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Two nights this week, I sketched people at functions at a couple of our Baptist churches. Bogue Chitto Baptist Church, perhaps 70 miles north of North Orleans, packed their fellowship hall with children of all ages Wednesday night. I drew them for an hour before church and nearly that long afterwards. In between, I preached a revival sermon, then sketched and colored pictures for the four adults who had brought the most people to the services.
Friday night, Metairie Baptist Church held a block party in their parking lot and asked me to join the fun. Surrounded by balloon artists and food stalls and inflated playthings and crowds of people, I drew for nearly three hours. To my left, people at a table were handing out free Bibles. To my right, at the balloon table, a man could be heard going over the plan of salvation at various times.
In between, I was drawing. Trying to give people a little treasure from their visit to this church.
Occasionally I'm asked, "How many people have you drawn over the years?" With no way of knowing, I just pick a number. "Maybe a hundred thousand." No doubt the real number is a lot less, but again, there's no way of telling. A lot, that's for sure. Especially when you consider that this all got started when Mom was exasperated with her preschoolers getting in the way of her housework and gave three-year-old Carolyn and five-year-old Joe pencil and paper and sat us down at the kitchen table. Soon I was off and running. I had found my calling. Sort of.
Sitting there tonight in the parking lot, looking really silly wearing a balloon hat the guy at the next table had fashioned for me and with a line of children and parents stretching out in front, I was struck again by several lessons about people that are reinforced everytime I do this.
1. Everyone is different. Way different. No two are alike. Not even twins.
2. Everyone is alike in many ways. Two eyes, one nose. The things they say.
3. Everyone is beautiful. In some ways, to some extent.
4. Everyone looks better smiling. But try to convince some people of that.
4. Everyone is curious as to how others see them.
5. Everyone is a little insecure about the way they look. If we could, we would all change something about our appearance.
I sound like a broken record (remember those?) after a while, with the comments I make to the person across the table, whom I occasionally refer to as "my victim."
Our association is conducting what is called a "Strategic Study" these days, under the direction of seminary professor Reggie Ogea, to make some crucial decisions about the future of our work in New Orleans. Lately, we've been hammering out vision and mission statements. A "vision statement," we're told, is a word picture of what you intend to become. The "mission statement" is how you plan to get there.
One of the candidates for judge in Jefferson Parish has drawn a reaction to her billboards. Underneath her name and picture are these words: "One Tough Judge." Critics point out that she is not a judge, and that putting that phrase on her ads implies that she is. Since the public loves to re-elect officials doing a good job, the intent of the candidate seems to have been to mislead the voters into voting for her.
She pulled the ads and had her advertising people add one more phrase in smaller letters just above the disputed line. Now it reads: "will make a" and then under that, ONE TOUGH JUDGE.
I suppose we could say that "one tough judge" is her vision statement. Getting elected is her mission.
Monday and Tuesday of this week, a group of ministers will be flying into New Orleans to take part in our VISION TOUR. A team composed of representatives of the seminary, our association, the state Baptist convention, and the North American Mission Board have planned activities over this two-day period to acquaint our visitors with the local religious landscape, hoping to interest some or all in either starting a new church here or helping to sponsor new starts.
Most of our meetings will be at a hotel near the airport. Seminary students who work with Professor Jack Allen have done demographic studies of certain neighborhoods where new churches are needed, and will be making presentations. Tuesday morning, we will board a number of church vans and tour these areas. We plan to feed them some New Orleans cuisine and let them know how much we appreciate their coming this way.
"Come and see" is an invitation found all through Scripture, and a great answer to those questions about what goes on in your city, your church, or your spiritual faith. Don't take my word for it; come check it out. See for yourself.
Three years ago, I became a charter member in what was then called the D-Day Museum on Magazine Street downtown. Later, it became the "official" World War II Museum. I bought a brick on the walk just outside the front door to honor my father, enscribed with his name and what he did during the war ("Dug the Coal that Powered the Ships"). And I dutifully sent in my annual membership fees of $35 dollars at first, and now seems to have climbed to $140. I still write them a check though. It's a great museum.
Today another appeal came from the museum. They're going on line with the "official" listing of the charter members. Would I please check how my name is listed ("Mr. Joe McKeever- River Ridge, LA") and send this back to them, alongwith another $140 dollars. Oh, my dues are current. They just want more money for the expansion they're doing.
I have sometimes thought the main benefit of membership is that it entitles one to receive letters asking for more money. They seem to come at a regular clip, several times a year. Those poor non-members never do get these things.
Oh, and the letter said I would be happy to know that the actual count of "charter members" of the museum is now up to 170,000. Apparently, they keep the charter membership rolls open for the first couple of decades.
Reminds me of the time I "joined" the support team of our public radio station here, the one that airs classical music in the day and "All Things Considered" in the evenings. By "joining," I mean I sent them a check. That's all it took. Thereafter, I was bombarded by requests for more money.
If anything, I felt penalized for having contributed. "Poor sucker. You sent us money? That must mean you have more money! We want it. Send it now."
Now, I have been pastoring churches since I was 22 years old and have long forgotten, if I ever knew, what it was like to be a regular, normal member of a church. But I find myself wondering....
As I write, my parents are ages 91 and 95. Carl and Lois McKeever still live in the house Dad built in 1954, just on the next hill from the old homeplace hand-crafted by Mom's father in the years just after 1900. Across the country lane from Mom and Dad lives my sister Patricia and her extended family. She cooks a big meal for the folks every noonday, and any kin within driving distance gets there for the feast. Mom does breakfast for her and Dad, and the evening meal is leftovers.
Our younger sister Carolyn lives in Jasper, some 15 miles away. Several times a week she drives up, bringing groceries. One of Dad's pensions from his years as a coal miner goes straight into direct deposit from which she writes the checks for household expenses. Older brothers Ronald and Glenn live in the Birmingham area, from 50 to 70 miles off. Ronnie has the power of attorney and manages the other pension and covers their utilities and other expenses. Glenn and I--I live in New Orleans, a seven-hour drive--provide the cheering and emotional support for the others.
There's a lot to be said for having a large family. If nothing else, in your later years, they sure do come in handy. Mom and Dad birthed seven children, with the 1939 son dying soon after his birth and Charles, born in 1944 and the last of the brood, leaving us too early in April of 2006. Ronnie is the first-born, arriving in 1935, and I came onto the scene in 1940.
I call Mom every morning on my cell phone, usually while driving across town to my office. I know it's not good to use a cell phone while driving, but I do. I get in one lane and stay there, and try to pay attention to what's going on around me.
These mornings, Mom reports, "Pop is going downhill." His weight has dropped into the 140s from a lifelong robust 200 pounds. As a child, I thought he was the strongest man in the county. For his size, he probably was. And smart. He mined coal for a living, then raised a crop on the farm and did anything necessary to make that happen. Once as a child, I saw him tear down an old Farmall tractor and lay it out on the ground, hundreds and hundreds of strange parts. Then, he put it back together and it ran. Nothing he ever did impressed me more than that.
Being the first-born of a family of 12 children, Dad had to drop out of school after the seventh grade and go to work, first carrying water for a planer mill, then, two years later, doing a man's job inside the coal mines. He put in 35 years without a loss-time accident before a heart attack and other problems almost took his life in 1961, and the doctors put him on disability.
You could never have told us back then that 46 years later, he would still be with us. For most of these years, we have felt he was living on borrowed time, and we sure have appreciated the kindness of the Heavenly Lender.
The longtime pastor of our home church, Rev. Mickey Crane, comes by to visit a couple of times a month, Mom says. He calls on his cell phone from the front yard so Mom will come to the door, and stays an hour. Mom thinks he's one of her sons, he's such a part of this family.
Ronnie called me yesterday. He's reserving some more spaces in the church cemetery for various family members and wanted to know if I would like two, for Margaret and me. No money is involved, so I said to go ahead. The massive tombstone with Mom and Dad's names--everything is there except the dates--stands in place near Charlie's. I've taken Dad's picture standing beside it; I knew the day would come when I'd want to imagine him standing there beside me. But Mom has not wanted to see their monument. She laughs, "I have this dread about being in the ground."
I assure her, "You won't be. You'll be with Jesus." She says, "I know. But when I was a child, we would hear reports of people being buried alive. Maybe someone made a mistake and thought they were dead. That always worried me." I tried to get a laugh out of her and said, "Mom, that's one worry you don't have. If you're not already dead, the embalming fluid in your veins will finish you off!" I'm not sure how much comfort that gave her, but I thought it pretty well took care of the matter.
I called the orthodontist's office yesterday morning. After spending two hours the day before in his chair getting a root canal and having him fiddle with my bridge, I thought I was all set. But I was having a little trouble and felt he ought to know about it. The receptionist said, "The doctor does not see patients today. He is in the office, though." She paused a moment and said, "Let me check." Half a minute later, she was back. "Can you come now?" I could and I did.
It was the first time I had seen this strange phenomenon. The orthodontist's waiting room was completely empty, yet all his office staff was present, busy throughout the various rooms. I said to one of his assistants, "So, what are you doing today?" "Restocking," she answered. "And cleaning."
In a lull, I asked the doctor, "So, what do you do on Wednesdays?" He said, "Paperwork. We clean the place and restock. Make sure we have all the supplies we will be needing." Then he said, "I try to go home early." Since he and his wife have two sons under the age of four, this sounded good.
My dentist--I keep lots of medical people employed: a dentist, an orthodontist, an internist, an ear-nose-and-throat doctor, and an ophthalmologist--takes Fridays off every week. His wife who is his receptionist and business manager says, "That's his day for continuing education."
Let's call it 'restocking'.
I've pastored a number of physicians over the years, and can recall hearing them complain about the schedules they keep and the lack of time to keep up with the latest developments in their field. One said, "The medical magazines pile up on my desk, but I don't have time to read them."
Not good. We need our doctors to be current with the developments in their specialty.
It takes time to restock. Planned, unhurried, peaceful time.
"Can I ask you a question? It's kind of embarrassing."
"That's the best kind."
"You know our church has been helping that missionary school in Dar es Salaam. Sending them books and a few dollars?"
"I didn't know that. Sounds good. How did you get connected with Tanzania?"
"After the young lady from our church served as a Missionary Journeyman in that East African country, she put us in touch with the missionaries. They were trying to build a school to train pastors and I thought we ought to be able to help them. I just got back from there."
"So what happened?"
"It's almost embarrassing. On the last day of my visit, they held an assembly of the students and faculty and gave me an honorary degree. A doctor's degree, if you can believe it."
"I do. I know of pastors who have been honored in similar ways. It's the way a school has of thanking a friend who has helped them."
"So, what do you think of that?"
"Of what? Them giving you the degree?"
"No. Of me using it. Calling myself doctor."
"Oh. I see what you're getting at. You have this lovely Doctor of Divinity certificate and it looks so impressive and you're wondering about using it here at home. Calling yourself Doctor Carlton Henrutty, is that it?"
You know the story of the death of Jesus on the cross. There must be a thousand intriguing aspects of the crucifixion of our Lord, with each one supplying unending sermons and books and songs from men and women of this faith.
From the Old Testament, we have the prophecies, the sacrifices, the priesthood, the altars, the feast days, the types, and the special passages such as Psalm 22 and Isaiah 53, which point to Jesus' death on the cross as God's one, all-purpose provision for our everlasting salvation.
In the New Testament, we see Jesus' predictions of His coming death, the arrest, its effect on the disciples, and the various trials before Annas, Caiaphas, the Sanhedrin, Pilate and Herod. We are stunned by the scourging and the harsh treatment given our Lord, intrigued by the cross beam which Jesus bore up the hill, and fascinated by the side stories of Barabbas who saw Jesus die in his place, Simon who bore the cross for Jesus, the dying thieves who went out into eternity, one cursing and the other rejoicing, and the soldiers who gambled for his garments. There was Judas who betrayed Him, Peter who denied Him, Thomas who doubted Him, and John who stood by the cross. We preach sermons, compose oratorios, and write books on the seven last words of Jesus from the cross. We consider the medical aspects of the crucifixion, the historical account, the soteriological features, the geography, philosophy, and the emotional impact of our Lord's death.
There seems to be no end nor any bottom to this incredible story. You can get as detailed as you wish, go as deep as you choose, for as long as you like in studying it. Untold numbers of Bible scholars have devoted their entire careers to any one of these aspects of Jesus' death on Calvary.
But just this once, back off from it. Take a long look at the larger picture, not at the fine details. See what stands out, what impresses you most.
Here is my answer. Four large facts stare us in the face as we behold our Lord's death on that cross.
I visited two churches today, Sunday, September 23, and the contrast could not have been more stark. For obvious reasons, I will not name them. What follows is not for them, but for churches and pastors who could benefit from what these two have to teach us.
One had 91 in attendance, the other half that. The first one has a stable pastor with a great attitude and a winning personality. He loves the Lord, is committed to the Word, and has a genuine affection for the people. The other church has no pastor and hasn't for some time.
The first church is on the upswing; the second church on the decline. The Upswing church relocated less than a year ago from a neighborhood that had rapidly changed around them to the point that none of their members lived nearby. They purchased the campus of a church of another denomination that had gone out of business in post-Katrina New Orleans, not more than 2 miles away. The "new" plant is lovely in every way, located in the heart of a solidly middle-class neighborhood, a perfect reflection of their membership. In leaving behind their old neighborhood, they turned over their plant to the mission congregation which is just like the people who live around them.
There is an adage in church-growth that a congregation will reach people who are like themselves. That's why an elderly membership has trouble attracting young folks, an Anglo congregation has difficulty reaching African-Americans, traditional churches are usually unable to attract post-modernists, and so on. The African-American congregation of the mission church is reaching their neighborhood and this "new" Anglo congregation is reaching the people in their adopted area.
Meanwhile, the second church, the Downswing congregation, is struggling to stay afloat. They are an older generation and absolutely wonderful people, but are declining numerically and running a financial deficit every month. The leaders are investigating various avenues to survival, from sharing their buildings with another congregation to reverting to mission status under the supervision of a stronger church.
I was delighted to see that both churches received new members this morning. The Church-On-The-Upswing also dedicated several families with small children toward the end of the service. A gentleman introduced himself and told how he and his wife had just joined the church, and that he will be baptized soon. The pastor's wife said she knows another couple who plan to join next Sunday.
Both churches are Anglo, both are in middle-class respectable neighborhoods with attractive buildings and lovely green lawns, and both are made up of the kind of people who would fit right in with just about any Southern Baptist church in the country.
So, why is one on the upswing and the other in trouble?
"Thy will be done on earth as it is in Heaven." (Matthew 6:10)
O Lord, I pray for thy will--for your purposes to be put into play, your plan to be fulfilled, your wants and desires above all else to come true in my life and this world.
Thy will be done on this planet as it is in Heaven.
Thy will be done in this hemisphere as it is in Heaven.
Thy will be done in the United States of America as it is in Heaven.
Thy will be done in Louisiana as it is in Heaven.
Thy will be done in New Orleans as it is in Heaven.
Thy will be done in my River Ridge neighborhood as it is in Heaven.
Thy will be done on Park Ridge Drive as it is in Heaven.
Thy will be done at 601 Park Ridge as it is in Heaven.
Thy will be done in my family as it is in Heaven.
Thy will be done in me as it is in Heaven.
He introduced himself as Bryan, said he was from a church of our denomination in a town an hour away, and had read my article which ran in Rick Warren's Pastor's Toolbox. I asked which one.
"The one called 'Dealing with Difficult People in Your Church'," he said. "Remember it?"
"Oh, I do indeed. And that brought you here today?"
"In a way. My question to you, sir, is what if that difficult person is the pastor?"
"We didn't address that possibility, did we?"
"No. You touched on some good points, and I don't have any problem with that. You said there will be difficult people in every church, that God will use them to get the rough edges off our ministry, and that we should stay focused on the Lord, because 'it's not about you.' How's that?"
"I'm impressed. But, tell me about this difficult pastor."
"He's the obstacle to every creative idea anyone ever has. He refuses all counsel except his own. He insists on every decision going his way. When members come to him for counsel, he breaks their confidence by repeating what they told him. He pits friend against friend. I've even seen him turn a husband against his wife in order to protect his position."
"Wow. This is heavy. He sounds like a nightmare."
"That's not the half of it," Bryan said. "He talks out of both sides of his mouth, doesn't mind lying to you, and misuses his position as pastor in order to excuse his family from sin."
I said, "Bryan, you and I just met. So, you will understand my caution here. I'm going to be your counselor on this matter, but I'm not anyone's judge. If things are as you say they are, this guy is a serious problem and needs to be removed, not only from your church, but from the ministry. But I assume he has his own version of this story."
"I understand all you have is my word. I could have brought a dozen church leaders with me to back it up. But I didn't come for you to pass judgment. I just wanted to get your opinion about what to do. It's tearing our church up."
"How has it affected things?"
"Attendance is down. Contributions are awful. People are demoralized. The staff is discouraged, and we're thinking of getting our resumes out."
"Bryan, has anyone tried to deal with this? Has he been confronted with his behavior?"
"We tried to obey the order in Matthew 18. But whenever anyone has gone to him privately or in twos or threes, he cuts off contact with them and ostracizes them from the church."
"No doubt he says God called him to that church and he's in charge."
"Almost word for word, that's what he says."
I welcomed the pastor into my office and thanked him for coming.
"What's this all about?"
I said, "Not unlike being sent to the principal's office. Remember that?"
"Am I in trouble?" The very idea was foreign to him, since he knew I have no authority over him. Directors of Mission are the leaders of Baptist churches and pastors in a given area to the extent that they will let us lead. As with so much in Baptist life, it's all about voluntary cooperation.
I said, "It's more that you're in a key position, being the pastor of one of our stronger churches, and--as it was reported to me--you have an attitude that is going to create a huge problem for you, for me, for our churches, and for your church."
"By all means," he said, "tell me what it is."
"You tell me. I'd like to hear from you your personal view of the work of the association."
"That's all this is about? Well, this will be a short meeting."
"Anytime you're ready."
He said, "The association exists for the benefit of the smaller churches. Our church is a large church. There might have been a time when we needed what the association offers, but that time is long past. We will participate in the work of the association from time to time, but not as much as under the previous pastors. We have too much to do that has nothing to do with the association."
"That's it?"
One.
"Our state convention has money set aside to help people in your part of the world," the e-mail said. The executive went on to say they had reserved these funds to assist their own churches that were heading this way to meet expenses. However, he said, none of our churches have drawn on this fund lately, so we decided we would just go ahead and send the balance of the money to your association.
He sent that e-mail to me and to one of our leading pastors, a longtime friend of his, asking us to come up with a list of needs locally, from which he and his staff would choose the ones they wanted to devote the funds toward. We had fun doing that.
Monday, the email came from the financial officer of that state convention. She needed our tax identification number and for us to sign some papers. And, she said, you will be interested in knowing that the money coming your way will be $158,000 and some change.
Stunned? Indeed. Blessed? Absolutely. Excited? More than I can tell you.
That wonderful executive of that generous state convention--they shall forever be blessed around here!--will be sending a letter alongwith the check, saying what they want done with the money. (Just in case anyone reading this starts thinking of ways to use the money.) The fact is we have individual churches that could absorb the entire amount and still need more to be rebuilt. Still, it's a great encouragement.
Two.
Integrity is simply doing the right thing. It's being true to what you know to be right. It's not sinning against your own conscience.
The word 'integrity' comes from 'integer,' meaning 'a whole number.' The person with integrity is a whole human being, not divided or splintered by conflicting actions and beliefs.
Egil 'Bud' Krogh served in the Nixon White House in a number of capacities, but notably as the head of a group called "The Plumbers," created to stop the leaks of information from within the administration. He was not part of the group that broke into the Democratic National Committee's offices in 1972 in the infamous Watergate Break-in, but he was caught up in the matter when he lied to the Justice Department. Later, he confessed his wrong-doing and was sentenced to six months in prison. Recently, Krogh has written a book about the pressures of working in high profile political positions, under the title "Integrity."
Krogh advises those who serve high political figures that before giving a recommendation to the boss, they should ask themselves two questions: is this right? and, what will be the consequences of it?
It's not just in politics where the pressure to say what the boss wants to hear is so strong. In any high level business or religious enterprise, underlings find the temptations to please their bosses so overpowering they frequently find themselves in danger of compromising their convictions, and losing their souls, so to speak.
Recently, a veteran minister told a group of us of an occasion when he had been "bought and paid for" by strong church members. A powerful deacon in one church gave him monetary gifts and made sure that he received a new suit from a fashionable shop from time to time. Then, when the minister found himself crossways with that layman over some church issue, he was reluctant to oppose him. He had compromised himself by taking those presents.
"You cannot be a prophet to people from whom you take a profit," the minister advised his younger colleagues. "It's best to say 'no' to large, expensive gifts, particularly if you think they come with strings attached."
Warren Wiersbe says, "He who has the reputation of rising early may sleep til noon."
The difference in reputation and character is that the latter is what you really are; reputation is what people think you are. If you have to choose, go for character every time.
But reputation is important, make no mistake. Ask any business owner.
No matter what great service a business produces, if its reputation in the community is not a good one, the enterprise goes under. That's why companies go to such extremes to build positive reputations. They buy expensive media ads and have customers--or actors pretending to be such--tell of their great experience with this company. They pay big money to have their name on the stadium where football or baseball is played. They contribute to charity, but never secretly; they need the publicity. They're trying to build a good reputation.
When Houston's Enron Corporation went sour a few years back, one of the first things to happen was that the company's name was removed from the Astro's baseball stadium. The team could not afford for their image to be tied with a corrupt and bankrupt corporation.
Bible students will recall that even the Lord values His reputation.
Before this season started, Saints fans thought this might be the year. After last year's excellent achievements under new coach Sean Payton and his all-star cast of players, starting with quarterback Drew Brees and running back Reggie Bush, this year looked to be a cinch. Even the prognosticators agreed. The talk shows were saturated with Super Bowl talk.
Alas, then the season started. The Indianapolis Colts handed us our head on that Thursday night before a national TV audience. We licked our wounds, picked ourselves up off the mat, and said, "Well, after all, that's Payton Manning and the world champions; they're supposed to be good." Bring on the next opponent, the Tampa Bay Buccaneers.
The last few years, the Saints have not had a lot of trouble handling the Bucs. "To get to the Super Bowl," the radio guys said today, "You have to be able to win games such as these." And we certainly have the talent to do it. Not to say the will; we have that in spades.
I turned the game off three-fourths of the way through. It was pitiful. Our guys were dropping balls they should have caught, fumbling balls they should have held onto, and missing assignments like a bunch of rookies. Final score, Tampa Bay 31, Saints 14. But it wasn't even that close. We got whupped.
The only good thing about dropping the first two games of the year is that it will end the noise about going to the Super Bowl. From now on, I suggest we have a rule that no one down here can even mention the Super Bowl until the season is half over and we have won 2/3 of our games.
Fans will recall that former coach Jim Haslett had a great first year too, just like Sean Payton, with both rookie coaches being named NFL coach of the year, and everyone making stellar predictions. Alas, it was all downhill from there.
The overwhelming thought that lingers with me is: "If going to the Super Bowl was as easy as we were expecting, everyone would be doing it, and we'd have accomplished it before now."
But how about them Bengal Tigers. LSU appears to be the real thing. Next Saturday's contest against Steve Spurrier's South Carolina Gamecocks will answer a lot of questions.
Sunday morning, I called on three of our churches: the First Baptist Churches of St. Rose, Norco, and LaPlace. None of them are having an easy time of things.
A pastor I know put in over 40 years of ministry. On the day of his retirement, the church celebrated in a big way and gave him a new automobile and many expressions of their thanks. A few days later, he announced he was leaving his wife. He divorced her, moved to another state and married a lady who had been his secretary. His abandoned wife was left in the town where they had served so many years to face the world and deal with the broken hearts and disappointed friends.
Anyone who spends Saturday afternoons watching football games has seen this happen. A team starts strong, moving the ball, scoring points, intimidating the opposition and impressing the fans. But after a quarter or two, they begin to fizzle. Either their first team grew tired or the reserves were unprepared or the other team figured out how to counter them. They lose the game which they had started so well.
No one gets credit on the scoreboard for having started well. It's how you finish that tells the story.
The fun thing about pulling in an Old Testament story--particularly one from II Chronicles--is that so few people are familiar with them. To many, they're hearing these tales for the first time. The account of King Asa is a perfect illustration for our point. It begins in II Chronicles chapter 14.
Asa reigned over the Southern Kingdom of Judah for a total of 41 years. In introducing him, the writer says rather ominously, "The land was undisturbed for ten years during his days." (14:2) He started right.
From the first, Asa earned the approval of the Lord by tearing down the pagan altars, fortifying his cities, and building up the military. He spoke words of faith and trust and seemed to have been a good man. He was humble. When he heard a good sermon, he obeyed it. In chapter 15, the prophet Azariah preached to the king and the nation about faithfulness. At the end, Asa responded to the altar call. "When Asa heard these words and the prophecy which Azariah spoke, he took courage and removed the abominable idols...and restored the altar of the Lord...."
Asa led the people to make a great sacrifice to the Lord and led them into a covenant of obedience to God. He put his wicked grandmother out of business, removing her from the exalted position of queen mother due to her idolatry.
For the first 35 years of Asa's reign, things went well. The enemies left the little nation alone and Asa was like a father to his people.
Then things went downhill.
Last week, the jury in St. Francisville acquitted Sal and Mabel Mangano, owners of St. Rita's Nursing Home in Saint Bernard Parish, of homicide for the 32 deaths patients in the days following Katrina. No one questioned that these people died; no one seriously questioned that most would have survived had they been evacuated. At issue was the conflicting announcements from various levels of government leaders about evacuation. It turns out that a number of nursing homes in the metro New Orleans area did not evacuate. The fact that only St. Rita's had the large number of deaths made the Mangano's the most apt target for prosecution, but the only thing that kept other nursing homes from being defendants is that they did not have the high level of flooding which drowned so many people.
The culprit in all this was the government, the jury said. And this time, they did not mean the federal government, but the local, parish, and state leadership that should have spoken early, clearly, and forcibly giving instructions to the community on hurricane preparation.
One aspect of this trial that has drawn a lot of talk is that Attorney General Charles Foti personally prosecuted it. This was a personal thing with him, we're told, as he put the State of Louisiana and its resources into the case. To have it handed back to him in this way--his head on a platter might be a fitting way of putting it--was a great embarrassment. Furthermore, this is not the first such embarrassment Foti has suffered as a result of his post-Katrina prosecutions. Last year, he announced with great fanfare that Dr. Anna Pou and two nurses would be charged for homicides in the deaths of patients at the Memorial (Baptist) Medical Center in New Orleans. It got national coverage, and he was in the spotlight for months. Eventually, the New Orleans District Attorney and the grand jury considered Foti's evidence and dropped the charges. The egg on our Attorney General's face will never come off.
Filing for the governor's race closed last week and New Orleans' celebrity mayor C. Ray Nagin was not among those signing on. The odds-on favorite to win is U. S. Representative Bobby Jindal, a Republican who represents Kenner and this area. Polls show him at something like 60 percent. Walter Boasso, millionaire businessman from St. Bernard Parish--the state legislator who called for and eventually got the multiplicity of levee boards in our part of the world consolidated into just two--is a candidate. A number of other lesser knowns are running.
Jindal was a boy wonder in the state government in the 1990s. Governor Mike Foster put him in charge of the state hospitals, and Jindal only 25 years old. From all reports, he did excellently. Congressman David Vitter says years ago when he interviewed Jindal for some kind of scholarship program, he came home and told his wife that he had met someone who made him feel dumb. No question about Jindal's brain power. There are other questions about him.
"Are you teasing me? This couldn't really happen."
"It did. I walked out into the back yard and found a church member going through my trash. I said, 'Bobby, what are you doing?' He said, 'I want to see what my pastor and his family are reading. Make sure you're who you claim to be.'"
I said, "Pastor, that is rather incredible."
He said, "Tell me about it. Unfortunately, that kind of attitude is fairly typical for my church."
"There are other instances?"
"Not that, exactly. He's the only one I found going through my trash, but we do have a number of suspicious and strange people in our congregation." .
I didn't say anything, so he went on. "There is this old lady who wrote my daughter a letter the other day. Now, my little girl is eight years old, and she's a typical kid, I suppose, although I think she's wonderful. So, when this letter came from an older woman in the church, we thought, 'How nice. She's writing a letter of encouragement to our daughter.' Not hardly."
"She took the letter to her room and read it. A minute later she was back and wanted me to see it. I could hardly believe it. This lady--she must be 75 years old--had written my daughter to complain about her not speaking to her at church last Sunday. Said she walked right by and did not say hello, and that pastors' daughters should be better than that. She was cruel."
"How did that make you feel?"
"How do you think it made me feel? Like going over there and strangling the battleaxe!"
"What did you do?"
"I feel like I've struck gold. Or won the lottery."
"You are enjoying your new church, I gather."
"Honestly, they are wonderful. I've just been there six months, but already they have shown themselves to be a classy bunch. They're so different from the other two churches I pastored, I don't know what to think."
"I love hearing this. And hear it all too seldom."
He said, "You know my father has been ill. He lives in Tennessee, and they've called in Hospice. That means six months or less to go. Well, my church told me to go up there as often as I feel like I need to, to spend time with my folks. I've taken them up on it, but I'm always back for Sunday services and usually Wednesday nights too."
"They sound understanding."
"That's not the half of it. They even took up a special offering to help with my car expenses with all this traveling. I mean, I've never heard of a congregation being so kind."
"How's the church doing?"
"That's the other great part. It's thriving. We're adding new members almost every week, and everyone is so excited. I can't wait to get there on Sundays."
I said, "Do you know why this church is that way?"
He said, "Well, the short answer seems to be that they're Christians."
I laughed and said, "I don't have to tell you of all people that not all Christian churches do church right. Some of them are really hard on their preachers and staff, demanding a lot and giving very little in return."
He said, "I'm not sure what you mean."
This woman goes into the pharmacy. "I want to buy some arsenic."
The druggist says, "We can't sell you arsenic. Why do you want it?"
She says, "I want to kill my husband."
"You want to buy some arsenic to kill your husband? May I ask why?"
She says, "Because he ran off with another woman. And, sir, that woman is your wife."
The druggist says, "Why didn't you tell me you have a prescription?"
That little joke from Dr. Bill Taylor, keynote speaker at our annual "Ridgecrest on the River" event held today on the campus of New Orleans Baptist Theological Seminary, opened his message. Bill has a prescription for what ails many of our churches.
I sat in on several conferences throughout the day, then introduced Dr. Taylor at the plenary session at 2 o'clock. Here are some of my notes. You will thank me for not printing all of them out here; I'm a pretty thorough notetaker and it runs to several pages.
Bill Taylor: "Someone has written a book 'New Ideas from Dead CEOs," about Mary Kay, Walt Disney, Ray Kroc, and others. I'm thinking of writing a book 'New Ideas from Dead CE's,' referring to Christian Educators." Using powerpoint, he threw on the screen photos of some of his predecessors at the helm of SBC education for Lifeway: Arthur Flake, Frost, Barnette, Washburn, and Harry Piland.
"All the CEO's in that book and all the CE's in mine have one thing in common: NEXT. They were interested in 'what's next?' They embraced the future. They were not looking back to 1900, they were not criticizing the new guys."
"Christianity is the fastest declining religion in America," Taylor said, quoting the North American Mission Board. "If we are to turn things around, we absolutely must change. Expect change, embrace it, enjoy it, and execute it."
He listed five major changes that will be required of the churches of the SBC and much of America.
While we on the Gulf Coast have experienced our own version of 9-11 just two years ago in the form of a devastating hurricane, we all still feel the sadness of September 11, 2001. We will join the rest of the nation in remembering next Tuesday, the 6th anniversary of that awful event. We will think of the thousands who died in their offices, those who died rescuing them, those who died on the plane and in the Pentagon, and all who were affected by these deaths. We will remember that day, recall the pain, and recommit ourselves.
The wound from 9-11 has mostly healed, but it has left a lasting scar on the soul of America. We are determined not to forget.
However, let us bear in mind that remembering is often a problem for us.We recall what we need to forget and turn loose of the very things we should remember.
In some ways and some areas, but not all, remembering is a necessary part of the human experience. We write notes to help us remember a grocery list or chores. We carry calendars and day-timers to get us to important assignments on time. We work to remember appointments, anniversaries, and the names of people. Teachers give tests so that we might remember the lessons they have presented to the class.
"Do this in remembrance of me" has been carved across the front of Lord's Supper tables in almost every Protestant church in the land. Our Lord ordered this memorial supper to keep before us the matter of His death. "As often as you eat this bread and drink this cup, you do show the Lord's death until He come." He gave us baptism--the original kind, full immersion--to keep His burial and resurrection before the church and the world. With these two ordinances, the Lord's Supper and baptism, we portray the great events of Jesus' death, burial, and resurrection to one another and the world.
In many situations, not remembering but forgetting is the right action. Some matters cry out to be erased from the mind and never brought up again. The slights of a friend, harsh words from a lover, the failure of someone we counted on, all should be forgotten. Love keeps no account of evil, we read in I Corinthians 13. God forgives our sin and then assures us, "I will remember it no more." That's Hebrews 10:17, a quote from the Old Testament.
Forgetting is a handy device of the human spirit that allows us to close the doors on sad events and unpleasant chapters and go forward. Unkind words, harsh treatment, neglect, cruelty, misfortune, accidents, great pain--we need to forget. "Forgetting those things which are behind," Paul wrote, "I press forward." (Philippians 3:13)
"How can you treat her so well after what she did to you?" someone asked a friend. "Oh," she answered, "I distinctly remember forgetting that."
Whether you are the pastor of the church, a teacher in a classroom, the coach of a team, or the CEO of the company, you are responsible for the attitude in your organization. You control the thermostat, you establish the atmosphere.
In the home, it's the mom who does this better than anyone else. At church, the pastor is the mom.
By "mood" or "atmosphere," we're not talking about a flimsy, shallow, upbeat rah-rah pep talk which well-meaning but foolish would-be leaders sometimes attempt. Team members see through that in a heartbeat.
In the days and weeks before the Enron scandal broke and the giant company was discovered to be insolvent and its leadership arrested, CEO Kenneth Lay is reported to have been pumping up the employees with great words on what great shape the company was in financially. He urged them to buy more stock in the company. At the same time, according to the reports (this is not something I know personally), he was divesting himself of his stock.
As with everything else in life, great words without corresponding actions fall to the ground without achieving anything of significance. Empty words undermine the work being done and destroy the morale of the team.
The Bible says of the Prophet Samuel, that the Lord was with him and "let none of his words fall to the ground." (I Samuel 3:19)
Mickey Caisson of the North American Mission Board said today, "I tell people the best thing they did in New Orleans after the hurricane was to get the pastors together. That weekly meeting became a place for them to minister to each other and encourage one another, yes, but it was also a place where outsiders came to meet with the pastors, to bring information and get connected with the people needing help."
He added, "I can show you lots of places that came through disasters where they wish they had done that."
His comment, spoken in our conference room Wednesday afternoon, was especially meaningful, coming as it does just after the second anniversary of Hurricane Katrina. Last Wednesday marked the last of the weekly pastors' gatherings. Today, the first Wednesday of September, was the beginning of our new schedule. From now on--and indefinitely we hope--the pastors will gather the first and third Wednesdays in our association Baptist center from 10 to 11:30 am.
We had 40 or 50 in attendance this morning, and began with our monthly associational executive committee meeting. We approved two new church starts, one an African-American mission at the Carver Center in Uptown, the other a Vietnamese mission in New Orleans East.
As if to underscore the heart of these weekly meetings as encouragement, pastor after pastor emphasized the blessing they had received from coming together, getting to know one another, praying with one another, praying for each other. And the fellowship. Just talking. Being in each other's presence.
Who knew when we started this that God had this blessing in store.
Harry Lewis, vice-president of the North American Mission Board, was visiting in our offices this afternoon. He asked Freddie Arnold and me, "What are the chief lessons you have learned?"
We named three and could have given him a dozen.
As the caravan stretched out for miles across the burning desert, one camel says to another, "I don't care what they say--I'm thirsty."
Some people say Christians don't get discouraged. But you don't care what they say, you get discouraged. And tired. You think about quitting.
"One more hurricane and I'm gone." One more family moving away from my church. One more heartache, and I'm quitting.
Dr. David Hankins was preaching to some 25 or 30 couples--New Orleans pastors and wives--who were attending the retreat Hankins' staff at the Louisiana Baptist Convention office had arranged for us. The above was part of his introduction.
We had driven up on Friday afternoon, feasted on barbecue at the LBC building that evening, heard Evangelism Director Wayne Jenkins do an incredible comedy routine, had Saturday to ourselves, enjoyed a fish fry and the Pine Ridge quartet that evening at Kingsville Baptist Church, and now on Sunday morning, we were completing the weekend with a 10 o'clock worship service. Hankins was speaking to a group of warriors who battle discouragement and fatigue daily, and his message could not have been more apropos.
His text was I Kings 19:9ff, the hard times Elijah went through following his great victory at Mount Carmel. The man of God was tired, spent, lonely, hungry, and discouraged. "Just let me die," he said repeatedly.
"How did Elijah get this way?" David asked. He did it the same way the rest of us find ourselves down in the dumps and thinking of tossing in the towel.