Musings on Mold

In 2006, I was privileged to share a weekend of service to Hurricane Katrina victims with eight church members. It was an honor to serve among people committed to uniquely exercising mercy and compassion. As I journeyed into the heat and humidity of New Orleans, I had a mixture of eagerness and anguish in my soul. I desired to have a wealth of generosity, but inwardly was skeptical of how much help I could be in demolishing a home. Entering the city, I was emotionally overwhelmed by the pervasiveness of the damage. News coverage had been inadequate to convey the seemingly unending miles of dilapidated homes, businesses and apartment complexes. I struggled to contemplate the question: “What can we possibly achieve in two days when surrounded by such destruction?” Yet life is already full of multiple tasks which initially overwhelm: the education of a child, entering a career, a major move, the planting of a row of small trees. Katrina’s damage overwhelms, yes. It presents a new challenge to our generation. Much must be cleaned and removed before the commencement of the rebuilding of homes, communities, and most importantly lives. Multitudes of people are needed for this endeavor. I entered New Orleans only one partially eager person.

We were introduced to one home. Inside warped ceiling fans revealed how high the flood waters had surged. Below everything was in waste. Household items scattered everywhere revealed the power of water. Dishes still in the drainer revealed that the owner left the kitchen ready for a new meal which would never be served. The appearance and smell of mold revealed the slow destruction of items which had been vital to the life and family history of those who had lived there. The open, helpful hands of my co-workers began to reveal the love of God.

As all contents were removed, it was helpful to remember we were not merely cleaning, but taking someone’s life and throwing it on the curb. While working, we always looked for items of value to keep. We carefully placed aside insurance policies, birth certificates, financial statements, gifts, and photos. Something mysterious happened while sifting through the contents. Like archaeologists on a dig, we began to know and like the owner. Even though you become weary from heat and labor, a transformation occurs. Muscles ache, but your attitude shifts for you are no longer just clearing, but serving the owner of the home. Stripping a home down to only the wooden studs gets it ready for renovation which will eventually help the family get back on its feet. A community is made up of families. The more homes which are renovated, the better chance a battered city has of being rebuilt.

Community service in America is often motivated by gimmicks: a race, celebrity endorsement, free t-shirts, fun and games. Our culture often reacts when giving is fun. One worthwhile ministry properly ensures that celebration occurs when a new home is constructed. Participants gain satisfaction over the result. “Mucking houses” is the polar opposite. Devoid of gimmicks, there is neither fanfare nor music; no t-shirt either. Success is measured by an empty house and a growing pile of rubbish. The work, not in the best of conditions, is tiring. There is risk of injury through an accident or exposure to mold. To participate one must struggle to sacrifice; a very Biblical concept I would rather avoid than embrace. Yet suffering is an essential part of what Christ calls redemption. I felt a sense of redemption as I experienced something special in that home. Giving freely to the poor allowed me to hear hope in the voices of New Orleans residents I conversed with. I interacted with sterling examples of positive attitudes in the midst of affliction. I returned home, free of anguish and bewilderment, with more hope in my heart. I gained a greater sense of unity with church members. Through a very practical project, I learned a valuable lesson in mercy and compassion for downtrodden people.

Shelter is a basic necessity; one which has been literally washed away from thousands. Working in the midst of this horrific destruction caused me again to remember that I am a member of the household of God. The Lord is our dwelling place through all generations and circumstances. Even though I witnessed the loss of many homes, I have not lost my home in the Lord. After sifting through a destroyed home I am reminded of how temporal a house is, and how constant God is. This service provided a living example of an old lesson: “Oh God our help in ages past; our hope for years to come. Be Thou our guard while troubles last; and our eternal home.”

It is time to open our hands to help those who are in need due to this loss. Multitudes of workers are needed to join in the task of cleaning out these homes. Katrina may no longer be in the news, but the destruction remains. We can not forget the remnants of this crisis. Restoration is an immense task which requires a huge amount of labor. Yet it is a job which can be done if we respond. Yes, it a challenging task. If you should choose to accept it, you will leave New Orleans with a sense of enrichment and fulfillment. Go, and take someone with you.