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.

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.