This convicts my soul

It's the last meeting in a long day of meetings at Hick's Lake. The gospel is washing over me like rain and I'm lulled by it's ancient familiarity, good news as old as the loving heart of God. But then something breaks through. The speaker speaks about Hurricane Katrina. This is current. I have current opinions about this. There is nothing lulling about my opinions. How come all those rich people didn't make room in their cars for people without cars? Why aren't there any means of bilingual emergency broadcasting in a city with such a large hispanic population? Why didn't people leave? Why couldn't people leave? How can race, class, politics, money be so powerful that they make themselves heard above something so terribly primal as a hurricane? Sitting in my orange plastic chair, I remember the radio clip that makes me cry, "I don't know where my sons are. I just wish they'd contact me." I think about my mom.

And then I think about the gospel. I think about how rich I am, loaded down with good news and safe ground. I think about my free access to the Bible and to fellowship which fuels my Christian walk. I think about eternal souls and coming judgement and wonder if I really let myself believe in death and hell. There's a lot of room in my car, and more often than not, I barely brake for pedestrians...