If I close my eyes, I see an ocean of blue spanning tan streets filled with potholes, trash, and rubble. I see brown rivers where Haitians are washing their clothes next to the pigs rooting through piles of rubbish. I see collapsed buildings and broken walls. I hear the little gray goat bleating for his mother like so many children cried for their parents ten months ago. I taste the sweat pouring down our faces and feel the gasp in our hearts. “How does anyone live like this?”
But that is not all I see. I see a little girl close her eyes and lift her face and dance before her God in heaven. I hear the drums and the voices loud and exuberant at midnight. I hear the worship songs that never seem to end, the songs I never want to end. I see the light flashing through their eyes as they cry, “Merci, Jesi! Merci, Jesi! Merci, Jesi!” I see the broken ruins of a church housing the live, vibrant body of Christ.
I remember how we visited their orphanage, and their reply was, “Thank You, God.” I remember how we handed them a bag of rice, and their reply was, “Thank You, God.” I remember how we shared our hearts and spoke the Word, and their reply was, “Thank You, God.” The church in Haiti is learning something through their devastation. They are learning something that the church in America desperately needs to hear. They are learning to look up. They are learning to look to God.
We visited them at lunch and found them on their knees. On the concrete, in the heat, on their knees. We collapsed onto our sleeping bags and air mattresses before midnight, exhausted, while they stood downstairs, hands raised, eyes closed, worshiping.
We asked where their joy came from. We asked if they were so joyful because they were learning dependence on God through the earthquake. We asked if God’s power through the earthquake was the source of their joy.
They said no.
They said they were sad because of the earthquake. They said many people died, many people lost homes, many people were hurt, and this made them weep. But that is not all they said. They said they did have joy. Not because God sent the earthquake. Not in spite of God sending the earthquake. They mourn for the earthquake. They rejoice in their God. And their rejoicing swallows their mourning the way the sky swallows the sea.
“We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed.” Why? Because we have found our hope in the Lord. Because we seek His face in the morning and again at noon and again at night. Because Jehovah God is our light, our strength, our song. Merci, Jesi! Amen.
