It is mid-morning – and the early summer New Orleans air already is heavy
with moisture that likely will turn into an afternoon rain shower.
It is mid-morning – and the early summer New Orleans air already is heavy
with moisture that likely will turn into an afternoon rain shower.
After parking in a riverside garage, one walks a few blocks in the direction
of the Louisiana Superdome, trying to stay on the shaded side of the buildings
to escape the sun.
Turning the corner onto Magazine Street, one stops to make sure which way the
addresses are running – then turns to the right. Final destination is just
at the end of the block.
Walking the short distance, one notices the Franklin Printing Co. across the
street. The multi-storied facility is closed now – and has been for awhile
from the looks of it.
A man sits in the front of the building, his belongings piled nearby, a small
American flag – like the ones waved at Fourth of July parades – stuck
in a bucket at his feet.
This man watches the parade of New Orleans life pass. Nearby, another man sleeps
on a cardboard mattress, head propped on a plastic bag of wadded-up clothing.
They are what Tobey Pitman calls “private people living very public lives.”
Pitman understands that – as director of the Brantley Baptist Center,
he deals with homeless people on a daily basis. The red-brick Southern Baptist
center is located next door to the empty Franklin Printing Co. building.
It is this mornings destination.
Inside the lobby of the center, a long wooden bench sits against one wall.
A raised wooden counter is across the way, manned by a center worker who welcomes
each person as they enter.
Worn signs are taped everywhere, on the counter, on the walls. Many offer instructions
about shower facilities and shelter rules and laundry service and such.
Others provide messages of purpose –
“Im where Im supposed to be.”
“Life lived by the yard is hard. Life lived by the inch is a cinch.”
Behind the counter, on the wall, the Cajun Ten Commandments are posted, including
the admonition – “Stop lyin … yo tongue gonna fall out yo
mouf.”
By 10:21, others begin to arrive. They sit on the wooden bench. Men easily
outnumber women – in fact, until just before 10:30, only one woman has
arrived.
At that point, the chapel is opened. This morning, participants in the centers
drug rehabilitation program are gathering for their regular chapel program.
The program is 16 weeks long. It is on-site and free – but residents still
have to “roll up their sleeves and pitch in (to help run the center during
that time),” Pitman explains.
Usually, about 27 persons are in the program at a given time – but it
can handle as many as 32. As expected, some participants start but do not finish.
But there are successes. In May, six persons graduated.
In June, there were seven.
Chapel begins with roll call. The chapel is sparse. There is a box-like pulpit,
a podium stand, a large wooden cross hanging on the wall facing the worshippers.
To the left, as one faces the cross, is a large painting on the wall –
Jesus standing on a rock, arms spread wide.
On the right hand wall, another picture hangs – a shepherd looking up
a rocky cliff at a single lost sheep.
The service begins – and participants are asked to share prayer concerns
for the day.
Several are made – for one mans sister and her child, for strength
to stay focused, for another mans son, for everyone in the program –
“that they stay focused on themselves and not on everything thats
going on around them, all the bull happening out there” – for all
the prisoners in the country – “that they be strengthened, causes
its hard to be doing time.”
A prayer is offered.
“We pray that you supply strength where strength has been solicited, for
guidance where guidance is needed. …
“We pray for this program and specifically for those who have left the
program, … not finishing the journey. …
“We pray that these men and women here will achieve true recovery and
know what sanity is.”
As the prayer concludes, a leader asks if anyone is willing to sing. Finally,
one participant begins a song. He soon is joined by another – and then,
the two dozen men and women are singing, clapping their hands in rhythm.
There are various repeated lines.
“Im running. Im running for the Lord. …
“Im on my way, Lord. Im made up in my mind. …
“If anybody asks you whats the matter with me, tell em Im
sanctified – and Im running for the Lord. …
“If my grandma wont go, Im going to journey right on.”
The worshippers run through all the possibilities of who may not go along on
the journey – ones wife, children, even a pastor or a church –
before the song ends with applause.
Now, Pitman speaks.
“Do you realize youre on a journey, …” he asks the worshippers
sitting all around him. “Theres no such thing as not being on a journey.”
In this instance, each of those present is on a journey of recovery, of sobriety,
of following God, Pitman adds. And decisions are being made moment by moment,
day by day that is affecting that journey, he says.
“I want to challenge you today to keep your foot on the journey, to stay
on the path,” Pitman urges.
He acknowledges the journey is hard. And like it was with the followers of
Jesus, it is easy to lose focus sometimes and to fall back, he adds.
That was just what happened in John 21, after the crucifixion of Jesus, when
his followers became discouraged and “relapsed,” Pitman says.
Peter decided to go back to his old life – to fishing, he notes. He took
the others along. However, they fished all night, only to catch nothing. Of
course, that does not make sense – Peter and some of these other men were
fishermen; they knew that life, Pitman notes.
“But Peter went back to discover he was no longer a fisherman,” he
explains. “He was a disciple now.”
The same is true for those involved in the rehabilitation program, Pitman insists.
“When God calls you out of a lifestyle and into something else, you cannot
go back,” he says. “And if you do go back, you find out theres
nothing there for you now.”
One finds out he or she no longer is a drug addict or an alcoholic, Pitman
insists.
“God changes you, …” he says. “Even in a moment of temptation
and relapse and knocking on that drug dealers door, God is there, saying,
Why dont you try something else? Why dont you do it my way?
…
“The temptations there every day to go right back to the streets
from where you came,” Pitman notes. “But the good news is theres
nothing there for you. … I want you to know God is at work here, … and hes
at work in our hearts and our lives, changing us into who he wants us to be.”
Pitman urges persons to see their past – and their future. Understand
that God has called each one out of the past and into a new future, he adds.
“And you cannot go back, …” Pitman insists.
“I want to challenge you to let God change you. … Will you allow God
to do that? … Invite him in. See what he can do. Remember, your best thinking
got you to (the point where you ended up at) 201 Magazine St.
“Were geniuses (with our lives), arent we?”