This past week I had the privilege and blessing to accompany my good friend Elizabeth and her youth group on a trip to New Orleans for the ELCA National Youth Gathering. Over 33,000 youth took over the city for 5 days, and the streets were filled with brightly colored shirts from all over the nation. The numbers were staggering and inspiring, but, like many stories worth telling, today's blog post will not deal with vast crowds of strangers. Instead, I'd like to recount our brief experience with a single stranger on Canal Street.
The eight of us from Rejoice Lutheran Church in Coppell were walking from the French Quarter back to our hotel on Baronne street when an older gentleman, a tall African American man, approached us. As does much of the city of New Orleans, he seemed a little rough around the edges. He looked like he had endured his fair share of hardships in life, yet my initial instinct was to be skeptical of what this man had to say.
"Can I ask you a question?" he asked.
At the adult sponsor orientation meeting the day before, we were warned about scam artists on the streets. A popular one is for someone to bet you that he can tell you "where you got your shoes." If you take the bet, he'll say "they're on your feet" and you'll be expected to pay up. This is exactly what I expected to hear, but not wanting to completely ignore the man who so directly addressed us, I allowed him to ask his question.
"Are you part of a Christian group?"
I eased my tension a bit, but I was still skeptical. The good scam artists will try to develop a connection with you first. By this time, we had stopped on the Canal Street sidewalk. All of the high school students in our group were watching my interaction with this man. I imagine they weren't quite sure what to expect, and likely they were as skeptical as I was.
Then he gently reached up and took my hand, looked into my eyes and asked, "Will you pray for Peter LaCoste?"
I think my eyes started to water. The sense of touch is a powerful thing that is often overlooked, especially in the Lutheran church. His request felt so much more powerful as he gripped my hand. I could literally feel the sincerity in his fingertips.
I responded, "Absolutely. We will."
I was shocked. Shocked that this stranger would have such a faith as to extend his prayer request to a random group of high school students, and shocked that I so immediately judged him and his intentions. I can't possibly exaggerate how humbled I felt at that moment. There is so much prejudice in me and in the world, and all of it felt so suddenly visible. I felt filthy, and yet I also felt purged. God worked through this man's faith to allow me to ask forgiveness for a sin that, otherwise, I never would have noticed.
The man thanked us, undid his grip from mine, and went on his way. I looked at the youth as he left and they looked as moved as I did. "That was so cool," one of them said. It really was.
That night, after worshipping in the Superdome and then heading to one of the hotels for a dance, we gathered together for a quick devotion before the end of the night. As we began to close with prayers, one of the youth exclaimed, "We need to pray for that man!" "Yeah! What was his name?" another asked. I had written it down, so we wouldn't forget it, "Peter LaCoste." We prayed the prayer provided in the devotion book, and we added a provision specifically for Peter LaCoste.
I have no idea who Peter LaCoste is or why he needs our prayers. All I know is that there is at least one person on this earth who loves him so much that he asked a random youth group from Coppell, TX to pray for him. To exist in a world where someone can depend on the mutual support of strangers is a beautiful thing. To rest assured that there are others willing to grieve and struggle and empathize with us through our hardships may be the closest thing to heaven on earth we are able to experience in our lifetimes.
On Canal Street, in New Orleans, LA, two very different cultures were bonded by the power of prayer and human understanding, if only for a moment. What a miraculous moment that was. In those few seconds, I truly felt like I was part of a church of believers that isn't limited to walls, or state lines, but exists globally across all walks of life. I will continue to pray for Peter LaCoste not only for his sake, but for mine as well. For me, a prayer for Peter also represents a prayer for the larger community of the earth, that we all may put aside our prejudices and simply love like Jesus.
Lord, we ask that You watch over Peter LaCoste. We pray that he finds peace amidst whatever it is that ails him, that grieves him, or that causes him to struggle. May he experience the power of Your community in the same way that our group did. And may that community continue to flourish and lift up those who need to be lifted. May Your church recognize its shortcomings and strive to live in wholeness together in Your name. Amen.
