Effects of the BP Oil Spill in New Orleans

I haven’t seen many news reports talking about effects of the oil spill to the average New Orleanian, so this I’m reporting how it has affected me in two obvious ways in hopes of beginning discussions about the broader impact.  This is not meant to take away from those whose lives have been profoundly changed, such as fishermen and those who have been laid off as a result of the oil spill.

Asthmatic Attacks

The first place I felt the effect was in my breathing.  When I was in college there was a building on campus that some called a “sick building.”  Heavy rains would flood the basement where we had classes, and mold inevitably found its way into the walls.  During my college years I developed asthma.  My allergist said it was environmental due to contact with molds and other allergens to which my body was allergic.  Those symptoms persisted until I moved to Arizona.  I eventually developed allergy symptoms in Arizona, but the ashthma stayed away.

About a month after the BP oil spill I had an acute asthmatic attack.  I used my son’s nebulizer to take albuterol, which controlled the attack.  After another attack one week later, I scheduled an appointment with my allergist.  Allergy testing only revealed an allergy to dust mites, so he recommended bed covers and pillowcase covers, which I was already using.  He also prescribed some medicine to control my allergies.

The control experiment was a trip to Florida for nine days from which I just returned.  By the time we left I was starting my day with a breathing treatment using albuterol to control my allergies.  I brought the nebulizer, but quit using it on the second day away from New Orleans.  For eight days I could breath easily again.

We returned to New Orleans late last night.  The symptoms have returned and I have already taken an albuterol treatment this morning.  I feel so frustrated. 

Oil Rain

We’ve probably all heard of acid rain and its effects on the environment.  Well, the oil spill has brought a similar side effect I have dubbed “oil rain.”  Take a look at the photos of my car at the top of this post to see how I discovered this phenomenon.  My vehicle is white, so when I washed it last week it was obvious there was something more than the usual grime.  After washing the car and using polishing compound, there were still small black specks all over the roof.  Hopefully, I will be able to get them off with a heavy degreaser.

My hope is that this blog post is part of a larger discussion that brings attention to the effects of this spill.  There may not be oil flowing into the Gulf of Mexico, but I fear we will be seeing the impact of the spill for the rest of my life.

I heart French people

So I’m on Frenchmen Street tonight to hear Chris Royal and the Dark Matter and I ran into some people from France on business in New Orleans. They were impressed by how friendly the people are and how cool the music scene is. I was just happy to get to speak French with some people. Ironically, today is Bastille Day. I also, ironically, happened to download the Radio France app to my Droid phone yesterday and listen for about an hour. So I had had a good warmup. We talked about how I have relatives in Strasbourg, Paris, and the South of France. We talked about the World Cup of 1998 and how amazing that win was for France. It was good conversation with some good people.

So if you haven’t had good conversation with someone from France lately, you should try. Speaking French is always a good icebreaker, but you’d be surprised how you can just have a good talk about just about anything. Bonne chance!

a word to the Christians I saw at Mardi Gras

I’ve waited all week to write this post so I could cool off and speak lovingly.  The truth is I’m still mad at some Christians I encountered at Mardi Gras this week.  My sister, brother-in-law and I went with two of our children to Mardi Gras downtown this year.  Perhaps it was the cold, but I was surprised how non-offensive people were.  For years I’ve told people that Mardi Gras is clean as long as you stay away from the French Quarter.  This year I suppose Mardi Gras was clean as long as you stayed off Bourbon Street.

As we crossed Canal Street at St. Charles Avenue we encountered a scene that leaped out of a bad dream.  Crowds of people were enjoying the passing Zulu parade.  Unfortunately, we could not fully enjoy the parade because a group of Christians were parading with signs displaying messages such as “Sodomy is sin” and “Warning God haters greedy thieves liars drunks mockers fornicators immodest women homosexuals – judgment coming!”  I really wanted to give them a piece of my mind on the spot, but my son wanted to watch the parade, so we needed to press on to the place where we were meeting people to watch the parade.  For the next three hours we enjoyed food and fun with friends from church.  We caught lots of beads, cups, stuffed animals, and even coconuts (a favorite Zulu throw) without seeing any nudity or crass activity in the crowd.  This is the way I’ve enjoyed Mardi Gras my entire life.

Between parades we made our way to the French Quarter where my brother-in-law’s aunt has a beautiful old home.   We did not have time to talk to the lovely Christians with signs, but on the way we did encounter some nice people who reminded me how Christians should act.  The first was a man who was extremely warm and friendly as he placed hats on each of us.  He called me Matthew McConaughy and told my sister she had perfect teeth.  He represented a group who feed the homeless, so I gave him $9.00 for a hat.  He then gave me a cookbook with Hare Krishna recipes.  As I walked away I realized that I had been “evangelized” by a Hare Krishna in a wonderful way.  The experience only made me more upset with my so-called brothers-in-Christ with signs.

Fortunately, I ran into another group at Jackson Square.  There was a large crowd gathered in a circle around some entertainers.  I must have caught the end of their program because the people were clapping and the leader was speaking as if she was wrapping things up.  I just recall hearing the words, “If you want to talk to someone about Jesus, we’d love to talk with you.”  My heart warmed up at those words.  I was so glad to hear Christians acting in a Christian way.  The day went better for me after that, but I was still sad every time I thought about the sign carriers.

So if you happen to be someone who pickets at Mardi Gras or other places with messages of judgment, please don’t take this as an assault.  Please understand this as an appeal that you consider how you are influencing people.  If I, as a Christian, take offense at your signs how much more do those who do not believe take offense?  If you want to convince people that Jesus is the Way, you might take lessons from the Hare Krishna down the street from you.  At least he was nice.  In your defense, I did not speak to you to hear your story.  I bet you are nice people.  I just would never know by the signs you carry.  Please consider staying home next year at Mardi Gras if signs are the only way you can communicate.  Or perhaps consider coming down without signs and just talking to people about the One who changed your life.  You might just find the experience changes your life.

Saints Triumphant – David E. Crosby

My pastor wrote this article on Monday following the Saints first ever Superbowl victory.  I thought I would share it, with his permission, with the rest of you:

Saints Triumphant

By David E. Crosby, Pastor

First Baptist New Orleans

February 8, 2010

Jesus rode a colt on his triumphal entry, and our football team did the same last night.

I never prayed that the New Orleans Saints would win the Super Bowl, although I was running in circles in my living room, screaming my head off when it happened.

I prayed with the team in their chapel services several times, but I did not pray for them to win. Win or lose, my prayers were that they would respond with the Christian character I know many of them possess. I prayed that they would give God the glory, speak unselfishly, and embrace their role as civic leaders and cheerleaders in a city still struggling to gain its footing.

I prayed for the New Orleans Saints. The players are young men with great athletic abilities under an intense spotlight. They respond spontaneously when the microphones are thrust in front of them. They face great temptations and great opportunities all at once.

My prayers were answered last night. By and large, the Saints responded to their astonishing victory with joy and self-restraint, celebration and thanksgiving, and often an explicit acknowledgment of faith in God. I was proud of them.

The term “Saints,” meaning “holy ones,” comes right out of the Bible. It is used most often in the letters of the Apostle Paul to refer to the members of the churches. It points to the holiness of God which he applies to us through the death of Christ upon the cross. We are “set apart” for God when we trust Christ as Savior and Lord. Saints are special in that they have been set apart for the purposes of God.

“Saints” also comes right out of New Orleans. We are and have been the “city of the saints” from the names of our streets to the names of our many churches (Catholic, Protestant, and others) to the monuments in our parks. You will not visit a city in America with more visible religious roots or more spiritual public culture.

The team here uses a religious term to designate their players. We use a religious symbol—the fleur de lis—as our team emblem. Down here in the bayou, we mean it. “Bless you, boys,” is our common commendation for these star athletes. Three archbishops have blessed this team with their interest and widely publicized attendance at games. Their presence is always front page news. So also is the display of the bones of Mary Magdalene and Ash Wednesday.

The local newspaper put a religious spin on the pilgrimage of our Saints. “Hell froze over” when we won the NFC championship, and we were “at heaven’s gate,” according to the headlines. The Saints went marching in last night. We were all in their number. Monday’s front page said it all: “Amen! After 43 years, our prayers are answered.”

The country—and maybe the world—have been cheering for us because we were the underdog. Our city and region are still struggling back to normalcy from a disaster of staggering proportions. The Saints have given a resounding answer to the question, “Can New Orleans recover?”

We are happy to be “America’s team” this year. We have been the subject of prayers and the destination of thousands of mission teams since Hurricane Katrina visited our shores. This outpouring of benevolence, perhaps unparalleled in the history of America, is followed appropriately by a great victory which all caring souls can embrace. As the Indianapolis Colts knew, the Super Bowl was a road game for them and a home game for the Saints.

New Orleans is an enigma, especially to those who view it from the outside, but also to us who live and work here. The city of the Saints is known to be one of the country’s flesh markets. The television shots bounced back and forth last night between Sun Life Stadium in Miami and the wall-to-wall, throbbing party on Bourbon Street. Is there any other place on earth where people dressed like nuns and popes lead parades of revelers? Is there another city where “revelers” is common lingo for Super Bowl enthusiasts?

Professional athletic competition may be mostly about entertainment, but it is also about character. The courage, determination and team work of the athletes inspire us to greater effort and better performance in our own contests of faith and strength.

The Saints are leading the charge in a city that aims to do better on every front. With the highest per capita murder rate in America and the lowest literacy rate and the highest rate of child hunger and rampant public corruption, the urgent needs in New Orleans transcend our tourist-focused Bourbon Street. The time for prayer has just begun.

The city elected a new mayor Saturday, Mitch Landrieu. Now there is a man to pray for! The son of a former mayor and brother of a current United States senator, “Mitch” won a landslide victory in the primary against five opponents—as startling a win as the Super Bowl.

The church of Jesus Christ, full of worshiping saints, is marching boldly into the future of this city, energized by the Holy Spirit, full of hope and faith, and prepared to do battle for the souls who live here. With the Good Samaritan as our model, we plunge into the fray eager to demonstrate the care of Christ in “the city that care forgot.”

The New Lakeview

The Lakeview neighborhood in New Orleans was hit hard by hurricane Katrina. In contrast to the devastated homes of the 9th ward, these homes were owned by doctors, lawyers, teachers, and other professionals who called New Orleans home.  Basically, this was a neighborhood that much of middle America could relate to. You might see pictures of people being rescued from rooftops in the 9th ward and think, “That was sad and tragic,” but you couldn’t relate to them.

If you are one of the millions of Americans who live in the suburbs, drive an SUV, and take your kids to soccer and cheerleading, the people of Lakeview were probably people you could relate to. They evacuated New Orleans in their own vehicles and many stayed with close friends or family for an extended period after Katrina. Many found jobs in other cities as their professional skills allowed them to relocate. In many cases, they found the public schools and church communities of other cities to be superior to New Orleans in many ways, so it was easier just to relocate.

I understand those who stayed away, but I salute those who have returned. They have a die-hard spirit and they want to see their neighborhood return better than it was before Katrina. It will be years in the making, but they will rebuild a beautiful neighborhood in time. I meet new Lakeview residents all the time as they come to our church or when I frequent some of the great restaurants that have popped up in Lakeview.

NOLA.com published a great article on the architecture of Lakeview that is changing as the community is rebuilt. Take a look at the article at this link http://tinyurl.com/o8d8qf

I look forward to seeing the new Lakeview emerge.

Recreate 2009

I had the privilege of attending an incredible conference this week with about 100 others in Franklin, TN.  There were incredible times of worship with well-known Christian recording artists like Steve Fee and Michael W. Smith.  Some of the best times were led by lesser-known artists like Josh Wilson, Billy and Cindy Foote, Carl Cartee, and Meredith Andrews.  But the highlight of the week was celebrating the Eucharist with Ian Morgan Cron, an Anglican priest and author from Connecticut.  To try to put the experience in words seems trite, but I would like to share a poem that I wrote during the experience.  I can’t remember writing a poem since high school, so understand that this is just a raw expression of one of the most incredible spiritual experiences of my life.

Eucharist

I approach your throne, your body

                on my knees

Having stepped patiently

                learning for the first time to walk

I receive the bread

                and dip deeply into the cup

Bitter is the wine

                and it drips from my fingers

Unworthy, I fall to my knees,

                aware of my sin

How you, my King, invite me in

                is beyond my understanding

The pillars that once obstructed my view of you

                they are beside me

                now behind me

I see you, my King, but still

                I cannot comprehend how I find myself

                in your presence

Steps – one foot, then another

                 Patiently, tentatively

 I approach you

You draw me, call me,

                calm me, assure me

I am sinful

You are holy

I eat of you, drink of you

I am filled

why i heart nola

If you’ve ever lived in New Orleans (nola is short for New Orleans, LA), you know that it gets under your skin and in your blood.  Even if you leave, you never really leave it behind.  Just over a year ago I had the privilege of moving back home after over twelve years away.  I have the blessing of serving as the worship and music pastor at First Baptist New Orleans.  As a musician, it is a dream moving back to a city with such a rich musical culture. 

This blog is a glimpse into life in New Orleans from the perspective of a Christ-follower, musician, husband and father.  I don’t plan on enlightening you with brilliant writing, but I hope to help you think about what is going on in a city that is dear to my heart.  My pastor, David Crosby, led a campaign called “Love This City” several years ago.  I guess this is my response to that challenge: I hope to express my love for New Orleans through musings on food, culture, music, spirituality, family, church, and whatever else helps you realize you should have a small place in your heart for nola as well.