My date with some Baptists in the boat of Jesus

A few months ago I was invited to speak to a group of men at their monthly prayer breakfast and did so this past weekend. The breakfast was at LakeWay Baptist Church in The Colony, about 8 miles away. 

There are some pretty significant theological differences between Baptists and Catholics so I wasn't sure if that would somehow be a hindrance to my presentation, but I was determined to be who I am and to let the Holy Spirit do the real work. 

Oh, their pastor was there too. He didn't run me off or rebuke me or anything so I guess the Holy Spirit being in charge worked. ;-)

Seriously, it was a great experience for me, and I believe the men enjoyed our time together as well.

I was asked to talk about my experience through Hurricane Katrina, and more specifically, how my faith sustained me and my family through that trying time. I did talk about those experiences, but also about the other storms, the various unnamed storms of life that are every bit as turbulent, dangerous, and even deadly.

When I was preparing, I set out to make some brief "bullet point" notes or outline to follow, but that's never really been my style. In fact, I always work backwards. I write out what I want to say, and then make the outline afterwards. But this time, I just left my presentation completely written out; all ten pages.

When I practiced, I found myself looking at the pages often, and that worried me. There's probably nothing worse than having a presenter read from notes. I think I was worried about what I might forget to say or that I would leave out something that was important.

In the end, as I said, I just asked the Holy Spirit to do the work, and all went great. My notes were there as a security blanket (I guess I will always have control issues) but since the presentation was very personal, I used them probably even less than if I had used an outline instead.

As we prayed afterwards, nearly all of the men picked up on the "storm" theme, affirming to me that all of us are facing some storm or another throughout our lives. More affirming though was that it was evident that the true message was delivered and received appropriately.

That is that we are in the boat of Jesus. It's His boat, not ours. When we forget that we are in the boat of Jesus, when we take our eyes off of Him and focus on the storm - how powerful it is instead of how powerful God is, and what it might do to us, how it might hurt us, what it might take away from us - we are in danger of drowning; in every way a man can drown.

As it turns out, there were a few things that I didn't say, some things I thought were significant, but in the end I guess they really were not.

But here's the point I actually set out to make with this post: I was moved by what I witnessed as the Holy Spirit working in these men's lives. It seemed to be reciprocal. Because we all opened our hearts to God and allowed Him to be in control during that time, not focusing on what separates us but on what unites us, we were able to allow Him to accomplish some new work in all of our lives.

My date with those Baptist Christian men in the boat of Jesus was a very uplifting experience.

Father, that we may all be One. +++

Silence of the Flock?: 40 Days Before Hurricane Katrina

I just posted about my evacuation from Louisiana during Hurricane Katrina,

Well, I recently discussed with a couple of friends that not long before that, I got mad about an atheistic movie playing in my home town.  In fact, I wrote a letter and with the approval of my pastor, delivered it to about 50 local churches.  I went to as many Catholic, Baptist, Methodist, Pentecostal, non-denominational, etc churches that I could find.  I asked them to post it or to read it to their parishioners, congregation, etc.

I'm guessing that some of you are thinking I was being my normal out-of-control self, or maybe just rolling your eyes, but it is what it is.

Ironically (or NOT), 40 days later, I was finishing up preparations to evacuate.  I find the whole thing very interesting, if nothing else, now.  Even though the movie is no longer of significance, I think the question raised in the letter is still (and maybe more so) relevant.  See what you think.

Here's the transcript of the letter:

Silence of the Flock?

“Let no one deceive you with empty arguments, for because of these things the wrath of God is coming upon the disobedient.” (Ephesians 5: 6) 

Last Friday morning, I was having breakfast with a friend, when he shoved an article from the Lagniappe section of the Times Picayune in my face saying, “Can you believe this!!?” The article was a piece on “The God Who Wasn’t There”, listed first as a “documentary” and then a “movie” which “merits a PG-13 rating”.

The movie portrays Jesus as a “myth, another hero tale modeled on a classic paradigm”, and the theater  Chalmette Movies 9, proudly claims “partnership” with the New Orleans Secular Humanist Association.

I have to say that I was very upset that this movie was playing at the theater in our own community. How did we let this happen? Are we that silent in our community that this movie is not only being shown (for nine days), but is proudly touted on the theater's “movie line” as the top billing? In case you haven’t noticed, a large majority of this theater's patrons are our children (and grandchildren).

This was still weighing on my mind when I got home, so I decided to visit the theater to voice my disappointment. I spoke with a lady who identified herself as “one of” the managers of the theater. I (calmly and politely) expressed to her that I was not pleased that the theater chose to play this movie in our hometown, telling her that while they had a right to play what they wanted to, that neither I nor my children would frequent the theatre in the future as my only recourse in protesting their decision.

She proceeded to tell me, “We’re showing the movie because another group asked us to play it. We’ll play anything here. Last week, we played a Mormon movie. We’ll play Christian movies too.” I told her that I appreciated her honesty, but the fact that they would play “anything” really didn't make me feel better about the situation, and that I would urge others who thought as I do to also stop frequenting the theater.

So here we are…I am asking you to consider taking 5 minutes of your time to go to this theater (there is not a phone number to call that will allow you to speak with anyone or to leave a message.) and in a Christian-like manner, politely inform them that you too are not pleased with their decision to play the movie.

“For our struggle is not with flesh and blood but with the principalities, with the powers, with the world rulers of this present darkness, with the evil spirits in the heavens.” (Ephesians 6: 12)

Hurricane Isaac Reminds Me of How I Got Here

I recognize that while many who have known me are familiar with my roots in Louisiana, there are many who may not be.  With Hurricane Isaac taking a very similar path as Hurricane Katrina, and with the possibility of landfall on the anniversary of Katrina, I thought this would be a good time to re-introduce the story of how I came to North Texas.

On August 28, 2005 at 4 AM, my wife, our then 9 month old son, and I evacuated from our house in Arabi, Louisiana. Arabi is a small community in St. Bernard Parish which rests near the Mississippi River. You may not have heard of St. Bernard, but you may be more familiar with our neighbors immediately to the west; the “Lower 9th Ward” of New Orleans. 

Escaping the path of Hurricane Katrina, we took our dog, a few changes of clothes, and some personal belongings that we could fit in the car.

Living in an area which is 13 feet below sea level, it was not the first time that we had “run the drill” so to speak. In fact, it wasn’t even the first time that we had evacuated that year. However, this time just felt a little different. Still, as we drove away, we did not realize that it would be the last time we would call that place “home”.

We tried not to think about what could be in store for Louisiana and other areas in the Gulf region, so when we were not praying, we tried to keep the conversation light. We had gone to the Vigil Mass the evening before, and we joked about the choice of the closing Hymn, “Rain Down”.

For much of the next week, from a Houston hotel room, we watched the events which followed in the aftermath of Katrina. It was really hard to watch. There were pictures of places that were familiar to us our whole lives, now completely submerged by several feet of water. There were pictures of rescues, some too late. There were images and sounds of complete and utter chaos. There were scenes of people living in subhuman conditions, and while many organizations and agencies were able to get in, it seemed no one was able to get out. Some St. Bernard officials remained throughout the storm and were posting updates on the internet. Their reports were even worse than what we were watching on television, and they gave a pretty dim prognosis for the recovery of the area.

With all of these things and more in mind, we discussed our options and prayed for guidance. After a couple of days, we decided that we would not return, and that we would head to “Dallas” as we previously referred to this area. My Godfather and his family have lived here for several years, and we had just visited the area the year before. Ironically, I remember that at the time we thought it might be a nice place to live…”some day”. That hypothetical “some day” was now upon us, and while we were uncertain about a great number of things such as housing, employment, and little things like that, we were definitely at peace and comfortable with our decision.

We decided to let my parents know of our plans. My parents, as well as most of my family, also lived in St. Bernard and had evacuated to Memphis. As I placed the call, I was a little concerned about how my mom might respond to us moving so far away. When she answered the cell phone, my mom said, “Hold on. Your dad is on the phone with Paren. I think he’s talking about moving to Dallas.”

On a temporary basis, we all rented a house in The Colony. All of us, my mom, dad, wife, infant son, the dog, and I quartered in the same house. As you can imagine, that in itself presented its own challenges and situations. Although we had made the move, “at peace” with the decision, the tensions and pressures of various sorts began to mount. It was around that time that I read these words from St. John Chrysostom. 

The waters have risen and severe storms are upon us, but we do not fear drowning, for we stand firmly upon a rock. Let the sea rage, it cannot break the rock. Let the waves rise, they cannot sink the boat of Jesus. What are we to fear? We brought nothing into this world, and we shall surely take nothing from it. Though the waves and the sea and the anger of princes are roused against me, they are less to me than a spider’s web. For I always say “Lord, your will be done”; not what this fellow or that would have me do, but what you want me to do. That is my strong tower, my immovable rock, my staff that never gives way. If God wants something, let it be done! If he wants me to stay here, I am grateful. But wherever he wants me to be, I am no less grateful. 

The following weekend, we found our way to St. Francis of Assisi in Frisco. We knew that we had found our new church home as the choir sang "Rain Down."  (You can't make this stuff up.)

A month later, we purchased a house in the area, became involved in our new Church parish, and have seen how God has shaped our lives in ways that we did not expect and could only have happened here and now.  I don't know what we would do without the friendships that we have made through our church "family". Grateful? Indeed!

Please take a moment to pray for the physical and spiritual well-being of the people in the Gulf area.

Note: The majority of the content in this article was taken from my lay witness during a Stewardship drive at St. Francis.  Also, this article has been edited, but most of the content was originally posted several years ago here on DFW Catholic.