Hope in Haiti

A precious little girl at the orphanage where we stayed.

Cold showers remind me of Haiti.

The smell of a summer bonfire, especially with humidity in the air, reminds me of Haiti.

Brown-eyed children remind me of Haiti.

I was speaking with a coworker recently who has also been to Haiti, and we shared some of our experiences with each other. Now when I walk into work, I can offer the cheerful Haitian greeting "bon jou!" Seriously, you can't say it without smiling!

Every time I drive by a playground, especially if it happens to be empty, I envision other playgrounds, every inch covered with swarms of children playing, discovering, laughing. Children who live in mud huts, one room shacks, or crowded concrete structures. Children who have never seen a playground, whose toys are sticks. Children who have fought for their very existence in a country with a relatively low survival rate. Children who face a life of hopelessness.

You don't have to teach kids what to do with a playground.

Except there is hope.

One of the first things that made an impression after we landed in Haiti last January was the presence of the very name of God. "Dieu" was plastered on everywhere you looked. Nearly every tap-tap (pick-up trucks converted to taxis) displayed words like "Merci Jezi" - "Thank You, Jesus."

A country that went from absolute poverty to even more absolute poverty after the earthquake - a country completely decimated, whose people know nothing but living among ruins - a country of great beauty underneath the trash and misuse of many generations - a country with an astronomically low rate of husbands who stay faithful and families who stay together - this country thanks Jesus on their public transportation.

A tap-tap with "I Love You Jesus" in English

But who is Jesus to them? The majority of Haitians either are Catholic or believe in voodoo - or both! Jesus is often no more than a talisman, a lucky charm that, if placed on your billboard or your taxi, might bring you good luck and good business. Some have absolutely no idea who Jesus really is.

Our team was visiting a rural village when a 12-year-old Haitian girl grabbed my hand. I had learned enough conversational Creole to ask her name and age, and answer similar questions about myself, but that was pretty much the extent of my language fluency. She pulled me aside and showed me a gospel tract, written in English, and asked me to read it to her. Hesitating, I began in English to simply read the words...until I looked at her face and realized it meant nothing to her.

"Jezi," I said - and her eyes lit up! "Jezi...loves..." and I was lost...how do you explain love? I prayed for a miracle...and began to act out the story best I knew how. "Love!" I pantomimed a hug. "Jezi lives up there" (the sky) "loves everyone - you, me, everyone" (pointing) "but we do bad things, steal, lie" (making sad face, using deep voice) "can't go to heaven to live with Jezi" (sky again) "but Jezi loves everyone, He came and died" (pointing to picture in tract of crucifixion) "so we can go to heaven!" (happy face, sky)

She looked very interested, but I don't know how much she understood - I pray God opened her heart (and maybe taught her enough English to understand my gibberish?) and perhaps will provide a Creole speaker to minister to her. It broke my heart to not be able to explain the thing most dear to me, the love that was the very motivation for my presence there. At the same time, putting Jesus' sacrifice in actions that could be understood across the language and cultural barriers burned into my heart a deepness, a universality to His plan - it's for everyone. Cliche, right? No. My faith has never been more real than in the moment when I needed something more (or less) than words to explain it.

Merci, Jezi.

The Least of These

Yesterday, I was one of the least of these.

One of my ears has been giving me a great deal of pain since last Saturday...the mind-numbing, sleepless, excruciating kind of pain. Tylenol and a hot pack helped, but obviously life had to go on - and for someone with no health insurance and a decently tight budget, life did go on albeit painfully. A friend gave me some leftover amoxicillin tablets - I know it's bad that they had them leftover, and bad that I took them without a prescription, but sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do - but after 2 days of this continuous pain it was obvious that they weren't helping at all.

Someone told me about a downtown low cost health clinic called Matthew 25, and I decided to get up early one morning before work and see if they could help. About 4 hours later, I finally was seen by a doctor and given the right medications - all at no cost. That's right - my income is under the federal poverty guidelines, and they gave me healthcare for free. We're not talking about Obamacare or federalized equal healthcare here, we're talking about people donating their time, their energy, and a LOT of their money to help "the least of these."

³¹ “When the Son of Man comes in His glory, and all the holy angels with Him, then He will sit on the throne of His glory. ³² All the nations will be gathered before Him, and He will separate them one from another, as a shepherd divides his sheep from the goats. ³³ And He will set the sheep on His right hand, but the goats on the left.  

³⁴ Then the King will say to those on His right hand, ‘Come, you blessed of My Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world: ³⁵ for I was hungry and you gave Me food; I was thirsty and you gave Me drink; I was a stranger and you took Me in; ³⁶ I was naked and you clothed Me; I was sick and you visited Me; I was in prison and you came to Me.’  

³⁷ “Then the righteous will answer Him, saying, ‘Lord, when did we see You hungry and feed You, or thirsty and give You drink? ³⁸ When did we see You a stranger and take You in, or naked and clothe You? ³⁹ Or when did we see You sick, or in prison, and come to You?’  

⁴⁰ And the King will answer and say to them, ‘Assuredly, I say to you, inasmuch as you did it to one of the least of these My brethren, you did it to Me.’’’

Matthew 25

The least of these... Right?

I've done some inner-city work before. I've volunteered in a third world country. I've gone into the slums, into the shacks, into the mud huts... I'm used to thinking that the least of these is someone else.

Yesterday, it was me.

I sat in the waiting room, surrounded by a lot of other leasts of these, and realized that we are all the least of these.

Luke 9 tells another story. Jesus' disciples were arguing about which one of them was the most special, the most important, the greatest. Jesus "said to them, 'Whoever receives this little child in My name receives Me; and whoever receives Me receives Him who sent Me. For he who is least among you all will be great.'"

And don't forget, "God sees not as man sees, for man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart." (1 Samuel 16:7) Radical, hmm?

So what is Jesus saying? That the people around me yesterday - the poor, the sick, the homeless, the immigrants, the single parents, the elderly, and everyone else that was there - might just be the greatest in the Kingdom of God? That maybe, just maybe, that man in the corner with tattoos all over his face might just have more rewards in heaven than the businessman sitting next to me in church on Sunday? And maybe that girl in the wheelchair who doesn't speak English could possibly have a heart so on fire for God, serving and content with what she has, that she'll have more crowns on judgment day than me with my often self-righteous attitude?

Yeah, that's what God said. Ouch.

We're all the least of these.

So what am I doing about that? Do I serve every person, every least of these, every "neighbor" (as defined in Luke 10:25-37), as if they were Jesus?

And here's a mind-blowing concept. Any action can be done for Jesus if done for the right motive. For instance, if I hold a door open for a mom with a stroller, I just held a door open for Jesus! When I held babies at an orphanage in Haiti and got peed on, well, I held a wet stinky Jesus. When traffic is crazy and I slow down to let someone into my lane, I just let Jesus cut in traffic. Sound silly? Yeah, but it's true.

So what does Jesus look like today?

Hello again!

Hello blog friends! My goodness it's been a long time... I'm sorry I have been on such a long hiatus but, well, life kind of got busy and I was trying to figure out how to juggle everything. I'm going to try to get back to blogging regularly, we'll see if it works. :)

One big thing that has happened recently -- I just got back from a week-long mission trip to Haiti! People always ask me "how it was" -- the honest answer is "heartbreaking." Here's an excerpt from the newsletter I wrote after I returned:

 

 Hello friends and family!

As you know, I had the opportunity to spend a week in Haiti building playgrounds to bless the children of one of the poorest countries on earth. However, after returning to America, I think I can say that we were blessed just as much as the children!

About 55 people, from across the United States, flew into Port-au-Prince Friday and Saturday; we were then divided into three teams and each team built a playground in a week. Our team built a playground at the Maison des Enfants de Dieu orphanage (which means, in English, House of Children of God), home to over 80 The vast majority of Haitian people live in poverty unimaginable to anyone who has not witnessed it firsthand. Most children must grow up fast in order to survive. A playground provides a safe place and touches its entire community by bringing joy to kids and their families.

I cannot begin to describe to you how my heart was broken so many times for these beautiful children, so hungry for love and attention. I only know that Jesus loves them more than I can even imagine, and to be His hands and feet for a week and love on these kids was a truly life-changing experience.