Monday night was the greatest challenge for me personally. We took about 24 hygiene packages onto Jackson Square and distributed them to random homeless people that we encountered. Through this ministry, we spoke with them, witnessed to them, and prayed over them. Most of the homeless that my group encountered were drunk or tripping during our interaction and sometimes the stench was so strong that I had to suppress a gag reflex. Despite their situation, though, some of them were very educated, and several could quote as much scripture as we did! Nearly all of them professed a devout religion, although it was usually their own decisions that kept them on the street. One man even told Jesse: “Three things I do: I drink, I smoke, and I worship the Lord!” While it sounds funny to tell and it was superficially funny to hear, it only punctuated the problem. The same man kept quoting II Chronicles 7:14, “… if my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then will I hear from heaven and will forgive their sin and heal their land.” He kept emphasizing to seek God first and Jesse was frustrated because of the obvious dilemma: what do you do with that? When you are trying to help a lost person find his way, and he is the one giving you perfect directions, you can’t help but wonder why he is still lost. First means that seeking God is more important than buying your next drink, and yet alcoholism and drugs keep so many people on the street and dependant on charity of others. I met James, a veteran from Virginia who has homeless since October, and he even told me that he’d get a home if it weren’t for his addiction.

Each person we met was unique and special, but in some ways, they are really all the same. The human condition is a sad one and those without God are without hope or joy. The streets steal their soul and alcohol fills that emptiness with anger and despair. They use it to numb the pain for just a short time, consciously knowing that it only makes it hurt worse. Nonetheless, we were generally greeted warmly and were appreciated for our ministry. Our smiles provided a scarce moment of light in a dark life and our prayers gave them a moment of respite from life’s hardships. Despite his bitterness, James’s eyes are bright and he laughed so hard he cried when I slaughtered my playful (corny) attempt at Ebonics. We all had interesting encounters and we all have memories to share and stories to tell.

By far, my favorite part of the trip was Wednesday night when we visited the New Orleans Mission (http://www.neworleansmission.org). The Mission has 185 beds but sleeps an average of 200 men a night throughout the year. Two chapel services are provided each day, at noon and 6:00 pm, through which hundreds of people have come to find salvation in the Lord. Dinner is served following the evening service, and then showers with clean towels and beds with clean sheets are provided. To encourage men to establish independence, there are restrictions on the frequency of which they can stay. They can stay for thirty consecutive nights, but then are required to find alternative shelter elsewhere for the next thirty nights. When we were there, approximately twenty men were currently enrolled in a volunteer program committed to recovery and rehabilitation. Over the course of about a year, volunteers are taught computer and language literacy and social customs. The volunteers are expected to obtain a job and secure independent housing upon completion of the program.

Our part was simple. As a group, we sang “Amazing Grace,” and “Above All,” and Precious blessed us all with her own rendition of the former. One man even told her afterwards that hearing her sing was like drinking an entire gallon of wine! After we finished, the charismatic preacher gave a fiery message that was longer than most of us are used to, but I think we enjoyed it nonetheless. Then Rebecca, Bryce, Jesse, and Lyndsey donned the plastic gloves to serve a rice and gumbo dinner with Little Debbie snacks for dessert. The rest of us, then, waited in line to carry trays, two at a time, to the men and women awaiting their day’s only meal. For me, the best ministry that I could offer was a bright smile. The men and few women looked so tired, so worn and beaten, but I knew they would soon be finding rest in a clean bed. Jesus’s love is warm and restful, and sharing those things seemed to be the most important thing.

Afterward, I met Timothy. On the streets, he had been known only as Tim, when he became a new creation in Christ, he assumed a new name as well. When I met him, he was 26 years old; he saw his first murder at 5, first used heroin at 11, and at some point, was molested. He had buried 39 loved ones, including his 3-year-old little girl who was lost to stray bullets. When I asked him where in New Orleans he grew up, he listed about ten neighborhoods, all of which were “gutted”—rough, battered parts of town. Despite all his hardships, Timothy had a beaming smile on his face and was genuinely joyful. He was such a blessing to me! He described to us how he is in fact a new creation, and how God has changed his heart to seek greater things. Now, he said, he can look at Precious, Brenna, and me and see us as women instead of as objects of lust and sexual desire. Now, he wakes up with anticipation about the day and is not concerned with getting his next drink or fix. Now, he said, he has joy! He asked me if I liked New Orleans and I told him that I really did. He was astonished! He kept asking why and couldn’t see the beautiful things that I saw. I explained that the city was fascinating to me, that it was culturally diverse and the most unique place I’d ever seen. Finally, I said, “You freaking bury your dead people above ground; this city is unique!” He laughed and argued further, “We only do that because the ground is so swampy…” I told him that sometimes you don’t recognize good soil until you’ve walked through the swamp, and he finally conceded that maybe that was true. He was very encouraging to us and said what a blessing we were to him personally and to all the people there. In return, I told him that they were a blessing to us, and again he was surprised. He finally asked me why I came to New Orleans, and I told him the truth: I have been very fortunate my whole life. I have never missed a meal unless I wanted to, never lacked a bed unless I chose to, and never skipped a shower unless I was lazy. I told him that I believe it’s important to see how others live so that you can know where you fit into the big picture; being sheltered can cause a narrow world view that is harmful to you as a person and your ministry. Furthermore, a person needs to know for what he or she has to be thankful. If a man’s blessing is that he has two blankets on his bed instead of only one, then he ought to give thanks every day. After a moment of silence, Timothy finally smiled and nodded. “Yes,” he said. “You are very right.”

But lest a reader thinks that this trip was all work and no play, we enjoyed lots of tourist attractions. In order to acquaint us with the area in which we would later do the homeless ministry, we went to the French Quarter the very first night we arrived! We divided into two groups, and while I cannot speak for the other group, mine enjoyed a lovely New Orleans dinner at an outdoor café. Before our food even arrived, however, one of the waiters came out to inform us that there was a parade coming! We watched for a while until our food came, and then we ate and headed back to the street to watch. The parade was only just beginning! The theme was Italian/American celebration and seemed to be in honor of St. Joseph, but I don’t think most people had any idea who St. Joseph was; they just wanted a reason to throw a parade! The procession snaked through the streets and we eventually found ourselves on Bourbon Street around 9:00 on a Saturday night. It was like sensory overload! Lights and floats and music and signs and costumes and whistles and cars and beads and flowers and children and dancers flooded the streets while we just took it all in. The experience was truly extraordinary and one that I’m certain we will all remember.

We also enjoyed shopping the French Market and Jackson Square several times and saw all the artists, booth-owners, tarot card readers, musicians, and other performers that spend their lives alluring tourists. Perhaps the most interesting “entertainers” were the statue people. Occasionally we saw men who stand perfectly still in a certain pose, and passersby drop money into his little box. One man painted his clothes copper so that he looked like a real statue until he decided to jump and scare a random tourist! Another man was painted silver and other varieties of this practice entertained us. Several organizations offered guided tours of the city and supposedly haunted sites, while most of the streets were shop after shop of interesting art and toys. There was an outdoor theatre in which performers of all kinds displayed their talent in hopes of donations from onlookers. I saw one group, for example, of some break dancers in bright green outfits that involved the crowd and came equipped with their own music. Right next to the theatre, of course, is the famous Café du Monde, French for “café of the world,” that makes world-class beignets and coffee. The bathroom situation there was preposterous but the dining atmosphere was delightful! It was very crowded, and so hectic would also apply, but I tried to imagine how many states and countries were represented in such a small place. New Orleans is truly a multi-cultural city. I think the best part, though, was watching Thomas stuff an entire donut into his mouth and try to eat it… I have a feeling that he experienced Café du Monde on an entirely different level than the rest of us.

Of course, our free time included more than donuts and shopping. After all, what would a Mission trip be without worship? The seminary held a short service every morning and two long ones throughout the week. The speakers were dynamic and the music meaningful. The Mission Lab staff was friendly and helpful and the campus was beautiful! A couple of us got locked out (a couple of times) but it was worth it to walk about the campus at night. Spanish moss hung from sturdy tree limbs and rabbits scampered through the bushes. We enjoyed the serenity of the fountain and the strength of the brick buildings amidst the restless and dilapidated neighborhoods. Twice I climbed a tree and read some of a book that I got at the LifeWay Christian Bookstore that was in the student center. I found it especially restorative to sit on the steps of the chapel and observe the stillness. After being in the bustling city all day, I kept expecting something to happen, to move, to occur. But it never did. The yard was perfectly placid because nature knows indeed that God is God (Psalm 46:10).

The city’s unique culture is largely attributed to its geography and history. The charming riverwalk by the Quarter reminds its visitors that New Orleans is still a river town, a port city for the Mississippi river. (Frequent visits to Walgreens reminded us of all the items we forgot to pack!) The mausoleums that we passed on the way to the Methodist Home speak for a swampy landscape as well, but are also intriguing examples of an unique character. The roads, too, were different. I was amazed by them! Most of the major highways were all on stilts above ground and went right over neighborhoods, clearing housetops by only small distances. Streets were divided by a “neutral ground,” the median that originally separated ethnic/cultural groups. The French architecture was very unique, too. Houses were long but narrow, like giant shoe-boxes, and they were painted a variety of colors including pink, yellow, orange, and green. Passing from an upper-class, expensive area into an impoverished, gutted neighborhood happened suddenly and without notice. We enjoyed a trolley-ride down St. Charles and passed the stunning Tulane University campus, the Real World house, and Usher (ok not really - ask Stephanie!).

Obviously, we had a wonderful, well-rounded trip. The experience was not without complications or frustrations, but it is through those times that we grow and are changed. For a week, we all served as instruments to His higher plan and people like James were given hope; Timothy was encouraged; and my little girl at St. Roch was given a new life in Christ! Surely such wonders are worth a week of showers with low water pressure! Anytime a child of God is obedient, that is, fulfilling the Great Commission (Matthew 28:19, 20), God is there, empowering and equipping His worker. And of course, when God shows up, no person and no place is left the same. Certainly our 2005 Spring Break in New Orleans, Louisiana is testimony to the fact.