The Blackout on Bourbon Street

On August 29, 2021, Hurricane Ida knocked out power to all of New Orleans. For days, Bourbon Street — famous for its neon glow and raucous nightlife — sat in total darkness. Residents described something unsettling: without the lights, you could finally see what had always been there. Trash piled in doorways. Rats moved openly through the gutters. The grime on building facades, usually hidden behind the dazzle, was suddenly unmistakable.

But something else happened too. When volunteers arrived with generators and floodlights to set up relief stations, people gathered around the light. Strangers shared water. Neighbors who had never spoken learned each other's names. A jazz musician named David Halloway dragged his trumpet to a lit corner on Frenchmen Street and played hymns until midnight. The light did not just expose what was broken — it drew people together and made something beautiful possible.

Paul tells the Ephesians that they were once darkness itself — not merely in the dark, but part of it. Now, as children of light, their very lives are meant to function like those generators on Bourbon Street. The fruit of light, he says, is goodness, righteousness, and truth. Light does two things simultaneously: it reveals what is hidden, and it makes new life visible.

The call of Ephesians 5 is not to curse the darkness but to wake up, rise, and let Christ shine on you — because once He does, you yourself become a light that others walk toward.