Mission New Orleans07. Day One: Friday 10:30 p.m.
Elvis does not love Kasten. Elvis is dead.
We have headed south and our journey is nearing its’ end for Day One. Destination? Memphis, TN. Home of the dead king of Pop Music.
We arrive on unfamiliar streets to the tune of impatient Memphis-dwellers greeting us in their own way as we try to understand their roads. We manage this task in the loud darkness.
As we approach our destination, eyebrows are raised. Did we take a wrong turn? The neighborhoods get darker, the streets get narrower and the walls around people’s properties get higher. The property next to our final destination is woven with sharp razor-stripping, a more aggressive version of barbed wire that looks like it was left over after a local prison completed their yard.
Welcome home.
So we pulled up to Grace Evangelical Free Church and were greeted by Rogers and an adolescent friend. They were gracious and welcoming. As we settled in just before bed our team ends the day in a prayer of thanksgiving, only occasionally interrupted by muffled shouts from somewhere outside our chain-link safety zone. And we were never so safe.
We were welcomed by friends with whom we had an immediate connection. They provided snacks and juice to replenish our strength (though we had not stopped eating for more than a couple minutes through the course of the whole day). They provided a place to stay behind locked doors and a fence-protected parking lot. We slept soundly (for the most part) on their hard and safe floors.
The next morning we met their Pastor Mark and he extended their love for us and the Savior. He spoke of the way that the church is poised to minister to their community. I am excited for them, and feel connected to them. We have new friends in that safe place in Memphis.
The ironies abound. We are most welcome in the strangest of places. We were safest in a place that may be more dangerous than we ever knew. And in a place called “Graceland,” home of the dead king, we experienced real grace from the servants of the living King of kings.
We have headed south and our journey is nearing its’ end for Day One. Destination? Memphis, TN. Home of the dead king of Pop Music.
We arrive on unfamiliar streets to the tune of impatient Memphis-dwellers greeting us in their own way as we try to understand their roads. We manage this task in the loud darkness.
As we approach our destination, eyebrows are raised. Did we take a wrong turn? The neighborhoods get darker, the streets get narrower and the walls around people’s properties get higher. The property next to our final destination is woven with sharp razor-stripping, a more aggressive version of barbed wire that looks like it was left over after a local prison completed their yard.
Welcome home.
So we pulled up to Grace Evangelical Free Church and were greeted by Rogers and an adolescent friend. They were gracious and welcoming. As we settled in just before bed our team ends the day in a prayer of thanksgiving, only occasionally interrupted by muffled shouts from somewhere outside our chain-link safety zone. And we were never so safe.
We were welcomed by friends with whom we had an immediate connection. They provided snacks and juice to replenish our strength (though we had not stopped eating for more than a couple minutes through the course of the whole day). They provided a place to stay behind locked doors and a fence-protected parking lot. We slept soundly (for the most part) on their hard and safe floors.
The next morning we met their Pastor Mark and he extended their love for us and the Savior. He spoke of the way that the church is poised to minister to their community. I am excited for them, and feel connected to them. We have new friends in that safe place in Memphis.
The ironies abound. We are most welcome in the strangest of places. We were safest in a place that may be more dangerous than we ever knew. And in a place called “Graceland,” home of the dead king, we experienced real grace from the servants of the living King of kings.
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