I have one word for this last week: Blessed. We have had quite simply, quite astoundingly, a blessed week.
We might have seen it coming. Mark and I were in charge of a group of seventeen (12 youth, 5 adults) flying in from a church up in Michigan. They arrived in Haiti after getting stuck overnight in an airport stateside and freezing in the air conditioning. They walked out to meet us smiling. They cheered for the driver who dropped us off at Pastor David's doorstep after maneuvering a full-sized school bus backwards through a very narrow residential street. And that was just the beginning. Day one, they thanked God for the heat. Day two, they thanked God for a four hour church service, half of which wasn't even translated into English. Day three, they thanked God when we ran out of breakfast dishes that we still had plenty of food. Day four, they thanked God for the cold Cokes with dinner while we were waiting for more water to arrive.
They thanked God for everything. I never heard a complaint, an argument, or a gossiping word. They reminded me of the Haitians. They reminded me of Jesus. They were such a blessing. There was a lot of music at Pastor David's house this week. Half of it came from the church groups that meet almost daily on his front porch. Half of it came from a group of teenagers sitting on the rooftop at all hours of the night, praising their Savior and God.
The hardest part about the week was discerning how to take the group deeper. How to meet them where they were and pull them closer to Christ. So, we prayed, we listened, we taught. And God showed up. I said before I came here that I didn't really know what I was getting myself into coming here, and if God didn't show up, we were going to be in trouble. I can honestly say now that He has never once failed us yet. This week, I saw a teenage boy walk up to a stranger on the street and start sharing Scripture with him. I saw teenage girls circle up around a woman and her baby and pray and worship for a full hour. I heard them shouting out, "Our God is mighty to save," at 10:00 at night. I saw them preaching the Gospel through an enthusiastic reenactment of the Good Samaritan, Jonah, David and Goliath. I saw the King of kings become bigger, closer, more real to the eyes of 17 of His children. As one of the young men put it, God took the small gap of His love that they had known before and ripped it open to a wide, flowing river.
Now we've sent these 17 back to the States. On the last night, we washed each others' feet, the same way Jesus did with His disciples. Only we used wet wipes. Our feet were really clean by the time it got around to midnight. Now Christ has sent this group back to be His face and voice in an American, civilized, individualized, lonely culture that needs a Savior every bit as much as the shoeless, shirtless, fatherless kid living under a tarp in Haiti.
This week, Jesus called Trevor, Brianne, Hunter, Mariah, Liz, Andreas, Mel, Chris, Delynn, Caleb, Amber, Lydia, Alex, Hannah, Josh, Ben, and Mallory. I know. I was there. I saw them answer the call. He's not done calling yet. If Jesus has washed your feet, if Jesus has washed your soul, then He has set you an example. Now He says, "Go and do as I have done for you."
