I don't have a photo of the event, but last night I joined a hundred other Fourth Ward parishoners in a march through the
rough patch of the city that surrounds our church.
In the vanguard was a flatbed
truck arrayed with audio equip-ment. Motorcycle cops escorted us. A team of young people led
us in rousing choruses. We carried posters with messages like Love Your Neighbor Don't Kill Him.
All along the way families leaned out of their
windows or gathered on their front stoops. Every few blocks we paused and prayed for the immediate neighborhood, asking
God to bring a halt to the senseless killings that are decimating our teenagers.
This was a follow up to the effort I wrote about
a few blogs back: the campaign led by John Algera, our pastor, to address the problem of violent crime in our neighborhood,
particularly shootings. The gun buy-back program I mentioned resulted in 200 fewer guns on the streets in less than
a week.
Whether marching and singing and praying
will make much of an impact is hard to say. Transforming a community calls for a lot of work at a lot of different leverls.
But ar least last night we demonstrated to our neighbors that we care, and more than one observer along our route lauded the
effort.
March
21st should not have passed unnoticed, as it did in too many quarters, for it was the 100th anniversary of the birth of Dawson
Trotman, founder of The Navigators.
The photo at left was taken the first time
I met Daws, as he was called. He was 44 years old, had just returned from an overseas trip and was speaking at Camp
Iduhapi, just outside Minneapolis-St. Paul. I was a college freshman at the time.
A few days from now, on June 16th,
to be exact, we will commemorate the 50th anniversary of his death. He died young -- by drowning at Schroon Lake in
upstate New York while rescuing a young lady from the same fate. On that fateful day
Daws was the featured speaker at a conference I was directing. I had to fill in for him -- an impossible task, of course
-- but I did my best, presenting the same message he was to have given on "The Big Dipper," one of his favored illustrations.
Daws labeled the seventh star in the Big
Dipper "World Vision." So it was appropriate that the very day he drowned the first contingent of Navigators arrived
in Kenya to inaugurate the Nav work there. And this coming week Navigators are gathering from all over the world
to celebrate the Kenya Navigators Jubilee.
I knew Daws up close for only six years.
But he impacted my life as no other. From Daws I imbibed a passion for Christian world mission, I learned the potential
of working with individuals one at a time, and I embraced the value of spiritual disciplines
"Thou art coming to the King," he used
to recite; "great petitions with thee bring; for His grace and power are such, none can ever ask too much."
After spending a great day with my daughter Melody
and her children in Boulder, Colorado, I met Georgia at the Denver International Airport. Together we drove cross-country
to Paterson, visiting a number of "old West" sites along the way. The photo shows Georgia peering at artifacts at the
Kit Carson Museum. We also stopped at Dodge City, Kansas, famous for the legendary Wyatt Earp, and got soaking wet while
exploring the outdoor Cowtown Museum in Wichita, Kansas during a violent downpour. We are glad to be back home.
More later.
