Ministry in the Face of Natural Disaster

As a counterpoint to the more secular concerns of my first post, I wanted to address the spiritual element as well.

Months ago, following the tsunami in Southeast Asia, I asked a class that I was teaching at Fairfax Church of Christ how we should try to minister in the wake of a natural tragedy. It's different for situations like terrorist attacks or wars, because then it's easy to fall back on the idea that people - not God - created the situation. But it's much more difficult when a catastrophe happens in the course of nature, because so many people see God as playing a very direct role in the way that events play out here on earth. When a natural disaster occurs, it becomes almost impossible for them to think of God as being separate from the event.

Some prominent Christian preachers suggested that the tsunami was a product of God's wrath, just as I'm sure that those same preachers will say the same thing in pointing to the fact that New Orleans was a city of notorious licentiousness and that the hurricane also destroyed all of the casinos on Mississippi's coast. The question that I want to toss out there for discussion is whether there is any merit to their claims. Should natural disasters be seen as true "acts of God"? If so, why? If not, why not? More importantly, whatever your answer is, how do you use your understanding to minister to those affected by tragedy?

The Death of an American City (?)

Perhaps I'm being somewhat melodramatic, but I wonder if we are watching the demise of one of my favorite cities.

New Orleans has always faced the risk of catastrophic flooding. The city rose up in the depression between the Mississippi River and Lake Pontchartrain, an average of six feet below sea-level. From its earliest days in the eighteenth century, the surrounding waters would occasionally inundate parts of the city. In an effort to hold back the natural shifting of the Mississippi, artificial levees were eventually built to compliment the natural ones that had formed along the river. The city also adopted a system of powerful water pumps to keep the area drained and dry, but these had the unintended effect of allowing the city to gradually sink even further below the surrounding water levels. Any breach of one of the protective walls would permit all but the highest parts of New Orleans to fill up like a soup bowl. It was a disaster that everyone knew was possible - and perhaps even inevitable.

Now that breach has taken place. Once the authorities can stop the water from rushing into the city, their attention will have to turn to getting all of it back out. It will take weeks, and even when that task is completed, the city will continue to be largely uninhabitable due to health risks posed by disease, animals, and weakened structures. The vast majority of homes in the city will have become structurally unsound and have to be demolished, and given the pervasive poverty of New Orleans' population (one-third of its 500,000 citizens live below the poverty line) the former owners likely will not have the means to rebuild. Just about anyone who had a job in New Orleans will be unemployed for at least three months, and they may come home to find that their employer can no longer stay in business. In the meantime, the tourist and petroleum industries that account for a huge portion of the local economy will be at a complete standstill, meaning that the city and state will face gigantic budget shortfalls.

All of these facts beg a larger question: Should we bother to rebuild the Crescent City? Just as the city's geography made this disaster inevitable, rebuilding on the same site seems likely to invite the exact same disaster at some point in the future. It would be like choosing to rebuild Pompeii on the slopes of Mt. Vesuvius with the full knowledge that the thing would probably blow again. Sure, some areas - such as the well-placed French Quarter - could be preserved, but building at any of the lower elevations would just be asking for trouble.

To an extent, New Orleans must exist in some way, shape, or form. The oil and shipping industries need a major port city at the mouth of the Mississippi. My question is whether it might be wiser to abandon most of the city's current location and to rebuild in the surrounding area at higher elevations. Given the fact that I-10 - the only major road to run through the southernmost areas of the United States - is now shattered, we could reshape its course to suit the contours of the city's new location. Essentially, my point boils down to the fact that if you're going to have to rebuild most everything about New Orleans, doesn't it make the most sense to rebuild in the best available place, rather than the most sentimental one?

One more thing has gotten me thinking about this whole situation. New Orleans presents, on a smaller scale, almost the same situation that we would face in the event that a major U.S. city were to be hit with a nuclear weapon. We have hundreds of thousands displaced, an entire city's infrastructure obliterated, power and communications wiped out, transportation systems disrupted, and an area that is practically uninhabitable. Could we eventually use lessons that we will learn from trying to recover from this catastrophe as a template for dealing with future events?

As always, I'm interested to hear peoples' thoughts on all of these ideas.

[ADDITION: 9/2/2005]

Today's Washington Post ran a piece by Rick Bragg, an Alabama native and superlative writer, on the city of New Orleans. You can read it at http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2005/09/01/AR2005090101813.html. And for anyone who would like to read an amazing Southern autobiography, I recommend Bragg's All Over But the Shoutin'.

Just Say No To Censorship

Yesterday night I rediscovered something: Movies edited for TV just aren't generally worth watching. Billy Madison is one of my favorite movies of all time. Adam Sandler at his ludicrous best. The USA Network bought the rights to the film, then promptly neutered it of any real humor. Very disappointing. Witnessing the devastation of a truly great piece of comedy just confirms my respect for Comedy Central's willingness to show hillarious films, completely uncensored. I just wish that the FCC would let them show them some time other than 1:00 am on Sunday mornings.

On to weightier concerns...

Saturday was a great day. My fantasy football league drafted teams, and even though I think that there is one clear favorite (dude has Peyton Manning, Priest Holmes, Nate Burleson, Jeremy Shockey, and Hines Ward), I'm very pleased that I ended up with Michael Vick, LaDanian Tomlinson, Andre Johnson, Eddie Kennison, Jason Witten, and Jason Elam. I was so filled with football fervor that I purchased a new - personalized! - Tennessee Titans jersey.

I played football in high school - first as a middle linebacker and later as an offensive and defensive tackle. I proudly wore number 65, a lineman's number that well-suited my 280-pound frame. In the years since, I have always chosen number 65 for shirts, jerseys, etc., when I had the option. But now the situation is a little different. Twenty months ago, I weighed 305 pounds. Today I weigh 223. I haven't been this "small" since my freshman year of high school. And with that change in size, I think I need to change my number - now I need a smaller player's digits.

Which brings me to true focus of this post - choosing a number for my new Titans jersey. I was having trouble deciding on a number that would suit me, when one of my friend recommended that I choose based on numerology. Essentially, numerology says that everyone has a personal number based on their date of birth. She said that we should look up my personal number and that I should use it as my jersey number. She had thought that all of these numbers were single-digit, but when we looked up my number, it came up "22" - called a "master number". Further, the description of a 22's personality traits were uncannily similar to, well, me. I won't go into details about what it said - if you really care to know, go to www.123numerology.com and plug in November 5, 1977 - but (as one who is extremely skeptical about stuff like this) it was pretty bizarre to see an "accurate" description of my personality based on nothing more than my birthdate.

This is really confounding to me because it ties into the whole question of Destiny. Now, I don't for an instant give credence to numerology. Neither do I believe in the traditional idea of predestination, as in "God has a single perfect plan and we're all just playing out our predetermined roles in the great cosmic drama." But on the other hand, I have always had a sense (call it either a delusion of grandeur or the product of an overly adoring family) that I am called to do important things in my life. When I was eight my life was saved because a voice inside my head told me to hit my bike's brakes just before a truck I had neither seen nor heard plowed through an alley that I would have been crossing. At a number of significant points in my life, I've distinctly feld God calling me to pursue certain paths - paths that didn't make much sense by any conventional wisdom - and I've felt an inward assurance that there is a purpose that I'm intended to serve, though I don't know precisely what that purpose is.

I can't pretend to reconcile my ideas in this regard, and that frustrates me greatly. What are your thoughts on Destiny? Do you feel a calling for your own life? How did you discover it? Did you ever think you were destined for something only to find out later that you weren't?

Lyrics That Rip My Heart Out

Most anyone who knows me understands that music affects me profoundly. Nothing else cuts so thoroughly through anything else going on in my heart or mind. And, of course, some songs hit me much harder than others. "Kill" by Jimmy Eat World is one of those. In the lyrics the singer is trying to express to his girlfriend the feelings he's having about the impending end of their relationship. He struggles with the question of whether they are meant to be together, or whether their love was just a product of chance. He agonizes over whether the time they spent together will amount to nothing. He knows that he has to end it, but he doesn't know how. Then comes the bridge and final chorus:

So go on, love.
Leave while there's still hope for escape.
You gotta take what you can these days,
There's so much ahead...
So much regret.

I know what you want to say.
I know it, but can't help feeling differently.
I loved you... and I should've said it.
But, tell me, just what has it ever meant?

I can't help it, baby - this is who I am.
Sorry, but I can't just go turn off how I feel.
You kill me, you build me up - but just to watch me break.
I know what I should do, but I just can't walk away.


I remember being there. Knowing that I was part of the problem, but feeling utterly incapable of either changing how I was handling the situation or walking away from it all. This song totally captures that feeling.

First Kiss

For some reason - I have no idea why - I found myself remembering my first kiss the other day.

I was in eighth grade and had been cast in a community production of Carousel. I was incredibly proud to be in the show because I hadn't even auditioned. I had worked with the director a couple of years earlier, but didn't think there was really a place for me in that particular production. About six weeks before the show was scheduled to open, the performer who was playing Enoch Snow, Jr. (an 18-year-old character with a significant speaking part) dropped out. Even though I was only 14 and had never carried a part this large, Sherry called me up and asked me to take over the role. I was thrilled.

The weeks leading up to the performances were fantastic. Two or three nights a week I got to go down to the performing arts center for rehearsals. The show involved a number of kids about my age (including, if memory serves, my future brother-in-law!), a couple of whom I had performed with before in other productions. This time, however, we were old enough that our parents weren't sticking around to keep an eye on us. That meant that when I didn't have to be on stage, I got to hang out, unsupervised, with the others in the wings.

Among those other kids was Bronwyn. She was a year younger than me, tall, lithe, and (to my 14-year-old eyes) breathtakingly beautiful. In addition, she was widely recognized as a rising dramatic talent, which made her that much more intriguing and alluring. She was auditioning for roles in movies! She was going to be famous! I was smitten. (Yes, the picture is actually her! )

The week before the curtain went up on the production, we moved rehearsals over to the Civic Center performance hall and they became a nightly affair. We would be stuck down there almost to midnight each evening, and those of us with relatively minor parts had a whole lot of free time on our hands. As you might expect, I spent a lot of that time off in the wings talking with Bronwen.

Imagine, if you will, the scene: Late at night, we're off in the dimly-lit area to the left of the stage, sitting together in a swing that was part of one of the sets. We're looking into each other's eyes, and in the background the orchestra can be heard working through If I Loved You, one of the timeless classics from the show...

"If I loved you,
Time and again I would try to say...
All I'd want you to know.

If I loved you,
Words wouldn't come in an easy way...
Round in circles I'd go.

Longing to tell you, but afraid and shy,
I'd let my golden chances pass me by.

Soon you'd leave me,
Off you would go in the mist of day,
Never, never to know...

How I'd loved you...
If I loved you."

Everything within me was telling me to kiss her. I'll admit to the fact that I was apprehensive, because I'd never kissed anyone before. What if she slapped me? What if I was a bad kisser and she spread the rumor around to everyone?? What if she never talks to me again??? You know the thoughts that run through your head in such a situation.

But suddenly, as I looked at this lovely girl, I thought to myself - this is it, David Roland. If there ever was a time to make your move, this is the time. So slowly, hesitantly, I leaned in until her lips met mine somewhere in the middle. We held the contact briefly, then pulled back and smiled at each other. Before either of us could say anything, the director was calling for the next scene and I had to get on stage.

And that was it. The show closed the next Sunday evening and I never kissed Bronwen again, though we remained friends through high school. She did eventually get cast in a movie - in Disney's Tom and Huck, which was filmed not far from where we lived in North Alabama, she played Tom's older sister, Mary. All of her lines got cut from the final version of the film, but she does appear on screen several times with Jonathan Taylor Thomas (who played Tom) and she did briefly date Brad Renfro (who played Huck). I suppose that at the time I just wasn't much of a match for the likes of those guys. ;-) But even if nothing ever came of it, I'll always remember that night very fondly, and I'll always smile when I hear If I Loved You.

Who was your first kiss and how did it happen?

Tough Questions

A friend of mine recently told me that he was having some difficulty answering a set of questions posed by a non-Christian associate of his: 1) Which is more important for Christians - what you believe or how you live?; 2) If the point of Christianity is for us to live in accordance with certain virtues, why should someone who already strives for those virtues become a Christian?; and 3) Why would anyone aspire to Christianity when, if taken seriously, Jesus' teachings are so extreme that they would require more sacrifice than anyone in their right mind would be willing to offer?

I think each of these questions flow naturally from agnosticism because that they don't presume an actual calling from God to fulfill the mandates of Christianity (whatever those mandates are eventually determined to be). In response to the first question, I point to the example that Jesus gave us. While he naturally expected faith on the part of his listeners, and while his miracles were intended to produce a belief that he was specially chosen of God, Jesus' teachings were almost entirely about how God has called us to live. Jesus laid out the essence of Christianity when he pronounced the greatest commands: "Love the Lord with all your heart, soul, mind and strength; love your neighbor as yourself." So in answer to the first line of inquiry, I'd affirm that no understanding of Christianity can be complete if it doesn't emphasize a distinctive approach to living life in love for others. In my mind, distinct metaphysical understandings are of significantly less importance than a commitment to live in the way that God calls us to live.

Tying these thoughts into the second question, I'd proceed to say that just as "faith without works* is dead", living a virtuous life in the absence of any faith (while admirable) fails to address the spiritual aspect of our lives. Humans are almost universally aware of Something greater than ourselves, though we have different ways of understanding and explaining what the Something is. It's what C.S. Lewis referred to as the "God-shaped hole", or the search for ultimate meaning. One can clearly choose to live virtuously without feeling impelled by your understanding of the greater Something (and I'm willing to say that people who do so are not necessarily in danger of Hell, based on Romans 2), but I believe if you carefully consider why you want to be a virtuous person it will eventually come back to the greater Something. The Judeo-Christian heritage understands that God is the greater Something, and correctly links our innate desire for meaning and direction to our souls - the spiritual part of each of us that makes us in the very image of God. Furthermore, Jewish and Christian thought comprehends that God has communicated to us through the ages, telling us that it is his will for us to live selflessly (which I think is equivalent to the idea of "virtue"). Anyone who chooses a virtuous life should be applauded, because they are abandoning (at least to an extent) their own good for the good of others - and that is admirable. But I firmly believe that their decision to live virtuously would be much more greatly appreciated and dearly held if they had an understanding of how the greater Something (God) is intimately related to the very idea of virtue itself. It is that broader spiritual understanding that (I believe) enables Christians to have a richer appreciation for friendship, family, and the pursuit of their own lives and goals.

This brings me to the final question - Why would anyone be willing to sacrifice as much as Jesus' teachings seem to ask of us? Well, honestly, very few people - even Christians - are so willing. While people all have a spiritual side, we are undeniably animal as well. Our primal, animalistic instincts are essentially selfish. They tell us to cling to what is ours, climb the social ladder, pursue comfort, and do what you must to protect your family and friends. These instincts are hard-wired into the human psychology, which is why what Jesus taught is so radical and so difficult to actually live. Not only did Jesus tell people to give up their possessions, he asked them to abandon their families if that was what it would take to live the life to which we are called. If one takes to heart Jesus' admonitions to turn the other cheek and to refrain from resisting evildoers, it might well mean giving up our own lives. These teachings are so difficult as to border on insanity! But they are the logical extension of a principle that always places the good of others before your own personal desires.

The important thing to keep in mind is that we don't have to incorporate this radical selflessness perfectly into our lives before we can acknowledge that it is what God desires of us. Christianity, in my mind, is about that acknowledgment and the continual, lived effort to bring myself closer every day to the ideals that Jesus taught. Individual Christians may have absolutely no hope of ever achieving those ideals, but by relying on strength that God can provide we can move in the right direction. Where we are weak and where we fail, we can trust that God is gracious and will continue to be with us. An explanation of how grace comes about and why it is needed is probably best reserved for another conversation, so I'll end my thoughts on that point. Let me know if y'all have anything to add or if you disagree with a point that I've made.

The Quad - Dave and His College Roomies

My friends will frequently hear me talking about my college roommates. I had some of the greatest roommates ever, and I make a point of keeping in pretty close touch with them. Allow me to introduce you...

James "Sweetbaby" Taylor - This guy and I met at my church in eighth grade and have been virtually inseparable ever since. We both decided that Abilene Christian University was the place we wanted to go to college, so it was only natural that we'd room together for our freshman year. We each had different roommates during our sophomore year, but missed each other so much we got an apartment together (our beloved University Park #1025 or TenTwentyFive, for short) for the last two years of college. Even when I went off to grad school at Vanderbilt, Sweetbaby made a point of coming up to visit about once a week for the first year or so. He's now putting the finishing touches on a Master's degree in Counseling from Alabama A&M University. A little more than a year ago, James got hitched to a Canadian gal named Heather. A few weeks ago, they found out that H has a bun in the oven! The little one - whom I have dubbed "Sweetpea" - is due to arrive in February.

Christopher Sean Beswick - As if you couldn't tell from the picture, Beswick is without exception the most entertainingly ridiculous person I know. He lived two doors down from Sweetbaby and me in our freshman dorm at ACU, and my first impression of him was drawn from his unique style of decor. He had "Gringo Gumby," a six-foot-tall cardboard cut-out of the claymation character, to which he'd added a giant sombrero, a Mexican blanket, criss-crossed bullet belts, and an empty bottle of Johnny Walker taped to Gumby's waving right hand. He'd also drawn on a Pancho Villa mustache and a smoldering cigarette. Beswick also had an unusual way of coping with trash - by duct-taping it to the ceiling instead of tossing it in the trashcan. Chris and I ended up pledging the same social club (Frater Sodalis - BT!!) during our sophomore year, and that's when our friendship really blossomed. He lived with another of our club brothers right next door to me and Mike, who you'll hear about below. We had so much fun getting in trouble together that Chris joined James and I in TenTwentyFive for the last two years of school. After graduation, Chris moved back to his hometown of Fort Worth, Texas, to teach high school English and coach soccer. Chris recently coached the Colleyville-Heritage Panthers to their first ever soccer division title, then promptly got married to celebrate. See my previous post, "Adventures Out West", for more about this guy.

Michael Patrick Vein - Mike pledged Frats with Chris and I, which led to his becoming my roommate during our sophomore year. He's a quieter type than the rest of us, but under that exterior is a riotous - if off-beat - sense of humor. Mike couldn't join us in TenTwentyFive during our junior year, but he became part of The Quad for our senior year. Mike was the first of the three of us to get hitched, tying the knot the day after graduation. He and his wife, Kate, now live in Chicago where he works as a human resources manager.

So those are the boys. We still try to get all four of us together at least once a year. For the past couple of years it's been pretty easy, thanks to Sweetbaby and Beswick getting married. We pulled together weekend-long batchelor parties for each of the guys - Memphis for James, New Orleans for Chris - and we all managed to get together for James's wedding as well. Hang around either me or my blog for long enough and you'll be sure to hear tales about our misadventures. But tonight I'm sleepy, so the pictures will just have to talk for themselves.