Hurricane Katrina forced their church from New Orleans, but a congregation’s remarkable journey kept them together in Texas

MARBLE FALLS, TEXAS — In the wee hours of Aug. 28, 2005, New Orleans native June Lemon grabbed her church phone directory and hastily dialed more than 50 households with an urgent message.

“Pack your clothes for three days, not more than three days, one bag per person,” Lemon said, then told them to be at the church no later than 8 a.m.

A Category 5 tropical cyclone was set to hit New Orleans in less than 24 hours. Anxiety spread. Would Hurricane Katrina be the “big one” that flood-prone New Orleans had forever dreaded?

“People were panicking,” says Willie Monnet, Lemon’s longtime pastor.

Monnet, 63, started the non-denominational Smoking for Jesus Ministry (the unique name is intended to show that the group is “red hot for the Lord”) in 1996 on the city’s rough-and-tumble east side.

“You don't know if you have faith until it is tested. And it was.”

— Pastor Willie Monnet, Smoking for Jesus Ministry

Many families in his congregation of more than 200 didn’t own cars or have money to evacuate, so the church pooled resources and fled New Orleans — together. “Because we were a family,” Monnet says.

The eleventh-hour decision saved lives and changed the entire congregation’s course in ways that, even 10 years later, still seem beyond belief for many in the community.

“I keep seeing over and over and over how God took care of me and my kids and my church family,” says Viola Chapman, who journaled their flight and revisits those pages often. “I have to stay focused.”

Of the estimated 250,000 New Orleans residents who escaped Katrina’s path, more than half never returned, including the congregants of the Smoking for Jesus Ministry.

But what makes the church’s survival story unique is that the roughly 200 church members are still together — just as they were in August 2005.

“Hurricane Katrina brought deliverance,” says Monnet, who is soft-spoken but can raise the roof come Sunday morning. “We would have gone back if there was anything left to go back to.”

The Journey

Katrina was apocalyptic, killing more than 1,800 people across the Gulf Coast and causing $135 billion in damage. Smoking for Jesus’s building, two miles from the compromised Industrial Canal levee, was waterlogged but still standing. Eighty-five percent of the congregation, however, lost their homes.

“New Orleans was totally destroyed — no schools, no groceries,” Monnet says. “You don't know if you have faith until it is tested. And it was.”

Three weeks after trying to settle 40 miles from Louisiana in southeast Texas, the arrival of Hurricane Rita forced a second diaspora.

Over the next 40 days, they caravanned more than 1,000 miles through eight different Texas towns and cities, finding refuge at hotels and church retreat centers while seeking a new home.

By Thanksgiving of 2005 they had found stability in Marble Falls, a quaint tourist town in the Texas Hill Country an hour northwest of Austin. While staying at a nearby retreat, the church learned of a new apartment complex with 50 vacancies.

“So people ask us all the time, ‘How did y’all choose Marble Falls?’” Pastor Monnet says. “The spirit of God, if you want to know, because we never knew this place existed.”

A New Life in the Lone Star State

The heart of the Lone Star State, with its rolling hills, folk music festivals and abundant wildlife, is 550 miles and countless cultures removed from the historically black Big Easy. According to the latest census, 83 percent of Marble Falls’ 6,200 residents are white and just under 4 percent are African-American.

“When we came to the Hill Country, of course there was the uncertainty of meeting new people,” says Erin Legier, 44. “But we were prepared. We just believed in doing what the Bible says to do. If I show myself friendly, you know, that's my responsibility. And if I do that, then I believe it can be reciprocated.”

The entire county seems to have embraced the Smoking for Jesus congregation. In January 2007, the ministry was approached about buying a 56-acre ranch in nearby Kingsland. The land once operated as a boys’ orphanage and came with a church building, cafeteria, two dorms and two houses. Since then, eight families have purchased lots and built new homes on the campus.

Several members also started businesses in Burnet County or work full-time at the Real New Orleans Style Restaurant, which the church opened in Marble Falls.

“A real New Orleans restaurant in the middle of Texas? ” says Austin resident Sean Watkins, who was initially skeptical of hype about the eatery on Yelp. “I was completely shocked.”

Now he goes out of his way to visit.

“The smoked crawfish, macaroni and cheese. … Oh my gosh, this is the best thing in the world,” says Watkins while recently eating lunch at the restaurant. “Just to see this family, how they’ve ingrained themselves in the city and the community. God is blessing them, and they are blessing us in return.”

Church member Racheal Frazier mixes Christianity and choreography at her Yet Praise Dance Company, where Krystle Fullmer’s 7-year-old is a student.

“I honestly think my daughter would trade me for them,” Fullmer says following a recent class. “They’re all very kind, warm and welcoming. Isn’t that the way God wants it? After everything everyone goes through nowadays with all the hate, it’s really great to have a place where it’s just God’s children learning to dance.”

Since arriving in Texas, Smoking for Jesus has grown to about 300 members, including local residents of other races.

“We have a mixture now … ‘cause they wanna figure out what we smokin’ in here,” Monnet says with a laugh.

Four feet of water toppled everything at the old church except Monnet’s wooden podium. The pulpit, adorned with a cross, is one of the few things salvaged for the new church.

“You can still see the watermarks at the bottom of it,” the pastor says. “We left it that way, so that we can remember how good God was.”

Jason Sickles is a reporter for Yahoo. Follow him on Twitter (@jasonsickles).