A Thousand Dark Faces

Wednesday night I was afraid to go to sleep.  Afraid that I would wake up and realize it had all been a dream.  A dream of a thousand dark faces with a thousand white smiles.  A dream of small hands slipping into mine- black in white, white in black.  A dream of low, fast drumbeats and melodic voices.  A dream of layers of mountains and turquoise blue water and red flowers sprayed across tree tops.  A dream of blinking in bright sunlight and dancing in downpours.

But I woke up and realized it was not a dream, but that it was more real than anything I have ever known- a place where joy and faith and sorrow and hope exist in raw form, all at once, in tension and communion with one another.  No escape or sedation.  Just pure hunger- for food and for love and for God and for justice.  And I pray that I will never forget.

Last Night of the Best Summer

I have not written anything in awhile because I have been too busy living and loving and praying with the beautiful people of Haiti.  Tonight is my last night in Haiti.  I went to church tonight despite the tropical downpour with hopes of seeing the friends who said they would meet me there.  Some came despite the rain, and Gismene and Kelidha showed up with T-shirts on which they had written in marker "I love Erica for every day."  We couldn't stop laughing and exchanging bits of Kreyol and English and singing songs to the God who brought us together.  This is what life is about- loving, laughing, crying, praising God, and above all, yearning for Jesus to return and make heaven and earth new.  This week, God revealed to me once again how raw and heartbreaking poverty is, and in those moments, I wanted Jesus to come more than I had ever wanted before.  It was a glimpse of what is in the cries and faces of the people praying all around me, and I realized we can never grow close to God if we are content with the world.  When we are not hoping for Christ to transform this earth and end its suffering, then we are not serving in love those people who are suffering.

In the Shelter of Eachother

A Jars of Clay song declares that "In the shelter of each other, we will live."  It is easy to think about the idea of shelter in a third world country.  Haiti is still full of tent cities, with displaced families living under tarps and makeshift shelters for over a year and a half.  But I can't help but think about the lyrics of the song, thinking of ourselves as the shelter for one another.  One lesson that Haiti is teaching me is the lesson of community, the idea of people providing support, protection, and love for one another.  In villages where the physical shelter may be lacking, people spend the majority of time outside their homes with each other.  The village becomes a tight-knit community, one that protects its own, looks out for one another, like an extended family.  This community has learned what it means to be a shelter.  As Christians, the idea of shelter extends past the borders of a village.  We are all part of the body of Christ, and the world will know Christ through our unity and through our love.  If we are a shelter for one another, uniting and building each other up with love, the world will come to know Jesus in us and know the transformation that comes through Christ.

Last week I traveled with a team from Hill Country Bible Church of Austin Texas to a village called Zoranje. There is a small church in the village with a few classrooms attached to it. This church and school, under the leadership of Pastor Andre, partner with Mission of Hope and are part of the Haiti One network. Haiti One is a program created by Mission of Hope to unite all organizations that seek the transformation of lives in Haiti. The vision of Haiti One is recognizing that all of these organizations are working toward the same goal regardless of location or denomination, and we should all share information, resources, and strategies that will enable us to serve the people most effectively.

To reach the village of Zoranje, we must drive up a steep and winding dirt road over the mountain in a canter. As we made our way up the road, we passed by groups of women traveling to the market. Some traveled on foot, their fruit or vegetables in bundles on their heads. Others traveled on pack mules with basket saddlebags. They wore more traditional clothing that what we typically see in the villages along Route Nationale. Women covered their heads and wore long skirts and dresses. They seemed startled to see the group of “blan” (white people) traveling that road.

On the other side of the mountain, the road to the village was steeper and narrower. Children began to follow the canters. I noticed that the land here was beautiful and more lush, yielding crops for the farmers. Houses were almost exclusively made from stone and mud with thatch roofs rather than the corrugated tin and cinder block homes we are so accustomed to in the Titanyen area. Some of our group went into the school to paint the classrooms, while the rest of us walked in three smaller groups through the village. We met people along the way, spoke with families, played with children, and shared God's message and love.

When we passed by one house, a woman beckoned for us to come into her yard. She quickly began to arrange the handmade wooden chairs to face her front porch and sent her daughters to fetch a few more from neighbors until every American had a seat at her house. In the side yard, a pot boiled over a fire while chickens pecked at the ground. The woman's name is Marie, and she introduced us to her husband and eight children. She told us how much she loved God and proudly produced the family's Bible from inside her home. I told her that all of us were family because we all loved the same Jesus. This was not unusual, and we were received with similar joy and hospitality from others in the village.  Below is a photo of me with Marie and a few of her children.

We met an elderly woman along the road and gave her a bag of soap and shampoo. Before even accepting the gift, she began praising God and thanking Him for sending us. The leader of our group, who could not understand a bit of the woman's Creole, said, “Ask her if she knows Jesus.” I looked into the wrinkled face of the woman, which was now turned toward the heavens, and laughed, saying, “I would say so, she is praising Him right now.” She embraced us all, promising over and over again that she would pray for us.

I have been here long enough to almost forget that this sort of thing is not normal where I come from- to spend time just talking to strangers, to hug them, to share a genuine love with one another without being able to understand more than a few words. It is a reminder that indeed, relationships are more important than what we produce. In his ministry, Christ spent most of his time forming relationships with people, sharing his life with them. It is through these connections that we are able to truly share His love. Relationships, modeled on Christ's relationship with us, are what will shape us, what will change us, and what will challenge us.