the book of henry

I had the awesome opportunity to spend last week in New Orleans on a bunk in the First Presbyterian Church of New Orleans with none other than the good folks at my home church in Chicago. I fired a nail gun, used a skill saw, helped install windows and insulate the walls, put up some dry wall, and painted the back and the front. I mention these only to highlight how thrilled I was that I emerged with no major injuries.

New Orleans makes you speechless. The middle class American mind has a hard time comprehending that the destruction remaining is even possible. That New Orleans, once the jazz jewel of the nation, today continues to drown in the waters of Hurricane Katrina.

The tales (as they truly are) of the storm and its aftermath sound like ghost stories to any outsider. They talk about a lawless place filled with dirty, snake-infested waters and hundreds of crying babies, gun shots, and dead bodies. The stories are almost biblical. In fact, were the canon still accepting submissions, I'm sure there would be many prophets amongst the storytelling survivors. One of them, perhaps, Henry K, a survivor from First Presbyterian Church of New Orleans, who made the Chicago crew red beans and rice for dinner one night (and even remembered the vegans!)

After dinner Henry told us his family's tale. He described the dark days following the storm as the worst of his life. I won't divulge the details (in case he is considering selling the rights) but I will say that Henry's family truly battled for their lives and will spend the rest of them healing from the trauma. Yet, they forged ahead and are now back living in their restored house and picking up where they left off. Had Hurricane Katrina hit Israel, Henry's account surely would have been a staple in our Old Testament diet. Henry heralds the work of God in his hurricane experience. "God," he asserts, "was watching out for the K family."

While the Israelites didn't have a Super Dome, the rest of the story really fits. The sea roared. The winds thrashed. Thousands cried out to God for help. And God led the righteous to safety. Henry, whose frail wife and sister nearly died because of medical complications, is our perfect humble hero. An example of steadfast faith in the face of disaster.

Yet, were I to flip to the book of Henry in the Old Testament and read about how God reached out and delivered Henry, his faithful servant, in the midst of a mighty storm, I can predict I would be pretty skeptical. I have to admit that even hearing the account firsthand I began to doubt. I never doubted the truth of Henry's experience or the sincerity of his faith. It's the deliverance part that I had a hard time with.

Christians often do not read the Bible like they read history books, though they declare its contents to be their history. When reading stories for Bible study or personal devotions, it's easy to ignore the existence of the world outside of the scriptures. History powerhouses like Caesar become mere supporting characters in the world of the Bible. Reality is distilled through the experience of one people. Their story becomes the story and the only truth. A story like Henry's would be perfect fare for a Sunday School class or a Men's Retreat. Henry's heroic faith would distract us from the plight of the non-survivors. They would become mere biblical statistics. "1100 Midianites and 700 Ammonites drowned in the mighty waters."

Yet, Henry isn't an Israelite; he's a New Orleanian. And his story isn't the only one. Some stories are buried with the more than 1800 bodies left by the storm. And many stories that live with the survivors don't have the Henry K happy ending. I can't tune out the stories empty of God's deliverance. Other righteous men like Henry who were not spared the storm.

The question burns. Was it God that delivered Henry and his family? Does God arbitrarily select which problems he will or won't solve? Did the K family win the prayer lottery?

From Crackle: Mr. Deity and the Evil - Season 1, Ep 1

Take a field trip to Mr. Deity for one answer to this question.

Now, as I said before, Henry isn't an Israelite. He's a New Orleanian. And the main reason that his story could never be in the Old Testament is because Henry lives with a faith, not only in God, but in Jesus Christ, a mere apple of Jerusalem's Old Testament eye. The stories of Hurricane Katrina can be reconciled in the context of salvation through Jesus. "Sure, Henry may have caught a lucky break. But everyone gets their happy ending through Jesus Christ!" Problem solved, right?

I don't know.

Truthfully, New Orleans is a faraway land full of ghost stories compared to the warmth and security of my Chicago home. And, given that, I could easily soothe myself with that idea. After a week in the upper ninth ward, I could return to my routine and assuage the shock of my experience with thoughts of Jesus Christ and all the things his life was supposed to mean. "Never mind Henry's physical deliverance," I might say, "because the most important deliverance is through Christ." Suffering, it seems, becomes irrelevant for so many Christians, in light of Jesus' deliverance. And I'm sure the attitude comes easiest for Christians like me, who have never wanted for any of life's necessities or feared for our lives on the roofs our flooding homes.

But for thousands and thousands of New Orleanians, the brutal terror of their experience over two and a half years ago was not so easily assuaged. And were I to find the book of Henry in the Old Testament or the New Testament I know I would struggle to accept either form of deliverance. And I can't help but wonder how the book of Henry might have been different had Henry's family met a different end. Would his story have rivaled Job? Would it have even existed at all?

I posed this issue to Cliff Nunn, the pastor of the First Presbyterian Church, when he took our group on a personal tour of the aftermath. I asked him if he believed that God did deliver the K family and what he thought about the thousands of people still waiting to be delivered. Well, he avoided the question as most pastors and politicians tend to do. Instead, he replied, "I think the more interesting theological question is actually What is the role of the survivors who didn't bear any of the ill effects of the storm?" At first I found this to be a strange answer. I wanted to know if Cliff believed in the miracles of the book of Henry! Instead he gives me more questions? But his question resonated with me and ultimately seemed to be the only appropriate conclusion for this blog.

Cliff's questions could be appropriately directed at any of us who are spared earthly woes. It is fairly clear that I tend not to believe in the hand of God swooping down and saving people from harm. The statistics favoring lucky white people in these kinds of situations give weight to my skepticism. And, at the crux of this conviction is injustice, something I realized I don't need to wait for God to swoop in to correct.

The most important part of the book of Henry isn't the content, but the audience. Henry was able to share his story with people whose faith rendered them unwilling to wait for God to deliver. Henry has told this tale time after time to church groups from all over the country, eager to help deliver New Orleans. Henry's deliverance could not have happened had faithful mortals not been involved. As a Christian I don't have to believe that God is my superhero or that Jesus' salvation always blots out tragedy. But I do believe that all people deserve both kinds of deliverance.

The book of Henry, as part of the 21st century canon, would better serve today's people as the book of Katrina. The humble and heroic Henry would be one important voice in a patchwork of experiences, centered less on God's deliverance, than on God's call to deliver. (Nowadays, God's phone provider is the Holy Spirit.)

Deliverance isn't like a pizza from heaven. We don't order it from God. God orders it of us.

Answer the phone.