Hope After Harvey - A Pastor Returns

Yesterday, I took our daughter back to Houston for an appointment at her orthodontist in the morning and with another doctor in the afternoon. With time to kill between appointments, I decided to drive to Crosby and see what my old church, Our Shepherd, looks like seven months after Harvey.

Our Shepherd, August 29 (?) 2017.

Water was 2'-3' deep in the sanctuary and

6" deep in the youth building in the rear

I have gotten verbal updates in the process: the building has been gutted; they salvaged or repurposed what they could. To prepare for demolition for the imminent domain, the building has been remediated for asbestos. Immediately after the storm, a group of men renovated the small youth building and turned it into a sanctuary, moving the altar and pulpit, the organ, and as many furnishings as could be saved into the small, 30x30 building.

As I said, I had heard about this but wanted to say a final "goodbye" to the church building where I worked for over 13 years. I expected to see doom and gloom and to experience overwhelming sadness.

We pulled into the parking lot and we were pleasantly surprised to see a couple of men doing some work on the youth building-turned-sanctuary. They let me in to see the transformation. It's tight, but it is nicely done. Fresh paint is on the walls and ceiling, covering up the bright green and blue paint job the kids did a decade ago and the patchwork from the sheetrock that was removed and spliced in. The tile and carpet - which had gotten water-soaked by the flood - was scraped up and the concrete stained a nice antique brown. Some of the ladies did quilt work that hangs on the wall like tapestries.

They told me that most Sundays people fill the place and the singing and responsive speaking is loud and alive.  Attendance is around 60 each week - enough that they are planning, starting Easter morning - to go to two services to accommodate everyone more comfortably. There are kids in Sunday school and confirmation instruction. A new evangelism program is in the works. People are engaged and there is a sense of pride in that they have not only survived the tragedy of Harvey, but are thriving and doing remarkably well.

I continue to wrestle with the question of whether or not, at the end of my time there, I was holding the congregation back. When I left, attendance was below 40, Sunday school was practically non-existent, evangelism was hardly "good news," and I felt people were checking out more and more. I hope I wasn't the cause of people staying away; I pray I didn't keep people from returning to Jesus' flock at Our Shepherd. But the evidence could be interpreted that way. Someone once accused me of being too full of myself - I don't think that's the case here. I know I was out of gas. Did that drag the congregation down, too?

I digress...

So, after seeing the new sanctuary set-up, we walked into the building that had been so badly flooded. Don't tell anyone, but I kept my key to the building out of sentimentality (plus, I had paid $1.15 for it at Ace Hardware and was never reimbursed.) You don't need a key, anymore - the stained glass windows have been removed, stored safely for when they can be repurposed in a new structure at a later date. So, stepping through a window opening, I saw for the first time with my own eyes what  Harvey hath wrought.

The sanctuary is now an empty shell compared to what it used to be. Note: the floor and ceiling tiles were part of the asbestos removal project, but it only adds to the sadness of the building.

The pastor's office, once housing nice built-in bookshelves and executive-style furniture, now sits empty - no pastoral care, studying, or prayer happening there, anymore.   

 Rooms that were once utilized as office and classroom space are now waiting in suspended condemnation for the day that the machinery comes to begin demolition.

As we walked through, I saw a piece of wood, part of the communion rail, that escaped the dumpster. It was hanging on the wall, right where it always belonged. I had to laugh, though, that it had somehow been overlooked.

After I was told that people were told to take what they wanted, I asked if I could have this piece of oak lumber and was given permission to take it. So, it made the long ride home with me, back to Victoria. I'm not sure what I will do with it, yet. I do have an idea, though. Perhaps, just perhaps it will be something to show the hope that survives after Harvey.