Joe’s Journal: April 27, 2011

When Hurricane Katrina devastated our part of the world–August/September 2005–I began devoting this blog to telling what was happening in our lives and in the city. The website became something of “Joe’s Journal,” as some referred to it. After a couple of years, we reverted more to the original conception of the blog as a ministry to pastors and other church leaders. There are over 1,000 articles on this blog, if you can believe it. Personally, I find that staggering.

It occurred to me recently that once in a while, it might be a good idea to post a page or two of my current journal. To tell what’s going on in my life, not for self-promotion–Lord, help us!–but for other reasons. Case in point is the following account.

On Wednesday, April 27, 2011, I drove from my mother’s farmhouse in Winston County, Alabama, to Sevierville, Tennessee, for the bi-ennial meeting of the National Association of Southern Baptist Secretaries where I was to be a conference presenter and the sketcher (artist) of as many of the attendees as possible in their four-day meeting.

I had checked the weather and was glad I’d opted not to fly. A weather system was blowing in, bringing more storms. I fly a great deal, but never in a storm if I can help it. I’ve done that a few times in my life, and don’t choose to ever again.

This part of Northern Alabama had had isolated storms the day before, but, I figured, the worst was over.

Little did I know.

And even less did I know that I would be caught in the middle of the worst onslaught of tornadoes in this country in nearly a century.


Officially, April 25-28, 2011, went into the history books as the “2011 Super Outbreak.” During that period, the United States experienced 334 tornadoes in 21 states. Over 340 people were killed in the storms or related activities, with 238 in Alabama alone.

That morning, a Wednesday, I left the farmhouse early, hoping to get to the First Baptist Church of Sevierville by mid-afternoon in order to begin sketching the secretaries (they prefer to call themselves ministry assistants) as they arrived for registration.

What I did not know was that tornadoes had blown through during the night and left trees across US 278 ahead of me. Nor did I know those storms were merely a warmup for what was to come that afternoon.

I drove north to Double Springs, where my siblings and I attended school from the 7th through the 12th grades, then turned east on 278 planning to drive through Cullman on to Gadsden, then turning north on Interstate 59. The drive to Cullman was uneventful.

Cullman is a lovely, sleepy county-seat town. A couple of years ago, I did a weekend leadership seminar for the outstanding First Baptist Church and came to love the people. Pastor Ed Hayes has led that congregation for a quarter-century or more and is a dear friend.

Beyond Cullman, heading toward Gadsden, suddenly, the traffic came to a halt. As far as we could see down the two-lane highway, no one was moving.

Eventually, motorists exited their vehicles and began talking. “Tornadoes went through during the night,” someone said. “Trees down.”

Then, we moved forward a mile or two and stopped again. Once in a while, an emergency vehicle would fly past, coming from the front.

Sometimes, we drove past downed trees. Once while we were stopped, I walked into the woods to investigate trees that had been twisted off halfway up. “What kind of monstrous winds did this?” I wondered.

On one occasion as I stood with a cluster of truckers and other motorists, we looked up to see an 18-wheeler moving up the passing lane, coming in our direction.

“Look at that guy!” someone said. “He’s trying to pass everybody!”

“Where does he think he’s going? They’re cutting down trees at the front.”

The truck got as far as where we were standing, then stopped. “Now what’s he up to?” one of the men asked.

And then we saw.

An Alabama Highway Patrolman was coming toward him from the front. The truck had nowhere to go.

The trooper pulled up to the truck and got out.

“Give him a ticket, officer!” someone called out.

We couldn’t see what the patrolman was saying, but it was obvious he was chewing the trucker out. Then, slowly, the semi began backing up.

The trooper walked around to us and said, “I made him go to the back of the line.” We all laughed. A fit punishment.

It took over four hours for this leg of my journey that should have taken one hour.

And the worst was yet to come.

On the interstate, heading toward Chattanooga, I figured I was home free. After all, interstate traffic still moves even in storms.

Arriving in Chattanooga in early afternoon, I quickly saw I had caught up to the storms. The sky was black, lightning was ripping the heavens open, and hail was pelting my car. I would drive out of it and all was well for a bit, then the hail would begin again.

Soon, more hail, heart-stopping lightning, ear-splitting thunder, and blackness all around.

For some reason, I called my son Neil in New Orleans. “Son,” I said, “I’m driving through hell.” He probably thought I said hail.

My plan was to outrun the storm. Perhaps if I could get out of Chattanooga and head on to the northeast, the storm would go underneath the Knoxville area.

On the north side of Chattanooga, a billboard advertised a new Dairy Queen. “That sounds good,” I thought, remembering I’d not eaten a bite in over six or seven hours.

I decided to get off the freeway long enough to purchase a milk shake, then to get back on.

I pulled up to the DQ and got out. As I stepped inside, a woman who turned out to be the manager was calling out, “All right, everyone! Get into this interior room. Now!”

I said, “Tornado?” She said, “Yes. It’s on the ground and they didn’t say which direction it was moving.”

I looked outside and could not see a thing. Just so quickly had the heavens opened and sent a massive downpour.

Then the lights went out.

We stood there, talking, watching, waiting. A few employees and customers went in and out the front door. Mostly all we saw was rain and we heard the deafening wind.

Fifteen minutes later, the storm had passed. The power was still off, so I purchased a “dilly bar” and returned to the interstate.

Later I learned that during those few minutes while we huddled inside the Dairy Queen, tornadoes had caused massive damage in Chattanooga and taken a number of lives.

The drive to Knoxville was uneventful. News reports said Sevierville was having tornadoes, so on arriving in the area, I stopped at a Cracker Barrel for a late lunch/early supper and spent an hour before going on.

Sevierville seemed normal and our meeting went on as scheduled. Several people said they had flown in to the Knoxville airport and everything was fine.

Just goes to show. You never know.

Over the next few hours, we learned that tornadoes had destroyed a great deal of Tuscaloosa, Cordova, Hackleburg, and Phil Campbell, Alabama. One tornado went through Cullman that afternoon and damaged First Baptist Church but completely destroyed several neighborhoods and a number of churches.

What we all received that Wednesday in April was a series of eloquent reminders regarding our fragile existence on this living planet. There are no certainties when it comes to the weather.

A few days after Hurricane Katrina worked her mischief on our part of the world in 2005, Rick Warren and his staff journeyed to Baton Rouge to meet with our pastors. One of his associates told of the time floodwaters had destroyed his home in northern California. He said something I will long remember.

“A couple of days later, one of my neighbors was praising God for saving his home. The floodwaters had come right up to his door and stopped. God really answered his prayers, he said. God is good.”

“I thought, ‘Well, what about my house? I was praying. How come God heard your prayer and not mine?'”

He said, “We need to be careful not to make it appear that God was present some of the time but not the rest of the time. That He heard some prayers, but not others, for whatever reason.”

“No matter what happens to the weather and no matter what happens to our houses and our possessions, God is still good. He’s not just good when the storm misses you. He is good all the time. But He’s always God.”

No one I know puts trust in God because he finds that to be an easy way out. We “faith” God for the simple reason that He alone is God and there is no one else. As Simon Peter put it, “Lord, to whom (else) shall we go? You have the words of eternal life” (John 6:68).

One thought on “Joe’s Journal: April 27, 2011

  1. Joe: So glad you are OK. We need you here to lift us up and speak truth words into our lives. Thanks for the ones you offer!

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