When walking the streets of New Orleans post-Katrina, it is easy to feel a great sense of despair and loss for the people of Louisiana and for our country. The destructive scenes look like those of a third world country. The streets are fi lled with garbage from the debris of destroyed houses. Some of the piles fi lled with bathtubs, stuffed animals, and drywall tower far over my head as I stand before them. The few people who are left are city workers and the handful of people who have come to retrieve what was left after “The Storm.” Entire neighborhoods are gone, leaving mere foundations or parts of staircases that once held the homes together. Those houses that are still standing are ruined on the inside. After the levies surrounding Lake Pontchartrain burst, many houses were left completely submerged in water. Other houses sat in as much as 10 to 20 feet of water for weeks. The remnants of these conditions are houses covered in mold, mildew, and rust. To be considered livable again, these houses must be “gutted,” or cleared of all hazardous material and strongly decontaminated.

When I arrived in New Orleans with the group of eleven MLC students to help with this process, I had no idea what I was in for. Previous to this trip, my experience with mold was limited to spots on bread or cheese. We entered houses that hadn’t been opened for weeks, encountering very strong odors and sitting water on carpets. By applying minimal pressure to a wall of the house, it was possible to push your arm completely through. Nothing from the house was spared from the wrath of the mold. Books, clothing, food, photographs, and jewelry were barely distinguishable among the rubble. Few items could be salvaged. These scenes brought some of the strongest realizations about earthly possessions that I have ever experienced: life and all of its treasures are temporary. To ensure safety while working in these houses, we were asked to wear Tyvex suits, rubber boots, gloves, safety glasses and breathing masks. For an entire week we ripped out walls, fl oors, and ceilings of four houses belonging to members or those affi liated with Crown of Life, the church in New Orleans.

Although most people see despair in the deserted streets of New Orleans, there is hope. Working alongside the people who lost everything, smiling despite their loss, brought me hope. Seeing the sincerity in one man’s eyes as he told our group that we had given him the strength to persevere and rebuild his life, I am fi lled with hope. Among the destroyed structures and racial wars are the desperate cries of those who are searching for the courage to rebuild in a city considered a “bowl,” or below sea level. There is a distant bustle of those returning to the city, so rich in culture and history, to reclaim their lives. There is the clamor of volunteers throughout the nation who have come to help because they consider themselves victims along with those who are now homeless. There is the deliberating of city offi cials, who, caught unprepared for a level 5 hurricane, are now trying to develop solutions to prevent such a disaster from happening again. The world looks at these scenes and fi nds hope and strength in themselves. A Christian fi nds hope in the promise of something better. In a living room in Baton Rouge on one particular Sunday, some of our group worshipped with the members of Crown of Life, whose structure was ruined by fl ooding from “The Storm.” Pastor Sternhagen, who also lost his home because of Katrina, brought a message of true hope and a sure foundation. He preached on 1 Thessalonians 4:13,14 from the tainted Bible that was rescued from the fl oodwaters. He read, “Brothers, we do not want you to be ignorant about those who fall asleep or to grieve like the rest of men, who have no hope. We believe that Jesus died and rose again and so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him.” Regardless of our situation in life, we are promised that the Lord will come back for us. He will bring us to heaven because he has prepared a place for us. We are his own children and, aside from what the world may say, he is still in control. Every Christian, whether in New Orleans, Louisiana or in New Ulm, Minnesota can be confi dent in this: our Lord has set aside a place for us where moth and rust do not destroy, and in this we know that he is our portion forever.

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