flickin off (or flippin off) New Orleans

I embrace each return to my beloved city with a two middle finger salute, held high. In case you didn't get that, I seriously "flick off" (or "flip off" to some) my dear New Orleans every time I return from a trip. My reasons are easily justifiable and worthy of such a salute, and I'll give my reason shortly. If you're from New Orleans, or have ever been, you know the exact location when the city finally becomes visible when driving in from Slidell heading west on I-10. What an amazing site for anyone who loves the city!


I just spent the last week in upstate South Carolina. We had a blast, speaking at two universities, two college gatherings, and three churches. By "we" I mean the Andrew Ogea Band, and the rest of the HIMnI staff, including my brother's wife. The week was one of our longest ever, but everyone who went agrees that it was an amazing time full of work, play, rest, and way too much food.



We returned to New Orleans late Sunday night, and I could sense that even though I had an amazing week in the land of smiling faces and beautiful places, I was glad to be back to the not-so Big Easy.

On Wednesday my Pastor and I walked around the Quarter for a while and met some interesting people. We came across Billy, another pastor in the Quarter. He's covered head to toe with tattoos, wears lots of silver, and came to faith in Christ through the Jesus Movement in the 70's. This former Vietnam veteran/Hippie inspired us to continue in our faith, reminding us to share with everyone who comes across our path. I'm grateful that we met him, because you have no idea how rare it is to come across another believer in the French Quarter. We are extremely grateful for Billy's commitment to the mission and we hope we can continue to partner in the gospel ministry for many years to come.

I told him about my two finger salute and he laughed hysterically. Billy told me he'll do the same whenever he returns to New Orleans from a trip.

Pastor Greg and I also met a man from John Hagee's church in Texas (I think). He's crazy, I gotta be honest, and I'm not too fond of his evangelism strategy in the Quarter. The first time I met him he was putting tracts on car windshields. I yelled at him and told him to quit being a pansy and have the courage to talk with someone face to face. He yelled back at me, then we became friends. Weird, I know, but the yelling was productive and fruitful.

I also met another man. I shall call him Manic Glen. Probably not to his face, but that's how I'll remember him since he was sooo left field. Remember the kid who chased butterflies and bumblebees in left field during the little league game, the kid who constantly talked to himself and pretended his baseball glove was a Star Wars face mask? Well, that's Glen.


Manic Glen walked up and talked to me and Pastor Billy (the tattoo/silver wearing pastor). He never stayed on topic, and looked at us with his crazy eyes. And to be truthful, Manic Glen is awesome! I already love the guy because he goes 1000 mph, talking about anything like the real D-day and brussel (sp) sprouts. He asked us if we wanted to smoke a joint with him, because he needed to chill out. I said no thanks (of course) and he left. Man he wears me out but I'm grateful for his honesty.

Anyways, we met several others while walking around, learned the one of our close homeless friends is lying to us about having children to support, and met for prayer and bible study that night.

In summary, it was a great day to be serving Jesus in the Quarter.

So, in case your wondering, why do I flick off my city, a city that is close to my heart, a city that gets me excited about serving Jesus and following him and giving him everything including my desires for security, power, and pleasure?

Well, I'm not exactly flicking off a place, but a person!

Ask any believer and they tell you the suppression and oppression they sense when they walk around New Orleans. Most believers, including myself, believe if Satan has a few strongholds, a few places where he's strongly established and is an overwhelming, almost immovable and impenetrable force, then you'd hear many Christ followers saying New Orleans is one of those places.

My homeless friends, even the local residents, will admit that New Orleans is a very dark place. It doesn't take away from the fact that many people, including myself, love the city. It's just dark.

I'm of the persuasion which believes Satan has a vacation home in New Orleans that he visits frequently. It's one of his favorite playgrounds. I'll venture to say that the roaring lion spends way too much time in my city, and i'm sick of it. I've had enough.

I know he doesn't want me here, I know he doesn't want anyone else here who possesses the light, which is why I always give him the salute he deserves.


"Guess who's back?!!!"

It's my "Here's Johnny!" moment, and it always makes me laugh.








More importantly, it inspires me and I know its probably not the best thing to do, but he (Satan) get me so angry. He's done enough to mess up my life, and I can't imagine what he's doing to everyone else. Now I'm not placing all blame on him, for I feel completely responsible for my current chaotic condition, but I am resolved to let Christ win and reign supreme in New Orleans. Christ has already conquered my demons; I'm just excited to see him take down the big dog once and for all.

Lately I've been thinking about heaven. And while thinking about heaven I thought about dodgeball. On our way up to South Carolina my friends and I all wore different colored sweatsuits. It made us look like a traveling professional dodgeball team.



So heaven, and dodgeball. Combining the two, I thought about how great it will be one day to play a game of dodgeball with Jesus, in heaven. I'm not sure if we'll be doing that kind of stuff, and I'd much rather be worshiping Jesus and bowing down to him because he's just too amazing for words. But if we do get to play dodgeball in heaven, I really hope Jesus is on my team, because let's be honest, Jesus wins at everything. He always wins. Jesus always wins and has proven himself to be completely victorious. Seriously, he beat sin and death, and no one has ever done that. No one besides Jesus will ever claim victory over our two greatest certainties in life, and I'm talking about death but not about taxes.

God, through his Spirit which lives inside of me, imparted by Jesus because of his death upon that cross, has taught me so much about the extent of his victory. Over all things!

So, in a weird, twisted, obscure way, I give a two fingered salute to Satan because I am so thrilled, honored, and humbled that God would use a pathetic person like me to usher in His kingdom and knock out the reigning champ.

Oh Jesus, show yourself in New Orleans. He's so scared. I know he is. You are near, you are here, and he doesn't like that very much.

antiques and queers...

In a previous blog I mentioned how I wanted to play chess with this old man at my favorite coffee shop. Well, it still hasn't happened. I saw him today playing a different game. For some reason this old guy is really intimidating me, but I still really want to talk with him about things, random things, maybe even special things, like Jesus.

Hmm,... yes.

Anyways, I spent the majority of my afternoon in that coffee shop systematizing my theology, and to my surprise it (by it I mean my theology) was coming together nice and orderly. Feeling rather organized from a mental/spiritual standpoint, I walked back to my car around 6pm to reward myself at my apartment with mindless television. The Quarter smelled of throw up, dog poop, beer, and rotten food, intermixed with some antiseptic spray that attempts to cover the smell.

As I opened my car door I noticed an old man sitting on some steps, enjoying the smell (probably not) and seeming very content. I didn't want to, already feeling quite satisfied since I organized my theology.

I'm sure God was very pleased with me that I had figured him out a little more, but that's another subject for another time.

In that moment, somewhere in my mind, I felt the gravitational pull towards this old man, who seemed far more inviting than the old man who plays chess at the coffee shop.

I threw my bag into the car, then casually said, "Nice night."
He's said, "Very Nice. It hasn't felt this good outside for quite a while."
I said, "You're right, it does feel good."

Pause.

I said, "Well, have a goodnight." (feeling much like Lloyd from Dumb and Dumber saying "Big Gulps huh?")
He said, "Won't you sit down?"
I said, "Sure, I've got some time."

I sat down next to him on his steps and Larry began to tell me about his life and the weather.

Halfway through the conversation he asked, "Would you like a coke?"
"Sure, I'd love one." said I:)

After Larry brought me a coke, he invited me inside where we talked for the next 30 minutes about whatever came to mind.

I learned that Larry used to be a marine merchant, but has been retired for quite some time. He traveled all over the world and wishes so badly he could still travel but can't because he suffers from Vertigo. Being an avid traveler, Larry recommended that I visit Spain and France, especially France because the women are absolutely gorgeous and oftentimes nude.
He also doesn't care much for sports, but loves antiques, "proper" music, and art.

Larry kept repeating certain phrases, like telling me the apartment belongs to his cousin and that his son recently died from leukemia.

In the process, though, he said I phrase I will soon never forget, because I loathe its association.

In the same sentence he said, "mother f!*#&ing queers and mother f%@#$ing Jesus."

The cursing was funny, because he's an old guy and I don't hear too many old guys talk like that, but its association wasn't.

He wasn't being critical, nor judgmental, its just the way he talked. From my conversation, I could tell he loves queers, and Jesus too, just not the kind of way I'd hope he'd love Jesus.

I found it semi-amusing, but it also made me feel very sad.

Somewhere along the line in his long, illustrious life, Larry's gotten to the point where he can say that in the same sentence and it practically has no meaning or no importance or significance whatsoever.

People of the cross, this is not good. This is definitely not good.

I got his number, and I'll visit him soon.

You know, I really enjoyed Larry, he brought great refreshment to my reason for being in the Quarter. I also hope that if you read this you'll say a quick prayer for Larry.

That's all.