Faith Facts

• Inner-city New Orleans congregations demonstrate authentic Christian fellowship through warm hospitality and soul-stirring worship that transcends denominational backgrounds
• Ministers preach powerful biblical messages about overcoming sin’s separation from God and building strong spiritual foundations in the community
• Long-married couples and multigenerational families testify to God’s transforming power in their lives and neighborhoods

NEW ORLEANS — It wasn’t one of those side hugs, a “Hi, nice to meet you” hug. When I walked into the Hollygrove Church of Christ for Sunday worship, Willie Marsalis gave me a rib-crushing hug as if he were reuniting with a long-lost brother.

And I’d never met the guy. I did, however, feel like I knew the family, especially Willie’s brother and sister-in-law, Charles and Angela Marsalis, and their son, also named Willie.

The family’s incredible journey spans more than two decades — from surviving Hurricane Katrina to planting the Hollygrove church in the inner-city neighborhood where they grew up. So, when my wife, a pediatric endocrinologist, told me that this year’s American Diabetes Association conference was in The Big Easy, I burned a few sky miles to join her.

Hollygrove, I learned, has brought in several souls who don’t hail from our fellowship. One of them, Kim King, told me she was just “driving around” when she found the church, and she hasn’t left since.

Shirley Reeder moved here from Savannah, Georgia, and a friend invited her to church. There were only about 20 of us there for Sunday worship, but it sounded like 200. They sing like the redeemed.

My favorite was a hymn I’d never heard before, “Two Wings,” taken from the description of the seraphim in Isaiah 6:2.

“Two wings to veil my feet. Two wings to veil my face. Two wings to fly away. And the world can’t do me no harm.”

Charles Marsalis preached from later in Isaiah, chapter 59 and verse 2: “But your iniquities have separated you from your God; your sins have hidden his face from you, so that he will not hear.”

“What is blocking you from your blessing?”

Charles asked. “I can’t receive God’s blessing when I’m weighed down with sin.”

He demonstrated this by having Willie stand on stage representing God. The church’s assistant minister, Andrew Thomas, played the devil, and he physically blocked Charles from getting to his brother.

“If we don’t learn the lessons, we won’t get to the blessings.”

But we’re not in this struggle alone, he added.

“If we learn how to hold on to each other in here, we can do it out there.”

Thomas, after relinquishing the role of the devil, echoed Charles’ sentiments in his closing prayer.

“This is the foundation. Let’s learn how to build the foundation in here so we can build homes out there.”

On Sunday night I visited the Louisa Street Church of Christ, a long-established congregation that meets in part of New Orleans known as Desire. Once again, I was welcomed like an old friend by people I met for the first time, including Malachi Hull, a police officer and Bible class teacher.

I also met a gentleman who introduced himself as brother Branch Sr. I noticed that his shirt pocket was stuffed with what looked like old-time gospel tracts.

He said he keeps them at the ready to hand out. It reminded me of 1 Peter 3:15: “Be ready always to give an answer to every man that asketh you a reason of the hope that is in you with meekness and fear.”

Preston Olive, the church’s pulpit minister since 2008, spoke on Psalm 131, a three-verse hymn about putting aside pride and distractions and finding humble contentment in God.

“O Israel, put your hope in the LORD, both now and forevermore.”

The minister said, quoting the psalm’s final verse. That means “hope in God until we die,” he said.

“We don’t have time to make a pit stop. Death might find you if you make a pit stop. The devil is after our hope in God. When others are sinking in doubt and you’re standing tall, it’s because they’re standing on the wrong foundation. Make sure we’re standing on the rock.”

He concluded:

“Leave here tonight continuing to be humble, no matter where you are. Leave here tonight leaning on God. Leave here tonight remembering this hymn: ‘My hope is built on nothing less than Jesus’ love and righteousness.'”

One of the church’s elders, Frank Harden, and his wife Anna were kind enough to give me a ride back to the hotel. They’ve been married for 55 years.

Frank got baptized in 1987. Anna, who grew up Methodist, took a little longer to persuade. She was baptized in 1991.

“God changed us all.”

The next morning I went back to Hollygrove to see some of the first-day activities at Camp Water Tower Academy, a summer program for kids overseen by Willie Marsalis (the younger one). Charles bought me the best shrimp po boy I’ve had in my life from a place called Manos.

That evening, I headed back to Oklahoma — and saw Andrew Thomas yet again. When he’s not ministering at Hollygrove (or pretending to be the devil), he works curbside check-in for United Airlines.

I took a selfie with brother Thomas and sent it to the Marsalises. “Ran into the devil at the airport,” I texted, “and I told him to STOP BLOCKING ME FROM MY BLESSING!”

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