Even though Joelle did fall immediately on his knees in repentance and receive the free gift of salvation, we did realize that God soon elevated a simple conversation into an opportunity to speak light, love, and truth into someone's life. We could tell beyond a shadow of doubt that Joelle truly was touched by our conversation. Naturally there were glitches and personal preferences intertwined into our discussion, but I believe we came away with a fruitful conversation in which a good seed was planted into good soil.
After Joelle left, Ricky and I found a new strength that only God could provide. We felt so refreshed to know that God brought that conversation to us, and we could be ourselves, and that Jesus was still proclaimed and that we never compromised the message. It's especially tough to do so when everyone in New Orleans wants His love but not his righteousness, his mercy but not his justice.
Shortly thereafter, Ricky and I quickly made our way to Bourbon St. Our goal was to simply pray. We decided we would pray at every intersection. This soon turned out to be a very difficult task. I can remember showing up to the corner of Bourbon and St. Ann, and the Spirit then leading us to talk with the man at the hotdog stand. His name is Dave, he's been in New Orleans for quite a long time, and is so grateful to have the love of his life, Sylvia. He knew we were about to pray for him, because he told us its easy to recognize who's a Christian.
We quickly prayed for him, his boss then showed up to make sure he was doing his work, and that was that.
Ricky and I continued down Bourbon, praying as we went along, speaking love into people's eyes whenever they passed. The closer we got to Canal, the more crowded it became. During this time I became overwhelmed with a severe headache. I told Ricky that we needed to get off Bourbon for a while. As we walked one more block, we soon heard the praises of a small group of believers singing "hallelujah." This thrilled our hearts.
We decided to wait awhile and enjoy the sound of praise. For a while, even I joined in the chorus and praised him with great joy. I think God brought this about to relieve me of my headache...
next blog
Saturday, February 2, 2008
Friday, February 1, 2008
my Vieux Carre Mardi Gras experience
Day 1
My friend Trish dropped me off at the church around 11am. If not for two flat tires, I would've taken my bicycle. Afterall, its only 3 miles from Gentilly to the French Quarter. The church was already busting at the seems with groups from various places coming to Mardi Gras for street evangelism. Pastor Greg and I waited around the church until his wife, Wren, could meet us for lunch. While waiting, David, my closest friend who lives on the street, and I spent our time observing beer trucks drop off beverages at the neighboring Gold Mine Saloon as well as the occasional odd couple who walked down Dauphine Street. Our good friends Cajun and Troy, both street musicians, sat in their van just outside the church doors as they patiently waited for the streets to fill with wandering tourists.
And as we waited for Wren, amidst hunger pains and anxious thoughts, both Pastor Greg and I knew this day would soon collide with the night...for Mardi Gras is upon us.
After subtle salutations and short orientations with the groups at the church, my friend Ricky and I decided to meander at on the streets to see what God had planned for us. I knew I had to send a few emails, so we both decided to walk a ways on Bourbon St., then head towards CC's (Community Coffee) on Royal St.
While on Bourbon, we felt like cowards. Prior to our entry we asked God for courage and boldness to speak. But being so overwhelmed with the chaotic condition we found ourselves in, we soon discovered that even handing out a simple gospel tract became a direct act of God. I told Ricky about my fear of presenting the gospel message, especially when presented like a plan or a formula. Ricky reminded me to let God guide our steps, our words, and our conversations, and He will surely open the door.
And speaking of doors, we came to CC's and for a brief moment thought it was already closed because the door was slightly jammed. It made an obnoxious sound after I forced it open, disturbing the peace in an otherwise peaceful coffee shop. A few seconds later, the man behind me did the exact same thing, and we both began to joke about it while ordering our drinks.
I chose a seat next to the wall, and that same man decided to sit down next to Ricky and me despite the availability of several other tables. Amidst tardy emails and scattered conversations, Ricky and I slowly began to talk with Joelle about life, travel, and as always, the present state of New Orleans. Nearly all New Orleans still talk about the depressing state of the city, and everyone is always providing the two cents worth of wisdom on how to alleviate the situation.
As for Joelle, who currently resides in Germany but is visiting family until mid-February, told us that he wonders if there really is a true solution to the dilemma that is New Orleans. Ricky and I, without hesitation, knew this was an opportunity to share about Jesus, the only true Restorer and Redeemer....
next blog..
My friend Trish dropped me off at the church around 11am. If not for two flat tires, I would've taken my bicycle. Afterall, its only 3 miles from Gentilly to the French Quarter. The church was already busting at the seems with groups from various places coming to Mardi Gras for street evangelism. Pastor Greg and I waited around the church until his wife, Wren, could meet us for lunch. While waiting, David, my closest friend who lives on the street, and I spent our time observing beer trucks drop off beverages at the neighboring Gold Mine Saloon as well as the occasional odd couple who walked down Dauphine Street. Our good friends Cajun and Troy, both street musicians, sat in their van just outside the church doors as they patiently waited for the streets to fill with wandering tourists.
And as we waited for Wren, amidst hunger pains and anxious thoughts, both Pastor Greg and I knew this day would soon collide with the night...for Mardi Gras is upon us.
After subtle salutations and short orientations with the groups at the church, my friend Ricky and I decided to meander at on the streets to see what God had planned for us. I knew I had to send a few emails, so we both decided to walk a ways on Bourbon St., then head towards CC's (Community Coffee) on Royal St.
While on Bourbon, we felt like cowards. Prior to our entry we asked God for courage and boldness to speak. But being so overwhelmed with the chaotic condition we found ourselves in, we soon discovered that even handing out a simple gospel tract became a direct act of God. I told Ricky about my fear of presenting the gospel message, especially when presented like a plan or a formula. Ricky reminded me to let God guide our steps, our words, and our conversations, and He will surely open the door.
And speaking of doors, we came to CC's and for a brief moment thought it was already closed because the door was slightly jammed. It made an obnoxious sound after I forced it open, disturbing the peace in an otherwise peaceful coffee shop. A few seconds later, the man behind me did the exact same thing, and we both began to joke about it while ordering our drinks.
I chose a seat next to the wall, and that same man decided to sit down next to Ricky and me despite the availability of several other tables. Amidst tardy emails and scattered conversations, Ricky and I slowly began to talk with Joelle about life, travel, and as always, the present state of New Orleans. Nearly all New Orleans still talk about the depressing state of the city, and everyone is always providing the two cents worth of wisdom on how to alleviate the situation.
As for Joelle, who currently resides in Germany but is visiting family until mid-February, told us that he wonders if there really is a true solution to the dilemma that is New Orleans. Ricky and I, without hesitation, knew this was an opportunity to share about Jesus, the only true Restorer and Redeemer....
next blog..
Sunday, November 18, 2007
despising the homeless...
[Books and journals and articles and blogs that act like they have everything figured out sucks, and I don't really have to explain that much because we all don't like a Mr. KnowItAll. That being said, if you read this, you might be left searching, and I'm ok with that.]
I had a fantastic weekend, but a new thought/feeling/sensation or whatever it may be came across my brain, and its affect was not favorable and I'm very curious why such a thought would even cross my path. It felt, and currently feels, like one of those obscure dreams, where you wake up saying, "where did that dream come from?" or "why would I even dream such a thing?"
Saturday was amazing because I had the opportunity to volunteer at the New Orleans Mission. We helped their ministry by serving a special Thanksgiving meal for the homeless. Some of our attenders from HIMnI helped at this event, including myself, and I was glad to see an abundance of volunteers. There were so many volunteers that I found myself being most useful by having conversations with the homeless as they stood in line outside.
I had a video camera for a short while (you should be able to see the video soon after our December HIMnI on our website), and this one homeless guy asked me if I got everyone's permission to film them. I told him that unfortunately I hadn't. He then asked me if I thought it would be ok if someone came and punched me in the mother f#*@&ing face for filming them. I told him I'd be up to the challenge (don't really know what that meant at the time; I just blurted something out in order to give the appearance that I'm hardcore yo). He then said, now what if I punch you in the mother f*%#$ing face? I said that wouldn't be such a good idea, but you're welcome to it. And that was the end of our conversation.
We talked again about an hour later and everything was cool.
Homeless people are fun, full of grief and sorrow which isn't fun, but always full of honesty which is why I say they are fun. I'm just glad someone was honest enough to say they wanted to punch me in the face. I'm sure he hasn't been the first. In truth, I think this conversation was a foreshadow of things to come, except God's doing the punching this time around.
Anyways, we helped for a couple hours on Saturday and it brought me great satisfaction.
We also had a Thanksgiving meal at our church for Sunday lunch. For some reason I told our core team that I would make a green bean casserole and a sweet potato casserole. I did make both of them, but making casseroles sure does stress me out. I spent a couple hours this morning making them, and I was extremely proud of my green bean casserole, but wasn't feeling too confident about my sweet potato casserole. My electric mixer broke and I had to mash the sweet potatoes with a fork, which is no fun at all. I can see now why most men stick to grilling meat, because casseroles are just frustrating and exhausting.
So we had this huge Thanksgiving spread full of turkey and stuffing and casseroles and it was great seeing everyone eat as a family. We had some really strange people eat with us, and it made me think about genuine hospitality in the local church. I began to wonder if these people would feel welcome in most churches, or if these people would just get strange looks. There was this one man who dressed like a woman, and he was really nice and I'm glad I got to meet him, but it made me wonder if all churches would accept him the way he is. I began to wonder if the church really believes and practices the title of that popular invitational hymn, "Just As I Am," and I wonder why I was allowed to come to Jesus that way but I prevent others coming to Jesus in the same manner.
As I think about this tonight, I've also started thinking about why I despised some of the homeless today.
We had two people come in after the service, and our policy at Vieux Carre' has always been to only welcome those who will participate with us on Sunday morning. My pastor, however, has a generous heart, and decided to make some plates of food for these people who showed up late.
My initial reaction...
This isn't right.
I actually looked at them and began to despise them for freeloading. At Vieux Carre', our only expectation for those who live on the streets is that they would treat us and everyone else like family when they're in the walls of our church. We will always do our best to love the unlovable and the difficult, but we still try to emphasize love and respect in everything.
Needless to say, I still despised them for freeloading, and I soon discovered I was contradicting the very principles our church is trying to proclaim.
It's hit me pretty hard this afternoon, and I've been mulling it over in my head for quite some time, but I just don't understand why I began to despise the homeless today. I know God has forgiven me already for such a heinous thought, and I'm grateful that He's teaching me how to extend my compassion, but I still don't understand why such a thought would enter my mind. It goes way beyond my sinful nature, something more...
Hmm, I definitely gonna be thinking about this for a while. And I really hope God uses this to make me resemble Christ more, because my thoughts weren't in line with my actions, and we all know that makes a man a hypocrite and a liar, and no one wants to be that.
So I guess what I'm saying is...
Go ahead God, do your thing. You know me better than I know me, so please make sense of my heart and my mind for me, because I don't understand.
You know that thing that you do where you have something dirty and you make it clean? I like that trick. Could you do it again please?
I had a fantastic weekend, but a new thought/feeling/sensation or whatever it may be came across my brain, and its affect was not favorable and I'm very curious why such a thought would even cross my path. It felt, and currently feels, like one of those obscure dreams, where you wake up saying, "where did that dream come from?" or "why would I even dream such a thing?"
Saturday was amazing because I had the opportunity to volunteer at the New Orleans Mission. We helped their ministry by serving a special Thanksgiving meal for the homeless. Some of our attenders from HIMnI helped at this event, including myself, and I was glad to see an abundance of volunteers. There were so many volunteers that I found myself being most useful by having conversations with the homeless as they stood in line outside.
I had a video camera for a short while (you should be able to see the video soon after our December HIMnI on our website), and this one homeless guy asked me if I got everyone's permission to film them. I told him that unfortunately I hadn't. He then asked me if I thought it would be ok if someone came and punched me in the mother f#*@&ing face for filming them. I told him I'd be up to the challenge (don't really know what that meant at the time; I just blurted something out in order to give the appearance that I'm hardcore yo). He then said, now what if I punch you in the mother f*%#$ing face? I said that wouldn't be such a good idea, but you're welcome to it. And that was the end of our conversation.
We talked again about an hour later and everything was cool.
Homeless people are fun, full of grief and sorrow which isn't fun, but always full of honesty which is why I say they are fun. I'm just glad someone was honest enough to say they wanted to punch me in the face. I'm sure he hasn't been the first. In truth, I think this conversation was a foreshadow of things to come, except God's doing the punching this time around.
Anyways, we helped for a couple hours on Saturday and it brought me great satisfaction.
We also had a Thanksgiving meal at our church for Sunday lunch. For some reason I told our core team that I would make a green bean casserole and a sweet potato casserole. I did make both of them, but making casseroles sure does stress me out. I spent a couple hours this morning making them, and I was extremely proud of my green bean casserole, but wasn't feeling too confident about my sweet potato casserole. My electric mixer broke and I had to mash the sweet potatoes with a fork, which is no fun at all. I can see now why most men stick to grilling meat, because casseroles are just frustrating and exhausting.
So we had this huge Thanksgiving spread full of turkey and stuffing and casseroles and it was great seeing everyone eat as a family. We had some really strange people eat with us, and it made me think about genuine hospitality in the local church. I began to wonder if these people would feel welcome in most churches, or if these people would just get strange looks. There was this one man who dressed like a woman, and he was really nice and I'm glad I got to meet him, but it made me wonder if all churches would accept him the way he is. I began to wonder if the church really believes and practices the title of that popular invitational hymn, "Just As I Am," and I wonder why I was allowed to come to Jesus that way but I prevent others coming to Jesus in the same manner.
As I think about this tonight, I've also started thinking about why I despised some of the homeless today.
We had two people come in after the service, and our policy at Vieux Carre' has always been to only welcome those who will participate with us on Sunday morning. My pastor, however, has a generous heart, and decided to make some plates of food for these people who showed up late.
My initial reaction...
This isn't right.
I actually looked at them and began to despise them for freeloading. At Vieux Carre', our only expectation for those who live on the streets is that they would treat us and everyone else like family when they're in the walls of our church. We will always do our best to love the unlovable and the difficult, but we still try to emphasize love and respect in everything.
Needless to say, I still despised them for freeloading, and I soon discovered I was contradicting the very principles our church is trying to proclaim.
It's hit me pretty hard this afternoon, and I've been mulling it over in my head for quite some time, but I just don't understand why I began to despise the homeless today. I know God has forgiven me already for such a heinous thought, and I'm grateful that He's teaching me how to extend my compassion, but I still don't understand why such a thought would enter my mind. It goes way beyond my sinful nature, something more...
Hmm, I definitely gonna be thinking about this for a while. And I really hope God uses this to make me resemble Christ more, because my thoughts weren't in line with my actions, and we all know that makes a man a hypocrite and a liar, and no one wants to be that.
So I guess what I'm saying is...
Go ahead God, do your thing. You know me better than I know me, so please make sense of my heart and my mind for me, because I don't understand.
You know that thing that you do where you have something dirty and you make it clean? I like that trick. Could you do it again please?
Thursday, October 25, 2007
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.
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.
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
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.
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.
Friday, September 21, 2007
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.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
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.
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."
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."
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