, my plans were to catch up on my rest Tuesday. I did, mostly. But I still caught some beads. The parade came to me.

Late Tuesday morning, our son Neil and his family decided to walk the 1.8 mile track around LaSalle Park, which lies alongside Airline Highway in Metairie and encases the Saints’ training camp and headquarters as well as the Zephyrs baseball field, and I was invited to join them. That’s how we got caught by the beginning of a parade.

The walking track crosses the exit from the Zephyrs parking lot where perhaps fifty floats of all descriptions had been parked. By the time we arrived, all the riders–hundreds of them–had loaded up and the trucks were pulling the floats onto Airline and heading toward town. Police motorcycles were everywhere. So, we stood and watched and waved at the riders.

The occasional rider, spotting my grandchildren waving, pitched a string of beads our way. These kids have been to several Mardi Gras parades and knew this was not a real one, so were not impressed sufficiently to even bend over and pick up the cheap beads. So I did. I joked that this is the first Mardi Gras parade I’ve attended since the 1965 version in the suburb of Arabi.

The floats seemed endless, slowly making their way from the parking lot to the highway. No traffic moved on Airline, doubtless making for a lot of frustrated motorists.

King Rex’s wife Flora, herself with a long history of involvement in these events, said, “It’s fun and festive. But my mother used to say, ‘In a way, it’s just a little bit of foolishness.'”

Good. Long as everyone knows that and keeps it in proper perspective. The people who study these things say 750,000 visitors come to our city for these parades and parties. To no one’s surprise, the local economy depends on these guests.

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