my friend Ron...

My friend Ron Lyons painted this piece at Out Of Range. He called it, "When you pray, move your feet." I love his work. He has another piece called "So Try," which might be one of my favorite pieces ever. You can see it on his website. If you ever have an opportunity to visit New Orleans, make sure you visit one of his galleries on Royal.

one studdly man (part 2)...

More quotes from my man, C. T. Studd. He brings me great encouragement.

Too long have we been waiting for one another to begin! The time of waiting is past! The hour of God has struck! War is declared! In God's Holy Name let us arise and build! 'The God of Heaven, He will fight for us', as we for Him. We will not build on the sand, but on the bedrock of the sayings of Christ, and the gates and minions of hell shall not prevail against us. Should such men as we fear? Before the world, aye, before the sleepy, lukewarm, faithless, namby-pamby Christian world, we will dare to trust our God, we will venture our all for Him, we will live and we will die for Him, and we will do it with His joy unspeakable singing aloud in our hearts. We will a thousand times sooner die trusting only our God, than live trusting in man. And when we come to this position the battle is already won, and the end of the glorious campaign in sight. We will have the real Holiness of God, not the sickly stuff of talk and dainty words and pretty thoughts; we will have a Masculine Holiness, one of daring faith and works for Jesus Christ.

True religion is a very practical thing if we do not adulterate it.

Difficulties, dangers, disease, death, or divisions don't deter any but Chocolate Soldiers from executing God's Will. When someone says there is a lion in the way, the real Christian promptly replies, "That's hardly enough inducement for me; I want a bear or two besides to make it worth my while to go."

first Saints Sundays

We had our first Saints Sundays today at Vieux Carre' Baptist Church. It was quite the experience!

We moved our worship service from 11am to 10am, and this confused the mess out of our regular participants.

We opened the service with "When The Saints Go Marching In," who dat style, singing and chanting "who dat" throughout the song. Anyone familiar with Saints football will know exactly what I'm talking about.

As I was looking around, I noticed I was worshiping with a variety of people. Drug addicts, families, homosexuals, homeless, students, black, white, wealthy, poor, basically any type of person that comes to mind. (I even met a transvestite named Cookie at our church on Friday night and we had a fantastic conversation.)

It dawned on me; this is how church should be. This is what I want my family to look like. I'm not asking for perfection, I'm not even craving any sort of organization or structure; I just want to worship my perfect Savior amidst imperfect people craving to be perfected by Him who makes all things new.

So we watched the game after worship. Probably 50 people, which was more than we could handle. We ate Popeyes chicken, drank homemade sweet tea, and ate factory made brownies that come in a brown cardboard tray (still delicious).

The Saints were horrible. I stand by my team and still hope for the best, but currently I believe they are the worst team in the league. Hopefully that'll change next week since I am going to the game!

Our afternoon was crazy, unconventional, and at times felt like it was really lacking in vision and direction. But this stuff doesn't really matter to the family of Vieux Carre' Baptist Church. What mattered the most was the opportunity to spend time together. Saints Sundays was just another opportunity to hang with my family, and I'm glad that we did it.

I'm especially glad I got to hang out with Stephan and Priscilla, who aren't from America. Although they live in the French Quarter, they have no clue about football because they didn't grow up with it. I was glad to explain the game in between my yells and cursing (j/k).

I was also glad to talk with Will. Although we didn't talk as much as I wanted to, I'm still glad he hung around amidst the chaos to watch the first half with us. That was his second time visiting Vieux Carre' and I hope he'll come back again.

We had to kick two people out of the church after repeatedly telling them to only begin with two pieces of chicken until everyone else had a chance to eat. This one particular lady fixed herself three plates, then grabbed an empty Popeye's box to fill it with food for later. We warned her once, then she yelled at us, so we kicked her out. We still let her have the food, but she was just being stupid and inconsiderate.

To be honest, I enjoyed that, because everyone saw a visual example of how family is top priority at Vieux Carre'. Everyone else agreed. We can't have people around who repeatedly only think of themselves. That's just not who we are.

This was also the same lady who asked to sing at the end of our worship service. I told her no.
She said, "Well you just missed out on a blessing."
I said, "No I didn't."
She said, "Hell yes you did!"
I said, "Oh no you didn't! (pause) By what authority do you come wanting to share a song with this church?"
She said, "By the Holy Spirit (with lots of attitude)"
I said, "Good answer...But is this your family?"
She said, "Say what? (confused)"
I said, "Is this your church? Do you consider this to be your church family?"
She said, "No."
I said, "Well then, I reserve the right to say who's gonna sing to my family. Join us for a few more Sundays, then we'll think about letting you sing."
She said, "Well I guess this church must be all about the money, not about JEEEE-SUS!"
I said, "Shut up woman, you don't know anything about my family. I'm going to watch the game."

That was a fun conversation...

So basically it was a strange afternoon, but what afternoon's aren't strange in the French Quarter?

Maybe next time you can join us for a crazy afternoon filled with worship, Saints, and chicken...

becoming regular...

There's a particular table in a particular corner of a particular coffee shop on Royal St. where I'm gradually getting to the point where I can say that spot has become particularly mine.

Today is Friday, and I just realized I have visited my little corner four times this week.

Always the same spot, almost always the same drink, and nearly always the same routine.

If I had my way, I would frequent this same spot on a more consistent basis, at a more consistent time of the day, having consistent conversations with unfamiliar faces that hopefully would lead to consistent friendships.

I'm already beginning to tell who are the "regulars" in my little corner of the world. Even the baristas are beginning to recognize me. Maybe some day they will know exactly what I want to drink even without asking for it. Perhaps, if I commit to consistency, they will already have my drink ready by the time I walk in the door.

There's this old man who wears suspenders and looks "pissed off" all the time. On Tuesday a young lady said a few words to him and he immediately changed his demeanor. This old man talked way too much and probably scared the young lady with the amount of enthusiasm in his voice, but it was obvious that he was desperate for a decent conversation...

(Currently I am desperate for a decent conversation with the one who knows about all my particulars...)

This old guy has been at this coffee shop everytime I've been here, and God-willing, I hope I get to have a good conversation with him soon...

He was playing chess once, so I think I'll play him one day and let him whoop my ass...

Jesus would like that, seeing me get my ass whooped by an angry, old man. We'll probably talk about stuff, and that would be good because Jesus likes it when I talk to angry old men about stuff. Maybe we'll even talk about Him :)


Here's to becoming regular...

(last sip)

A weekend of denials...

My brother says I have a gift.
It is particular, and it is visible, but I'd rather deny this gift and claim some other gift instead.
In fact this gift frustrates me a little, if it is to be called such a thing. I could almost substitute the word "talent" instead, but I believe wholeheartedly that this "gift" has been given to me, and to take credit for a "talent" would assuredly mock the gift-giver.

My flesh would rather just call it a nuisance, but I am certain it came down from the Father of lights (Ja 1:17). Afterall, it is good. Not necessarily to my good, but it is most definitely good. And it is also perfect; for I see perfection carried out in its action, and God has made me responsible for sharing his good and perfect gift.

It is also because of this gift that I say I denied Christ three times this past weekend. At church yesterday I pleaded with my Lord for forgiveness from these sins of omission, and my gracious king brought, yet again, redemption to my heart, mind, and soul.

So here are the three denials, in chronological order:

First Denial @ Wagner's Meat Market.
I frequently visit this gas station at night when I crave something to drink. I was walking into the store when a lady asked me for some spare change. I quickly told her I had no money and went on to buy my drink. That Vitamin Water never tasted so gluttonous!

Second Denial @ the Southern Decadence Festival.
I went to my church on Friday night to visit my pastor and some friends. Pastor Greg had assembled some people together for prayer. In the meantime, the participants of Southern Decadence were all around us in the French Quarter. This festival, which celebrates gay life, occurs every year on Labor Day weekend. We had our doors wide open while we sang some praise songs together. Can I just say here that I was honored to praise God during such a time. We all felt the need to inhabit the air with God's praises since the French Quarter was so void of it during that weekend.
I was about to leave with my friend when I felt his presence drawing me to the festival, not away from it. I do believe God has created us, his children, to run towards the fire, not away from it. I had previously talked with a few men on the streets and told them to be safe, but I had kept my passion a secret, and passions are never kept secret which made me wonder if it was my passion at all.
Once more I was beckoned to go into the heart of the festival, and once more I turned away and went home. Denial number two.

Third Denial @ Wagner's Meat Market.
On this occassion, I was restless. I just couldn't sleep. So I decided to get something to drink at my favorite late-night watering hole.
As I was driving, which is less than a minute away, I told God I would give help this time if someone would ask. I had only brought change with me. $1.75, plus a handful of pennies, which meant I only had enough for one drink.
As I got out of my car, a man sitting, holding a cane and void of any hope on his face, asked me if I could spare some change.
Why I do not know, and I forever curse myself for passing such moments by, but I told the man, "sorry," and went inside the store...

shame...

I passed by him on my way out, holding my drink, and left to live my life of selfishness.

On this third visible denial, amongst many others during the weekend, I realized that my gift is being squandered and I am not pleasing my Lord with the gift he has given me.

I am captivated by Robbie Seay Band's latest album, "Give Yourself Away." In the song, "Go Outside," Robbie sings a line that has brought me low;

NO ONE SHOULD BE LEFT OUT

NO ONE SHOULD BE LEFT OUT

NO ONE SHOULD BE LEFT OUT

NO ONE SHOULD BE LEFT OUT

My brother says that the homeless and destitute are naturally drawn to me. I just hope I won't deny God's right to use his gift in his servant anymore. Pray that I may do so from here on out.