Three Stories from New Orleans

I'm in New Orleans right now with a team of students. We're here doing Hurricane Relief which means we could be doing anything from cleaning out a house of every single possession (mudding out), or tearing down sheet rock and plaster to the original studs (gutting out). Here are four short stories from our first day that I want to remember and to share with you:

1. I was assigned to a team that headed New Orleans Teen Challenge. I had no idea what was in store for us, other than a bunch of sheet rock needed to be hung. We got there earlier than the Teen Mission Staff so my team of five decided to walk around the block to take in the whole scene. Littered throughout the abandoned streets are countless flooded cars, mostly which have been stripped of valuable parts. There was one particular car with a 2x6 pried under the hood and smashed through the windshield due to the force of the flood waters. I walked right into several homes to see what it would be like. All of them were completely gutted-out except for the last one. It was filled with every belonging of a family. The water in this neighborhood was 11-18 feet high which meant that couches, refrigerators, beds, bookshelves, televisions, were floating in tepid, polluted flood water as it slowly settled out in the ocean. This took weeks and weeks to happen which meant that the entire house, floor to ceiling, was covered with mold; the smell was unthinkable. What's worse--this was someone's home, someone's possessions. Everything that they owned was destroyed.

2. My first job was to clean off a brick cutter. This is a huge rolling table saw with dried cement all over it. At first I thought, "No problem, I'll have this baby sparkling in no time!" and then I began. After two hours of scrubbing with a wire brush in 90 degree heat and 90% humidity, I began to question if I would ever get this thing clean. I began to tell myself--this is good enough! No one will care if there is a little grime left on it.

And then I saw a picture of my heart and Jesus lovingly cleaning it.

What if He said that? What if He just decided to stop because He got sick of cleaning? What about the fact that He never has and never will?

I scrubbed for two more hours.

3. As far as the eye can see, there are abandoned homes with mutilple water level stains visible in a brownish yellow tint. There aren't that many people around in New Orleans yet, only the determined few who are giving every waking moment to rebuild their lives here. I noticed that no one was doing anything with the outside of their homes. All of the work is starting in the inside.

Consider this: What good would it do if people spent all of their time painting fences, mowing lawns, redoing their siding and there trim, and never spending any time on the inside. The outside would be beautiful but the inside would still smell that musty, dank, putrid smell and there would still be crap growing up the walls.

How often do we pay all of our attention to the our outside--painting and doing maintenance--wanting everyone to think that we have it all put together? What good does it do if we still smell like that musty, dank, putrid smell and there is still crap growing up the walls of our heart?

Aren't you glad that God doesn't look at the outside--He probably doesn't even care that much. Aren't you relieved that he is constantly "mudding out" and "gutting out" our hearts?

4. A junior named Kevin was telling his story of how ironic it felt to be destroying the inside of a home. He did say that this was one of his biggest highlights because, "Let's face it, who doesn't want to thrash the inside of a home?" (His words). As he was talking about this experience, I was overcome by the reality that destruction has to happen first. The only way that anything is going to heal here in New Orleans is if the destruction is completed so that people can rebuild.

This isn't a new concept--it's THE concept.

My faith is built upon a God who chose to come and live here so that I could understand an unthinkable love. He was completely and totally destroyed so that healing could be possible. He was "thrashed" as Kevin said, eluding to the inside of a home, so that a relationship with Him could be possible.

We just celebrated the power of His ressurection yesterday.

Total destruction leads to complete restoration.

Pakistan Journal: Meet Farooq

He was the oldest of the five and knew the least amount of English. Farooq was the only soldier (a first lieutenant) that I didn't get the opportunity to know well, however I loved being around him and I could tell that the feeling was mutual.

Farooq was an observer. His posture was usually one of leaning on a wall or a tree or a rock with a cigarette in his mouth. I would always observe him watching intently as life happened all around him. It was as though he was taking EVERYTHING in and processing it in a way that only he understood. He was a man of very few words altogether, yet when he spoke, people listened.

On the work site, he would quietly listen and lead and men of the various villages would follow his instructions. It was hard for him to sit back and watch when it came to work being done--however. It was as though he had a sensitivity to and an urgency about what was going on in the mountains for these tribal people. From time to time--especially as it got colder--Farooq would frequently look up to the sky or to the top of the mountains. I always wondered if he was estimating how much time these people had left

Multiple times a day he would, in his Farooq way, acknowledge me and let me know that I was doing a good job or that he approved by holding his hand up--palm towards me and slowly exclaim (while blowing smoke out of his mouth and nose) "J e r e m i a."

We never spoke the same language but we understood each other....

Bumper Sticker Theology

I've had enough with "Christian" bumper stickers! If you sport one of these--do God and Jesus-followers a favor and take a razor blade and some hot soapy water and get rid of it.

Today's bumper sticker read:
God doesn't believe in Athiests.

What a message of hope huh?

Gimme some more Body!

Story #1: I was at a conference a couple of years ago where we were participating in the Lord's Supper (communion)--an ancient experience started by Jesus on the night before He was betrayed and arrested where you eat bread (representing Jesus' body) and drink wine or grape juice (representing Jesus' blood shed) in rememberance of His sacrifice for you and me. During this one particular experience one of the pastors at my church was offering the bread to a whole bunch of high school students. In the mix was her daughter, a fifth grader at that time, who took a huge hunk of the bread, dipped the entire handful in the grape juice and proceeded to have a full meal of the Body. Not two minutes later, when the line was still quite long, this little girl taught me a very valuable lesson. She ran up next to her mom, still offering the Body, and stood there trying her best to get her mom's attention. Finally, mom looked down at daughter (disapprovingly) and asked her what she wanted.

"I want some more bread!" she innocently exclaimed.

When was the last time you ran to the front of any line to get more of Jesus?

Story #2: Yesterday was communion Sunday for our fifth and sixth grade students. This was to be their first experience with the Lord's Table which is a pretty big deal for students and families at my church. I was talking with a couple of the fifth grade girls afterwards about what they thought about the whole experience.

In unison and with eyes rolling back in their heads they said, "The bread was SOOOOOO good!"

When was the last time you were overwhelmed with how good Jesus tastes?

Story #3: Last night we were participating in the Lord's Table at a community called Open Door. Once the evening was over and we were cleaning up, I noticed that there was a stack of bread loaf pieces left over. (Usually there isn't any left over because my friend's two kids will chow down on whats left of the bread after the experience is over.) There are a couple of homeless guys who call Open Door their church--which I love! One of them came up to me and mentioned that that bread looked awfully good. I asked him if he would like to take some with him. "Would that be okay?" he wondered.

"Not only is it okay--take all the bread you can get!" I answered.

When was the last time you were hungry for more of Jesus?

Is the "Emerging Church" Reactionary?

I'm reading a great book right now called Emerging Churches by Eddie Gibbs and Ryan Bloger. Through vast research in the U.S. and the U.K., they have defined 9 characteristics that are shared by "emerging churches." Read the book to discover what they are...

Here are some of my intitial thoughts--

I wonder about the "emerging church." What is it really? I am a part of what some would call an "emerging" church or an "emerging community", but I have no idea why. Frankly, I am a bit confused about why this new movement is here and what they/we (whoever they/we are) stand for.

If we are an emerging church--are we a church? To me, the word "emerging" would imply that it hasn't arrived quite yet. Perhaps there is truth in that. (This point is discussed in the book).

Recently, I have been in on several conversations where the "emerging church" has been defined as a response to the church not doing its job or becoming irrelevant. I don't like the thought of any flavor of the church being a reaction to anything. There will always be an new fad--a way of doing church. My fear is that we all get so caught up in the conversation of how to do church that we lose sight of what it means to BE the church. The title of "The Emerging Church" potentially spells more alienation or division.

As I tap more into this book (which is very helpful) I would love to be able to dialogue with you about the "emerging church."

My second question: Can you paint a picture from the Text of what the Church was originally designed as and for?
My first question: What is your definition of the "emerging church?"

Pakistan Journal: Meet Afzal

In order for the rest of this story to make any sense, you are going to have to get to know who the main characters are. In my next five posts, I will paint pictures for you of the men that I was privileged to serve side by side with. These Pakistani men went from unknown to me to friends--from friends to brothers (More to come on this in the future).

Known by his friends as "Baby Sparrow" Afzal represtented youth on the military team that welcomed us to Jabba on that cold November day. He is currently 19 years-old, a 2nd-year private in the Army, and engaged to be married this year. Afzal was that "little man" with a huge heart who thought that he was "bigger" than he actually was. Being that he was in the military, he held his head high with pride seeing his role as a virtuous, honorable position. Afzal considered himself the best at everything that he did, but was often shot down by his elder teammates who would quickly remind him that they frequently finished ahead of him in athletics and other military games. (They would put him in his place by shaking their heads and saying, "OOOOH Baby Sparrow but do you remember when...."and they would tell a story of when they beat him badly in a competition.)

After spending a couple of days with Afzal I discovered that he would take every opportunity to have tea prepared so that he could sit out for a while. He would frequently invite me to such tea breaks which I couldn't turn down (because I wasn't allowed to). Tea breaks with Afzal, although tastey, were difficult and a bit awkward because he thought that he could speak better English than he acutally could. The only thing that he said that I could ever really understand was, "Jeremia--I AM FULL-TIME HAPPY!" He would exclaim this with great joy and with a huge smile on his face. My response to such a statement was always the same--"Afzal--you are the only one that I know that is full-time happy!" He seemed to love this because it set him apart from anyone else.

One time I was having tea in the military's quarter with Afzal and he decided to put on a bit of a show for me. He was shirtless and thought that I would be excited about seeing how strong he was. He would flex and grunt and pose and check the status of his wee-bicept and then look to me for a response. I would go on and on about how strong he was--which of course he loved. I noticed that he had an interesting scar on his chest so I decided to ask about it.

He came closer and I realized that it wasn't just a scar, it was actually a brand. I learned, after many misunderstandings, that this was the name of his fiancee Janet. I wish you could have heard the way that he spoke of his wife to be. Every time he would mention her name he would touch his heart (under the brand) and close his eyes.

He assured me that this marriage was an arranged/love marriage. This means that the marriage was set up between the two families, but that their arrangement had blossomed into love. I asked him why He had her name branded on his chest. I'll never forget his response:

"So that when I close my eyes, I can see her in my heart."

Pakistan Journal: Surprised by Friendship--Why?

How do you function when you "land" in a new community? Does the thought of not knowing anyone intimidate you or get you excited?

What about "landing" in the tribal areas of Northern Pakistan where you have no idea what you're going to see, what you're going to experience nor who you're going to meet? How do you prepare yourself for something like that?

When we arrived in Jabba we were surprised to find five Pakistani Army personel stationed there. We were told beforehand that Jabba, being a tribal area, had no military presence. Reason being, in the tribal areas, they are their own government and their own military. This meant that the villagers served as soldiers. However, due to the earthquake, the government deployed the military to help head the relief effort.

Shortly after the greeting of Mumtaz (more to come later) we were quickly introduced to the four other Army personel along with the three Americans that we were replacing. There was already a strong friendship between these three (all from Minnesota) and the military which was exciting yet caused a bit of anxiety as well. What was it going to be like when the three Minnesotans left the next morning? Is the friendship that I saw existing between them going to form between us--a new team--and them? Will they know our names like they knew the names of this first team?

Wait a second...I picked up on FRIENDSHIP existing between three random Americans and Pakistani Military personel. I watched laughter--I saw hugs. They KNEW each other's names.

Why did something so simple catch me so off guard? What was I expecting to find? Perhaps I was hoping that relationships would form but was pessimistic about it actually happening. Can Muslims and Christians actually get along. Can FRIENDSHIP really exist between these two worlds?

What about your friends? Do you have FRIENDS that don't believe the same thing you do? Do you have FRIENDS that look differently than you?

If you don't--WHY NOT?