Someone e-mailed me Wednesday that they had seen my letter to the editor in the July 24 edition of Newsweek. I had missed it and had to comb through piles of papers and books around here before locating that issue. It’s probably worth sharing with you in order to make a point.

The magazine had named recipients of their “giving back awards,” the people who make America great. It was a fascinating selection of the great and the unknown who have gone to unusual lengths to do good. Elsewhere in the issue they had published a list of organizations that gave the most money to disaster relief in our part of the world following Katrina. To my surprise, Southern Baptists–to our way of thinking, the biggest of all givers from the religious world–did not even make the list. I studied it and figured out why.

“Thanks for a great issue: wonderful concept, terrific selections, excellent variety in the choices. We especially appreciate the New Orleans flavor in the choices, including nurse Ruby Jones (who stayed with her patients at a New Orleans hospital), anchor Soledad O’Brien (who came to New Orleans when everyone else was headed out), and preacher Rick Warren (who replaced the libraries of hundreds of our pastors who lost theirs). The simple fact is, I could give you a hundred other New Orleans heroes in a half hour, people who are champions in every sense of the word. Even as you left Southern Baptists out of the list of ‘Big Names in Katrina Relief’ (mainly because the Southern Baptist Convention’s gifts came from so many scattered sources and not through one umbrella agency), it doesn’t really matter; we just rejoice that so much good is being done by so many.”

Well, two points actually.

My list of heroes would probably start with Colonel Patricia Prechter (La. ANG) who was in charge of the medical personnel at the Superdome for some 10 days or more before, during, and after the hurricane. A member of Oak Park Baptist Church and head of the nursing school at Holy Cross College, Dr. Prechter says, “I am convinced God led me to join the National Guard in 1978 so I would be at the Superdome for those critical days in 2005.” I marvel at that. The list would include rescuers like Pastor Willie Walker and workers like Pastor Jim Caldwell, a group of Arkansas Baptists whose names I never learned who stayed at the Kenner jail during the lockdown preparing thousands of meals for first responders, and our Freddie Arnold who, after losing his home and everything in it, occupied himself in those early weeks working with chainsaw teams on the Northshore and then organizing disaster relief teams for New Orleans. And so many others.

The other point. At first, for a brief moment, I was offended that the SBC did not make Newsweek’s list of biggest contributors following Katrina. How could this have happened? No religious group has done more, to my way of thinking. Outside observers have frequently named the big three in disaster relief work as the Red Cross, the Salvation Army, and the Southern Baptist Convention. I personally have seen many millions of dollars from our people poured into the rescue of this city. But after a moment of this frustrating reflection, I came to my senses. Who cares who gets the credit? Look at all these wonderful accounts of generosity and kindness. That’s all that matters.

They say President Reagan had a sign on his desk to the effect that there is no limit to what man can accomplish if he doesn’t mind who gets the credit.

There is a Scorekeeper-in-the-Sky who knows precisely what each person gives and how he sacrifices. His is the only record that counts. And since we are still in the midst of this battle, this game, this marathon, any lists of who did what and how much are only half-time scores and basically useless except to people with too much time on their hands.

Anyone can gripe. It’s the easiest thing to do since we are all flawed by sin and our vision warped by its effects. But saying ‘thank you’ and ‘well done’ encourages the encouragers and blesses the ones saying it. Besides, it’s so much more fun.