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.
