I learned about earthquakes today. Josh and I had just said goodbye to our team and were getting all our stuff out of the guest house with Pastor Noel. Suddenly, there was this low rumble, and the ground shivered. Like a giant with a bad cough grumbling in his sleep somewhere deep under our feet. Pastor Noel instantly dashed out of the house. I noticed that the voices from outside seemed suddenly really loud, like the whole city had gotten phone calls all at the same time. I ran outside after Pastor Noel. I thought there had been an accident. Someone was hurt. What could I do? When I got out the gate and onto the street, I looked both ways. Nothing. Except there were more people standing around than usual, and they all seemed to be talking at once. Pastor Noel was running towards his orphanage a few blocks down the road. He wanted to make sure his girls were safe. Suddenly, the tension broke. People started grinning a little; some laughed. I'm sure I looked confused enough.
Later, Josh and I asked one of our translators, Samuel, about it. He said it was just a little tremor, that they happen once or twice a month, that they've become something of a joke. We asked him about The Earthquake - the one everyone talks about when they talk about Haiti. We asked him where he was. He said he was at school. It was late afternoon, and he had just left his classroom to go to the bathroom. He locked the door behind him, and that's when the earthquake hit. He couldn't get out because he'd forgotten that he locked the door. When the earth finally stopped rolling, the bathroom was still standing. The classroom he'd left collapsed. Three students died. Samuels's grandmother died when her house caved in. Marcio, one of my teammates, was also here during the earthquake. He said people just walked the streets afterwards. Everyone came out of their houses and walked the streets. Lifting their hands. Singing. Praising God. Samuel said they were worshiping God because they were still alive. They had thought it was the end of the world.
Mark and Marcio told us later that all last summer whenever a tremor would rumble underground, the whole city would burst out wailing and screaming. Steve said he heard some of that today. I heard laughter.
Sitting on the rooftop of our staff house this afternoon, I looked out on the hills to the south of the city. Suddenly, it was like I saw a line of bright shining warrior angels standing in a line on the hilltop, looking down on the city. Only they weren't standing there today - they were standing there 18 months ago during the earthquake. They were standing on the hills, encircling the city, a mighty army, when the ground shook. And when the people of Haiti walked the streets, lifting their voices to the Creator, the mighty angel army lifted their voices too.
It was a powerful picture. It brought tears to my eyes. It broke my heart for the Haitian people. And then I looked over, and there with me, sitting on the rooftop, was a small white bird. Looking out on the southern hills. The two of us just sat and stared out over the city. Then the bird moved, and I saw that its feet were deep red. Like it had been walking in blood. Like Jesus, the pure, spotless Son of God, walking the blood-stained streets of Haiti. Like the Lamb that was slain. Like the Prince of Peace who died and rose again.
Friday, June 24, 2011
Seeing Jesus
Wow. I'm not even sure what to write. I sat down a few days ago and wrote what I thought was going to be a blog entry. But then I realized that it was such a small part of what has happened this past week, I wanted to share more . . . So, this is a condensed version of how God showed up for us during the past six days.
First off, a bit of logistical info: Josh and I were in charge of a group of 18 adults. We paired up with Pastor Noel, who is a new contact with AIM. He and his wife and kids live in a small compound that serves as a church/orphanage/school. His house was destroyed in the earthquake, and the main building was damaged upstairs where the girls were. But God protected them all. Since the earthquake, Pastor Noel and his family have been living in a tent/shack so 22 orphan girls could sleep inside.
Here's what we saw God do:
One: The team that came brought $4,000US with them. They thought they were coming to build a roof. Instead, within hours of their arrival, Pastor Noel's tent/shack had been torn down. Over the next few days, they dug a foundation, mixed concrete, moved piles of rock, and cut rebar. The cost for one entire week of construction? Exactly $4,000.
Two: During our first ATL (Ask The Lord), we sat the team down and asked them to pray about what God had for us to do next. He speaks in pictures, verses, songs, directions, and lots of other ways. We spent some time in intentional listening, then asked everyone what they got. The first three or four people all had the same idea: water, ocean, rocks, wall. Which reminded us of the beach we've visited several times here. Then one of the ladies said "baptism." Which reminded us of a woman named Gerlyn whom the staff met several weeks ago. She had a cyst in her chest, the staff prayed, and when she went to the doctor four days ago, the cyst was gone. This woman wanted to be baptized. So, we gathered everyone, set out for the beach, and baptized Gerlyn. Ten other youth participants stepped forward to be baptized too. To God be the glory.
Three: We are blessed by our translators. This week, we served with Pierre, Samuel, Zachary, and Vladimere. On our last day here, we wanted to pray for Pierre. He had shared with Josh that God had put on his heart to encourage his church to go into the tent cities and help serve the people there by giving them permanent homes. Pierre is Haitian. He is a pastor who doesn't get paid. His congregation is made up of other Haitians. They are reaching out in the world God has set them in. We prayed for Pierre. We prayed for Vladimere and Zachary and Samuel. And then God told us to wash their feet. He gave us a picture of these strong men of God answering the call of the King to be warriors for the Kingdom. And after that picture, the example of Jesus, the night before He died, washing His disciple's feet. So, we washed our translator's feet. We prayed for them. They prayed for us. We worshiped together. God showed us two hands, one white, one black, clasped together, fingers intertwined. And the hand of God covering them both. We are no longer American and Haitian here. We are no longer foreigners and nationals. We are all children, a family, brothers and sisters under our Father and King.
This week I saw Jesus in the face of a young jobless man named Johnny who lives in a tent with his mother since his two sisters died in the earthquake. I saw Jesus in the pastor who came from America, saw the need, and offered that young man a construction job at Pastor Noel's orphanage. I saw Jesus in the little girl who bestowed upon me ownership of her just-completed VBS art project. I saw Jesus in the little naked boy running down the path outside his tent, giggling. I saw Jesus in the translator who, when asked, said he wasn't bored because he had his Bible with him. I saw Jesus in the trash heap. As one of the participants said: "I thought it couldn't get any worse. And then I looked at the trash heap (which was very large, very smelly, and right behind our house) and saw a little boy walk onto the trash heap to use the bathroom. And I thought, 'It can get worse!' But then God spoke, and He said, 'Jesus is in that trash heap.' " I saw Jesus in the orphan who reached sticky fingers up to my face and gallantly offered me the remains of her half-eaten candy. I saw Jesus in the children dancing in flat-out worship before their Father in Heaven. This week I saw Jesus, and I want nothing else but to see Him more.
First off, a bit of logistical info: Josh and I were in charge of a group of 18 adults. We paired up with Pastor Noel, who is a new contact with AIM. He and his wife and kids live in a small compound that serves as a church/orphanage/school. His house was destroyed in the earthquake, and the main building was damaged upstairs where the girls were. But God protected them all. Since the earthquake, Pastor Noel and his family have been living in a tent/shack so 22 orphan girls could sleep inside.
Here's what we saw God do:
One: The team that came brought $4,000US with them. They thought they were coming to build a roof. Instead, within hours of their arrival, Pastor Noel's tent/shack had been torn down. Over the next few days, they dug a foundation, mixed concrete, moved piles of rock, and cut rebar. The cost for one entire week of construction? Exactly $4,000.
Two: During our first ATL (Ask The Lord), we sat the team down and asked them to pray about what God had for us to do next. He speaks in pictures, verses, songs, directions, and lots of other ways. We spent some time in intentional listening, then asked everyone what they got. The first three or four people all had the same idea: water, ocean, rocks, wall. Which reminded us of the beach we've visited several times here. Then one of the ladies said "baptism." Which reminded us of a woman named Gerlyn whom the staff met several weeks ago. She had a cyst in her chest, the staff prayed, and when she went to the doctor four days ago, the cyst was gone. This woman wanted to be baptized. So, we gathered everyone, set out for the beach, and baptized Gerlyn. Ten other youth participants stepped forward to be baptized too. To God be the glory.
Three: We are blessed by our translators. This week, we served with Pierre, Samuel, Zachary, and Vladimere. On our last day here, we wanted to pray for Pierre. He had shared with Josh that God had put on his heart to encourage his church to go into the tent cities and help serve the people there by giving them permanent homes. Pierre is Haitian. He is a pastor who doesn't get paid. His congregation is made up of other Haitians. They are reaching out in the world God has set them in. We prayed for Pierre. We prayed for Vladimere and Zachary and Samuel. And then God told us to wash their feet. He gave us a picture of these strong men of God answering the call of the King to be warriors for the Kingdom. And after that picture, the example of Jesus, the night before He died, washing His disciple's feet. So, we washed our translator's feet. We prayed for them. They prayed for us. We worshiped together. God showed us two hands, one white, one black, clasped together, fingers intertwined. And the hand of God covering them both. We are no longer American and Haitian here. We are no longer foreigners and nationals. We are all children, a family, brothers and sisters under our Father and King.
This week I saw Jesus in the face of a young jobless man named Johnny who lives in a tent with his mother since his two sisters died in the earthquake. I saw Jesus in the pastor who came from America, saw the need, and offered that young man a construction job at Pastor Noel's orphanage. I saw Jesus in the little girl who bestowed upon me ownership of her just-completed VBS art project. I saw Jesus in the little naked boy running down the path outside his tent, giggling. I saw Jesus in the translator who, when asked, said he wasn't bored because he had his Bible with him. I saw Jesus in the trash heap. As one of the participants said: "I thought it couldn't get any worse. And then I looked at the trash heap (which was very large, very smelly, and right behind our house) and saw a little boy walk onto the trash heap to use the bathroom. And I thought, 'It can get worse!' But then God spoke, and He said, 'Jesus is in that trash heap.' " I saw Jesus in the orphan who reached sticky fingers up to my face and gallantly offered me the remains of her half-eaten candy. I saw Jesus in the children dancing in flat-out worship before their Father in Heaven. This week I saw Jesus, and I want nothing else but to see Him more.
Friday, June 17, 2011
Was Blind But Now I See
This week I met a blind boy named Jeff. Our group of 29 had split into four and hit the streets outside Pastor Amos's house for prayer walks. So, we walked. Stopping to pray for a man with a hurt leg, entering the house of a woman in a pink dress, sitting in the shade with a man whose house was destroyed in the earthquake. And then a random man came up to me and said in perfect English, "I have a cousin. He is blind. I want you to come pray for him."
We went.
The blind man's name is Jeff. He is 21 years old, and we found him sitting outside the door of his family's house under the shade of an overhead tarp. His eyes were open, blinking, and unfocused. His face was full of peace.
We talked for a bit. The cousin who had introduced us asked us to pray. To pray that the blind man would see. He said, "I have faith that God will heal him." So, we prayed. The Spirit of God came on that place. We prayed in faith, and we prayed in power.
And then we were interrupted. A stranger off the street (who also spoke English) who said God told him to find us walked under the tarp and started praying. And suddenly everything was wrong. We stopped praying, and Jeff was still blind. That man, that stranger, was not fighting on the same side we were. There was a sense of deceit, of confusion, of evil about him.
So, we left, prayed, and went back the next day. We got down on our knees. We read Scripture, prayed in tongues, and spoke the power of God in that place. Caylee, one of the teenage girls on the team, had a vision of a fiery snake slithering in and out of our feet on the ground we were standing on. As we prayed, the snake disappeared. She saw a new picture. The earth with the light of the sun blazing full on it, chasing away all darkness.
We stopped. We opened our eyes. Jeff still couldn't see.
So, we left, prayed, and went back the next day. This time, we talked. I started playing the guitar. Jeff smiled and said, "The Spirit of God is about to come on this place." I took his hand and shared with him how God sees him. He asked us to share when we had become Christians. We asked to hear his story. He said when he was 12, his mother covered up his right eye and realized her son could not see out of his left eye. He went to the doctors. Who could do nothing. When he was 16, he had an accident while playing soccer and lost the sight in his right eye. He went back to the doctors. Who could do nothing.
His family cried. His friends were afraid. Jeff kept the faith. He told us, "I prayed to God, 'Your will be done.' " He has been blind for five years now. He had to stop going to school. He can't read the Bible. He wants to be a pastor. He wants to preach the Gospel in all the world. This is what he said.
As we were talking, I felt compelled to ask him, "What do you want?" The way Jesus asked one of the men He healed. I expected Jeff to answer, "I want to see." But before I could even ask, the blind boy said simply, "I want to hear the voice of God." He said he had never heard the voice of God before and he wanted to. I asked again just to be sure. He was blind. Surely, he wanted sight more than anything. "What do you want?" Without hesitation, he repeated, "I want to hear the voice of God."
So, we prayed for him. Right then and there. We put our hands on him and asked the Holy Spirit to come and speak. And then we were silent and waited. And when Jeff spoke again, he said he heard a voice. A voice that said, "My little boy, you will see My deliverance. I am the truth and the way."
God answered. He spoke to the heart of a blind boy. I know. I have seen. I have seen a blind man ask, not for sight, but for the voice of God as the desire of his heart. I have seen the Spirit of the Living God come down and fill the shade under a tarp in front of a house in Haiti. I have looked into his face. I have held his hand.
We will go back to see Jeff whenever we get the chance this summer. We have found a child of God in him. We have found beauty and peace and courage and a faith that cannot be shaken. He says, "When God heals me and opens my eyes, I will share with the world the glory of God."
And now? While he is still blind? He looks into his heart - he lets us look into his heart - and we see the glory of God.
"I once was lost but now am found, was blind but now I see."
We went.
The blind man's name is Jeff. He is 21 years old, and we found him sitting outside the door of his family's house under the shade of an overhead tarp. His eyes were open, blinking, and unfocused. His face was full of peace.
We talked for a bit. The cousin who had introduced us asked us to pray. To pray that the blind man would see. He said, "I have faith that God will heal him." So, we prayed. The Spirit of God came on that place. We prayed in faith, and we prayed in power.
And then we were interrupted. A stranger off the street (who also spoke English) who said God told him to find us walked under the tarp and started praying. And suddenly everything was wrong. We stopped praying, and Jeff was still blind. That man, that stranger, was not fighting on the same side we were. There was a sense of deceit, of confusion, of evil about him.
So, we left, prayed, and went back the next day. We got down on our knees. We read Scripture, prayed in tongues, and spoke the power of God in that place. Caylee, one of the teenage girls on the team, had a vision of a fiery snake slithering in and out of our feet on the ground we were standing on. As we prayed, the snake disappeared. She saw a new picture. The earth with the light of the sun blazing full on it, chasing away all darkness.
We stopped. We opened our eyes. Jeff still couldn't see.
So, we left, prayed, and went back the next day. This time, we talked. I started playing the guitar. Jeff smiled and said, "The Spirit of God is about to come on this place." I took his hand and shared with him how God sees him. He asked us to share when we had become Christians. We asked to hear his story. He said when he was 12, his mother covered up his right eye and realized her son could not see out of his left eye. He went to the doctors. Who could do nothing. When he was 16, he had an accident while playing soccer and lost the sight in his right eye. He went back to the doctors. Who could do nothing.
His family cried. His friends were afraid. Jeff kept the faith. He told us, "I prayed to God, 'Your will be done.' " He has been blind for five years now. He had to stop going to school. He can't read the Bible. He wants to be a pastor. He wants to preach the Gospel in all the world. This is what he said.
As we were talking, I felt compelled to ask him, "What do you want?" The way Jesus asked one of the men He healed. I expected Jeff to answer, "I want to see." But before I could even ask, the blind boy said simply, "I want to hear the voice of God." He said he had never heard the voice of God before and he wanted to. I asked again just to be sure. He was blind. Surely, he wanted sight more than anything. "What do you want?" Without hesitation, he repeated, "I want to hear the voice of God."
So, we prayed for him. Right then and there. We put our hands on him and asked the Holy Spirit to come and speak. And then we were silent and waited. And when Jeff spoke again, he said he heard a voice. A voice that said, "My little boy, you will see My deliverance. I am the truth and the way."
God answered. He spoke to the heart of a blind boy. I know. I have seen. I have seen a blind man ask, not for sight, but for the voice of God as the desire of his heart. I have seen the Spirit of the Living God come down and fill the shade under a tarp in front of a house in Haiti. I have looked into his face. I have held his hand.
We will go back to see Jeff whenever we get the chance this summer. We have found a child of God in him. We have found beauty and peace and courage and a faith that cannot be shaken. He says, "When God heals me and opens my eyes, I will share with the world the glory of God."
And now? While he is still blind? He looks into his heart - he lets us look into his heart - and we see the glory of God.
"I once was lost but now am found, was blind but now I see."
Saturday, June 11, 2011
Sea Urchins and Near Death Experiences
Our first team arrived this afternoon. We played Euchre for two hours while waiting for them to come. God is good! We ate dinner with them, went through the rules and regulations (all the boring stuff), and then headed back so I could blog you guys! No, not really. For this coming week, Steve (our team leader) will be leading the team, and we will be job shadowing. All six of us. It ought to be quite the learning experience. Next week they're kicking us out on our own in groups of two. So, we're in for a busy week this week and another one coming up! We appreciate your prayers.
One quick story to illustrate how hard we're working out here . . . So, yesterday afternoon, we (Steve, Liza, Marcio, Jenny, Josh, Mark, and me) headed out for the beach. Pale blue water, mountains in the background, sandy ocean floor. It was beautiful. We stepped in the water (much against my better judgment, what with the sharks and all) and waded out until we were stopped by a very wide, very scary shallow line of sea urchins and various other precursors to a coral reef. We decided to be brave. Conquer our fears, risk death and almost certain painful torture, and cross the bed of sea urchins to take a look at the coral reef. Which was going to have to be pretty darn cool to be worth the effort. The only problem, as I have been informed: Sea urchins sting. The water was somewhere in depth between your knee and your thigh, depending on the rock formations and what not. And Jenny and I didn't have any shoes on. So, Marcio heroically volunteered to drag us across on our backs. (He was wearing shoes.) So, we laid on our backs, threw our heads back, did our best to relax (what with razor-sharp little menaces mere inches from our bare backs), and took Marcio's hands as he pulled us over the sea urchins, the random jellyfish, starfish, and other things I was trying really hard not to think about.
It was a beautiful picture. There we were, inches from certain death. But as long as we held perfectly still and kept tight hold (and I do mean tight) of Marcio's hands, we were good to go. Nothing could hurt us. That's what we want to do these coming weeks with the hand of God. We know He's got a hold of us, and we want to relax, lean back, and trust Him to lead. And He will give us life.
So, back to the sea urchins: We made it across, glanced at the coral reef (which I'm sure deserved a lot more respect than we gave it), got stung by a few sea urchins when a couple of us fell over (nothing serious, but we were proud of our war wounds), and hightailed it back to the safety of land. Heads back, perfectly still, and holding desperately to Marcio's hands.
(P.S. If you'd like to see a picture of our team, go to facebook. Sorry I'm not actually in the picture. I was holding the camera. Of course. :-) This is my team. From left to right: Mark, Josh, Marcio, Liza, and Jenny. Steve was taking a nap on the shore.)
One quick story to illustrate how hard we're working out here . . . So, yesterday afternoon, we (Steve, Liza, Marcio, Jenny, Josh, Mark, and me) headed out for the beach. Pale blue water, mountains in the background, sandy ocean floor. It was beautiful. We stepped in the water (much against my better judgment, what with the sharks and all) and waded out until we were stopped by a very wide, very scary shallow line of sea urchins and various other precursors to a coral reef. We decided to be brave. Conquer our fears, risk death and almost certain painful torture, and cross the bed of sea urchins to take a look at the coral reef. Which was going to have to be pretty darn cool to be worth the effort. The only problem, as I have been informed: Sea urchins sting. The water was somewhere in depth between your knee and your thigh, depending on the rock formations and what not. And Jenny and I didn't have any shoes on. So, Marcio heroically volunteered to drag us across on our backs. (He was wearing shoes.) So, we laid on our backs, threw our heads back, did our best to relax (what with razor-sharp little menaces mere inches from our bare backs), and took Marcio's hands as he pulled us over the sea urchins, the random jellyfish, starfish, and other things I was trying really hard not to think about.
It was a beautiful picture. There we were, inches from certain death. But as long as we held perfectly still and kept tight hold (and I do mean tight) of Marcio's hands, we were good to go. Nothing could hurt us. That's what we want to do these coming weeks with the hand of God. We know He's got a hold of us, and we want to relax, lean back, and trust Him to lead. And He will give us life.
So, back to the sea urchins: We made it across, glanced at the coral reef (which I'm sure deserved a lot more respect than we gave it), got stung by a few sea urchins when a couple of us fell over (nothing serious, but we were proud of our war wounds), and hightailed it back to the safety of land. Heads back, perfectly still, and holding desperately to Marcio's hands.
(P.S. If you'd like to see a picture of our team, go to facebook. Sorry I'm not actually in the picture. I was holding the camera. Of course. :-) This is my team. From left to right: Mark, Josh, Marcio, Liza, and Jenny. Steve was taking a nap on the shore.)
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Back in Haiti
Hey, all, from the mountains, sea, and sweat of Haiti! I have arrived. More or less awake, surprised at the coolness (that might not be quite an accurate word), and ready for anything . . . I think.
My plane flew in Monday afternoon, and we took the bus ride through Port-au-Prince, and out to the staff house. I met the rest of the team, all six of them: Liza, Steve, Jenny, Marcio, Mark, and Josh. We are finishing up learning how to lead the teams coming in this summer (the first of which arrives on Saturday), and we're going to the swimming pool tomorrow. Yeah. The swimming pool. Am I on vacation or a mission's trip? Oh, and, team from last year . . . We have running fans. And a refrigerator. And we're currently grilling hamburgers and french fries for lunch. I thank God for seeing fit to spoil us.
But some things haven't changed. We walked down the street yesterday on our way to a tent city. The streets are still filthy, the air is still muggy, the buses still see how close they can get without actually crashing into each other, and God is still good. Shopkeepers were selling plastic shoes, jeans, and candy. Little kids were staring at me with wide eyes and yelling, "Blanc! Blanc!" with a shy smile. Yesterday I ate peanut butter and jelly for lunch and spaghetti for dinner. Two of my favorite meals. I fit right in.
In the tent city, we prayed for a despairing teenage girl whose father died before the earthquake, who couldn't go to school now because there wasn't enough money, and who had earlier in the day swallowed Bleach. On purpose. Her name is Rita. We prayed for her. Please continue praying. There is more than one Rita in Haiti, and God knows every single one of their names and every single one of their stories.
Haiti is broken and beautiful, a little dog is yapping furiously down the street, and God is good. All the time.
Merci Jesi.
My plane flew in Monday afternoon, and we took the bus ride through Port-au-Prince, and out to the staff house. I met the rest of the team, all six of them: Liza, Steve, Jenny, Marcio, Mark, and Josh. We are finishing up learning how to lead the teams coming in this summer (the first of which arrives on Saturday), and we're going to the swimming pool tomorrow. Yeah. The swimming pool. Am I on vacation or a mission's trip? Oh, and, team from last year . . . We have running fans. And a refrigerator. And we're currently grilling hamburgers and french fries for lunch. I thank God for seeing fit to spoil us.
But some things haven't changed. We walked down the street yesterday on our way to a tent city. The streets are still filthy, the air is still muggy, the buses still see how close they can get without actually crashing into each other, and God is still good. Shopkeepers were selling plastic shoes, jeans, and candy. Little kids were staring at me with wide eyes and yelling, "Blanc! Blanc!" with a shy smile. Yesterday I ate peanut butter and jelly for lunch and spaghetti for dinner. Two of my favorite meals. I fit right in.
In the tent city, we prayed for a despairing teenage girl whose father died before the earthquake, who couldn't go to school now because there wasn't enough money, and who had earlier in the day swallowed Bleach. On purpose. Her name is Rita. We prayed for her. Please continue praying. There is more than one Rita in Haiti, and God knows every single one of their names and every single one of their stories.
Haiti is broken and beautiful, a little dog is yapping furiously down the street, and God is good. All the time.
Merci Jesi.
Sunday, June 5, 2011
A Preview of What's to Come . . .
What Are You Waiting For? . . . I Don't Know. Something Amazing, I Guess.
"Then Moses gave an order and they sent this word throughout the camp: 'No man or woman is to make anything else as an offering for the sanctuary.' And so the people were restrained from bringing more, because what they already had was more than enough to do all the work." (Exodus 36:6,7)
It's getting close to midnight, and my plane leaves at 6:05 a.m. Before I leave, I would like to say something of the same thing Moses said. I don't really know what I'm getting into going back to Haiti. I know it's going to be so hot we won't really miss the lack of heated water. I know I'll enjoy the new Chacos my sister got for me. (Thanks, Kristi!) And I feel like I've got more than enough to do whatever work God has for me.
I've got a list going, and it keeps getting bigger. A free plane ticket to Haiti, food and board all paid . . . More than a hundred dollars to spend on beads to take to Haiti and do something amazing with . . . An unopened box of just-the-right-size...unmentionables . . .Chacos in my favorite color . . . A quick-dry towel that will come in very handy in 99% humidity . . . And more than a thousand dollars donated to a missionary who never asked for a cent.
And I was worried about leaving both my jobs. Don't tell me God doesn't see our unspoken fears. Don't tell me He doesn't act or care. Don't tell me He doesn't get extravagant sometimes. I have seen Him do amazing things this past month.
I am going to Haiti with the expectation of seeing Him do more.
It's getting close to midnight, and my plane leaves at 6:05 a.m. Before I leave, I would like to say something of the same thing Moses said. I don't really know what I'm getting into going back to Haiti. I know it's going to be so hot we won't really miss the lack of heated water. I know I'll enjoy the new Chacos my sister got for me. (Thanks, Kristi!) And I feel like I've got more than enough to do whatever work God has for me.
I've got a list going, and it keeps getting bigger. A free plane ticket to Haiti, food and board all paid . . . More than a hundred dollars to spend on beads to take to Haiti and do something amazing with . . . An unopened box of just-the-right-size...unmentionables . . .Chacos in my favorite color . . . A quick-dry towel that will come in very handy in 99% humidity . . . And more than a thousand dollars donated to a missionary who never asked for a cent.
And I was worried about leaving both my jobs. Don't tell me God doesn't see our unspoken fears. Don't tell me He doesn't act or care. Don't tell me He doesn't get extravagant sometimes. I have seen Him do amazing things this past month.
I am going to Haiti with the expectation of seeing Him do more.
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