Leadership Journal

I have spent much of the past month calling ever-busy phone numbers, e-mailing friends who might have heard from other mutual friends, and searching the Internet for aerial photographs of my old neighborhood. Was my former church still standing? My seminary? My friends' homes?

I have spent much of the past month remembering. I lived in New Orleans nine years as seminary student and pastor. In that time, the grimy gumbo of cultures became my home. I became enamored of the food and music. I was befriended by people I hope will remain close for my lifetime. I came to care deeply about the place. I also became aware of the depth of New Orleans' poverty—and its breadth, especially in Orleans parish where I lived and ministered.

And I have spent much of the past month pondering the effects of one, now two hurricanes; the horrific loss of life and the state of my former church, whose current pastor—rescued from the roof of his home—now ministers in exile. So many members are deciding to relocate outside the city that the future of that church and many others is in jeopardy.

And I have come to the conclusion that once again it's about leadership.

First, the people: What became of the man with the lemon-colored python? I have wondered. (That's a story for another time.) And Koz, who made the best po-boys in town, and his family. And our Caribbean acquaintance across the street whose wonderful jerk chicken for $5 a plate supplemented her poverty-level income. And what of Raymond, the mischievous eight-year-old next door whose sister threatened him in all the neighbors' hearing, "If God don't get you, Mama will!" These were the people in our neighborhood. What happened to them? Are they alive?

And what of our church family? Bizzie, whose spiritual gifts are faith and plumbing, and Pat his wife, our female Barnabas? And Miz Lu, our preschool director who loved more people to Jesus than anyone I know? And so many more. They survived, but their homes are destroyed. What will happen to them now? As always, they are in God's hands, but their future is adversely affected by the bad decisions of leaders.

Second, some analysis: I have been angry for all of September—angry at leaders who failed to lead, who passed the buck, who made life-and-death calls far too late. And I have come away with a few conclusions about leadership. Whatever the crisis, survival, as much as it depends on humans, comes down to leadership. Here are my current conclusions:

1. The people nearest the crisis must take responsibility as first-line leaders.
People in New Orleans often spoke of having an ax in the attic. "Whatever for?" I asked. "I lived through Betsy," was the reply. That was a shorthand description for a 1965 hurricane whose fast-rising floods trapped hundreds in their attics. Those who had no ax in the attic drowned.

The lesson was not lost on the old timers in the city, but apparently it was lost on local leaders. Those who knew their whole lives that the city ...