I cleaned my office this weekend so it looks more like this and this again. And in digging through the stacks of junk that had accumulated on my shelves, I found an old pocket notebook I used to carry. About ten pages in I found the cell phone numbers of my former neighbors, directions to my brother’s home in Dallas, and dated 9/2/05, an entry titled Psalm 77.
To the choirmaster: according to Jeduthun. A Psalm of Asaph. I cry aloud to God, aloud to God, and he will hear me. In the day of my trouble I seek the Lord; in the night my hand is stretched out without wearying; my soul refuses to be comforted. When I remember God, I moan; when I meditate, my spirit faints. Selah. You hold my eyelids open; I am so troubled that I cannot speak. I consider the days of old, the years long ago. I said, “Let me remember my song in the night; let me meditate in my heart.” Then my spirit made a diligent search: “Will the Lord spurn forever, and never again be favorable? Has his steadfast love forever ceased? Are his promises at an end for all time? Has God forgotten to be gracious? Has he in anger shut up his compassion?” Selah. Then I said, “I will appeal to this, to the years of the right hand of the Most High.” I will remember the deeds of the LORD; yes, I will remember your wonders of old. I will ponder all your work, and meditate on your mighty deeds. Your way, O God, is holy. What god is great like our God? You are the God who works wonders; you have made known your might among the peoples. You with your arm redeemed your people, the children of Jacob and Joseph. Selah. When the waters saw you, O God, when the waters saw you, they were afraid; indeed, the deep trembled. The clouds poured out water; the skies gave forth thunder; your arrows flashed on every side. The crash of your thunder was in the whirlwind; your lightnings lighted up the world; the earth trembled and shook. Your way was through the sea, your path through the great waters; yet your footprints were unseen. You led your people like a flock by the hand of Moses and Aaron.
(Psalms 77:1-20)
We were driven from our home with less than twenty-four hours notice. Katrina hit on Monday, August 29th. The Saturday before (although we were all aware that Katrina was out there, the “cone” of where she might hit was still quite wide) I had a meeting with several businessmen from my church to advise me on how to handle the growth of my business, and reservations for tea with my mother at Windsor Court Hotel for my birthday. After the meeting, I spoke to my mom and we decided to cancel the tea and go ahead and get a few things packed, “just in case.” That quickly escalated to boarding up windows at my house and my mother’s and doing all the things you need to do to evacuate. We hit the road Sunday morning.
We watched the news in Dallas in total shock. We knew people who stubbornly stayed behind in spite of the many warnings. We had no idea if our homes were affected. Still, given that Katrina actually hit St. Bernard, not New Orleans directly, which was on the “good side” of the storm, we wondered why the levees broke. I immediately started digging around the Levee Board website, especially unprotected and unlinked folders which contained meeting minutes and notes. (Note to anyone who builds their own website: just because you don’t link it doesn’t mean people can’t get at it. It’s quite easy, and it’s not even hacking or anything illegal.)
Still, outrage isn’t really enough to sustain you for long. Here are my notes for Psalm 77:
Where to look in the day of trouble
1. Crying
2. Questioning
3. Trusting1. Overwhelmed by grief – thinks of God and moans, spiritually in a weakened state, panting for God as a deer.
2. Not ashamed or embarrassed – questions that do not dishonor God.
3. Thinks back to when times were different, when he was properly oriented toward God. Steadfast love cannot cease. Rhetorical questions. Psalmist is reminding himself.I WILL REMEMBER
- purposeful, deliberate actionRedeemed – past tense, completed action. Refers to Exodus, rescued from bondage
∗Water – study this∗
There is an ebb and flow to Christianity – times when we’re up on the mountaintop with Jesus, awestruck at the transfiguration, and times when we’re down at the foot of it, perplexed. Just before Katrina I was at the foot of the mountain. Jesus took Peter, John and James up the mountain. It was a break in the pattern of their lives and they looked at him and really saw his glory for the first time. Katrina provided just such an interruption for many people. Shortly after it, assessing the approximately $15,000 in damage to my home and when Rita was bearing down on Louisiana, I wrote -
The mercy of Hurricane Katrina is that we were able to see how frail and temporary things down here really are. Considering that life is eternal, the length of time we can expect to spend with these material things is so much shorter, compared to the length of our lives, that they are hardly worth mentioning. I have stubbed my toe hundreds of times in my life, but I can’t remember the details of even one time. It’s a reminder to build our house upon the rock, a reminder that to have our life we must lose it. Rita is drifting northward and I find I’m really not bothered by it. We’ll evacuate, or not. Get hit, or not. Flood, or not. My God is sovereign and I am in His hands.
I learned where God was amidst Katrina’s destruction. I saw His sovereignty in adversity and wrote -
We will look back on Katrina’s aftermath and see God’s handiwork – amazing, awesome and inspirational – and know that it worked together for our good.
Now, nearly three years later, I could write a list as long as my arm on how beneficial Katrina has been. I see it more every day, on every level, from the political shakeup that led to Bobby Jindal’s election to the changes in me and how I respond to trouble. Yes, she caused a lot of destruction and pain – nothing cancels that out. I’m just taking note of the flip side – that ALL things work together for good for those who love God and are called according to His purpose. Including Katrina.





“God never sends a rainstorm without a rainbow.”