Where would you be?

Three guys, three stories. What got into Paul, Steve, and me to dash off to Southern Mississippi on Friday, September 16, barely two weeks after Miss Katrina’s visit? Ask Paul and Steve about their story. It is always true that one viewpoint is incomplete.

Another question. What has gotten into the approximately seventy people from Central that made them dash off to Southern Mississippi? Ask them.

Here’s my version.

During the morning of Wednesday, September 15, a buddy at work asked, “Ed, if you weren’t here working, what would you be doing?”

“I guess I would be down south somewhere helping people recover from Katrina.”

That was Wednesday morning. By Wednesday night after the assembly at Central and the subsequent phone call from Paul at home, I was “signed-up” to leave for Gulfport, Mississippi on Friday morning.

Paul told us to take everything we even thought we may need. We didn’t know where we would be staying, what we would be doing, where we would be going - nothing. We just knew we had to go.

“Um, God, could you give us a little guidance, please? Maybe a cloud or a fire?” That qualifies as a prayer.

“Oh, you want us to go to a place where you will show us? Didn’t you tell some guy that a long time ago? Like, maybe Abraham?” Talking with God still qualifies as prayer and it is always full of exciting little surprises.

Armed with shovels, rakes, sledge hammers, gas masks, a turn-out suit, junk food, water, bug spray, and the jitters, we set off from the Ditto’s house early on a Friday morning.

“Where are we going?”

“Gulfport, Mississippi.”

“Yeah, you told us that, but where?”

Paul had been to Gulfport the weekend before with a co-worker. They had done some work at Diamond Head. He had seen a sign along highway 49 in North Gulfport that heralded a Churches of Christ Disaster Relief Distribution Center. “We will go there.”

“And do what?”

“I don’t know.”

Paul had done some research on Mapquest and had directions to as many of the congregations in the area as he could find. It was not a tall stack of paper.

We found the Disaster Relief Center sign. It was at the Orange Grove Church of Christ building. The National Guard was directing traffic. We ducked in the busy driveway and parked in the “Volunteer” lot.

“Who is in charge, here?” I asked. We were directed to Gary Finley from the Creve Hall Church in Nashville, Tennessee. He was in charge of giving away huge amounts of food, water, and other necessities supplied mostly in boxes from the Churches of Christ Disaster Relief Fund.

Gary recommended we go to one of two congregations, one in Gulfport or one in Long Beach. After an hour of searching for the one in Gulfport, despite having addresses and a map, we finally decided God wanted us to go to Long Beach. I called George Eyrich, an elder. He answered on the first try and gave us directions. Seemed like a pillar of clouds to me.

There were no signs - none - they were gone with the wind named Katrina. Somehow we followed the pillar of clouds and arrived at the Long Beach building, or what was left of it. The roof was gone. There were guys crawling all over the skeletal rafters trying to get a cover on before any more rain came. The drive-through porch was gone. A good bit of the inside was soaked. There was no power, water, or sewer. A line of cars wrapped around the building all the way to the Port-a-Johns. Food was being given out. State Farm Insurance Company had set up shop in the parking lot in a trailer to help people with their claims.

“Who is in charge, here?” I asked. This was getting redundant but it worked. The preacher, Mark Hodges, greeted us weakly. He looked totally exhausted, like he could barely stand. An elder, John Tate, appeared a few minutes later. He looked worse.

“How can we help?” I asked. “What can we do?”

A long sigh, “We don’t know.”

In the storm-ruined auditorium, we five sat on pallets of diapers, and food, and water, and on the concrete floor. Mark and John were about done for. “Have you had tetanus shots lately?”

“Maybe.”

“Go to the temporary clinic across the street and get a shot then come back and we will talk.”

The two of them were sitting in the same spots when we got back. I think they had only moved as much as was necessary to breathe and blink their tired, red eyes.

They told us what had happened and was happening. They opened themselves totally to us to do what we saw to do. Our prayers were answered. Opportunities were everywhere. There was food to hand out the door to the passing car-loads of worn-out people. There were boxes of food to deliver door-to-door (or tent-to-tent) in Bay St. Louis and Waveland. The auditorium stage was lighted by the evening sun beams shining through the holes on the roof - there was work up there. The “Job Board” in the dry corner of the fellowship room was full. People needed help in their yards and in their houses. Mark and John and George needed someone to relieve them.

Questions about where to sleep and what to eat came later. The sledge hammers and chainsaws could wait. Our first work (after an aborted food delivery trip to Bay St. Louis) was to sort and stack pallets full of cases of diapers. No one told us to sort diapers; we saw - we did. It was a follow-the-clouds thing. It was about a 2-hour job for us three macho-men. Little did I know He was training me for Saturday morning, but that is another story. My Father had it all figured out. Follow His pillar of clouds even if it means sorting diapers.

Sometime between Friday afternoon and Sunday after the assembly under the tent, It became clear, at least to me, that anything Central could do was what was needed - anything. Over the years, God has brought Central through some very hard things seasoned with some wonderful things. He inspired a Lifetalk group to lead the congregation in 50-days of prayer. I believe one of His answers is a trip to Southern Mississippi. He has uniquely prepared Central for Katrina and the people of Southern Mississippi. He showed me that I had to let Him use me to tell the Southern Mississippi story in a way that made it personal to His prepared people at Central. One of the three of us had to do the Power Point presentation the next Wednesday night and Paul and Steve out voted me. Follow the cloud.

So what got into me to take three weekends and two weeks to go there? What has gotten into seventy women and men and teens and old folks and college students? What makes me be unable to not go again?

There is no glory in doing servant’s work. The glory goes to God. At best, what I do is “dirty rags” (Is. 64:6). But somehow, I get the picture of my Father, Abba Himself, taking my pitiful attempts and hanging them with little decorated magnets on His refrigerator door. Somehow, the tiny impact I have is white linen in which Jesus’ Bride is dressed (Rev. 19:8). If you want to make the Groom happy, make His Bride look good.

What got into me to go? The better question is, how can I not go?

Here’s a question, “If you weren’t here working, what would you be doing?”