Regarding the value of graduate-level education it was recently said that, “Even rectal thermometers have degrees!” Regarding the type of people who make those types of comments it was slightly more recently said, “Sure, but a rectal thermometer without degrees is just a pain in the butt!” I’m personally conflicted over this, as I have major sympathies with both sides.

But the battle over theory vs. experience was driven home in my life at the beginning our recent 2600 mile road trip, manifesting itself this way: 26 years old, 8 years of college education, and I can’t drive a stick. The car we gratefully borrowed for our 3+ weeks on the road was a standard, so it was either I learn, or Jessica would have to drive the entire trip. I’m happy to say that after 2600 miles I can drive a stick – at least, I can drive that one. But moving understanding from your head into your hands (and heart) takes the willingness to go through a learning process that usually can’t be found inside a big box with desks and chairs. Here’s some of what it took for me to learn to drive a stick (note – some of these are connected):

• Green lights sat through until they turned red… 1
• Honked at by other drivers… 1x
• Red lights accidentally run… 1
• Very frightened in-laws… 2, at least
• Furry woodland creatures killed… 1
• Number of times Jessica hit the hazard lights… [incalculable]

Understanding something in my head and having a real feel for it are two totally different definitions of understanding (remember your honeymoon? Ha!) Our friend from Brazil talked one day about how it’s easy for him to have a cultural discussion about English “swear words” and necessarily use those words in the discussion. He can explain the cultural significance of those words but doesn’t feel the cultural significance when they’re spoken. At the same time, he won’t have the same conversation in his own language with Portuguese swear words because he feels those ones when they are uttered, and it feels wrong for him to use them, even in that kind of discussion. Driving a stick, sexual intimacy, cussing people out, and living in another culture all have this one thing in common: you won’t really get it if it’s all just in your head. Head knowledge is good and in most cases necessary, but it can only take you so far. You’ve got to do it and experience it and start living it to have any hope of really understanding it.

I can’t wait for China!

Even though we aren’t currently at the shelter, I wanted to make sure that I posted about one of the biggest lessons that I have learned from the experience of working there and developing friendships with the guests. Prior to Hurricane Katrina, as we were driving through the South and visiting different organizations, there were a few days that I would be so frustrated at our current stage in life. Currently, we have no job, no home (though we have had many gracious hosts), and the future of our plans is somewhat uncertain. We have lots of plans and ideas, a few people to share them with, and nothing scheduled beyond October. In all of this, we are so well taken care of and God has provided for us in so many ways, but on some days, I would get a bit frustrated at our migratory stage and long to be settled – to belong somewhere again.

It didn’t take much time down at the shelter for my perspective on our current state to be radically shifted. My friends there have lost everything (jobs, homes, pets, independence, and so many other things), many aren’t certain where all of their family members are, and it will be a very long time before most of them are truly “settled” again. Our little “transition stage” pales in comparison. Several of the older ladies in particular were a great example of faith in the midst of trial. They often shared about how their faith in God was the only thing that was carrying them through the uncertainty, saying “I lost everything in that hurricane, but God is still with me. I know that if I’m going to make it through this hard time, He’s going to be the one that carries me through it. When it comes down to it, He’s the only one I can trust in.” They also encouraged me about my plans to serve God and said, “He will provide a way for you…just trust in Him.”

I am so saddened by this disaster, by the way people’s lives have been uprooted and rearranged and by the personal tragedy that so many are walking through right now. But I am also very thankful that God brought us to Baton Rouge during this time. The opportunity to help was amazing, but even more amazing were the lessons I learned from my friends. Three of the ladies in the picture have left the shelter and are now staying with family in Mississippi. It’s not likely that I will ever see them again, but I know that I will never forget them and the way that they shared their faith with me even in the midst of their many struggles.

Now we are back on the road, going back to West Texas for a few days, but my attitude toward our migratory stage has changed for the better. I hope that in the midst of these small trials, I can develop the kind of faith that withstands the much larger storms…the kind of faith thatmany of my friends at the shelter have shared with me over the last two weeks.

Every night there is a “family meeting” in the shelter for announcements, feedback, Scripture sharing and prayer. I’d just finished the announcements and feedback and was about to read a short passage before one of the residents led a prayer, but we were interrupted by one of the church volunteers who suggested we should ask if anyone had any “special needs” we could pray for. So we asked, though I was thinking, “Are you kidding me? How can you ask these people if they have ‘special prayer needs?’ And what kind of need counts as special in this crowd anyway? And who’s going to actually word a prayer in response to those kinds of needs?” One man raised his hand and said he didn’t know what had happened to his son or where he was. I asked for a show of hands of everyone who had missing family members – at least 45 out of 50. A woman named Simone led the prayer. She arrived today with her baby. She was air-lifted off a roof. The hundreds of people in her neighbourhood waiting on their roofs directed the helicopter to her house because they new she had an infant. Her other children are in a shelter in Dallas and they’ll be reunited there tomorrow.

Today I’ve heard these words more than once: “This is not a third world country! Why did [the government response] take so long?” 9/11 got day-of response. For Katrina, it was four days later than it could have been. It seemed like Bush’s inspirational and action-galvanizing sound bites didn’t start saturating the airwaves in town today until after they were prepped by about three solid hours of sensational, positive, hope-filled, non-stop rescue reports and video of military trucks bringing in supplies to New Orleans. By now (3:30am Saturday), the emotional roller-coaster has long since come back down. I wonder if America is beginning to realize that our perceived special status – the self-righteous double-standard that assumes we’re made of better stuff than everyone else – is really a delusion. What happens in Africa, Asia, and South America can happen here, too.

In the end, the majority of those still in New Orleans will be rescued. But thousands of people who could have been saved weren’t. During the storm our technology and wealth didn’t protect the people who chose not to heed the pre-storm evacuation orders. And even with all our technology and wealth we didn’t get them out in time after they were trapped by the floods. As truly heroic as efforts of individuals and various organizations have been, at some level this nation failed. In Bush’s words, the current results are “unacceptable.” Many of our residents won’t watch the TV.

I’m left with many questions, and this is one: Does the “unacceptable” nature of peoples’ responses to this disaster reflect our over-reliance and unrealistic expectations of money and technology, or does it reflect on basic flaws in the nature of humanity in America? Perhaps events like this show us – people, Americans – what kind of a people we really are.