This is perhaps my favorite photograph!
And good bye to my new little Mississippi friends. My friend, Debra, and I quickly made connections with so many of these precious children. God, be with them.
Sunday, October 02, 2005
And a last photo...or two
This is perhaps my favorite photograph!
And good bye to my new little Mississippi friends. My friend, Debra, and I quickly made connections with so many of these precious children. God, be with them.
Katrina Report--Last one!
At least that's the plan.
These first pictures are from a Waveland street right on the gulf. If one had looked out the front door of one of these homes, there would have been nothing to hinder the view. Just your lawn and then a narrow street and then a beautiful, white beach and the gulf waters beyond. I'm told that some of the most beautiful homes of the gulf coast were located here. In most cases, nothing, and I mean nothing, but foundations are left. I can only assume that the disintegrated houses were swept into the gulf as the storm surge receded. But this home was a strange sight to see, with the bottom floor completely gone but at least part of the second floor, including nice windows, intact. Notice again, the beautiful oak trees are stripped of foliage and the grass is "burnt" brown.
Notice these large steps. It must have been a very big house. All that is left are steps to nowhere.
Ken took these pictures of the railroad tracks. They are twisted totally out of shape. And part of the top of a house is flung onto the tracks.
These pictures are not far from the Assembly of God Church of Waveland. Perhaps we will take a team there early next year. We stopped by to see how they were doing, having been told that the church was a total loss. It was standing, but completely destroyed by mold and will have to be torn down. The pastor and his family are living in a little camper. The Presbyterian pastor was there too, and his lovely wife. The two families are good friends. The Presbyterian pastor's wife was the only woman I saw all week who had a "full face" of makeup on. Her hair was neatly combed, and she was casually but impeccably dressed. It was so unusual as to be striking.
I remember her sad eyes as she showed us her only remaining possessions, five decorative plates that had been a present from her grandmother. She was trying to remove the remains of Katrina's mud, a sticky smelly substance that stuck fast. The AG church had some running water, so she was there using the garden hose. It was a very sad sight. Tears filled her eyes as she told us they had lost everything, but she smiled when she told us that the Presbyterian church had, miraculously, been totally spared--an amazing story. A man who was not part of their church, in fact had not darkened the door of a church for many years, was riding out the storm from somewhere near the church. He told the pastor and his wife that he watched the storm surge coming in, watched it part and go around the Presbyterian Church, and come together again as it passed! He was in church the following Sunday! Wow!
I also remember the faces of many people. The beautiful young black girl who asked me to paint AK 2B on her face (Alicia Keyes to be). I did so, but I told her she just needed to be herself. That was great enough. If I see her on American Idol some day, I will recognize her. I told her so.
I remember Stephen, a sweet-faced, chubby little boy who his sisters called "Bubba." I learned that "Bubba" is not, contrary to what we northerners think, a derogatory name, but simply an affectionate term for "brother." I painted a football on his face one day, and a heart the next day (a return customer)! He waved cheerily to me as he left. He said he'd see me again the next day. I was sad to tell him that I would be on my way back home to Wisconsin. I wish I could start a sidewalk Sunday school at the K Mart parking lot, or at the Taco Bell lot where many of the children seemed to be "living."
I remember one of those children from the Taco Bell lot (if I am remembering rightly)a boy who opened his "gift box" (a shoebox full of toys from an Alliance Church in NJ) and shouted with glee because he'd received a "Woody" puppet. Think Disney's "Toy Story". His mama told us, with something like joy on her face, that Woody was "his favorite, his very favorite character!"
I remember the strikingly beautiful elderly woman who sat down under our canopy and gratefully accepted a cold bottle of Aquafina, telling us that she was 91. And had lost everything.
I remember the day we heard that some of our colleagues had helped a woman who had lost her two children during Katrina. She didn't know if they were alive, and if they were...where they were. They were in a Red Cross shelter in Utah, along with their babysitter. We all rejoiced.
I remember the children, sad-eyed and a bit fearful, most keeping a watchful eye out for the grownup with them. My mind could not comprehend the losses they have suffered. They lost their homes (in most cases), their belongings, their school, their McDonald's, their K-Mart, their entire town. I left Camp Katrina with a feeling of relief that I could return to my clean little home in my clean little town in nice, cool Wisconsin. But I can't stop thinking of those faces, those eyes, those stories. I pray for Waveland, and all along the gulf coast, every day. I don't think my life will ever be quite the same.
Thank you, Gulfport AG church, for allowing us to sleep in your rooms and rinse off in your showers and attend Sunday worship service with you. In retrospect, I see God's plan in it all.
I hope I will see these once-beautiful towns again, in better days.
These first pictures are from a Waveland street right on the gulf. If one had looked out the front door of one of these homes, there would have been nothing to hinder the view. Just your lawn and then a narrow street and then a beautiful, white beach and the gulf waters beyond. I'm told that some of the most beautiful homes of the gulf coast were located here. In most cases, nothing, and I mean nothing, but foundations are left. I can only assume that the disintegrated houses were swept into the gulf as the storm surge receded. But this home was a strange sight to see, with the bottom floor completely gone but at least part of the second floor, including nice windows, intact. Notice again, the beautiful oak trees are stripped of foliage and the grass is "burnt" brown.
Notice these large steps. It must have been a very big house. All that is left are steps to nowhere.
Ken took these pictures of the railroad tracks. They are twisted totally out of shape. And part of the top of a house is flung onto the tracks.
These pictures are not far from the Assembly of God Church of Waveland. Perhaps we will take a team there early next year. We stopped by to see how they were doing, having been told that the church was a total loss. It was standing, but completely destroyed by mold and will have to be torn down. The pastor and his family are living in a little camper. The Presbyterian pastor was there too, and his lovely wife. The two families are good friends. The Presbyterian pastor's wife was the only woman I saw all week who had a "full face" of makeup on. Her hair was neatly combed, and she was casually but impeccably dressed. It was so unusual as to be striking.
I remember her sad eyes as she showed us her only remaining possessions, five decorative plates that had been a present from her grandmother. She was trying to remove the remains of Katrina's mud, a sticky smelly substance that stuck fast. The AG church had some running water, so she was there using the garden hose. It was a very sad sight. Tears filled her eyes as she told us they had lost everything, but she smiled when she told us that the Presbyterian church had, miraculously, been totally spared--an amazing story. A man who was not part of their church, in fact had not darkened the door of a church for many years, was riding out the storm from somewhere near the church. He told the pastor and his wife that he watched the storm surge coming in, watched it part and go around the Presbyterian Church, and come together again as it passed! He was in church the following Sunday! Wow!
I also remember the faces of many people. The beautiful young black girl who asked me to paint AK 2B on her face (Alicia Keyes to be). I did so, but I told her she just needed to be herself. That was great enough. If I see her on American Idol some day, I will recognize her. I told her so.
I remember Stephen, a sweet-faced, chubby little boy who his sisters called "Bubba." I learned that "Bubba" is not, contrary to what we northerners think, a derogatory name, but simply an affectionate term for "brother." I painted a football on his face one day, and a heart the next day (a return customer)! He waved cheerily to me as he left. He said he'd see me again the next day. I was sad to tell him that I would be on my way back home to Wisconsin. I wish I could start a sidewalk Sunday school at the K Mart parking lot, or at the Taco Bell lot where many of the children seemed to be "living."
I remember one of those children from the Taco Bell lot (if I am remembering rightly)a boy who opened his "gift box" (a shoebox full of toys from an Alliance Church in NJ) and shouted with glee because he'd received a "Woody" puppet. Think Disney's "Toy Story". His mama told us, with something like joy on her face, that Woody was "his favorite, his very favorite character!"
I remember the strikingly beautiful elderly woman who sat down under our canopy and gratefully accepted a cold bottle of Aquafina, telling us that she was 91. And had lost everything.
I remember the day we heard that some of our colleagues had helped a woman who had lost her two children during Katrina. She didn't know if they were alive, and if they were...where they were. They were in a Red Cross shelter in Utah, along with their babysitter. We all rejoiced.
I remember the children, sad-eyed and a bit fearful, most keeping a watchful eye out for the grownup with them. My mind could not comprehend the losses they have suffered. They lost their homes (in most cases), their belongings, their school, their McDonald's, their K-Mart, their entire town. I left Camp Katrina with a feeling of relief that I could return to my clean little home in my clean little town in nice, cool Wisconsin. But I can't stop thinking of those faces, those eyes, those stories. I pray for Waveland, and all along the gulf coast, every day. I don't think my life will ever be quite the same.
Thank you, Gulfport AG church, for allowing us to sleep in your rooms and rinse off in your showers and attend Sunday worship service with you. In retrospect, I see God's plan in it all.
I hope I will see these once-beautiful towns again, in better days.
Saturday, October 01, 2005
Katrina Report Part Six: In the K Mart Parking Lot
You can click on any of these blog photos to see them in a larger format.
The heavily damaged K Mart stood closed and dark. Out front of our site we could see a perpetual long line of Katrina victims, most with borrowed K Mart shopping carts, waiting to enter our store for food and supplies. The heat and humidity were intense. We watched for those who needed water or a place to sit down. To the right of the store, we handed out tents, blankets, pillows and sleeping bags. That is, we handed them out when we had them. There was a limited supply, and some always stood in a long line only to be disappointed. As you can see in the photo, the line extends as far as we could see.
Notice the trees. They are battered and mostly bare. Few leaves remain...an uncanny sight in the summer heat. Every sign in Waveland is torn and broken, every business but one was closed, we saw one home in a habitable condition. But the line of people come from Waveland, Pas Christian, Picayune, Bay St. Louis, and other towns. The enormity of the devastation is hard to grasp.
The K-Mart parking lot became "Camp Katrina," home to about 40 Waveland people living in nylon tents. Additionally there was a medical tent, our Convoy of Hope store and restaurant, a large tent to house the volunteers, an Aging Services tent, and several others. Just to the side of our disbursement "store" was a shattered McDonald's and a large pile of debris. You can see in the picture that a nylon tent is located behind the restaurant. To the rear of our tent was the vacant lot full of garbage. Trash and debris were everywhere, and the stench of mold rose from the parking lot when it got wet (as it did when I poured water over my hot feet one afternoon).
Just next door to the store stood "The Waveland Cafe." A board outside held messages, pictures of missing loved ones, phone numbers, and other information.
Inside, people from many denominations cooked and served food to over 5,000 people each day.
Here, some weary people share lunch and conversation.
Behind The Waveland Store and The Waveland Cafe, a flurry of activity took place--semis arrived and forklifts offloaded the trucks and moved supplies to the makeshift warehouse tent. Then the supplies were moved, as we needed them, to the store. Here, Ken and I stand beside the bright Convoy of Hope simi trailer. It's our last night in Waveland, and we have mixed feelings as we head towards our vehicle and "home" to First Assembly in Gulfport for the last night.
The heavily damaged K Mart stood closed and dark. Out front of our site we could see a perpetual long line of Katrina victims, most with borrowed K Mart shopping carts, waiting to enter our store for food and supplies. The heat and humidity were intense. We watched for those who needed water or a place to sit down. To the right of the store, we handed out tents, blankets, pillows and sleeping bags. That is, we handed them out when we had them. There was a limited supply, and some always stood in a long line only to be disappointed. As you can see in the photo, the line extends as far as we could see.
Notice the trees. They are battered and mostly bare. Few leaves remain...an uncanny sight in the summer heat. Every sign in Waveland is torn and broken, every business but one was closed, we saw one home in a habitable condition. But the line of people come from Waveland, Pas Christian, Picayune, Bay St. Louis, and other towns. The enormity of the devastation is hard to grasp.
The K-Mart parking lot became "Camp Katrina," home to about 40 Waveland people living in nylon tents. Additionally there was a medical tent, our Convoy of Hope store and restaurant, a large tent to house the volunteers, an Aging Services tent, and several others. Just to the side of our disbursement "store" was a shattered McDonald's and a large pile of debris. You can see in the picture that a nylon tent is located behind the restaurant. To the rear of our tent was the vacant lot full of garbage. Trash and debris were everywhere, and the stench of mold rose from the parking lot when it got wet (as it did when I poured water over my hot feet one afternoon).
Just next door to the store stood "The Waveland Cafe." A board outside held messages, pictures of missing loved ones, phone numbers, and other information.
Inside, people from many denominations cooked and served food to over 5,000 people each day.
Here, some weary people share lunch and conversation.
Behind The Waveland Store and The Waveland Cafe, a flurry of activity took place--semis arrived and forklifts offloaded the trucks and moved supplies to the makeshift warehouse tent. Then the supplies were moved, as we needed them, to the store. Here, Ken and I stand beside the bright Convoy of Hope simi trailer. It's our last night in Waveland, and we have mixed feelings as we head towards our vehicle and "home" to First Assembly in Gulfport for the last night.
Katrina Report Part Five: Outside the Door of "The Waveland Store"
The National Guard was evident. And appreciated. These two posed outside "The Waveland Store" (our disbursement center) with a Waveland resident. Afterward, he ran into the big tent to gleefully inform a buddy, "I got my picture taken with th' Army men!"
Debra and me (in the hat) with two little customers.
On our third day in Waveland, Misty, our wonderful "boss" announced that she actually had enough volunteers inside the tent so that Deb and I could go outside and talk with people, set up our little face paint table and give both the parents and the children a much-needed break. We painted hundreds of little faces. All colors: beautiful dark brown faces surrounded by black braids, white faces with blonde hair blowing into the paint, many cute freckled faces, mostly little faces, but an occasional grownup sat still and allowed us to paint a frog, pumpkin, basketball, flower or what have you on their sunburned and sweaty faces. Here are some pictures of our little canopy. We sat in the humidity and heat and passed out bottles of water, and decorated little faces with bright paints. And we smiled, and offered senior citizens a chair-- and mostly we listened to people as they cried and talked and smiled as they watched us with the children, and they told their stories as if they'd known us a long time.
These two are the firefighters, turned temporary FEMA guys, that I mentioned below. J.J. is on the left. If you can't read the sign, click on the picture and you will see that it says "Rest Area for Seniors." We had struck up an acquaintance with these two earlier in the day, and when they came by I asked if they'd sit for a photo. They somehow knew we were setting them up (I do NOT have a poker face) and they sat down rather reluctantly. After I snapped the picture, Deb showed them the sign....joke on FEMA...maybe not so funny, all things considered. But they groaned dramatically...and took it well.
Later, a woman stopped to sit. She did not look well and she was confused and argumentative. She overheard me say something to Ken about his blood sugar and she rather casually mentioned that she had not had a glucometer since Katrina came to town. Ken (also a diabetic) took her blood sugar--it was around 600! If you don't know about blood sugars, Ken says to tell you that if his was that high he'd be in a coma. He's not kidding.
J.J. then walked by, exactly at the right time to escort her to the nearby medical tent. She was quite reluctant, but it helped that he was in a sort of uniform. Later he reported to us that she had been sent to a hospital immediately.
We wondered aloud, "What if she hadn't overheard that Ken was a diabetic? What if Ken had not been around (he usually would have been inside the distribution tent)? What if we hadn't just received a shipment of glucometers to Convoy of Hope (the first we had seen)? What if J.J. hadn't walked by just at the right time to be "a government authority?" God was good to that lady, I think.
Blogspot's photo download is not working again. More later.
Friday, September 30, 2005
Katrina Report Part Four: Waveland
The debris from what was once the front of this house was scattered right to the edge of the four-lane highway. At first we did not realize that the house could not have sat on that spot...but no one builds a house quite so close to the traffic. We realized that the house had been flung to its present location from--who knows where--there was no sign of the foundation.
This little house was leaning against a telephone pole. Again, no clue as to where it began it's "flight" since there was no sign of a nearby foundation or driveway. It made me think of Dorothy's house in "The Wizard of Oz" a thought that would have made me smile if I had not already been on the verge of tears.
Along the highway to Waveland we did not see any homes that were not totally demolished, or flung about like tiny houses from a Monopoly board.
This is what remains of a boat dealership. The closer we got to Waveland, the more shocked we felt. The sight and smells are indescribable, but these pictures are not isolated, or necessarily the worst of what we saw. They are typical of what we found everywhere.
A foundation, and nothing else. No boards, bricks, glass, furniture. Nothing.
Before going over to the Convoy of Hope site, we drove down to the nearby gulf coast. The pathos of what we saw are beyond words. On the site of what was once large luxury condos was...mostly nothing at all. You can see the gulf if you look closely between the branches of the bare and twisted trees. A few piles of bricks and some scattered belongings are all that remain. Debra and I stood in silence as Ken took photos. I found myself thinking the rather morose words of Solomon in the biblical book of Ecclesiastes, "Vanity of vanities, all is vanity, saith the preacher."
Steps to nowhere.
Many addresses are spray painted on some nearby surface. There is simply no means of identifying what home used to stand there.
We headed to the K-Mart parking lot and the Convoy of Hope distribution center. We found a hand made sign announcing "Camp Katrina," where many people had pitched tents on the grassy edge of the parking lot. Behind the small "dwelling" tents were several large circus-type tents, a demolished group of stores, a twisted and gutted McDonald's and the shell of what was once the Waveland Cinema. We found the Convoy of Hope people and they instantly put us to work, as I wrote in an earlier blog entry. I worked distributing clothes, and Ken passed out bleach and other cleaning supplies along with hand disinfectant, and other items. Here he is. He is probably announcing, "Just take one bottle of bleach, please!"
Here is Nurse Joan, sorting first aide supplies. Note the large pile of toilet paper alongside. One of those items we take for granted until we don't have any.
Guests shopping for free groceries and supplies inside the tent.
This guy worked all day passing out clothes, shoes, underwear, towels and socks. The work was nonstop, demanding and exhausting. At one point he opened a box of t shirts and pulled out this large American flag. Oddly, everyone got quiet for a moment, and then someone asked if they could have it to hang in front of what used to be their home.
After two days of standing on my feet for ten hours at a stretch with no breaks, I returned to First Assembly Gulfport (thank God for their showers and my cot) with some trepidation about how I was going to get through the remaining time. My back was hurting badly, and all of us were so stiff we crawled clumsily out of our van like zombies. That night I asked God to show me what to do, or to assign me something different.
More about that in Part Five.
Katrina Report Part Three: Leaving Gulfport
We drove around Gulfport a bit before heading over to Waveland. These pictures are from Gulfport, typical of what we saw everywhere.
A housing complex. Or it was. Every apartment was missing large pieces, which means that they not only have major structural damage, it means the water and mold damage is going to be extensive as well.
The tree in the front yard of this little house is huge, but the roots were shallow. It is very rainy in Mississippi, so perhaps that is why. Anyway, we saw many houses narrowly missed by trees.
Some signs of the beginning stages of cleanup were evident in Gulfport.
Heading down the highway we saw these huge billboards, at least 100 feet high with bases about 6 feet around. As you can see, these steel signs are all twisted. Farthest away, one is visible that is vertical. It's the only vertical one we saw for miles. The picture does not convey the spookiness we felt viewing these gigantic, and now twisted and torn, sentinels of the highway. The sky is blue in the picture, but when we first saw them it was dark and cloudy...and the sense of foreboding was intense. It felt like a nightmare was beginning.
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
Katrina Report Part Two: What We Saw
I'm taking my photo card to Wal Mart later, so I hope I can post pictures a different way. Meanwhile, here is Part Two.
My husband, Ken, and I left Wisconsin with a mix of anticipation and dread in our hearts. That mix of feelings was to continue throughout the trip, and even now our feelings are conflicting as we rest and recoup and ponder what we saw. After dropping my elderly mom off with a relative in Indiana and getting a last shower, shampoo and a night's sleep in a real bed, we traveled to Tennessee to pick up Debra, who is mentioned in Part I.
The trip took forever, it seemed, and we ended up spending a night somewhere in Mississippi. We were still a long way from the coast, but the motels were full of evacuees who had their stay paid for by FEMA or the Red Cross. We had a hard time finding a room. The hotel manager saw our JUBILEE ASSEMBLY OF GOD tee shirts, and he thanked us for coming. He told Ken, "The churches are pulling together. Yesterday the Salvation Army brought lunch for everyone here. Then a half hour later a black church brought lunch. Then a few minutes later a white church brought lunch." He smiled as he said he sent food home with his employees and saved what he could in the hotel fridge. ("Too bad the "white" church and the "black" church didn't work together," I thought to myself. But it was good to hear that the churches were doing what they could.)
Earlier, we had stopped at a rest area. Only in the "deep south" would restrooms be made of brick, have bright green doors, porches, and white columns! Who knew a restroom could look like a plantation house? A very elderly Black security guard offered to give us maps and tourist information. We explained that we were heading to the gulf coast to help in relief efforts. He didn't quite grasp that, and he kept talking to us about the tourist attractions, even giving us a large Mississippi tourism book. I hope no one ever tries to vandalize or steal from the rest area building. I don't think that dear old man could have helped much with "security." But he was, as southern folk often are, very gracious and called Deb or me "ma'am" about ten times. I thought, "We're not in Wisconsin anymore, Toto!"
We finally accepted the tourism book and perused it in the van as we headed down the road. In the present situation, it was eerie...filled with bright glossy photos of Gulfport casinos and the beautiful gulf coast vacation areas. It is the only way we had some idea of what the gulf coast "should" have looked like.
About 200 miles north of our destination we began to see the destruction! We still had four hours to drive, and already we saw enormous trees splintered and uprooted. As we got closer we saw that the evergreen trees were orange. Many had only a few remaining tufts of pine needles. We surmised that the salt water had "burnt" the trees to make them orange? The grass mostly looked okay, but the trees were mostly leafless, another eerie sight in the humid, 90+ degree heat of a Mississippi summer.
We began to see roof damage, blue tarps, and large sheets of plywood covering damaged buildings. Further on we saw our first national guard troops. They stood by a large truck dispensing bags of ice. There were many churches along the highway. It's the south, and churches are everywhere. Baptist, Methodist, Pentecostal, Church of Christ...some were totally destroyed, some looked okay. Many had spray painted signs advertising free clothes or food or water.
We passed a church called "The Fountain of Life Church." The sign was intact as was a faux waterfall made of what looked like plastic "rock," about ten feet high. I stared in amazement. The waterfall was untouched, complete with water still coming out of a spout at the top. Several yards Behind was the church, a pole barn kind of structure. Or it had been. Most of it was gone. But the waterfall splashed on.
We passed a large, brick Church of God building. The roof was totally gone, and I assume the interior was gone too. We got sad and quiet. After a while there was not much we could say.
I began to feel like I was in a surreal dream world. An odd feeling of "apartness."
Finally arriving in Gulfport, we headed past piles of debris to find First Assembly of God. Their gym, which had had three to four feet of water during the storm surge, was now full of supplies. Diapers, food, toiletries, toilet paper, baby formula, bottled water. So we unloaded the trailer of supplies from people back home in Wisconsin. Among the boxes of bleach, toys and other supplies, we had one glucometer and some test tape. I walked over to the little clinic located in a dry and air conditioned area of the church and delivered a few other medical supplies we brought. I asked the nurse if she could use a glucometer. She almost started crying, and then grinned as she called me, "Mrs. Santa Clause." At that very moment, an ill diabetic woman sat in the back room being examined. They had no supplies for her. She received the glucometer, test strips and instructions before going back home. God's timing?
A/G home missionary Bill Easter directed us to a room in an undamaged upstairs part of the gym. He normally works with Native Americans in Arizona but he told us that when he began to see the pictures of devastation, he and his wife, Denise, got in their camper and headed south. We set up our cots and unpacked a few clothes.
A large sign on the church sanctuary entrance warned, "DANGER! DO NOT ENTER! MOLD DAMAGE! Condemned by the Gulfport Dept. of Public Health." The sign sent a shiver down my spine...but crews were pulling out smelly carpet, so I ventured inside. The odor was pervasive and sickening. The spacious hallways smelled, the tall sanctuary smelled, the classrooms smelled. The padded pews lay in pieces on the floor, along with water damaged speakers and piles of hymnbooks. We heard later that they had tried to salvage the pews, but when they handled them they just fell apart. Later the pieces were stacked on the curb along with piles of reeking mauve carpet.
At church services in Gulfport the next morning, about fifty people packed into a small youth chapel and praised God and sang and heard a short sermon and a few survival stories. Most of the church family is still unaccounted for. Many left town and probably have not yet returned. Others...no one knew.
Somehow, we three all began to feel that our place was not at Gulfport. We weren't sure what to do, but we soon headed for nearby Waveland.
My husband, Ken, and I left Wisconsin with a mix of anticipation and dread in our hearts. That mix of feelings was to continue throughout the trip, and even now our feelings are conflicting as we rest and recoup and ponder what we saw. After dropping my elderly mom off with a relative in Indiana and getting a last shower, shampoo and a night's sleep in a real bed, we traveled to Tennessee to pick up Debra, who is mentioned in Part I.
The trip took forever, it seemed, and we ended up spending a night somewhere in Mississippi. We were still a long way from the coast, but the motels were full of evacuees who had their stay paid for by FEMA or the Red Cross. We had a hard time finding a room. The hotel manager saw our JUBILEE ASSEMBLY OF GOD tee shirts, and he thanked us for coming. He told Ken, "The churches are pulling together. Yesterday the Salvation Army brought lunch for everyone here. Then a half hour later a black church brought lunch. Then a few minutes later a white church brought lunch." He smiled as he said he sent food home with his employees and saved what he could in the hotel fridge. ("Too bad the "white" church and the "black" church didn't work together," I thought to myself. But it was good to hear that the churches were doing what they could.)
Earlier, we had stopped at a rest area. Only in the "deep south" would restrooms be made of brick, have bright green doors, porches, and white columns! Who knew a restroom could look like a plantation house? A very elderly Black security guard offered to give us maps and tourist information. We explained that we were heading to the gulf coast to help in relief efforts. He didn't quite grasp that, and he kept talking to us about the tourist attractions, even giving us a large Mississippi tourism book. I hope no one ever tries to vandalize or steal from the rest area building. I don't think that dear old man could have helped much with "security." But he was, as southern folk often are, very gracious and called Deb or me "ma'am" about ten times. I thought, "We're not in Wisconsin anymore, Toto!"
We finally accepted the tourism book and perused it in the van as we headed down the road. In the present situation, it was eerie...filled with bright glossy photos of Gulfport casinos and the beautiful gulf coast vacation areas. It is the only way we had some idea of what the gulf coast "should" have looked like.
About 200 miles north of our destination we began to see the destruction! We still had four hours to drive, and already we saw enormous trees splintered and uprooted. As we got closer we saw that the evergreen trees were orange. Many had only a few remaining tufts of pine needles. We surmised that the salt water had "burnt" the trees to make them orange? The grass mostly looked okay, but the trees were mostly leafless, another eerie sight in the humid, 90+ degree heat of a Mississippi summer.
We began to see roof damage, blue tarps, and large sheets of plywood covering damaged buildings. Further on we saw our first national guard troops. They stood by a large truck dispensing bags of ice. There were many churches along the highway. It's the south, and churches are everywhere. Baptist, Methodist, Pentecostal, Church of Christ...some were totally destroyed, some looked okay. Many had spray painted signs advertising free clothes or food or water.
We passed a church called "The Fountain of Life Church." The sign was intact as was a faux waterfall made of what looked like plastic "rock," about ten feet high. I stared in amazement. The waterfall was untouched, complete with water still coming out of a spout at the top. Several yards Behind was the church, a pole barn kind of structure. Or it had been. Most of it was gone. But the waterfall splashed on.
We passed a large, brick Church of God building. The roof was totally gone, and I assume the interior was gone too. We got sad and quiet. After a while there was not much we could say.
I began to feel like I was in a surreal dream world. An odd feeling of "apartness."
Finally arriving in Gulfport, we headed past piles of debris to find First Assembly of God. Their gym, which had had three to four feet of water during the storm surge, was now full of supplies. Diapers, food, toiletries, toilet paper, baby formula, bottled water. So we unloaded the trailer of supplies from people back home in Wisconsin. Among the boxes of bleach, toys and other supplies, we had one glucometer and some test tape. I walked over to the little clinic located in a dry and air conditioned area of the church and delivered a few other medical supplies we brought. I asked the nurse if she could use a glucometer. She almost started crying, and then grinned as she called me, "Mrs. Santa Clause." At that very moment, an ill diabetic woman sat in the back room being examined. They had no supplies for her. She received the glucometer, test strips and instructions before going back home. God's timing?
A/G home missionary Bill Easter directed us to a room in an undamaged upstairs part of the gym. He normally works with Native Americans in Arizona but he told us that when he began to see the pictures of devastation, he and his wife, Denise, got in their camper and headed south. We set up our cots and unpacked a few clothes.
A large sign on the church sanctuary entrance warned, "DANGER! DO NOT ENTER! MOLD DAMAGE! Condemned by the Gulfport Dept. of Public Health." The sign sent a shiver down my spine...but crews were pulling out smelly carpet, so I ventured inside. The odor was pervasive and sickening. The spacious hallways smelled, the tall sanctuary smelled, the classrooms smelled. The padded pews lay in pieces on the floor, along with water damaged speakers and piles of hymnbooks. We heard later that they had tried to salvage the pews, but when they handled them they just fell apart. Later the pieces were stacked on the curb along with piles of reeking mauve carpet.
At church services in Gulfport the next morning, about fifty people packed into a small youth chapel and praised God and sang and heard a short sermon and a few survival stories. Most of the church family is still unaccounted for. Many left town and probably have not yet returned. Others...no one knew.
Somehow, we three all began to feel that our place was not at Gulfport. We weren't sure what to do, but we soon headed for nearby Waveland.
Monday, September 26, 2005
Katrina Report Part One: "Thr Fruit of the Spirit is..Kindness and Goodness"
The photo feature of Blogger doesn't apprear to be working right now.
I'm still working on the pics I want to post here of Katrina's aftermath in the Mississippi towns of Gulfport and Waveland. They will be coming.
Meanwhile, I was once again pondering the nature of spiritual fruit. If you've read my blog in the last few months you know I have been preaching through Galatians 5:22 (the "Fruit of the Spirit"). Goodness, I think, comes back to what Jesus called the "first and greatest commandment" -- that we love God with all our heart, soul, mind and strength and that we love others in the same way we love ourselves. And kindness -- is that not just the doing unto others as we'd have done to us?
I have just returned from watching love in action in Mississippi. Here are just a few instances of goodness and kindness. I saw them:
...In the beautiful brown face and sparkling eyes of Jeannie Wallis, who has worked for weeks to clean up mold-damaged First Assembly of God church in Gulfport. Her warm smile was not dimmed, and her praise to God was still vibrant, even though she had only gotten about three hours of sleep each night since the day Katrina slammed into Gulfport. She called me a "powerful woman of God." She is the powerful one!
In the voice of Pastor Norlund who vowed to do whatever was needed to help hurricane victims, to be the hands and feet and heart of Jesus to the town of Gulfport--no matter how long and no matter how costly.
In the broad smiles, firm handshakes, and gentle words of two very young policemen from Ohio who had worked long days in Waveland, MS, and who didn't know when they'd get home. They smiled with genuine kindness anyway.
In the hands of my friend and former parishioner, Debra, who taught me how to do face painting so we could give little hurricane victims a few moments of normal fun. She tried hard to remember every child's name, cried when they weren't looking, and prayed for them when she could.
In J.J., a fireman from Utah turned temporary FEMA employee, who asked if I'd let him sit and talk with children for a few minutes as he,too, painted clowns and butterflies on the children's faces. He needed a break from misery almost as badly as the children did, I think, but he turned his own need into moments of joy for others. And he painted an impressive alligator! Then he let us put a KIDS ARE AWESOME sticker on his FEMA shirt, even though he said it was probably against the rules.
In the hardworking doctors and nurses at an impressive M*A*S*H type tent. They were distressed and weary but smiled with great kindness nonetheless. At the end of an exhausting day they still managed to joke with me when I asked to take their pictures.
In Misty, a tiny dynamo who supervised the volunteers at the large disbursement tent. She had been in Waveland for almost three weeks, and she still managed to direct us with energy and grace. I know she was exhausted and ill, but she hid it well and she toiled on, reminding us that we needed to "be very compassionate with these folks."
In the hard work of the people of Christian Life Church, Alabama, who were in Waveland first, before Convoy of Hope (or anyone else) arrived. They set up on the parking lot, and they did what they could with what they had, and they are still there.
In the cheery waves of national guard troops.
In an older woman whose name I never learned. She amazed me with her stamina and tireless work. She sang hymns and she smiled and she sorted clothes for hours. We had very few baby clothes to give away, but she somehow managed to find some newborn items for a sad-eyed but grateful pregnant woman who told me, "My due date is today."
In the waitress at the Gulfport "Cracker Barrel" who had lost her house, but who smiled and counted her blessings as she served us breakfast with paper plates and plastic forks.
In Thomas who cheerfully made the rounds of "Camp Katrina" all day every day to keep styrofoam coolers stocked with ice and bottled water--and who updated us with glee, and praise to God, every time someone else found a missing relative.
In Joan, who stood beside me and passed out band-aide tins and other first aide items to hundreds of weary and sometimes rude customers at the disbursement center. Joan worked long hours on her feet even though her toe was bleeding and hurting badly from a mishap with a pallet of supplies.
In the kitchen and the serving line at the "Waveland Cafe" tent. Church folks from many different denominations labored long hours in stifling heat and humidity to serve free meals to thousands of victims and volunteers alike.
Weeks ago at Jubilee A/G (my church) we prayed for the people of God to shine in the aftermath of the hurricane We were all shocked at the images we saw on our t.v. screens. At that time I didn't know that I would travel to the gulf coast and witness the horror of Katrina firsthand. We prayed for the Church of Jesus Christ to be His hands, his feet, his heart, his voice. I am rejoicing to say that I saw this happening.
The fruit of the Spirit is love...expressed through kindness and goodness. How rare that is, and how beautiful when found.
I'm still working on the pics I want to post here of Katrina's aftermath in the Mississippi towns of Gulfport and Waveland. They will be coming.
Meanwhile, I was once again pondering the nature of spiritual fruit. If you've read my blog in the last few months you know I have been preaching through Galatians 5:22 (the "Fruit of the Spirit"). Goodness, I think, comes back to what Jesus called the "first and greatest commandment" -- that we love God with all our heart, soul, mind and strength and that we love others in the same way we love ourselves. And kindness -- is that not just the doing unto others as we'd have done to us?
I have just returned from watching love in action in Mississippi. Here are just a few instances of goodness and kindness. I saw them:
...In the beautiful brown face and sparkling eyes of Jeannie Wallis, who has worked for weeks to clean up mold-damaged First Assembly of God church in Gulfport. Her warm smile was not dimmed, and her praise to God was still vibrant, even though she had only gotten about three hours of sleep each night since the day Katrina slammed into Gulfport. She called me a "powerful woman of God." She is the powerful one!
In the voice of Pastor Norlund who vowed to do whatever was needed to help hurricane victims, to be the hands and feet and heart of Jesus to the town of Gulfport--no matter how long and no matter how costly.
In the broad smiles, firm handshakes, and gentle words of two very young policemen from Ohio who had worked long days in Waveland, MS, and who didn't know when they'd get home. They smiled with genuine kindness anyway.
In the hands of my friend and former parishioner, Debra, who taught me how to do face painting so we could give little hurricane victims a few moments of normal fun. She tried hard to remember every child's name, cried when they weren't looking, and prayed for them when she could.
In J.J., a fireman from Utah turned temporary FEMA employee, who asked if I'd let him sit and talk with children for a few minutes as he,too, painted clowns and butterflies on the children's faces. He needed a break from misery almost as badly as the children did, I think, but he turned his own need into moments of joy for others. And he painted an impressive alligator! Then he let us put a KIDS ARE AWESOME sticker on his FEMA shirt, even though he said it was probably against the rules.
In the hardworking doctors and nurses at an impressive M*A*S*H type tent. They were distressed and weary but smiled with great kindness nonetheless. At the end of an exhausting day they still managed to joke with me when I asked to take their pictures.
In Misty, a tiny dynamo who supervised the volunteers at the large disbursement tent. She had been in Waveland for almost three weeks, and she still managed to direct us with energy and grace. I know she was exhausted and ill, but she hid it well and she toiled on, reminding us that we needed to "be very compassionate with these folks."
In the hard work of the people of Christian Life Church, Alabama, who were in Waveland first, before Convoy of Hope (or anyone else) arrived. They set up on the parking lot, and they did what they could with what they had, and they are still there.
In the cheery waves of national guard troops.
In an older woman whose name I never learned. She amazed me with her stamina and tireless work. She sang hymns and she smiled and she sorted clothes for hours. We had very few baby clothes to give away, but she somehow managed to find some newborn items for a sad-eyed but grateful pregnant woman who told me, "My due date is today."
In the waitress at the Gulfport "Cracker Barrel" who had lost her house, but who smiled and counted her blessings as she served us breakfast with paper plates and plastic forks.
In Thomas who cheerfully made the rounds of "Camp Katrina" all day every day to keep styrofoam coolers stocked with ice and bottled water--and who updated us with glee, and praise to God, every time someone else found a missing relative.
In Joan, who stood beside me and passed out band-aide tins and other first aide items to hundreds of weary and sometimes rude customers at the disbursement center. Joan worked long hours on her feet even though her toe was bleeding and hurting badly from a mishap with a pallet of supplies.
In the kitchen and the serving line at the "Waveland Cafe" tent. Church folks from many different denominations labored long hours in stifling heat and humidity to serve free meals to thousands of victims and volunteers alike.
Weeks ago at Jubilee A/G (my church) we prayed for the people of God to shine in the aftermath of the hurricane We were all shocked at the images we saw on our t.v. screens. At that time I didn't know that I would travel to the gulf coast and witness the horror of Katrina firsthand. We prayed for the Church of Jesus Christ to be His hands, his feet, his heart, his voice. I am rejoicing to say that I saw this happening.
The fruit of the Spirit is love...expressed through kindness and goodness. How rare that is, and how beautiful when found.
Saturday, September 24, 2005
Back From Waveland, MS
We just arrived home a couple of hours ago. It is like returning from a nightmare. I'm exhausted and sore, but otherwise fine. I took lots of pictures. After a few days of rest -- and figuring out my new digital camera, I'll be posting a great deal.
Here is a link to a CNN story about Waveland whick is where we ended up working the most.
Waveland is a horror of sights, sounds, and smells.
But in addition to horrible things, I saw wonderful things too.
More later. For now I've got to get some sleep.
Here is a link to a CNN story about Waveland whick is where we ended up working the most.
Waveland is a horror of sights, sounds, and smells.
But in addition to horrible things, I saw wonderful things too.
More later. For now I've got to get some sleep.
Wednesday, September 14, 2005
Dancing With Katrina
This interesting blog contains photos that I found fascinating and heartbreaking.
For me, its a frantic day of too much to do as we prepare to head to Mississippi.
I am excited and scared at the same time.
For me, its a frantic day of too much to do as we prepare to head to Mississippi.
I am excited and scared at the same time.
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
A Different Take on the Federal Response
Thank you, DP (he sure does indirectly help this blog out a lot) for the link to this thought provoking article. I'd better post it, since I posted a link to CNN's story questioning the response. Frankly, I have no idea what to think about much of this, but I do know the important thing is to deal with the current issues of devastation and suffering.
I have been on the phone almost all day. I'm exhausted--and I haven't left yet. HA!
Things are changing by the minute, it seems. As it turns out, we are not going to Biloxi, but we are going to a town not far away. There are many cities and towns all along the gulf coast. We will be going to a town called Gulfport. So far, almost no help has arrived. We are going to First Assembly of God. I’m told it used to be a lovely building but is now a mess. And they won’t even know we are coming as there is no phone coverage or way to contact them. The pastor lost his home, as did most of the congregation. As the storm gathered strength, people arrived at the church. They ended up with about 250 people huddled in the basement, from what I’m told. Afterwards they used some food they had in the church kitchen, then Convoy of Hope got in with some basic toiletries and food. They distributed clothes and some other stuff. However, the mold grew really fast and was so bad that the health dept. made the people in the church leave. I don’t know where they went, but the district presbyter I spoke with today said there are still about 50 people there in the church, including the pastor. I don’t know if the church is cleanable….but they do have power now. We are taking some tents with us precious little. I don’t have a clue what we are gonna find…but I am more at peace than I have been for days. I have an odd sense that for some reason we are supposed to go to Gulfport, and not Biloxi. Like what difference does it make….the need is hugh everywhere?! Well, we shall see. We are taking a trailer full of cleaning supplies, some water, and our gear. Thinking about taking bicycles that we don't use....seems like maybe that would be helpful, gas being costly.
I have been on the phone almost all day. I'm exhausted--and I haven't left yet. HA!
Things are changing by the minute, it seems. As it turns out, we are not going to Biloxi, but we are going to a town not far away. There are many cities and towns all along the gulf coast. We will be going to a town called Gulfport. So far, almost no help has arrived. We are going to First Assembly of God. I’m told it used to be a lovely building but is now a mess. And they won’t even know we are coming as there is no phone coverage or way to contact them. The pastor lost his home, as did most of the congregation. As the storm gathered strength, people arrived at the church. They ended up with about 250 people huddled in the basement, from what I’m told. Afterwards they used some food they had in the church kitchen, then Convoy of Hope got in with some basic toiletries and food. They distributed clothes and some other stuff. However, the mold grew really fast and was so bad that the health dept. made the people in the church leave. I don’t know where they went, but the district presbyter I spoke with today said there are still about 50 people there in the church, including the pastor. I don’t know if the church is cleanable….but they do have power now. We are taking some tents with us precious little. I don’t have a clue what we are gonna find…but I am more at peace than I have been for days. I have an odd sense that for some reason we are supposed to go to Gulfport, and not Biloxi. Like what difference does it make….the need is hugh everywhere?! Well, we shall see. We are taking a trailer full of cleaning supplies, some water, and our gear. Thinking about taking bicycles that we don't use....seems like maybe that would be helpful, gas being costly.
Friday, September 09, 2005
Biloxi or Bust
It looks like Ken and I will be heading to Biloxi, Mississippi soon with a few others from Wisconsin. We will be working with
Convoy of Hope to provide meals for National Guard troops, police and other rescue teams. We'll also be taking in supplies. We're gathering information now and coordinating with Convoy of Hope, FEMA, and our Assembly of God District Office. I'll share more as things develop. Ken says he just "wants to head south..." but we can't do it. They are feeding thousands each day and are desperate for help right now, we are told, but I don't think they are going anywhere before next week. Sad to say.
Monday, September 05, 2005
Wise Words About the Problem of Suffering
No, not from me. These words are from a friend, "Quiet Earthling." She shared this devotional at an inner city coffe house ministry. She should be a pastor.
The Problem of Suffering
I am sure most of us have been following the news from New Orleans and the devastation that hurricane Katrina brought. It's scary to see a beautiful, popular city with rich culture and history go to a 3rd world country level overnight. It makes us realize very clearly how fragile life is.
When September 11 hit, my husband was back in NY. In a space of two hours, everyone knew that things would never be the same. Things we relied on and trusted were forever exposed to be fragile and uncertain.
So here's a really old question: Why do bad things happen to good people? Or maybe let me rephrase that, why do bad things happen to normal, ordinary people?
People have different ideas regarding that.
Some people say that bad things happen because God wants to punish human sin. And certainly, it's God's prerogative to do that, if He so chooses. But Jesus discouraged this kind of thinking. When people brought him to a man who was blind from birth, they started asking Jesus, "hey, what's going on here? Who sinned? Was it him, or his parents?" Jesus said, "Not the man, and not the parents, but let the works of God be made manifest in this man!" In other words, Jesus said, "You're asking the wrong question. You're looking for someone to blame. There is no such cause-effect here. Look instead for what God can do." (The Message)
Some people will say that God wants to teach us a lesson and he uses natural disasters to do that. While God can certainly teach us lessons through things that happen to us, I can't see what lesson all of us could learn from this - other than that it really sucks to be hit by a hurricane. Once again, Jesus never actually tried telling people who were sick or injured that He was trying to teach them a lesson through their adversities. He simply helped them.
Some people can say that God has bad things happen to us in order to build our character, and this certainly sounds reasonable, because we can develop better character in adversity. But what about people who actually died in New Orleans? How did it help build THEIR character? What about infants who are hungry and thirsty, and injured? Is it helping build THEIR character? How? Once again, Jesus never sit down with the lepers and blind people to tell them that God was trying to build their character through their problems. He simply reached out and helped them.
How many people here remember the book of Job? Job was a very wealthy man, he lived a good life and had everything. One day, something bad happenned to him. His entire family was killed. All of his possessions were destroyed or taken away. And then he himself got really sick. His friends came to comfort him, and they tried telling him the same things we often hear: "We are sure you did something bad, and God is trying to punish you - and it's too bad for you that you don't know what it is; or "God's trying to teach you something here", or "Maybe you should just not say anything, Job...") You can imagine that none of those things were very helpful to him. Finally, God spoke to Job ... but his answer was not what they expected. Instead of talking about building Job's character, or punishing Job's sin, God spoke about the complexities of the universe. He spoke about animals getting food, and eagles, and sea creatures, and snow, and oceans, and all of it working together. It's like he was saying, "Look, the universe is a very complex place. It's a place that you'll never understand completely. There may not be a simple cause-effect thing here, there may be complex reasons beyond your comprehension at this point." And if we think about it for a minute, knowing WHY may not always help us in our situation. Jesus certainly didn't sit down with the people who were sick and injured (and probably asking "why") to explain to them why certain things happenned to them, and the complex causes and forces behind the events in their lives. He sipmly reached out and helped them.
And I think this is how we are called to respond, too.
I remember that once I shared with a friend (iswari ) that I had trouble with something because I couldn't figure out God's purpose in this. She said that she never tried looking for God's purpose in a time of trouble - just his presense. This made a lot of sense to me.
When we see bad things (like Katrina) happenning, we can't really figure out why. Sure we can think of the different things that could have been in place to make the damage less (better evacuation procedures, better town levee, and so on) - but ultimatley we don't know WHY it happenned. We don't know why that tropical storm became a hurricane and headed for New Orleans. But just because we don't know why, doesn't mean shouldn't do what Jesus did, reach out and help out. Now, many of us don't have a lot of money do be donating to Red Cross right now. And most of us can't just take off and go down there to volunteer. But this doesn't mean we can't still do something in this situation. And one thing we can certainly do, is be good to each other and help make this little part of the world a better place, right here, and right now. And even if it doesn't help the people in New Orleans directly, it does make the world as a whole a better place. And indirectly, the good things that we do here will spill over to the rest of the world, because everything and everyone in the world are connected.
Finally, what do we do when bad things happen to us? Sometimes asking "why" is useful. Certainly we need to take responsibility for our own situation, and the choices we've made. But eventually, there comes a time where we should give up the "why" question, and simply say, "Okay, this is how things are now. What steps can I take to make things better for myself?"
One place to go would be good friends who won't keep trying to tell us that we must have done something wrong, and we are being punished, or that we should learn some kind of lesson from this - but nobody quite knows what that lesson might be. But it's good to go to a place where our friends will simply listen to us, give good practical advice on how to change our situation around, and how to get help.
Finally, we can go to God with our troubles. And because God did experience human existence when he walked the earth in flesh, in the person of Jesus, he KNOWS first-hand what it's like to live in a place that is dangerous and harsh. He knows how fragile and uncertain and unfair life can be. And because He knows, he can be there for us like nobody else can.
The book of Hebrews says, "
15 For we do not have a High Priest who cannot sympathize with our weaknesses, but was in all points tempted as we are, yet without sin. 16 Let us therefore come boldly to the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy and find grace to help in time of need." or in other words:
14Now that we know what we have--Jesus, this great High Priest with ready access to God--let's not let it slip through our fingers. 15We don't have a priest who is out of touch with our reality. He's been through weakness and testing, experienced it all--all but the sin. 16So let's walk right up to him and get what he is so ready to give. Take the mercy, accept the help. (The Message)
The Problem of Suffering
I am sure most of us have been following the news from New Orleans and the devastation that hurricane Katrina brought. It's scary to see a beautiful, popular city with rich culture and history go to a 3rd world country level overnight. It makes us realize very clearly how fragile life is.
When September 11 hit, my husband was back in NY. In a space of two hours, everyone knew that things would never be the same. Things we relied on and trusted were forever exposed to be fragile and uncertain.
So here's a really old question: Why do bad things happen to good people? Or maybe let me rephrase that, why do bad things happen to normal, ordinary people?
People have different ideas regarding that.
Some people say that bad things happen because God wants to punish human sin. And certainly, it's God's prerogative to do that, if He so chooses. But Jesus discouraged this kind of thinking. When people brought him to a man who was blind from birth, they started asking Jesus, "hey, what's going on here? Who sinned? Was it him, or his parents?" Jesus said, "Not the man, and not the parents, but let the works of God be made manifest in this man!" In other words, Jesus said, "You're asking the wrong question. You're looking for someone to blame. There is no such cause-effect here. Look instead for what God can do." (The Message)
Some people will say that God wants to teach us a lesson and he uses natural disasters to do that. While God can certainly teach us lessons through things that happen to us, I can't see what lesson all of us could learn from this - other than that it really sucks to be hit by a hurricane. Once again, Jesus never actually tried telling people who were sick or injured that He was trying to teach them a lesson through their adversities. He simply helped them.
Some people can say that God has bad things happen to us in order to build our character, and this certainly sounds reasonable, because we can develop better character in adversity. But what about people who actually died in New Orleans? How did it help build THEIR character? What about infants who are hungry and thirsty, and injured? Is it helping build THEIR character? How? Once again, Jesus never sit down with the lepers and blind people to tell them that God was trying to build their character through their problems. He simply reached out and helped them.
How many people here remember the book of Job? Job was a very wealthy man, he lived a good life and had everything. One day, something bad happenned to him. His entire family was killed. All of his possessions were destroyed or taken away. And then he himself got really sick. His friends came to comfort him, and they tried telling him the same things we often hear: "We are sure you did something bad, and God is trying to punish you - and it's too bad for you that you don't know what it is; or "God's trying to teach you something here", or "Maybe you should just not say anything, Job...") You can imagine that none of those things were very helpful to him. Finally, God spoke to Job ... but his answer was not what they expected. Instead of talking about building Job's character, or punishing Job's sin, God spoke about the complexities of the universe. He spoke about animals getting food, and eagles, and sea creatures, and snow, and oceans, and all of it working together. It's like he was saying, "Look, the universe is a very complex place. It's a place that you'll never understand completely. There may not be a simple cause-effect thing here, there may be complex reasons beyond your comprehension at this point." And if we think about it for a minute, knowing WHY may not always help us in our situation. Jesus certainly didn't sit down with the people who were sick and injured (and probably asking "why") to explain to them why certain things happenned to them, and the complex causes and forces behind the events in their lives. He sipmly reached out and helped them.
And I think this is how we are called to respond, too.
I remember that once I shared with a friend (iswari ) that I had trouble with something because I couldn't figure out God's purpose in this. She said that she never tried looking for God's purpose in a time of trouble - just his presense. This made a lot of sense to me.
When we see bad things (like Katrina) happenning, we can't really figure out why. Sure we can think of the different things that could have been in place to make the damage less (better evacuation procedures, better town levee, and so on) - but ultimatley we don't know WHY it happenned. We don't know why that tropical storm became a hurricane and headed for New Orleans. But just because we don't know why, doesn't mean shouldn't do what Jesus did, reach out and help out. Now, many of us don't have a lot of money do be donating to Red Cross right now. And most of us can't just take off and go down there to volunteer. But this doesn't mean we can't still do something in this situation. And one thing we can certainly do, is be good to each other and help make this little part of the world a better place, right here, and right now. And even if it doesn't help the people in New Orleans directly, it does make the world as a whole a better place. And indirectly, the good things that we do here will spill over to the rest of the world, because everything and everyone in the world are connected.
Finally, what do we do when bad things happen to us? Sometimes asking "why" is useful. Certainly we need to take responsibility for our own situation, and the choices we've made. But eventually, there comes a time where we should give up the "why" question, and simply say, "Okay, this is how things are now. What steps can I take to make things better for myself?"
One place to go would be good friends who won't keep trying to tell us that we must have done something wrong, and we are being punished, or that we should learn some kind of lesson from this - but nobody quite knows what that lesson might be. But it's good to go to a place where our friends will simply listen to us, give good practical advice on how to change our situation around, and how to get help.
Finally, we can go to God with our troubles. And because God did experience human existence when he walked the earth in flesh, in the person of Jesus, he KNOWS first-hand what it's like to live in a place that is dangerous and harsh. He knows how fragile and uncertain and unfair life can be. And because He knows, he can be there for us like nobody else can.
The book of Hebrews says, "
15 For we do not have a High Priest who cannot sympathize with our weaknesses, but was in all points tempted as we are, yet without sin. 16 Let us therefore come boldly to the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy and find grace to help in time of need." or in other words:
14Now that we know what we have--Jesus, this great High Priest with ready access to God--let's not let it slip through our fingers. 15We don't have a priest who is out of touch with our reality. He's been through weakness and testing, experienced it all--all but the sin. 16So let's walk right up to him and get what he is so ready to give. Take the mercy, accept the help. (The Message)
Saturday, September 03, 2005
Serious Questions About Disaster Response... and Some Praise
This CNN story raises frightening questions.
National Guard troops ready and waiting for authorization to move...I heard a policeman from Michigan discussing how they were denied access to the area because "...we have no place to house you" and this was the reason given even after he assured them they brought their own tents and supplies. Refusing help of Cuban medics because they are Cuban? A disaster relief team from Canada denied entry to the US?
The footage we are seeing is distressing. And this may be even more distressing! The stories of miscommunications, misguided refusals of aid, and incompetence seem to be mounting.
I don't think that "magnificent" or "embarrasment" is adequate. In some cases one, in some the other. But when the National Guard is ready...and receives no order to move...If nothing else comes from this, it is clear we'd better take a very good look at just what went wrong. Homeland security? Insecurity, more like it.
Now for praise...General Honore is looking like a wonderful example of leadership to me...walking in the city with his troops, telling them clearly to "lower their weapons" and remember they are there to help, personally stopping to take twin babies from the arms of an exhausted mother and get all of them to safety. It's one family among many, but it was a simple act of kindness that sent a message. And if everyone could stop and be HUMAN in this way, how much further ahead we would be!
Churches in Texas are opening their doors and hearts to hurricane victims, and in many cases people are opening their homes as well. God bless them!
Rapper Kanye West on NBCs concert...well, I know he is upset, but his comments were so inappropriate. And TWO different news sources, one using the word "looters" and the other not...does not racism make. But Tim McGraw with his heart-felt rendition of the wonderful "More Power to Ya"...wow...that was inspiring and moved me to tears.
And praise goes to the nameless New Orleans police officerss I just saw on television...the distraught African American policeman who had words of scorn for the "cowardly" police who simply laid down their badges and left -- he has been working to the point of exhaustion...and being constantly shot at. The weeping white policewoman who is clearly at the breaking point, but who said, "We must come back and have hope and faith, and we must continue to have compassion on people....who had none for us." God bless that dear woman. If New Orleans had more like that....their police force would have a very different reputation than what they have had over the years.
National Guard troops ready and waiting for authorization to move...I heard a policeman from Michigan discussing how they were denied access to the area because "...we have no place to house you" and this was the reason given even after he assured them they brought their own tents and supplies. Refusing help of Cuban medics because they are Cuban? A disaster relief team from Canada denied entry to the US?
The footage we are seeing is distressing. And this may be even more distressing! The stories of miscommunications, misguided refusals of aid, and incompetence seem to be mounting.
I don't think that "magnificent" or "embarrasment" is adequate. In some cases one, in some the other. But when the National Guard is ready...and receives no order to move...If nothing else comes from this, it is clear we'd better take a very good look at just what went wrong. Homeland security? Insecurity, more like it.
Now for praise...General Honore is looking like a wonderful example of leadership to me...walking in the city with his troops, telling them clearly to "lower their weapons" and remember they are there to help, personally stopping to take twin babies from the arms of an exhausted mother and get all of them to safety. It's one family among many, but it was a simple act of kindness that sent a message. And if everyone could stop and be HUMAN in this way, how much further ahead we would be!
Churches in Texas are opening their doors and hearts to hurricane victims, and in many cases people are opening their homes as well. God bless them!
Rapper Kanye West on NBCs concert...well, I know he is upset, but his comments were so inappropriate. And TWO different news sources, one using the word "looters" and the other not...does not racism make. But Tim McGraw with his heart-felt rendition of the wonderful "More Power to Ya"...wow...that was inspiring and moved me to tears.
And praise goes to the nameless New Orleans police officerss I just saw on television...the distraught African American policeman who had words of scorn for the "cowardly" police who simply laid down their badges and left -- he has been working to the point of exhaustion...and being constantly shot at. The weeping white policewoman who is clearly at the breaking point, but who said, "We must come back and have hope and faith, and we must continue to have compassion on people....who had none for us." God bless that dear woman. If New Orleans had more like that....their police force would have a very different reputation than what they have had over the years.
Wednesday, August 31, 2005
Katrina Disaster Relief
I've been watching in disbelief as we see the tragic events unfolding in the wake of Katrina. Here is a link to ongoing news. Sadly, I think this blog will be on the web for some time to come.
I urge you to give generously to disaster relief efforts and to do so as soon as you can. I will be donating to the Convoy of Hope. This wonderful relief organization was begun as an Assemblies of God outreach, but it has quickly become transdenominational. I've seen those beautiful semi trucks full of groceries firsthand.
You can donate directly online here.
Dr. Darrell Pursifel from Disert Paths posted the following prayer -- which I found both so sadly beautiful and so straight to-the-point (two descriptions not often found together) that I want to share it here as well:
Prayer in Time of Disaster
God of earthquake, wind, and fire,
tame natural forces that defy control,
or shock us by their fury.
Keep us from calling disaster your justice;
and help us, in good times or in calamity,
to trust your mercy which never ends,
and your power,
which in Jesus Christ stilled storms,
raised the dead,
and put down demonic powers. Amen.
(from the Book of Common Worship [Westminster/John Knox, 1993] 801)
And a small prayer of my own:
Merciful and Gracious God,
I pray for people caught in the misery of this disaster.
Give strength and courage and wiscom to all who are working long hours to help others.
Help your well-meaning but sometimes misguided children, to shine in this dark hour.
Give people of faith words of comfort, strength to help where they can, wisdom to
know when to speak and when to be silent.
Help them to weep with those who weep and yet still find small moments of humor, joy and respite.
Save those who still may be awating rescue, and for those who will not be found in time, grant, I earnestly pray, a grace of exceptional peace and calm.
May overwhelmed hearts and minds turn to you, even in distress and pain, and may you be found by those who seek You.
Amen
His mercy endures forever!
I urge you to give generously to disaster relief efforts and to do so as soon as you can. I will be donating to the Convoy of Hope. This wonderful relief organization was begun as an Assemblies of God outreach, but it has quickly become transdenominational. I've seen those beautiful semi trucks full of groceries firsthand.
You can donate directly online here.
Dr. Darrell Pursifel from Disert Paths posted the following prayer -- which I found both so sadly beautiful and so straight to-the-point (two descriptions not often found together) that I want to share it here as well:
Prayer in Time of Disaster
God of earthquake, wind, and fire,
tame natural forces that defy control,
or shock us by their fury.
Keep us from calling disaster your justice;
and help us, in good times or in calamity,
to trust your mercy which never ends,
and your power,
which in Jesus Christ stilled storms,
raised the dead,
and put down demonic powers. Amen.
(from the Book of Common Worship [Westminster/John Knox, 1993] 801)
And a small prayer of my own:
Merciful and Gracious God,
I pray for people caught in the misery of this disaster.
Give strength and courage and wiscom to all who are working long hours to help others.
Help your well-meaning but sometimes misguided children, to shine in this dark hour.
Give people of faith words of comfort, strength to help where they can, wisdom to
know when to speak and when to be silent.
Help them to weep with those who weep and yet still find small moments of humor, joy and respite.
Save those who still may be awating rescue, and for those who will not be found in time, grant, I earnestly pray, a grace of exceptional peace and calm.
May overwhelmed hearts and minds turn to you, even in distress and pain, and may you be found by those who seek You.
Amen
His mercy endures forever!
Tuesday, August 30, 2005
Family Pictures
Here is a picture of my Texas mom, aged 88, who lives with us now. Click to enlarge. She loves the outdoors and flowers, so we took this little picture on our back deck a month or so ago. Pretty soon the deck will be covered with snow. Well, soon enough anyway.
Here is our son, Joshua, the youngest of our two children. He lives in Minneapolis.
And here he is with Jane. Too bad Josh's eyes are closed, but it is a nice picture of his lovely girlfriend.
And our daughter Kris, with husband, Daryl. She is now about 80 lbs lighter, but I don't have a picture yet.
Here we are at Kris' college graduation a while back.
This is my sister, Paulette, and her brand-new husband, Bob. Well, Bob isn't brand new. The marriage is. ;-)
And here I am with sister, Darlaine. She's the skinny one in the family. I'm the plump one, and I guess that means Paulette is just right.
Here is our son, Joshua, the youngest of our two children. He lives in Minneapolis.
And here he is with Jane. Too bad Josh's eyes are closed, but it is a nice picture of his lovely girlfriend.
And our daughter Kris, with husband, Daryl. She is now about 80 lbs lighter, but I don't have a picture yet.
Here we are at Kris' college graduation a while back.
This is my sister, Paulette, and her brand-new husband, Bob. Well, Bob isn't brand new. The marriage is. ;-)
And here I am with sister, Darlaine. She's the skinny one in the family. I'm the plump one, and I guess that means Paulette is just right.
Friday, August 26, 2005
The Feminization of the Church
I'm steaming. Steam is coming out my ears, my eyes, probably my nose....taking deep breaths...in....out.....
The annual men's conference is coming up in Septembe. It looks great. Great prizes (a HARLEY!) and great fun, and great speakers, wonderful worship team too. I was feeling a bit envious, frankly. Yesterday I received a page with the workshop titles. I was looking at them and getting really happy about the topics for our church guys. And then--there it was. "Making the Church Man Friendly." I am aware of the preponderance of women in almost all churches, and I am concerned about it. That led me to an internet search (why did I do that?) that has me fuming.
Slight digression about books:
I should not do internet searches like that for the same reason I avoid the "Men" or "Women" sections of a Christian bookstore as if it they were a pit of snakes or spiders.
In the men's section (predominate colors are strong and dark, brown, deep red, black, dark green) one finds books about how every man in the whole world can only think with the wrong head, is pondering sex about 90% of the time, only keeps himself from foaming at the mouth with great effort, wants to be "wild" and rescue a damsel in distress. And still he needs someone to help him learn how to be a real manly man. Grunt, grunt.
In the women's section the predominate colors are...no, make that color is PINK. Welll, sometimes other pastels are evident too. But just count how many "women's" books are pink! Pictures of dainty tea cups, lace, ruffles, and roses are featured on book covers as if we all hanker for the Victorian era. Women, of course, never battle sexual issues. We just battle our desire to dominate. We must be taught how to be real women, submissive, sweet, yet we must empower or teach our husbands how to "lead" (something is terribly wrong with that), and we must fulfill our "highest calling"--that is to be good wives and mothers. (What if God hasn't sent a husband, or if the woman browsing the aisle is childless?) And we have to be ever more "feminine" (whatever that means). In those pink books it is a word repeated till it loses whatever meaning it ever had.
And here I thought my highest calling was to be conformed to the image of Christ Jesus!
What is this current obsession (fad?) in the Evangelical church with being masculine or feminine? And why are we so prone to these fads in the first place? Ah, that is fodder for a future blog entry.
I'll just skip those sections of the store and head over to the Bibles or the theology books, thank you very much! Give me a good, meaty tome by Andrew Murray!
Back to the feminized church. In my quest to find how to make our church more acceptable to men, I perused the internet last evening. There I read that women are taking over. Women love to sit around and talk, but men like to do stuff. Women like relating, but men like sports and competition. Women like to learn. Men like to sweat! Women like music. Especially sappy music. Men, on the other hand, like good strong lyrics. Women like sappy art too, but if we want to attract men we need strong art from classic artists. And men like to do stuff. Women like Bible studies. Men like to punch each other. And men like to do stuff. Men want to give their lives to a cause. Women, on the other hand, want to sway and sing Kum By Ya. (Okay, I exaggerated there, but the others really are all things I read.) Okay, I get it. Men like to do stuff.
Then I read that God told men to dominate and told women to help out. That God told men to subdue the earth but God told women to...uh...to help out. (Do these people read Genesis??) Oh, I forgot, it's women that like to study scripture. So much for all the male scholars.
I read that the real feminization of the church came about when we started thinking women could be leaders. It started with Indira Ghandi. We wanna be like her. Right. I read that "gentle Jesus, meek and mild" is repulsive to men. Men are looking for "the wild Jesus." I read that the church is full of pansies, "Nancy boys" and "simpering whiners who act like women" and homosexuals. I read that while we know men have dominated the clergy, male members of the clergy are effeminate! Psychological tests proved it! Ah, so that explains why centuries of men in leadership has led to a feminized church.
The insulting verbiage is not even veiled. It's in bold print for all to see. The anti-woman rhetoric is glossed over by such caveats as, "I'm not bashing women, of course..." Right. If a "feminized" man is whining, weak and simpering, what does that say about what women are like? (Note: I hate whining, I am NOT emotionally weak, and I have never "simpered" in my life.)
The insult is primarily to women, but it is to men as well. Men come off looking like sex-crazed Neanderthals.
I recently perused a Christian men's magazine. First I read how men need to step up and be men. (What does that mean, exactly? I thought God had already created the right plumbing for them.) I read how we need to make sure our boys grow up to be strong, manly heroes who can lead the battle. And play football, hopefully.
In the very same issue I read an article that encouraged the church to allow for diversity, to not expect every man to be the same or to have the same issues or interests. The author had been a quiet, musically and artistically gifted boy who was taunted and called "fag" because he did not enjoy sports and preferred quiet activities. He had struggled with his self image, and he had agonized over whether he might really be gay. He wasn't. It was an excellent piece of writing. But I was stunned that no one on the editorial staff had apparently seen that these two articles were in total opposition.
What happened to reading the Bible and finding out what God's plan is for us?
I do not read scripture about how to become more masculine or more feminine. Where are those scriptures? The Bible nowhere attempts to define those words at all. While we do have a portrait of a virtuous woman (Proverbs 31), she is not simpering. She is strong and courageous and hard-working and kind. I do not find scripture about the "wild" Jesus. On the contrary, he appears focused, self controlled and calm. I do not see scripture that says only men have leadership skills. I do not see scripture that says women all love to relate and men all love to sweat.
I do see where scripture talks about the priesthood of believers. No specifications about gender. I do see where spiritual gifts are given to members of the Body of Christ for the edification of all. No specifications about manliness. I do see that we are exhorted in no uncertain terms to die to ourselves and our old, sinful nature. We are told to renew our minds, to walk in the Spirit, to pray without ceasing, to be thankful, to rejoice, to love, to preach, to be strong, to gather with other believers--and much more.
And just for the record, I am female. See my photo. I do not think I am "masculine." My husband doesn't appear to think so either.
AND
I hate whining. I've heard just as much whining from boys or men as from girls or women. I know simpering women exist. They make me crazy. So do simpering men. Stamp out simpering!
I believe leaders come in all sizes, colors, ages and both genders. So do those who help behind the scenes.
I believe in strong song lyrics, and I sometimes lament the lack of good strong theology in our current church music. (My favorite hymn is "A Mighty Fortress is Our God." According to what I read on the web, that is a manly song.)
I believe in a gentle, meek Jesus. (If some of these manly men would study Greek they'd see that meekness is not weakness, but is strength under control.) I don't think Jesus was "wild" but I do think he was strong and was not afraid to take on evil or to speak strong words.
I believe in dying to self and forsaking sin and following the Lord with all our hearts. That means counting the cost and giving up our lives if need be. (See previous post on "Getting Saved.") According to what I've just read, men are looking for a cause to give their lives to. So am I.
Stand up for Jesus, ye soldiers of the Cross! As a child, I loved that song. Something in my heart rose up in joy at the thought of lifting His banner high and marching against the foe. I knew who the foe was.
Just a few thoughts about men and women I know. All the names are changed, just in case I share something a bit too personal.
WOMEN
Lois dislikes the color pink. She used to wish she'd been born a man because she thought men were strong but women were not. Today she is learning that she can be ALL God created her to be. She likes to talk and relate and have lunch but also is a strong fighter for justice and a champion of the underdog. She wants to change the world, and she just might. She also is a wife and a mother who really loves her family. Actually, she can be a little "wild" for Jesus. Uh oh.
Penny has a very "feminine" home, and she loves crafts. But she doesn't talk much. She does not like shopping, singing or "doing lunch." She has only once attended a women's meeting, to my knowledge. But she likes to work hard. Yesterday I saw her actually sweating as she pulled weeds.
Suzy is a pastor, a counselor, a strong preacher. She wishes she had found a man to share life with, but while she is sometimes lonely she does not spend much time pondering what might have been. Suzy loves physical work and sports. She has a hard time sitting for long, and sometimes laments her lack of sociability and "relational skills." She also has the kindest heart of anyone I know.
Wanda is a secretary. She likes pink, roses, Victorian decorating, jewelry, singing, doing lunch, and conversing. She also is a leader (she won't admit it, but she is). And she is strong and courageous.
MEN
Stan likes hunting and fishing and rough play. He also loves to talk about spiritual issues. And he prays. And he is really very gentle.
Joe is big and looks "manly" and loves sports. He likes to do things rather than talk, and he sweats a lot. So far, so good. But he owns a pink shirt. He loves animals and small children and shopping. The man is a shopping nut. And he loves kitchen gadgets. He does the laundry. He can be bossy, but knows it isn't his God-given right to be. (Okay, I gave that last one away. It's my husband.)
Ron is quiet, meek, humble, gentle, wise, and very relational. And man, he loves to go out for lunch. But he loves golfing, and he used to be a cop, so I guess he is okay.
Leo loves music. He is creative, artsy, talks a lot, has many friends. He is very "sensitive." He doesn't sweat much at all, actually. No, he's not gay. He's engaged to a woman who also loves music.
Nick is musical too. He is a quiet loner He does like to work out, but he does not appear to care much about group sports, rarely shows up for group work days, doesn't hunt, fish, camp or even drive fast.
Jack likes race cars and grilling in the back yard. He also likes cats. (Cats? Is it manyly to like cats?) He's married to Lois, mentioned above, who prefers the dog! Oh dear!
Wayne is athletic, muscular, likes sports, seems a bit "wild," hunts, rides a Harley, doesn't usually read much. Ah, finally, a real man!
Okay, I despise stereotypes.
Now, back to the issue at hand. How do we encourage men to come to church?
The annual men's conference is coming up in Septembe. It looks great. Great prizes (a HARLEY!) and great fun, and great speakers, wonderful worship team too. I was feeling a bit envious, frankly. Yesterday I received a page with the workshop titles. I was looking at them and getting really happy about the topics for our church guys. And then--there it was. "Making the Church Man Friendly." I am aware of the preponderance of women in almost all churches, and I am concerned about it. That led me to an internet search (why did I do that?) that has me fuming.
Slight digression about books:
I should not do internet searches like that for the same reason I avoid the "Men" or "Women" sections of a Christian bookstore as if it they were a pit of snakes or spiders.
In the men's section (predominate colors are strong and dark, brown, deep red, black, dark green) one finds books about how every man in the whole world can only think with the wrong head, is pondering sex about 90% of the time, only keeps himself from foaming at the mouth with great effort, wants to be "wild" and rescue a damsel in distress. And still he needs someone to help him learn how to be a real manly man. Grunt, grunt.
In the women's section the predominate colors are...no, make that color is PINK. Welll, sometimes other pastels are evident too. But just count how many "women's" books are pink! Pictures of dainty tea cups, lace, ruffles, and roses are featured on book covers as if we all hanker for the Victorian era. Women, of course, never battle sexual issues. We just battle our desire to dominate. We must be taught how to be real women, submissive, sweet, yet we must empower or teach our husbands how to "lead" (something is terribly wrong with that), and we must fulfill our "highest calling"--that is to be good wives and mothers. (What if God hasn't sent a husband, or if the woman browsing the aisle is childless?) And we have to be ever more "feminine" (whatever that means). In those pink books it is a word repeated till it loses whatever meaning it ever had.
And here I thought my highest calling was to be conformed to the image of Christ Jesus!
What is this current obsession (fad?) in the Evangelical church with being masculine or feminine? And why are we so prone to these fads in the first place? Ah, that is fodder for a future blog entry.
I'll just skip those sections of the store and head over to the Bibles or the theology books, thank you very much! Give me a good, meaty tome by Andrew Murray!
Back to the feminized church. In my quest to find how to make our church more acceptable to men, I perused the internet last evening. There I read that women are taking over. Women love to sit around and talk, but men like to do stuff. Women like relating, but men like sports and competition. Women like to learn. Men like to sweat! Women like music. Especially sappy music. Men, on the other hand, like good strong lyrics. Women like sappy art too, but if we want to attract men we need strong art from classic artists. And men like to do stuff. Women like Bible studies. Men like to punch each other. And men like to do stuff. Men want to give their lives to a cause. Women, on the other hand, want to sway and sing Kum By Ya. (Okay, I exaggerated there, but the others really are all things I read.) Okay, I get it. Men like to do stuff.
Then I read that God told men to dominate and told women to help out. That God told men to subdue the earth but God told women to...uh...to help out. (Do these people read Genesis??) Oh, I forgot, it's women that like to study scripture. So much for all the male scholars.
I read that the real feminization of the church came about when we started thinking women could be leaders. It started with Indira Ghandi. We wanna be like her. Right. I read that "gentle Jesus, meek and mild" is repulsive to men. Men are looking for "the wild Jesus." I read that the church is full of pansies, "Nancy boys" and "simpering whiners who act like women" and homosexuals. I read that while we know men have dominated the clergy, male members of the clergy are effeminate! Psychological tests proved it! Ah, so that explains why centuries of men in leadership has led to a feminized church.
The insulting verbiage is not even veiled. It's in bold print for all to see. The anti-woman rhetoric is glossed over by such caveats as, "I'm not bashing women, of course..." Right. If a "feminized" man is whining, weak and simpering, what does that say about what women are like? (Note: I hate whining, I am NOT emotionally weak, and I have never "simpered" in my life.)
The insult is primarily to women, but it is to men as well. Men come off looking like sex-crazed Neanderthals.
I recently perused a Christian men's magazine. First I read how men need to step up and be men. (What does that mean, exactly? I thought God had already created the right plumbing for them.) I read how we need to make sure our boys grow up to be strong, manly heroes who can lead the battle. And play football, hopefully.
In the very same issue I read an article that encouraged the church to allow for diversity, to not expect every man to be the same or to have the same issues or interests. The author had been a quiet, musically and artistically gifted boy who was taunted and called "fag" because he did not enjoy sports and preferred quiet activities. He had struggled with his self image, and he had agonized over whether he might really be gay. He wasn't. It was an excellent piece of writing. But I was stunned that no one on the editorial staff had apparently seen that these two articles were in total opposition.
What happened to reading the Bible and finding out what God's plan is for us?
I do not read scripture about how to become more masculine or more feminine. Where are those scriptures? The Bible nowhere attempts to define those words at all. While we do have a portrait of a virtuous woman (Proverbs 31), she is not simpering. She is strong and courageous and hard-working and kind. I do not find scripture about the "wild" Jesus. On the contrary, he appears focused, self controlled and calm. I do not see scripture that says only men have leadership skills. I do not see scripture that says women all love to relate and men all love to sweat.
I do see where scripture talks about the priesthood of believers. No specifications about gender. I do see where spiritual gifts are given to members of the Body of Christ for the edification of all. No specifications about manliness. I do see that we are exhorted in no uncertain terms to die to ourselves and our old, sinful nature. We are told to renew our minds, to walk in the Spirit, to pray without ceasing, to be thankful, to rejoice, to love, to preach, to be strong, to gather with other believers--and much more.
And just for the record, I am female. See my photo. I do not think I am "masculine." My husband doesn't appear to think so either.
AND
I hate whining. I've heard just as much whining from boys or men as from girls or women. I know simpering women exist. They make me crazy. So do simpering men. Stamp out simpering!
I believe leaders come in all sizes, colors, ages and both genders. So do those who help behind the scenes.
I believe in strong song lyrics, and I sometimes lament the lack of good strong theology in our current church music. (My favorite hymn is "A Mighty Fortress is Our God." According to what I read on the web, that is a manly song.)
I believe in a gentle, meek Jesus. (If some of these manly men would study Greek they'd see that meekness is not weakness, but is strength under control.) I don't think Jesus was "wild" but I do think he was strong and was not afraid to take on evil or to speak strong words.
I believe in dying to self and forsaking sin and following the Lord with all our hearts. That means counting the cost and giving up our lives if need be. (See previous post on "Getting Saved.") According to what I've just read, men are looking for a cause to give their lives to. So am I.
Stand up for Jesus, ye soldiers of the Cross! As a child, I loved that song. Something in my heart rose up in joy at the thought of lifting His banner high and marching against the foe. I knew who the foe was.
Just a few thoughts about men and women I know. All the names are changed, just in case I share something a bit too personal.
WOMEN
Lois dislikes the color pink. She used to wish she'd been born a man because she thought men were strong but women were not. Today she is learning that she can be ALL God created her to be. She likes to talk and relate and have lunch but also is a strong fighter for justice and a champion of the underdog. She wants to change the world, and she just might. She also is a wife and a mother who really loves her family. Actually, she can be a little "wild" for Jesus. Uh oh.
Penny has a very "feminine" home, and she loves crafts. But she doesn't talk much. She does not like shopping, singing or "doing lunch." She has only once attended a women's meeting, to my knowledge. But she likes to work hard. Yesterday I saw her actually sweating as she pulled weeds.
Suzy is a pastor, a counselor, a strong preacher. She wishes she had found a man to share life with, but while she is sometimes lonely she does not spend much time pondering what might have been. Suzy loves physical work and sports. She has a hard time sitting for long, and sometimes laments her lack of sociability and "relational skills." She also has the kindest heart of anyone I know.
Wanda is a secretary. She likes pink, roses, Victorian decorating, jewelry, singing, doing lunch, and conversing. She also is a leader (she won't admit it, but she is). And she is strong and courageous.
MEN
Stan likes hunting and fishing and rough play. He also loves to talk about spiritual issues. And he prays. And he is really very gentle.
Joe is big and looks "manly" and loves sports. He likes to do things rather than talk, and he sweats a lot. So far, so good. But he owns a pink shirt. He loves animals and small children and shopping. The man is a shopping nut. And he loves kitchen gadgets. He does the laundry. He can be bossy, but knows it isn't his God-given right to be. (Okay, I gave that last one away. It's my husband.)
Ron is quiet, meek, humble, gentle, wise, and very relational. And man, he loves to go out for lunch. But he loves golfing, and he used to be a cop, so I guess he is okay.
Leo loves music. He is creative, artsy, talks a lot, has many friends. He is very "sensitive." He doesn't sweat much at all, actually. No, he's not gay. He's engaged to a woman who also loves music.
Nick is musical too. He is a quiet loner He does like to work out, but he does not appear to care much about group sports, rarely shows up for group work days, doesn't hunt, fish, camp or even drive fast.
Jack likes race cars and grilling in the back yard. He also likes cats. (Cats? Is it manyly to like cats?) He's married to Lois, mentioned above, who prefers the dog! Oh dear!
Wayne is athletic, muscular, likes sports, seems a bit "wild," hunts, rides a Harley, doesn't usually read much. Ah, finally, a real man!
Okay, I despise stereotypes.
Now, back to the issue at hand. How do we encourage men to come to church?
Wednesday, August 24, 2005
The Fruit of the Spirit is...Peace
Lovely bananas, vibrant with color and sweet to taste. Fruit, both natural and spiritual, is a wonderful thing!I'm still working on Sunday's message regarding the fruit of peace in our lives. I'm becoming convinced that the fruit of the Spirit is about two things, primarily. It's about roots going down into the soil of God's love, and it's about removing the hindrances to the fruit. As I've said before, if God's Spirit lives in me, and my roots are healthy and planted in good "soil" then fruit will come, in time.
What hinders God's peace in our lives?
Well, the list is long, of course. But I'm thinking it may condense to two main things, fear and stubbornness (pride?)!
Peace comes when we trust and obey. Like the old song, "Trust and Obey."
This song gives a simple explanation of livÂing the Christian life. The title expression was used in a testimony meeting, following an evangelistic crusade by Dwight L. Moody. A young man stood to speak, and it soon became clear he knew little Christian doctrine. But he finished by saying, I'm not quite sure, but I'm going to trust, and I'm going to obey. Daniel Towner, who was in the meeting, jotted down the words, and gave them to John Sammis, who developed the lyrics from them.
I think that young man was on to something!
TRUST AND OBEY
When we walk with the Lord in the light of His Word, What a glory He sheds on our way! While we do His good will, He abides with us still,And with all who will trust and obey.
Refrain
Trust and obey, for there's no other way,
To be happy in Jesus, but to trust and obey.
Not a shadow can rise, not a cloud in the skies, But His smile quickly drives it away; Not a doubt or a fear, not a sigh or a tear, Can abide while we trust and obey.
Not a burden we bear, not a sorrow we share, But our toil He doth richly repay;
Not a grief or a loss, not a frown or a cross, But is blessed if we trust and obey.
But we never can prove the delights of His love, Until all on the altar we lay;
For the favor He shows, for the joy He bestows, Are for them who will trust and obey.
Then in fellowship sweet we will sit at His feet. Or we'll walk by His side in the way. What He says we will do, where He sends we will go; Never fear, only trust and obey.
_____________________________
Trust the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding.
Proverbs 3:5
Surely God is my salvation; I will trust and not be afraid. The LORD, the LORD, is my strength and my song; he has become my salvation
Isa 12:2
This is what the Sovereign LORD, the Holy One of Israel, says: "In repentance and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength..." Isa 30:15
Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust also in me. John 14:1
May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit. Romans 15:13
In that day they will say, "Surely this is our God; we trusted in him, and he saved us. This is the LORD, we trusted in him; let us rejoice and be glad in his salvation.
Isa 25:9
Actually, there seems to be a corrolation with trust and JOY as well. All the spiritual fruit is connected. Like a bunch of bananas? (Ha! Got that in there.)
Tuesday, August 23, 2005
Getting "Saved"
An article was recently posted on my friend Darrell Pursifel's blog. which got me thinking about the nature of "salvation" and how different groups who call themselves "Christian" view it.
It used to be easy. In the church in which I grew up, salvation was being "born again." See John 3.. How one did that was simple. You walked up front, usually, and told the preacher you wanted Jesus in your heart, and you prayed with him what we called "a sinner's prayer." Something like, "Jesus, please forgive my sins and come into my life." Or perhaps you prayed at a Billy Graham crusade. Or maybe, like me, you prayed at home.
Now, I'm not dissing a sinner's prayer. I John 1:9 says that if we confess our sin God is faithful and will forgive and cleanse us. Praise God! I remember very clearly the day I knelt by my living room couch with my mother beside me as I, with very simple faith, asked Jesus to come into my heart. I believe I was "born again" or "born from above" at that time. I was baptized a couple of years later. Since our denomination baptized by "immersion" I paddled out into the baptistry with the help of my beloved pastor, Brother Stanley Polk. I stood on a couple of cement blocks, since my six-year old legs were too short to reach the bottom of the baptistry. And since the front wall of the baptistry was partly glass, all the congregates viewed my paddling feet as I exited the water after being "dunked." I would not, however, be turned aside. I was determined to be obedient to what I had learned from the Bible. I was getting baptized and that was that. I do believe my spirit was hungry for God, and as I reached out to Jesus (who I knew loved me) I became a child of the light, as the Apostle Paul puts it.
However, I had to grow in my faith. I did. I always wanted to please God, and from an early age I loved the Bible, loved church, loved prayer and loved Jesus Christ. I knew that obedience was important, and once in a while this led me to legalistic thinking and behavior. This is still a tough balancing act!
My life was certainly sad and confusing in many ways, and it was sometimes painful. But I held on to my faith for dear life. Even in dark times of deep doubt when I found myself unable to pray, unable to read scripture and unable even to sing (for me, that's bad) I held on in total desperation to the awareness that I was born from above, was God's child, and I would somehow come through it by God's grace.
Only in my 20s did I stretch my boundaries in terms of questioning what I had been taught. It started at a secular college and continued; this partly came about because I was married, a new mother, had moved across the country from one coast to the other, sought unsuccessfully for a church home...much change. I attended a Catholic charismatic prayer meeting and found myself very much at home. A priest spoke at my church, and he talked about the importance of an encounter with God. I agreed with everything he said. There were many more changes, too many to talk about here. I broadened my horizons and grew to appreciate other denominations for many things. I no longer think being born from above is quite so easy to understand or predict. Aha! That is exactly what Jesus said in John 3. Oh my!
Darrell Pursifel is pondering the nature of relationship with God. So am I. Especially lately. I am saddened by the Catholics around me in my community who seem to check their faith at the church door after the Mass is over. (Many have told me this.) Last week I spoke with a young woman with a Catholic background who admitted to me that she never learned anything about Jesus Christ...she just was baptized and went through confirmation and all that "stuff" and figured that was enough--but now she knows that her church experience has made not one whit of difference in her spiritual life. She is now beginning to explore the scriptures and I pray she will encounter the living God!
On the other hand, I also see that both my childhood church and my present one sometimes seem to think that a sinner's prayer is all that is needed. Just get someone to say that magic prayer and all is well. They escape Hell and head for Heaven and the rest is gravy. Something is very wrong with this.
There is also something wrong with our current emphasis on Jesus as our best friend. Is he? Oh yes. He is a "friend that sticks closer than a brother." But in our hurry to get people "saved" I wonder if we have not seriously changed what Jesus said. Jesus said that to remain in his love we must obey what he says. Obey? Huh! He did not ask the disciples to come be his friends and buddies and talk to him when they felt like it, and ignore him when it was convenient, and expect that all would be well either way. Yes, just before the end of his time on earth he did say that they were his friends. How wonderful! But what did he say when he first encountered the disciples? He said, "FOLLOW ME." He also said to count the cost before becoming his follower. Count the cost? My friend and deacon, Pat, says that we have no idea what that means when we first come to faith in Christ. She is right, of course. But at least Jesus warns us that while his yoke is easy and his burden light, being his follower will cost us everything. BEING JESUS FOLLOWER IS ABOUT OBEDIENCE, among other things, and it will cost us our all. What do we make of statements like "Keep your life for yourself and you will lose it; lose your life and you'll find it." Do we ignore them? Ah, I fear that all too often we do just that. While there are Catholics who do not know God, are there not Evangelicals who once said a sinner's prayer and who attend church and know how to find scripture verses and can sing all the hymns -- who do not know God either? And who check their faith at the door?
As I type this my mother is listening to a Christian program on TV. Ironically, the preacher, who shall remain nameless, just said, "It is simple. Just pray this prayer: Jesus, forgive my sins and make me your child. Did you do that? Then you are a Christian now...." etc.
Not one word about counting the cost. Not one word about following or obeying.
Magic prayer.
The Catholic church, and some mainline denominations, may be lacking in an awareness of relationship with God and not just religious ritual. But evangelicals have, to an alarming degree, lost any sense of the holiness of God We seem to have totally lost any real awareness and respect, what the King James Version of the Bible calls fear of God.
I do believe, and always will, that knowing about Jesus is not the same as knowing him. Being baptized is just getting wet if it is not about something that must happen in our spirits. Being "born from above" is radical! But how and when this happens is becoming more and more of a mystery to me. And I think I will soon be preaching (once again) about what it means to count the cost and follow Jesus.
That is, once I feel that I can do so with some degree of accuracy and direction from the Holy Spirit...who blows where he will...and we can't predict it.
It used to be easy. In the church in which I grew up, salvation was being "born again." See John 3.. How one did that was simple. You walked up front, usually, and told the preacher you wanted Jesus in your heart, and you prayed with him what we called "a sinner's prayer." Something like, "Jesus, please forgive my sins and come into my life." Or perhaps you prayed at a Billy Graham crusade. Or maybe, like me, you prayed at home.
Now, I'm not dissing a sinner's prayer. I John 1:9 says that if we confess our sin God is faithful and will forgive and cleanse us. Praise God! I remember very clearly the day I knelt by my living room couch with my mother beside me as I, with very simple faith, asked Jesus to come into my heart. I believe I was "born again" or "born from above" at that time. I was baptized a couple of years later. Since our denomination baptized by "immersion" I paddled out into the baptistry with the help of my beloved pastor, Brother Stanley Polk. I stood on a couple of cement blocks, since my six-year old legs were too short to reach the bottom of the baptistry. And since the front wall of the baptistry was partly glass, all the congregates viewed my paddling feet as I exited the water after being "dunked." I would not, however, be turned aside. I was determined to be obedient to what I had learned from the Bible. I was getting baptized and that was that. I do believe my spirit was hungry for God, and as I reached out to Jesus (who I knew loved me) I became a child of the light, as the Apostle Paul puts it.
However, I had to grow in my faith. I did. I always wanted to please God, and from an early age I loved the Bible, loved church, loved prayer and loved Jesus Christ. I knew that obedience was important, and once in a while this led me to legalistic thinking and behavior. This is still a tough balancing act!
My life was certainly sad and confusing in many ways, and it was sometimes painful. But I held on to my faith for dear life. Even in dark times of deep doubt when I found myself unable to pray, unable to read scripture and unable even to sing (for me, that's bad) I held on in total desperation to the awareness that I was born from above, was God's child, and I would somehow come through it by God's grace.
Only in my 20s did I stretch my boundaries in terms of questioning what I had been taught. It started at a secular college and continued; this partly came about because I was married, a new mother, had moved across the country from one coast to the other, sought unsuccessfully for a church home...much change. I attended a Catholic charismatic prayer meeting and found myself very much at home. A priest spoke at my church, and he talked about the importance of an encounter with God. I agreed with everything he said. There were many more changes, too many to talk about here. I broadened my horizons and grew to appreciate other denominations for many things. I no longer think being born from above is quite so easy to understand or predict. Aha! That is exactly what Jesus said in John 3. Oh my!
Darrell Pursifel is pondering the nature of relationship with God. So am I. Especially lately. I am saddened by the Catholics around me in my community who seem to check their faith at the church door after the Mass is over. (Many have told me this.) Last week I spoke with a young woman with a Catholic background who admitted to me that she never learned anything about Jesus Christ...she just was baptized and went through confirmation and all that "stuff" and figured that was enough--but now she knows that her church experience has made not one whit of difference in her spiritual life. She is now beginning to explore the scriptures and I pray she will encounter the living God!
On the other hand, I also see that both my childhood church and my present one sometimes seem to think that a sinner's prayer is all that is needed. Just get someone to say that magic prayer and all is well. They escape Hell and head for Heaven and the rest is gravy. Something is very wrong with this.
There is also something wrong with our current emphasis on Jesus as our best friend. Is he? Oh yes. He is a "friend that sticks closer than a brother." But in our hurry to get people "saved" I wonder if we have not seriously changed what Jesus said. Jesus said that to remain in his love we must obey what he says. Obey? Huh! He did not ask the disciples to come be his friends and buddies and talk to him when they felt like it, and ignore him when it was convenient, and expect that all would be well either way. Yes, just before the end of his time on earth he did say that they were his friends. How wonderful! But what did he say when he first encountered the disciples? He said, "FOLLOW ME." He also said to count the cost before becoming his follower. Count the cost? My friend and deacon, Pat, says that we have no idea what that means when we first come to faith in Christ. She is right, of course. But at least Jesus warns us that while his yoke is easy and his burden light, being his follower will cost us everything. BEING JESUS FOLLOWER IS ABOUT OBEDIENCE, among other things, and it will cost us our all. What do we make of statements like "Keep your life for yourself and you will lose it; lose your life and you'll find it." Do we ignore them? Ah, I fear that all too often we do just that. While there are Catholics who do not know God, are there not Evangelicals who once said a sinner's prayer and who attend church and know how to find scripture verses and can sing all the hymns -- who do not know God either? And who check their faith at the door?
As I type this my mother is listening to a Christian program on TV. Ironically, the preacher, who shall remain nameless, just said, "It is simple. Just pray this prayer: Jesus, forgive my sins and make me your child. Did you do that? Then you are a Christian now...." etc.
Not one word about counting the cost. Not one word about following or obeying.
Magic prayer.
The Catholic church, and some mainline denominations, may be lacking in an awareness of relationship with God and not just religious ritual. But evangelicals have, to an alarming degree, lost any sense of the holiness of God We seem to have totally lost any real awareness and respect, what the King James Version of the Bible calls fear of God.
I do believe, and always will, that knowing about Jesus is not the same as knowing him. Being baptized is just getting wet if it is not about something that must happen in our spirits. Being "born from above" is radical! But how and when this happens is becoming more and more of a mystery to me. And I think I will soon be preaching (once again) about what it means to count the cost and follow Jesus.
That is, once I feel that I can do so with some degree of accuracy and direction from the Holy Spirit...who blows where he will...and we can't predict it.
Saturday, August 20, 2005
March of the Penguins
We just went to see the movie "March of the Penguins." Some are saying it is anthropomorphizing (is that a word?) too much, but I LOVED it. Beautiful imagery, and narration by Morgan Freeman (I love his voice). The penguins with their awkward waddle are so amusing and majestic at the same time! What they do each mating season is phenominal just for the fact that any of them survive. GO SEE IT! It was ninety minutes of awe, sadness, laughing, amazment, and wonder at God's creation. If they made the penguins a bit too "human" I really don't care.
Wednesday, August 17, 2005
The Gaza Strip
An Israeli soldier weeps as he helps evict others from their homes. Lord, how long?
This morning I am reading news reports of the situation in the Gaza strip as Israelis are being removed from their homes. I don't know the solution to the Palestianian-Israeli problem, but I confess to being a zionist--one of those who believes that God bequeathed that tiny spot to Israel. Nonetheless, I understand the Palestinians who are on rooftops rejoicing as they watch their Jewish neighbors evicted. God, what a mess your world is in! The slideshow pictures made me weep. . I hope some families will clean their home and leave a note saying "This was a good house for us. I pray God blesses you here." Please pray with me for wisdom for those involved and that El Shaddai, the Almighty one who comforts like a mother, will be revealed to hurting people.
This morning I am reading news reports of the situation in the Gaza strip as Israelis are being removed from their homes. I don't know the solution to the Palestianian-Israeli problem, but I confess to being a zionist--one of those who believes that God bequeathed that tiny spot to Israel. Nonetheless, I understand the Palestinians who are on rooftops rejoicing as they watch their Jewish neighbors evicted. God, what a mess your world is in! The slideshow pictures made me weep. . I hope some families will clean their home and leave a note saying "This was a good house for us. I pray God blesses you here." Please pray with me for wisdom for those involved and that El Shaddai, the Almighty one who comforts like a mother, will be revealed to hurting people.
Sunday, August 07, 2005
By the Shores of Gitchee Gumee
"By the shores of Gitchee Gumee, By the shining Big-Sea-Water, Stood the wigwam of Nokomis, Daughter of the Moon, Nokomis. Dark behind it rose the forest, Rose the black and gloomy pine-trees, Rose the firs with cones upon them; Bright before it beat the water, Beat the clear and sunny water, Beat the shining Big-Sea-Water. There the wrinkled old Nokomis, Nursed the little Hiawatha, Rocked him in his linden cradle, Bedded soft in moss and rushes. Safely bound with reindeer sinews; Stilled his fretful wail by saying, "Hush! The Naked Bear will hear thee!" Lulled him into slumber, singing,"Ewa-yea! my little owlet! Who is this, that lights the wigwam? With his great eyes lights the wigwam? Ewa-yea! my little owlet!" From The Song of Hiawatha by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Many of the names in Longfellow's epic poem (over 200 pages), Nokomis, Wynona, Pipestone, Minnehaha, Escanaba and others are familiar in the north central states of Minnesota, Wisconsin and Michigan. My mother loved poetry and sometimes read passages to me when I was a young child. From the time I arrived at our vacation destination, near the small town of Ontonogan in Michigan's "Upper Peninsula" or "U.P." Region, I was thinking of the first lines of Longfellow's famous poem. Gitchee Gumee means something like "shining big water"but is plain old Lake Superior nowadays. I like Gitchee Gumee better.
The picture above is just like a beach we discovered, driftwood and all. Behind the beach, only a few yards from glistening white sand, is a forest, deep and green and lovely. Just like the poem!
References to Gitchee Gumee were everywhere in Ontonogan (pronounced Ottenoggen by the locals). UPers or "Yoopers" have a distinct accent. It is a Midwest accent such as you'd hear anywhere in this region...halfway between a drawl and a twang with a Scandinavian lilt added...but much more so. They really do say "up nort." The townspeople were very welcoming to all of us.
We were camped in a large meadow, surrounded by woods, participating in a Midwest Rendezvous of the National Muzzleloaders Rifle Association. Yes, there are a bunch of folks who like to get together and reenact the fur-trade era of 1690-1840 (I blogged about that in May, "Going Back in Time")--including firing off replicas of ancient weapons. So there we were, Singing Owl and Bearded Eagle, camped in our lodge by the shores of Gitchee Gumee. Well, almost on the shores, really only a couple of miles away. Our daughter and her husband (Kris and Daryl, aka Happy Otter and Two Foxes) came too, and another friend, Janis, arrived a few days later.
There were some miserable parts to the week. The most significant was the oppressive heat (over 100 some days!) coupled with high humidity. We all thought we'd go to the U.P. and get cooled off. Not so. We steamed in the sun like so many lobsters in a pot and longed to shed our "outfits" for shorts and tee shirts. On the worst of the hot days, we headed for "Gitchee Gumee," found a lovely beach and headed straight for the water. We gave each other looks of encouragement and a "thumbs up"--and plunged bravely in. Whoo! The water looked crystal clear; the wave patterns beneath our toes were clearly visible. Lake Superior is said to be the coldest of the Great Lakes, but after the initial gasp of shock it felt fabulous--and probably saved our bodies from heat stroke and our tempers from exploding!
I won't blog about the negative things though. Instead I'd like to share little impressions and joys that came throughout the week.
I want to recall:
Looking out over the camp on our first night
There were at least 450 people in our little impromptu "village." There were many styles of white canvas dwellings, of course. Pretty French Marquis lodges with their decorative scalloped tops, wall tents, one pole tents, little "lean to's" and more. Tepee poles with their fluttering streamers reached high into the sky. It was cold the first night, and many of the tepees glowed from the fires burning inside. Candle lanterns, ours among them, glowed in a heavy, low fog that blanketed the meadow. Above the fog, the twilight glowed pink and blue on the horizon, and as the sky grew darker the flog disappeared and we watched in awe as the stars appeared. I haven't seen stars like that in many years. It was magnificent! We pointed out the various constellations, gazed with wonder at the Milky Way...and then there were northern lights! I stayed up late just looking at the sky till I got a crick in my neck! I thought of God speaking to Abraham about how his seed would be as numerous as the stars and recalled the words of an old Phil Keaggy song, "...can you count stars, Abraham? Do you believe I AM?" The cool weather was short-lived but lovely while it lasted!
A light show of another kind
One evening lightening began to flash all around us. North, south, east and west, it was everywhere. Some forked, some sheets of light; it never stopped for over two hours. It was the most amazing display of power I have ever seen, and I've lived in many places and seen some awesome storms. This was phenomenal. The sky was full of enormous fluffy clouds in many shades of gray, and the lightening flashed behind them, illuminating the gorgeous banks of clouds in white light -- I cannot begin to describe it. There were no pauses between flashes--constant brilliant light and the distant rumble of thunder. People all over camp stopped what they were doing and pulled up chairs or lay down on their backs in the grass and just stared heavenward. Oooohs and aaahs around me made me smile. It was just like the sounds heard at a fireworks display, but this was more beautiful than man-made pyrotechnics could ever be. Eventually, wind began to gust sharply, and everyone ran around covering things, and tightening ropes and then disappeared into their lodges. Ken and I climbed into bed, pulled our quilt up around our chins, and lay quiet to listen as the rain finally came, a deluge of water--and hailstones. Nothing like being in a tent hoping the hail doesn't come right through the canvas! I thought about the many sailors who had been on Lake Superior in just such storms; many lost their lives. I fell asleep humming Gordon Lightfoot's famous song, "The Ella Fitzgerald."
Sunday morning worship service
About fifty buckskinners gathered in front of Father Thomas' little chapel set up. Father Thomas is a Jesuit priest who is also a historian of the first order. I wish I had a picture of him wearing his vestments in his little makeshift chapel. He is a sight to see with his moccasins, flat-brimmed hat, large French pectoral cross with his brown cassock flapping around his legs. I don't know how he stood the heat in that get up! On Sunday he added a lovely old white vestment that I'm sure was correct to the period. He was joined by Muskrat Jack of something called "Buckskin Ministries." Muskrat and his wife, "Dances With Bees" (yep, it happened, she says), flew a Christian flag in front of their tepee, along with the colonial version of "Old Glory" (the one with 13 circular stars). We have one of those flags too. Ken...er, Bearded Eagle that is, won ours in a tomahawk throwing competition. Anyway, I thought of Dr. P. as I listened to Muskrat's sermon and then received bread and wine from Father Thomas. He didn't do a Mass, exactly, so I suppose that made it all right for all of us to share communion together. A man dressed in a frockcoat and breeches stood by his wife (in chemise, bodice and long skirt) as Father Thomas led them in renewing their vows. He made a strong point of telling the wife that she was to "respect, not obey" her husband. And reciting "The Lord's Prayer" in a group that looks to be straight out of the 18th century was a bit surreal. What an interesting worship service!
Cooking in cast iron.
There were three cooking contests. Cooking over a campfire can be a challenge, but it is one of the things we like to do--trying to see just what we can come up with from a cast iron dutch oven. We often make biscuits or corn bread or pie. Once we made pizza (not exactly correct to the period)! Anyway, the first competition was for soup. Daughter Kris and I made a chicken vegetable soup together, and won second prize--edged out by a wild rice stew! Next days' entry was supposed to be a one pot meal, and we had purchased all the fixin's for two entrees, but it was so hot we couldn't stand to think of lighting a fire to cook it. We all skipped out and went to town for an ice cream instead (next entry). Ha! But the nex day the competition was for desserts. Ah, dessert from a campfire is a challenge! We gathered at "Baby's Fry Bread Kitchen" for the judging. It was so fun, observing all the women, and a few men, arriving at the large canvas lodge with heavy black kettles, placing them on a long wooden table, then sitting by pretending indifference to the outcome. What a mix! A woman on my left wore a beautifully beaded and fringed buckskin dress, another stood nearby in a French gown with a very low neckline (very proper to the period!). Another, dressed as a Metis, wore an Indian calico plains dress and a fancy French hat, complete with feathers! And the men! Ken in buckskins, another next to him in the knickers, long striped socks and jaunty knitted cap of the French voyaguer, another in nothing but a breechclout (that was my son in law) and another in a kilt. I could write an entire entry about the differing styles of facial hair alone--quite interesting and amusing. The judges were very serious about it all and took a long time, coming back for a second and third look at the entries and not a few extra tastes of pie, fried apples, or whatever. We won FIRST place for a cherry-strawberry dump cake. It was delicious, if I say so myself. Afterwards, we passed out samples to Muskrat Jack and our other neighbors, and then we sat by our campfire eating the remainder and congratulating ourselves on our victory.
I think that if some people we know from the rendezvous circuit saw us in our "regular" clothes they would likely not recognize us. Sometimes when someone looks familiar but I can't quite place them I wonder, "Are they a rendezvouser?"
A "Glacier"
Not the geographic kind, a sweet-frozen-treat kind. There was a little ice cream stand in Ontonogan. When we were dripping in the humidity and could stand the heat no longer, we headed for town and discovered a new taste sensation. The Glacier is some sort of slushy, fruity ice cream mixture that tasted like Heaven to me. Mine was pina colada and full of tiny bits of ice. Ahhhh! Nothing like cooling off from the inside out. Then we headed for a beach and took the aforementioned dip in the icy waters of Lake Superior. I could have stayed in the water all day. I imagined the shore as it might have looked as the real-life versions of Hiawatha or Minnehaha came in for a refreshing swim on just such a day. How unusual to stand on a white, sun drenched beach and look at a deep, green forest in the background.
The Porcupine Mountains
I wouldn't call them mountains, exactly. But then I grew up surrounded by California's majestic Sierra Madres. How I miss the mountains! Well, they were small by my standards, but they were lovely. Ken and Janis and I drove along the lakshore till the forested hump (looking like a quilled porcupine back) came into sight. After spending time in the visitor center looking at flora and fauna and listening to recorded samples of owls hooting and wolves howling, we headed for the hills, so to speak. We hiked into the largest "old-growth" forest in the midwest. The old maples, hemlocks and other trees were impressive. They have been there for many years, just saplings at the time of Lewis and Clark's trek west with Sacajaweah and Charbonnoe and the others in the Corps of Discovery. The river bottom was flat, sharp, shale and this rock, along with the brown flowing water and the many small waterfalls, seemed to me exactly like California's great Kern River. It brought back some of the happiest memories of my childhood; times spent outdoors in the mountains were the best occasions for my family. My favorite sound in nature is water rushing over stones in a river or stream.
It was a difficult day for me. I ended up bruised and weary and rather sad. People in braces should not try hiking over such rough terrain. Sigh. Without a good stout walking stick and a good stout husband ;-) to haul me up the very steep hillsides covered with rocks and large old tree roots...well, I never would have made it. I wouldn't do it again, but having done it I am glad for the experience. The bright sunshine above the canopy of deep green, the occasional grassy meadow filled with wildflowers, the rocks, the river--all were so very mysterious and beautiful.
The Music.
One of my favorite things about "rendezvous" is the music. Only at a buckskinner encampment is one able to hear a fiddle, a mandolin or banjo, a penny whistle, an Indian flute or perhaps even a bagpipe in the same evening. I purchased a beautifully handmade, cedar Indian flute and have been practicing a bit since arriving home. What a lovely mellow sound--like wind in the treetops! I hope I can learn to play it properly.
The Dog Soldiers.
These are the men who enforce, if needed, the rules of the camp, watch for modern items on trade blankets (a no-no) and do a multitude of odd jobs. Each day after any public visitors had exited the encampment, they tooled around with a four-wheeler and a trailer to deliver ice or pick up bags of trash. Not a thrilling job, but these guys made it fun by shouting things like "Douse the driver and win a prize" or "Bring out your dead." They had the camp looking forward to trash pickup time. Silly guys.
The American Bald Eagle.
One day we sighted a bald eagle over the encampment. The sun glistened on his white head as he spread his great wings and glided on the wind. He soared above us in a deep blue sky for some time.
How I wish I'd had my good camera!
Saturday, August 06, 2005
The Fruit of the Spirit is...Joy!
"I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener...Remain in me, and I will remain in you. For a branch cannot produce fruit if it is severed from the vine, and you cannot be fruitful apart from me. "Yes, I am the vine; you are the branches. Those who remain in me, and I in them, will produce much fruit. For apart from me you can do nothing.... My true disciples produce much fruit. This brings great glory to my Father. "I have loved you even as the Father has loved me. Remain in my love. When you obey me, you remain in my love, just as I obey my Father and remain in his love. I have told you this so that you will be filled with my joy. Yes, your joy will overflow! From the Gospel of John, chapter 15
I'm home! I'll post soon about some of my experiences in Michigan's Upper Peninsula.
Yawn.....Meanwhile, I am up late trying to prepare for tomorrow morning's worship service. Everyone in church will receive a little bunch of grapes to eat, a sweet reminder of Jesus' words. Tomorrow we go on the the second in the list of the fruit of the Spirit, joy.
Joy is the hardest of the fruit to define--at least that is so for me. What is the joy that is overflowing? Without love, joy is impossible. Jesus makes that quite clear. It seems to me that if the Holy Spirit lives in me, the fruit begins to grow as a natural thing, not sometihng forced or contrived. Thus, if fruit is lacking, we must ask ourselves "What is the hinderence?" Perhaps the real issue is not figuring how to grow fruit, but simply finding how to remove anyting that blocks the natural process. What hinders the fruit of JOY?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)