Heaven Will Be a Dance Party

One of my favorite nights at Mission of Hope is Tuesday night because Tuesday night is the weekly worship service at the church. Okay, I know that might sound strange that of all the things I could love about Haiti that I would love going to church, especially if most of the service is in a language I barely understand. Most people I know at home think church is boring, and to be honest, a lot of times I think church is boring, but I recognize that is really our own fault. Especially if you are like me, and you sing at the top of your lungs at a concert or in your car- you sing songs about falling in love and about summer's freedom and about how Billie Jean is not your lover. Because if I can sing and dance with joy about things like that, and I am bored at church, well, I must be forgetting who God is and what He has done for me.

Haiti doesn't forget who God is. Haiti does not forget the houses that fell and the heaps of bodies that filled the mass grave in this very village. The survivors do not forget that God spared them, and they are grateful for their lives. A man named Rob came this week with his two daughters from Texas. He had not been to Mission of Hope since he came with a medical team two weeks after the earthquake, and he told us about how the patients begged to be taken on stretchers to church so that they could sing praises to God. People who were dying. People who were losing limbs. People who had lost everything. It's sad how we who have been given so much have a hard time praising the God who has blessed us. It's tragic really and almost too ridiculous- that we find it easier to sing about beer and kissing and ladies with fat butts than to sing about Jesus.

Back to my story about Tuesdays... Simply put, Tuesday night at church is a joyous dance party in the name of Jesus. There is singing and praying and crying and dancing, but all I know is: it is real. Real pain. Real joy. Real love. Real life. And there are few places where I have felt closer to heaven. Sometimes I look around and think about the lives of the people here- the poverty, the memories of last January, the illness, the death, and the filthy, hungry babies with bloated bellies, and I grieve for them. On August 17, I will board a plane and return to my comfortable life, but they will not. I can change the channel, they cannot. This is their life, and it is real. But I think about how their pain has brought them to the cross of Christ- closer than I might ever be. They know Jesus like I have never known Him. They sing His praises with a depth from which I have never sung praises. I think about how I will return to a world where people tense up a little when they hear someone say the name of Jesus and where people roll their eyes about going to church and where we surround ourselves with our comfortable things and our pleasure-filled lives and convince ourselves we do not need Him. And that is when I grieve for us.

In his book A Million Miles in a Thousand Years, Donald Miller writes about overlooking Machu Pichu after climbing the intense Inca trail. He describes the elation of arriving: “The pain made the story more beautiful. The story made us different characters than if we'd showed up at the ending an easier way. It made me think about the hard lives so many people have had, the sacrifices they've endured, and how those people will see heaven differently from those of us who have had easier lives.”

So this is why I love Tuesday nights--- Because for a few hours I can see heaven more clearly through the eyes of those who have seen true suffering. I have caught a glimpse, and I can tell you it is beautiful.

Thunderstorms

If you know me, then you know that I love sunshine. Yeah, I know. It's not an uncommon love. Most people probably say that they love sunshine, but I crave sunshine like an addict. When I take a walk, I walk on the sunny side of the street. When I choose a place to sit outside, I choose a chair in the sun. I even linger in front of the windows at work. I relish that little bit of sunshine shining in a car window or casting shapes on a hardwood floor. Therefore, you can imagine that the abundant (some might even say excessive) sunshine in Haiti is like my dream come true.

Although I love that every day this summer has been sunny, here in Haiti, I equally love the rain. Rain in Haiti is a fantastic display of God's power and a rejuvenation to the dry and dusty earth. This week, we had a fantastic rainstorm- the best since I have been here. As we walked up the dark hill from Tuesday night's church service, the sky was a lightning show and the rolling thunder got louder and louder. The wind whipped our skirts around our legs and our hair across our faces. Then, without so much as a warning raindrop, the skies opened in a downpour, roaring so loudly on the tin roof over the dining area that you could not hold a conversation without shouting.

Lauren and I decided to climb the ladder to the guys' roof deck. (Lauren is one of the other interns.) Our arms outstretched and faces upward, we let the rain drench us, and then we laughed with excitement when we shivered. We were cold in Haiti. It was pretty much a miracle. We continued to wonder at how beautiful the storm was. We spoke about how infinite and amazing God truly is and how often we forget that his power and love have no limits. We think we understand that God is all-powerful, infinite in love and mercy, and completely sovereign, but we live as though he is not. When lightning lit up the world around us so that it looked like daylight, Lauren and I screamed and grabbed each other in terror and then kept on laughing.

God's power is so clearly displayed in an incredible summer thunderstorm, but we only have to open our eyes to what he is doing everyday all around us. My friend Alyse shared the following verse with me this week:

“Look at the nations and watch- and be utterly amazed. For I am going to do something in your days that you would not believe even if you were told.” (Habakkuk 1:5)

The truth is that He is changing Haiti, ushering in his Kingdom, transforming individual lives everyday here. He is working and speaking through those He has called to be His hands and feet. We work together- those He has called- Haitian and American, rich and poor, black and white, but as one body united in Christ. And we hear as God tells us to watch, to listen, to wait- to remember that the crying will only last for the night- for he will do great things, unbelievable things before our eyes.

Falling in Love

Gwyneth Paltrow's character in the movie Country Strong gives the following advice: “Don't be afraid to fall in love, It's the only thing that matters in life. Fall in love with as many things as possible.” Indeed, love is truly what life is all about. It is what God created us for. In Haiti, I fall in love everyday, and I hope I never stop falling in love.

I will share one such story. On Saturday, I brought a team to the house of a woman named Sofilia. Sofilia is a middle-aged Haitian woman who attends the church at the mission. Every Saturday, about fifty children from the village of Titanyen cram into Sofilia's tiny dirt yard for a simple children's ministry. They sing songs, play games, and learn about Jesus. Sofilia also distributes clothes and shoes to the children in greatest need. These are shoes and clothes that have been donated to the Mission of Hope. One thing that I love about the vision of MOH is that they want the Haitian church to be the hands and feet of Christ in Haiti, and so we feed the Haitian-led initiatives and ministries that in turn serve the local people.

I took a seat on Sofilia's front stoop and watched our teenage Haitian translator, Jean Marc, leading the children in song. I felt two slender arms wrap around my waist, and looked down to see probably the greatest smile I have seen in my life. That, I know, is a bold claim since this is a country full of countless beautiful smiles, but it was true. I have no doubt that this child had nothing but pure love and joy coming from that smile. A little boy had sidled up next to me and given me a hug, flashing some gorgeous white teeth. His name is Samuel, and he is about four or five years old. We played some games together and made funny faces at each other and exchanged about a dozen hugs.

Then, I decided to ask him about his family. I asked him if he had any brothers, but when he looked confused, I blamed it on my poor Kreyol and asked again. Sofilia stopped me however and told me that Samuel does have brothers, but he does not know them and his mother died so Samuel has been living with Sofilia for one month. Samuel's eyes looked big and round for a moment and his smile shrunk and disappeared. I smiled at him and hugged him, and suddenly that beautiful smile was back. It's hard to describe what an incredible thing it is to fall in love in such a short time, but I could see that Samuel is truly a special gift from God to the world and I paused and said a silent prayer for the people he would touch in his lifetime and a prayer that we would see each other again.

Lessons in God's Providence

Oftentimes, we know what is true and right, but we do not always live as though it were so. For example, I know that life is better when God is in control, but I usually try to steer my own life anyway. This year, God is teaching me the difficult yet beautiful lesson of complete reliance on Him. This lesson is even more intense during the past three weeks in Haiti. Because when I am here, I have to rely on God to renew my strength and energy each day or everything seems to fall apart. At home, I can easily fake the ability to function on my own strength. Here, God is showing me how weak I am in concrete ways. Though he is breaking me down, he is also showing what great things He can accomplish through me when I allow Him to fill me daily with the love and strength He requires from me that day.

This week was a special week in the history of Mission of Hope. For the first time, Mission of Hope ran Vacation Bible School (VBS) on property. Although churches all across the United States host similar programs during the summer, VBS is an idea that is completely new to almost all Haitians in the area. School buses left MOH and picked up kids at the two closest villages: Source Matelas and Titanyen. We were originally told that the children would be between first and sixth grade. Not the case. A couple hundred kids streamed from two crammed school buses- aged one through high school. Each day their number increased. Today, which was the last day of the VBS week, we had well over three hundred children.

Day One was chaotic.

I could feel how unequipped I was for leading my group of volunteers in the Bible Story station, in which we had to somehow capture the attention of a group of 50-70 children at a time for a half hour. To make matters worse, our translator made his frustration with the program known through his words and actions, which only increased the negativity inside of me. I knew that eventually this program would work, but I questioned whether I could survive until then. Still, I knew that I was running on my own strength, and I could see that my translator and others around me were depending on human strength, energy, and patience as well. I could see how inadequate we were for this task, and it sent me literally to my knees that night looking for help from the One who deserves all the glory for this ministry.

I was desperate. I knew that the message of God's love is the cornerstone of the VBS ministry and the key to transforming Haiti. I knew that this ministry belonged to God, and if humans were in control, we would fail entirely. And sure enough, God answered my prayers. God showed up. And it is amazing how beautiful life is when God takes control. Each day got better, and I watched as Haitian kids today got on stage and rapped about Jesus while the crowd of three hundred jumped to their feet cheering and dancing

There are five stations at VBS: bible stories, crafts, sports, community health, and lunch. My favorite day of crafts was tie-dyeing T-shirts. Many of the students wore the shirts to VBS the next day. We were able to give them a new shirt, but unlike just donations of clothes to the poor, the children could also take pride and ownership in creating it. We also found out this week that we will be receiving supplies to give kids important vaccinations through community health. One of the most powerful stations is the meals station because for many of these children, this is their only meal. Toddlers scarf giant plated of rice and beans until not a grain of rice or single bean is left. It is a reminder of what poverty looks like on a daily basis and a reminder of why we are here.  To share God's love with the poor as God changes us and teaches us His hardest lessons.

Independence Day...

This is my first Fourth of July outside of the United States. We wanted to do something special for our Independence Day, so Chris (one of the other interns), Caleb (one of the staff kids), and I took a red bedsheet from the closet, a blue pillowcase, and some white paint and made a giant American flag to hang up in the dining area. At breakfast we followed the usual prayer with the Pledge and at supper we sang the national anthem. Later on in the night we held a staff party that included cake, hot dogs, dancing, and a single firecracker. Being in Haiti has really made me appreciate how blessed I am to be born American, and it was fun to celebrate how much we love and miss our country. Happy Independence Day!

Blessings

This week has been such a true blessing. I led my first team, a group of 15 amazing young adults from Cornerstone Church in Phoenix, Arizona. They approached everyday with enthusiasm, working hard at the projects, making us laugh, sharing their faith, and above all loving the people around them. They did what we are all called to do as Christians- they inspired others to grow closer to Christ and serve one another with joy. I am so grateful that God called them to Haiti this week. I also got to know a group from Chicago made up of high school and college students as well as adult leaders. Most of the group was younger than me, but their genuine faith and energy has taught me so much this week. God has great plans for all of them.

There were more great things about this week. Yesterday, our intern coordinator planned a special trip for the interns. We visited Petion-ville in Port-au-Prince, which is the wealthy part of town. We drove up to a cliff overlooking the city and beyond, and we could even see Mission of Hope. Then, we feasted on pizza and cheeseburgers at a restaurant called Muncheez, and finished our day visiting the largest supermarket in Haiti called Giant, which contains one of the two operating elevators in the country. This trip reminded me of the poverty of Haiti because we were so excited about some little things that are everywhere in our home country. Such things as a real toilet, toilet paper, and soap in a restaurant bathroom. Or a supermarket, air conditioning, and an elevator. A cold drink with ice. Pepperoni pizza.

Although we were excited to live like the rich for a day, the city is still shadowed by the image of the earthquake. Port-au-Prince is still in ruins from the earthquake, which is a reminder that the pain of that tragedy is still fresh in the minds of the Haitian people. Even the palace looks as if it has not been touched, and I cannot imagine what it would be like to see the White House broken for nearly a year and a half. The rubble remains as a reminder of all the loved ones lost and buried in unmarked mass graves. It is enough to compel us to pray for Christ's healing and transformation of this nation.