…one in which 80% has been submerged under water, nearly drowned, then wondrously resurrected, that keeps a person from taking anything–anything at all–for granted.
There is something about writing sermons in a city below sea level in which more than 1500 unprepared people perished in an unprecedented storm that sharpens the senses and awakens the slumbering soul.
There is something about a living in a city that survived a near-death experience, one in which each summer the collective blood pressure mounts with the rising tides, one which is filled with people who have lost every material thing they owned, that radically reorients one’s perspective. We have learned what we can live without. We have learned what we can’t live without.
There is something about building a house, buying a home, plowing a field, planting a garden, nurturing a family on a fragile coastline which is dissolving daily like sugar in hot tea, on soil with the consistency of coffee grounds, with a river on the right, a lake on the left, a swamp underneath, an encroaching ocean in front, that requires an unusual amount of faith. As we say in the Who Dat Nation, “You gotta have it!”
There is something about living in a state of preparedness that pumps the blood, sparks the senses, and sensitizes a person to the suffering of one’s sisters and brothers. But it also stands a person in utter awe of the miracle of life on this precious planet.
There is something about New Orleans that makes this vibrant, epic city unlike any other, anywhere else in the world.
That’s why I wrote these sermons from below sea level.
Dedicated to the strong, brave, beloved community of faith at Rayne Memorial United Methodist Church where I have known such love, peace, hope, joy, and happiness as one might rightly call “heaven.”