Recently, someone emailed me about homosexuality, whether someone can truly be a Christian if they practice this lifestyle. And since this is such an important issue at our church and in our culture, I've decided to post my reply, together with the original email, so that anyone who keeps up with our ministry in the French Quarter can know our stance on homosexuality. Feel free to comment, reply, etc.
Rest assured, this is not just a nice, theological discussion at a coffee shop for me. We deal with this question every week in the French Quarter. In fact, at my first Wednesday night Bible Study at Vieux Carre Baptist Church, I remember a woman saying (with tears), "I'm gay, but I don't want to go to hell."
[This email does not address the issue, "Are some born homosexual?" I'm not going there in this email.]
Oh God help us. Help us to know Truth. Help us to walk in Love. And help us to never emphasize one over the other. Both are equally important, and they are both found in You alone, through Jesus alone, by means of the Spirit alone.
Hi Greg
[first paragraph deleted]
My question was in regards to homosexuality and if your church teaches it is ok for a homosexual to continue in their lifestyle, as long as it is monogamous yet still be a follower of Christ. I am very curious where your church stands on this topic (or really any fundamentalists classified sinful lifestyle, not just homosexuality). Please know I am NOT trying to "pick a fight" or "prove my point", I am sincerely wondering where your church stands on such topics and not having the past emails is leaving me in the dark. Specifically, can a person become a born-again christian yet still live a practicing lifestyle of sinning?
Thanks again for your time and I look forward to your response
Steve
Steve,
you and i bounced replies back and forth several times. and I'm fairly certain you even responded to some of them. I'll do my best to look in my sent folder and forward them to you.
i'm very excited that you are earnestly seeking a question to this answer. I do believe the scriptures indicate and right and wrong in several matters, and I would never do anything to steer away from the truth.
If I may, let me tell you what I believe. For the most part, and perhaps all of it, you may assume that everyone else at Vieux Carre believes the same. As far as I know, there isn't a written statement of beliefs for our church other than the generic one's we ascribe to such as the Baptist Faith and Message.
Let me respond by quoting 1 Corinthians 6:9-10.
"Do you not know that the wicked will not inherit the kingdom of God? Do not be deceived: Neither the sexually immoral nor idolaters nor adulterers nor male prostitutes nor homosexual offenders nor thieves nor the greedy nor drunkards nor slanderers nor swindlers will inherit the kingdom of God."
To my disdain, someone who practices homosexuality will not inherit the kingdom of God. Up to me, I wish that all were saved and all would inherit the kingdom of God. But that is not what the Book says, and my hearts desire for myself and for the church is that we be people of the Book. We believe it wholeheartedly.
Unfortunately for me, I fit some of those other categories. Example, "idolater," "adulterer," "drunkard," "greedy," and I could go on. That means I too am without hope and completely depraved.
But thanks be to God that he saved me from a life of sin and death, and gave me new life seen through a righteousness that is not my own, but granted to me through the provision of Jesus Christ, by means of his death on a cross.
That's why the next verse then says,
"And that is what some of you were. But you were washed, you were sanctified, you were justified in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ and by the Spirit of our God." v. 11
God grants me the ability to walk away from my previous lifestyle, my lifestyle of sin, and embrace a sanctified life, and life full of holiness and purity. And this can only be done through the name of Jesus and by the Spirit of God. God is holy, his holiness demands justice, because He wouldn't be God if he didn't respond to sin. He will respond to sin by means of His wrath. He must, otherwise He is not God because He would be neglecting his holiness, which might be the most important trait about God. His wrath, however, is deflected by means of his love, because God's love is equally as important as his wrath. This is why He sent His Son Jesus. He responded to sin by sending his Son as a sacrifice for our sins. Jesus bore the wrath of our sin. Not just so He could pay for our sins, but so we could be set free from our sins. Sins, which include homosexuality, as the Bible indicates.
Can a person practice homosexuality, remain in a homosexual lifestyle, and still claim to be a follower of Christ? Absolutely not. In the same breath, neither can a cheater. Neither can a liar. Neither can an idolater or an adulterer. Sometimes the Bible teaches us to understand right from wrong. And with great sincerity in my heart, since I'm speaking as one who has homosexual friends, I agree with scripture by saying homosexuals will not and cannot inherit the kingdom of God.
Can a believer still struggle with this sin? Can a believer fall back into the temptation of homosexuality? Absolutely yes. But Jesus has overcome the world, He is abounding in love, mercy, and patience. And calls us to repent daily and to live for him. The beautiful thing about this is that Jesus enables and empowers us to be more than conquerers, and to defeat and overcome our greatest sins and temptations. The key issue is godly repentance, not worldly repentance.
"Born again" Christians, as you phrased it, will always struggle with sin in this life until we are perfected when we enter into glory with Jesus, but true "born again" believers don't practice lifestyles of sinning because God has freed us from such a travesty.
I hope this helps and I look forward to your response.
Greg
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
Sometimes I think God is naughty...
Sometimes I think God is naughty. Now I know God is not naughty but actually supremely wise and sovereign, yet I can’t help but think that. Some say God lets evil happen, and some believe God is nothing but wrathful. And why shouldn’t they? After all, there are lots of things we can’t explain if we hold on to this dualistic mindset of right and wrong, good and evil. Pain exists, and so does evil. Which also means that sin exists, if you prefer that word, and we all have done our best to explain why God permits such things to exist. I know that I’m not a theologian, so I just think He’s naughty.
I don’t know what the dictionary says about the word naughty, but I believe naughty means being playfully bad, when you know what is the right thing to do. You should obey your mom and clean your room, but you watch cartoons instead. You should study for tomorrow’s exam, but you play Poker with your friends instead. You should take your date home immediately, but you only get back when the sun rises. Getting the picture? In any given situation, you have the opportunity to do what is right, but instead you do what you shouldn’t. In other words, if there was a spectrum of right and wrong, of good and bad, and you found these terms on opposite ends, the word naughty would be close to the middle, but leaning more towards the negative side of the spectrum.
In my mind, God has this awesome story going on. It began with a good thing, and then the good thing became a bad thing. Then this bad thing was fixed by another good thing even though the bad thing still exists. And one day all of the good things and bad things will be dealt with in a manner where God gets all the glory.
And this entire story of this battle between good and bad things is part of God’s story. I don’t think it can be written any other way. I’m pretty sure the laws of time and space do not permit us to go back and rewrite history, so I’ve gotten to a point where I’ve just accepted what has happened, both good and bad, and done my best to discover how this fits into God’s amazing story. I’ve tried to break those laws before, but time and space can be pretty difficult to break. I used to train my mind to transcend the laws of time and space, hoping that I’d magically appear during the American Revolution with a machine gun so the Americans wouldn’t have such a hard time winning the war, but in the end all I’d produce was a great fantasy and a horrible migraine. History is full of good things and bad things, but mostly just bad things that can’t be explained. I don’t know why God would permit such things to happen like the Holocaust, the disappearance of Atlantis and dinosaurs, the early retirement of Barry Sanders, and genocide. I honestly go insane thinking about the why’s of God, so I just say God is naughty, and in some cases, extremely naughty.
My mom used to frequently call me a “naughty little boy.” Every Christmas season my family and I would spend an evening together decorating the Christmas tree while drinking eggnog and listening to Christmas songs. Now I love eggnog, but only when it comes from a metal can. Not the carton eggnog, but the metal one where you have to use a can-opener. All eggnog connoisseurs will know which one I’m talking about.
Anyways, eggnog always made me really fat because I’d drink tons of it during Christmas. Many nights I would get out of my bad, go down to the kitchen, quietly open the refrigerator door, and drink eggnog until my little fat belly was full. I’d leave just enough in the can so that no one would become suspicious since our entire family loves eggnog. Then I would go back to bed with a belly full of eggnog, feeling sick to my stomach and wanting to throw up.
But one night my mom caught me.
My mom is a very proper and polite mom who grew up in South Africa and talks with an English accent as if she has a hot potato in her mouth. So when she first caught me she said, “Greggie, you naughty little boy. Go back to bed.” I think I’ve heard that phrase a thousand times!
For example, I used to rub my hands in my little sister’s face to annoy her, and then I’d hear my mom say it again, “Stop it, you naughty little boy!”
I used to T.P. (that’s toilet paper for you poor sheltered kids out there) peoples yards and my mom would always find out and call me a naughty little boy…again.
I used to trash my friend’s cars with garlic powder, sardines, shaving cream, and saran wrap. My mom would somehow always find out about my pranks and say it once more—naughty.
We’d go on church trips and I would sneak into the girls rooms and my mom actually caught me one time and was greatly disappointed and called me naughty yet again.
My mom always said that I’d have to be held responsible for all my pranks and naughty little deeds, but I’ve always said, “Do the crime if you can do the time.” But that’s probably not a good philosophy.
Naughty, naughty, naughty…
Not bad…
Definitely not evil…
Just naughty.
Even now my mom always refers to me as her naughty little boy. Somehow I think it’s become more of an “I love you” name rather than an “I’m disappointed” name. My mom wouldn’t want me to be naughty, but she never minded because she knew I was just a boy wanting to do childish things. I guess that made her a little naughty since she never stopped it. Sometimes I think she allowed me to be a little naughty.
And sometimes I think God allows Himself to be a little naughty too.
I know what some of you may be thinking, but don’t go there. No, God is not a little boy placing cherry bombs in the school toilet. No, God is not a boy with a magnifying glass standing over an anthill, having fun and being a little naughty. I live in New Orleans, and I do not consider Hurricane Katrina to be a naughty little deed. No, God does not create evil nor does He have anything to do with it. That’s just dumb! Haven’t you heard that God is love?
My brother and I decided to read through the bible in 90 days which probably won’t happen since I’m a little naughty and never finish what I set out to do. But on our first day of reading I came across the story about the tower of Babel.
In Genesis 11, the author mentions how there was a time when “the whole world had one language and a common speech.” The people were coming together and organizing themselves and began to talk about building a tower. When I was younger my Sunday school teachers told me that they built the tower because they were trying to reach God, but I don’t know if that’s entirely true. Verse 4 says, “Then they said, ‘Come, let us build ourselves a city, with a tower that reaches to the heavens, so that we may make a name for ourselves and not be scattered over the face of the whole earth’.” Now that doesn’t sound too bad. These people just wanted to get as close to the heavens as they could and they wanted to stay together. How could that be bad?
Why did God need to intervene in this moment?
And why are there so many different languages?
I just returned from a trip to Myanmar (also called Burma) where my brother and I helped this man coach a basketball camp for one week. Fortunately basketball has now become sort of a universal language in which we could use hand signals and different demonstrations to teach them certain skills and drills. But it sure was hard to communicate with them. They spoke Burmese, and it honestly sounds like nothing I’ve ever heard before. It was extremely frustrating when I was trying to teach the finer aspects of the game.
In my opinion, I think God was being a little naughty when he scattered everyone and gave us different languages. I personally think it would be much easier for mankind, especially concerning the spreading of the Good News, if we all spoke the same language.
So God then comes down to the city, sees them building a tower, and decides to do something about it. Verse 6 says, “The Lord said, ‘If as one people speaking the same language they have begun to do this, then nothing they plan will be impossible for them. Come, let us [kinda cool how he includes His entire being in this matter] go down and confuse their language so they will not understand each other’.”
Can you imagine God “coming down” to confuse languages? Can you actually fathom that God most Holy and most Awesome and most Powerful and most Sovereign came down merely to confuse us by making us speak in ways we can’t understand one another? Can you imagine when the people began to talk and realized that other people sounded really strange and they couldn’t even understand what other people were saying? Did they remember their original language? Did they begin to make signs to one another as a last great attempt to work together on the tower? I’d imagine that if I was alive during this moment, I’d yell at the top of my lungs with a Chris Farley like desperation, “What is going on here?!!!” But I’d also wonder what language I was yelling. I’d hope my new language would be the one in Africa where they make a bunch of clicking noises.
So there you have it. God was just being naughty.
Come on!! You don’t see it? Being surrounded by the things of God my entire life and growing up in a good Christian home, I have now come to realize that I have to remove my Sunday School tie in order to really think about Scripture.
The people were organizing themselves, trying to reach heaven, and God then says something quite profound. He says, “Then nothing they plan to do will be impossible.”
Am I missing something? Does God not want the best for us? Doesn’t He say that He wants to give us life to the fullest? Does He also say that He has plans to prosper us, not to harm us, plans to give us hope and a future?
That’s why I say God is naughty. Two reasons support this. First, God is not evil. Second, God never contradicts himself. Since I fully believe He is neither evil nor contradictory, he has to be naughty. How else can you explain this story about the tower of Babel? And what better word to describe God’s actions at the tower of Babel than “naughty.”
But maybe I’ve been missing something all along.
My two reasons supported my light accusation that God is naughty, but I believe there is a third reason that provides a greater explanation as to why God may be naughty and why God permits language barriers…
and hurricanes…
and tsunamis…
and earthquakes.
God is not evil nor is He contradictory, but more importantly God is not accidental. Behind each moment in life is a divine purpose from the very heart of God.
And that purpose is God.
He is behind everything. What we are doing now at this very moment is a result of God’s very detailed and purposeful story. It’s not a story about me. It’s not a story about you. It’s not even a story about mankind. No, God is creating a story for Himself, for his glory, and for his credit.
The people at the tower of Babel quite possibly were doing a good thing. They were actually unified, which is something we never see, and they were trying to reach the heavens.
But this was not part of God’s story. More importantly, God was not getting any credit. The tower of Babel was about man taking credit for himself, not for God. In modern day terms, it’s like starting a church plant, seeing it grow to thousands of people, and then taking credit for it. Maybe I’m wrong, but I think I’m beginning to see lots of Babel towers around the world. Hmmm…
I do believe with all my heart that God has wonderful plans for us and that He wants to give us full lives, but I believe even more that God should be the one who gives us this. I would love to give myself a full life, and I would love to know that I have created wonderful plans for my life, but I can’t. Only God can do that. Only God can take the credit for such a wonderful thing.
After seeing the Gulf Coast and my beloved city being torn apart by Hurricane Katrina, I began to wonder if God was truly behind every detail of life. I began to wonder if Hurricane Katrina could’ve just slipped by without God noticing. But then I began to think about the tsunami in Asia and the earthquake in Pakistan. If things were slipping by without God noticing, then He sure was missing a lot of things. Hurricane Katrina brought up a question that came from the very depths of my soul,
“Is God really behind every detail of life?”
My heart, my faith, and more importantly the Word of God provided me with that answer. Yes, God has planned and ordained everything. And yes, God purposed Hurricane Katrina. Why? I don’t know. But I’m listening…probably listening now more than ever. I’m beginning to understand even more that everything is planned according to His plans, not mine.
God is naughty, but He’s only naughty from my point of view. From His point of view, I’m willing to bet He’s very meticulous in His planning. I’m willing to bet that He’s planned every event in history very carefully. And I’m willing to bet that He’s carefully planned our lives as well. I’m willing to bet He sees a greater picture in mind that I will never be able to see. Perhaps He doesn’t think He’s naughty by nature at all.
All I’m saying is that God is God, I’m probably the naughty one, and it’s His story. The way I see it, God can do whatever He wants. It’s His story. We play roles in the story. They are very important roles because actors in the end give credit to the playwright just as a book gives credit to its author. We are the words that God continues to use to develop this amazing story about how amazing and wonderful and awesome God really is!
From our perspective, a naughty God permitting evil leads to frustration and pain and grief and anxiety. But from this perceived naughtiness comes a greater good that only God can see. After all, it’s His story.
~written in 2006
I don’t know what the dictionary says about the word naughty, but I believe naughty means being playfully bad, when you know what is the right thing to do. You should obey your mom and clean your room, but you watch cartoons instead. You should study for tomorrow’s exam, but you play Poker with your friends instead. You should take your date home immediately, but you only get back when the sun rises. Getting the picture? In any given situation, you have the opportunity to do what is right, but instead you do what you shouldn’t. In other words, if there was a spectrum of right and wrong, of good and bad, and you found these terms on opposite ends, the word naughty would be close to the middle, but leaning more towards the negative side of the spectrum.
In my mind, God has this awesome story going on. It began with a good thing, and then the good thing became a bad thing. Then this bad thing was fixed by another good thing even though the bad thing still exists. And one day all of the good things and bad things will be dealt with in a manner where God gets all the glory.
And this entire story of this battle between good and bad things is part of God’s story. I don’t think it can be written any other way. I’m pretty sure the laws of time and space do not permit us to go back and rewrite history, so I’ve gotten to a point where I’ve just accepted what has happened, both good and bad, and done my best to discover how this fits into God’s amazing story. I’ve tried to break those laws before, but time and space can be pretty difficult to break. I used to train my mind to transcend the laws of time and space, hoping that I’d magically appear during the American Revolution with a machine gun so the Americans wouldn’t have such a hard time winning the war, but in the end all I’d produce was a great fantasy and a horrible migraine. History is full of good things and bad things, but mostly just bad things that can’t be explained. I don’t know why God would permit such things to happen like the Holocaust, the disappearance of Atlantis and dinosaurs, the early retirement of Barry Sanders, and genocide. I honestly go insane thinking about the why’s of God, so I just say God is naughty, and in some cases, extremely naughty.
My mom used to frequently call me a “naughty little boy.” Every Christmas season my family and I would spend an evening together decorating the Christmas tree while drinking eggnog and listening to Christmas songs. Now I love eggnog, but only when it comes from a metal can. Not the carton eggnog, but the metal one where you have to use a can-opener. All eggnog connoisseurs will know which one I’m talking about.
Anyways, eggnog always made me really fat because I’d drink tons of it during Christmas. Many nights I would get out of my bad, go down to the kitchen, quietly open the refrigerator door, and drink eggnog until my little fat belly was full. I’d leave just enough in the can so that no one would become suspicious since our entire family loves eggnog. Then I would go back to bed with a belly full of eggnog, feeling sick to my stomach and wanting to throw up.
But one night my mom caught me.
My mom is a very proper and polite mom who grew up in South Africa and talks with an English accent as if she has a hot potato in her mouth. So when she first caught me she said, “Greggie, you naughty little boy. Go back to bed.” I think I’ve heard that phrase a thousand times!
For example, I used to rub my hands in my little sister’s face to annoy her, and then I’d hear my mom say it again, “Stop it, you naughty little boy!”
I used to T.P. (that’s toilet paper for you poor sheltered kids out there) peoples yards and my mom would always find out and call me a naughty little boy…again.
I used to trash my friend’s cars with garlic powder, sardines, shaving cream, and saran wrap. My mom would somehow always find out about my pranks and say it once more—naughty.
We’d go on church trips and I would sneak into the girls rooms and my mom actually caught me one time and was greatly disappointed and called me naughty yet again.
My mom always said that I’d have to be held responsible for all my pranks and naughty little deeds, but I’ve always said, “Do the crime if you can do the time.” But that’s probably not a good philosophy.
Naughty, naughty, naughty…
Not bad…
Definitely not evil…
Just naughty.
Even now my mom always refers to me as her naughty little boy. Somehow I think it’s become more of an “I love you” name rather than an “I’m disappointed” name. My mom wouldn’t want me to be naughty, but she never minded because she knew I was just a boy wanting to do childish things. I guess that made her a little naughty since she never stopped it. Sometimes I think she allowed me to be a little naughty.
And sometimes I think God allows Himself to be a little naughty too.
I know what some of you may be thinking, but don’t go there. No, God is not a little boy placing cherry bombs in the school toilet. No, God is not a boy with a magnifying glass standing over an anthill, having fun and being a little naughty. I live in New Orleans, and I do not consider Hurricane Katrina to be a naughty little deed. No, God does not create evil nor does He have anything to do with it. That’s just dumb! Haven’t you heard that God is love?
My brother and I decided to read through the bible in 90 days which probably won’t happen since I’m a little naughty and never finish what I set out to do. But on our first day of reading I came across the story about the tower of Babel.
In Genesis 11, the author mentions how there was a time when “the whole world had one language and a common speech.” The people were coming together and organizing themselves and began to talk about building a tower. When I was younger my Sunday school teachers told me that they built the tower because they were trying to reach God, but I don’t know if that’s entirely true. Verse 4 says, “Then they said, ‘Come, let us build ourselves a city, with a tower that reaches to the heavens, so that we may make a name for ourselves and not be scattered over the face of the whole earth’.” Now that doesn’t sound too bad. These people just wanted to get as close to the heavens as they could and they wanted to stay together. How could that be bad?
Why did God need to intervene in this moment?
And why are there so many different languages?
I just returned from a trip to Myanmar (also called Burma) where my brother and I helped this man coach a basketball camp for one week. Fortunately basketball has now become sort of a universal language in which we could use hand signals and different demonstrations to teach them certain skills and drills. But it sure was hard to communicate with them. They spoke Burmese, and it honestly sounds like nothing I’ve ever heard before. It was extremely frustrating when I was trying to teach the finer aspects of the game.
In my opinion, I think God was being a little naughty when he scattered everyone and gave us different languages. I personally think it would be much easier for mankind, especially concerning the spreading of the Good News, if we all spoke the same language.
So God then comes down to the city, sees them building a tower, and decides to do something about it. Verse 6 says, “The Lord said, ‘If as one people speaking the same language they have begun to do this, then nothing they plan will be impossible for them. Come, let us [kinda cool how he includes His entire being in this matter] go down and confuse their language so they will not understand each other’.”
Can you imagine God “coming down” to confuse languages? Can you actually fathom that God most Holy and most Awesome and most Powerful and most Sovereign came down merely to confuse us by making us speak in ways we can’t understand one another? Can you imagine when the people began to talk and realized that other people sounded really strange and they couldn’t even understand what other people were saying? Did they remember their original language? Did they begin to make signs to one another as a last great attempt to work together on the tower? I’d imagine that if I was alive during this moment, I’d yell at the top of my lungs with a Chris Farley like desperation, “What is going on here?!!!” But I’d also wonder what language I was yelling. I’d hope my new language would be the one in Africa where they make a bunch of clicking noises.
So there you have it. God was just being naughty.
Come on!! You don’t see it? Being surrounded by the things of God my entire life and growing up in a good Christian home, I have now come to realize that I have to remove my Sunday School tie in order to really think about Scripture.
The people were organizing themselves, trying to reach heaven, and God then says something quite profound. He says, “Then nothing they plan to do will be impossible.”
Am I missing something? Does God not want the best for us? Doesn’t He say that He wants to give us life to the fullest? Does He also say that He has plans to prosper us, not to harm us, plans to give us hope and a future?
That’s why I say God is naughty. Two reasons support this. First, God is not evil. Second, God never contradicts himself. Since I fully believe He is neither evil nor contradictory, he has to be naughty. How else can you explain this story about the tower of Babel? And what better word to describe God’s actions at the tower of Babel than “naughty.”
But maybe I’ve been missing something all along.
My two reasons supported my light accusation that God is naughty, but I believe there is a third reason that provides a greater explanation as to why God may be naughty and why God permits language barriers…
and hurricanes…
and tsunamis…
and earthquakes.
God is not evil nor is He contradictory, but more importantly God is not accidental. Behind each moment in life is a divine purpose from the very heart of God.
And that purpose is God.
He is behind everything. What we are doing now at this very moment is a result of God’s very detailed and purposeful story. It’s not a story about me. It’s not a story about you. It’s not even a story about mankind. No, God is creating a story for Himself, for his glory, and for his credit.
The people at the tower of Babel quite possibly were doing a good thing. They were actually unified, which is something we never see, and they were trying to reach the heavens.
But this was not part of God’s story. More importantly, God was not getting any credit. The tower of Babel was about man taking credit for himself, not for God. In modern day terms, it’s like starting a church plant, seeing it grow to thousands of people, and then taking credit for it. Maybe I’m wrong, but I think I’m beginning to see lots of Babel towers around the world. Hmmm…
I do believe with all my heart that God has wonderful plans for us and that He wants to give us full lives, but I believe even more that God should be the one who gives us this. I would love to give myself a full life, and I would love to know that I have created wonderful plans for my life, but I can’t. Only God can do that. Only God can take the credit for such a wonderful thing.
After seeing the Gulf Coast and my beloved city being torn apart by Hurricane Katrina, I began to wonder if God was truly behind every detail of life. I began to wonder if Hurricane Katrina could’ve just slipped by without God noticing. But then I began to think about the tsunami in Asia and the earthquake in Pakistan. If things were slipping by without God noticing, then He sure was missing a lot of things. Hurricane Katrina brought up a question that came from the very depths of my soul,
“Is God really behind every detail of life?”
My heart, my faith, and more importantly the Word of God provided me with that answer. Yes, God has planned and ordained everything. And yes, God purposed Hurricane Katrina. Why? I don’t know. But I’m listening…probably listening now more than ever. I’m beginning to understand even more that everything is planned according to His plans, not mine.
God is naughty, but He’s only naughty from my point of view. From His point of view, I’m willing to bet He’s very meticulous in His planning. I’m willing to bet that He’s planned every event in history very carefully. And I’m willing to bet that He’s carefully planned our lives as well. I’m willing to bet He sees a greater picture in mind that I will never be able to see. Perhaps He doesn’t think He’s naughty by nature at all.
All I’m saying is that God is God, I’m probably the naughty one, and it’s His story. The way I see it, God can do whatever He wants. It’s His story. We play roles in the story. They are very important roles because actors in the end give credit to the playwright just as a book gives credit to its author. We are the words that God continues to use to develop this amazing story about how amazing and wonderful and awesome God really is!
From our perspective, a naughty God permitting evil leads to frustration and pain and grief and anxiety. But from this perceived naughtiness comes a greater good that only God can see. After all, it’s His story.
~written in 2006
Saturday, February 2, 2008
Day 1 Part 2 Vieux Carre Mardi Gras
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
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
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.
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