Written on October 8, in Haiti . . .
This morning I went up on a rooftop to talk with God. It was a Haitian rooftop, complete with drying clothes, coconuts growing next door, and a view of the ocean. And ants. There were a lot of ants. I didn’t actually notice them till I had sung a few songs. Who knew ants liked to go to church?
Although this group did look slightly confused. Like they weren’t actually sure if they’d made it into the church building or not. There they were, skittering around in wavery, disconnected jerks. No one was following anyone else. No one was walking in a straight line. If ever an ant family looked disoriented, this one had it down. Maybe they were looking for food. Or a new house. Or a lost comrade in anthood. Whatever it was, they didn’t seem to be finding it. They just kept skittering around, unsure and frustrated as ever.
They might have asked me. I could see for miles. I knew what was downstairs. Three cans of Pringles, a couple bags of fruit snacks, and lots of beef jerky. Those ants might have lived for years on what was downstairs. I could have found them a new house. Not that I’ve ever lived in an ant house before, but I knew where a nice pile of dirt was. And as for lost comrades - well, it’s hard to hide from someone who’s a couple hundred times bigger than you.
But the ants didn’t ask me. They never looked up.
And that’s when God spoke. “Lift up your eyes,” He said. Look up from your concerns and your projects and your deadlines and your skittering to and fro. If I am a couple hundred times bigger than an ant, God is a couple million times bigger than me (and then some). If I knew about the Pringles, God knows about every morsel of food on this planet (and then some). If I can find a house, He can build a world (. . . and then some). Do you think He does not care for you? He’s staring straight at us, but we’ll never see him by skittering around with our noses to the ground and our eyes searching frantically around us. We’ll never see Him unless we look up.
I shared this with the church in Haiti. I read parts of Isaiah 60 to them. In Haiti, I saw God’s church looking up. He had leveled their houses, their stores, even their churches. They didn’t have anywhere else to look. In Haiti, the church is experiencing the daily reality of dependence on God. May God’s church in America do the same.
