When the Saints Go Marching (Again)

September 5, 2005

Yazoo City, Mississippi - Greetings from near “Ground Zero” where devastation and misery are every bit as bad as the news stories you have seen. This is indeed the worst natural disaster in our nation’s history. Far into central Mississippi, the destruction resembles what we are accustomed to seeing only on the Gulf Coast. When gas stations get fuel, the lines are often miles long. I sat in a gas line this morning to refuel my mother’s car. Police attempt to keep order and peace with folks whose patience is wearing thin. Many families are entering their second week with no electricity, water, or basic necessities in 95 degree heat and humidity.

My extended family in Mississippi and Louisiana is safe and blessed. Nephew Joey Wilkinson’s home in Hattiesburg sustained relatively moderate damage and loss of electricity. We do not know the status of Wanda Gregg’s residence (my cousin) in New Orleans. She is safe at her brother’s home in Springfield, Tennessee.

Weeks ago, I planned a quick, quiet Labor Day weekend visit with my family in Yazoo City. Hurricane Katrina changed all that. As late as last Wednesday, I resolved to cancel my trip. After all, I would just add to the problems. Then I received a call from a friend, Emilie Hersh in San Diego, whose company had an 18-wheeler available to take supplies to an area in need. She said, “You are from Mississippi, and our company wants to help folks in an area most likely to be missed in the relief efforts.” She indicated she would route the trailer to the location I suggested. What a blessing!

God was speaking to me through Emilie. Only a few minutes before her call, God reminded me Hancock County, my home for six of the twelve years I lived on the Mississippi Coast, was likely to be overlooked. It lies between New Orleans and Biloxi. Reports indicated Katrina’s highest winds and tallest storm surge destroyed much of Hancock County, including the town of Waveland, completely wiped off the map. I was a Methodist “circuit rider” in Hancock County, preaching at Diamondhead (a church I helped start) at 8:00, Pearlington at 9:30 and Clermont Harbor at 11:00. Clermont Harbor borders Waveland, and reports are nothing is left in that wonderful little community. I am still trying to contact the folks at Pearlington and Diamondhead.

With this “Hancock County Mission” on my heart, I boarded my flight and arrived in Mississippi late Thursday. From the safe harbor of my mother’s home, where the electricity returned providentially, I learned from both the Mississippi Emergency Management Association (MEMA) and United Methodist Committee on Relief (UMCOR) there is great need for baby and small children supplies in…you guessed it…Hancock County. God was speaking to me again!

When I return to San Diego Tuesday, I will attempt to pull God’s directives for “Operation: Hancock County Babies”, together. It is the least I (we) can do. We will have an opportunity to help fill a trailer with diapers, baby food, baby clothes, formula, wipes, toys, baby-grade insect repellant, nursing bottles, and a long list of supplies desperately needed by the most vulnerable victims of this disaster…the babies and children of Hancock County, MS.

Bethany United Methodist Church cancelled their early worship and First United Methodist Church in Yazoo City cancelled their revival services because of downed trees and electricity outages. I was delighted to preach at 10:45 Sunday to a congregation of nearly 400 at Parkview Church of God in Yazoo City, the church where my mother and sister, Linda, are active members. Their wonderful pastor Ken Lynch was gracious to open his pulpit to this United Methodist preacher. We share a Wesleyan heritage.

My sermon was “When the Saints Go Marching (Again)” inspired by an amazing image I shall never forget. A photo showed three men walking out of New Orleans amid indescribable devastation. The photo, taken from behind, showed the men walking side by side, with the man in the center wearing a tuba, as if he was in a marching band. The tuba was as big as he was. Why, I wondered, would he wear that large instrument out of New Orleans in that heat, even if it was his only surviving possession? Then it dawned on me...HE EXPECTS TO PLAY MUSIC AGAIN IN NEW ORLEANS! What a message of hope and faith! And what wonderful music they will again play in New Orleans.

“O Lord, I want to be in that number, when the SAINTS go marching in (again)!”