Our method of entry into the country was an all day bus trip from Santo Domingo in the Dominican Republic. The bus ride was fantastic - air conditioning, a little space, time to be still. We crossed the border while it was still daylight and my first thoughts were, "This is what it looks like in the movies when they're showing border crossings in the middle east." The images are still incredibly vivid. Desolate. Broken. Hard. We made it through successfully, after experiencing a few... hiccups on the Haitian side with the supplies we were trying to bring into the country. But everything made it in. A couple of students felt what it was like to encounter the darker side of the spiritual realm we live in for the first time. The mood for the following hours and miles as we drove into Port Au Prince was somber and quiet as physical darkness began to fall. Personally, I couldn't help but smile...God had something in store.
Despite our arrival that was 2-3 hours later than anticipated and confusion on where exactly the bus would drop us off, our in-country contacts picked us up and carried us to the home of Carl & Maya Gilles - Global Partners missionaries. They joyfully welcomed us into their home, had an AMAZING Haitian meal prepared and showers and clean bed ready. The 12 or so hours we spent in their home, before heading to our site for the week were so incredible. If you have a few moments, read their bio on their website. This couple and their 3 daughters is one of the most beautiful families I have encountered. Such an incredibly God-story and Kingdom hearted people.
Our next journey led us to Petit Goave, Haiti. A two hour drive turned into a five hour drive in a caged-in flat bed truck with wooden benches in it. To be honest, I miss that thing. It amazing how creative a person can be as they try and discover the most comfortable way to travel...
The drive was filled with images that will forever be imprinted in my mind, aromas that I have no doubt will trigger memories if encountered again, flattened and crumbling structures, tent cities, and people - so many people. Any time the vehicle stopped, we were immediately swarmed with people selling water, bread, candy, merchandise and other things I can only guess as to what they were.
We finally arrived at the Wesleyan compound. Our anticipated home of tents turned out to be a cement bunkhouse with metal bunk beds available for the team - we were so grateful. That day we unpacked, met our contacts, hung mosquito nets, became somewhat familiar with our surroundings and started working.
Our work for the day - three hours picking up concrete pieces that were the remains of the wall that once surrounded the the compound, put them into bags that once contains concrete mix, carried the full bags across the road, dumped them and repeated the process. After doing this multiple times over the next week, the main thought that stayed with me was, "Of course this country remains destroyed." At the time, there was no plan for clean-up, never mind rebuilding. This thought launched stirrings in my heart that I continue to wrestle through.
Throughout the week we did VBS at various schools and tent cities in the surrounding areas. We built relationships with our translators and tried to figure out what exactly God was asking of us during our time there. The only thing we knew to do was to love. For me, this was abnormally difficult.
My heart was weary. I didn't understand how I was to communicate the love of Jesus to a people who knew a completely different life than I can even comprehend, even prior to the earthquake. The believers we encountered know a faith that rocked my world. I was frustrated at my lack of understanding and the numbness of my heart. I asked and pleaded with God to move, to reveal, to do...something. And I remained empty. So what do I do when I'm empty? I contribute physically - I do something. Quickly my physical strength was zapped. And by zapped I mean that there were times when it took all of my mental capacity to put one foot in front of the other. I didn't understand. Emptiness plagued me for the course of the week and I felt utterly helpless. By the grace and strength of God alone, I was able to engage throughout the week and love the people we encountered with a love entirely outside of myself. But I questioned what exactly we were really doing.
I have a relatively good amount of international travel in my experience. Never have I wanted to leave the place I was in. In fact, it is one of the places I am most comfortable - in a culture completely foreign to me. But I was ready to leave Haiti. Our truck pulled up seven days later and I was all to glad to get on - and I felt guilty. But we headed back to Port au Prince for a day of debrief before getting on a plane and heading back to the U.S. It would be about a week later before I would begin to understand what exactly happened.
We were at Bethel College in Mishawaka, IN, getting ready to dive into KBM's Deep Camp. Our team was sitting with John Vermilya, a KBM itinerant speaker and raised in Port au Prince. As I sat and listened to his heart for the Haitian people and saw his passion and love for this country, as well as the difficulty, I felt like my heart was able to breathe again. This country is broken...it's history begs the question if it is even able to be restored. As I listened to John share of the country's history and hear about the reality of it's people, my heart broke and my love for them deepened. The glimpses of beauty that I encountered while there grew in their impact. My hope was ignited. I wanted to go back.
I hope that one day I will be able to return to this country. To it's people. To do what? I have no idea. But I do believe that I serve a God that enters into the deepest of brokenness and darkness and restores. And I trust that our time in Haiti was not without purpose. And I am grateful for a God who is greater than my capacity to understand Him or this world I live in.
1 comment:
beautiful.
haiti has been stirring in my heart yet again.
Post a Comment