Haiti

I cannot believe it, but it has been more than a quarter of a century since I visited Haiti.  My brother and I had the  honor to go there at the tender ages of 10 (him) and 8 (me) when my parents were chaperoning a high school youth group mission trip.  My life has never been the same.  I don't know why, but I feel a distinct tug on my heart to write about Haiti tonight.  I haven't been back since, though I've thought of it often.  I'd love to go again, but not because it is beautiful or fun or enriching in a traditional sense.

We went to work on building the second story for a school at a mission.  The first impression I had of Haiti, though I doubt I could have articulated it at the time, was that it felt oppressive.  Not the heat or the stench.  But spiritually, it felt heavy.  If my heart could suddenly be wrapped in weighted belts, that was Haiti.  I remember seeing a 5-year-old little girl taking care of her younger brother, who was naked with a swollen belly.  I recall seeing the exuberant joy on the faces of children, ages 2 -16, when they received small tokens and toys, like jacks, jumpropes, and balls with which to play.  These trinkets cost paltry amounts of money for Americans but were treated like prized possessions there, which they likely were.

I remember the poverty, the tattered clothes, the dirt everywhere.  Dirt outside (not grass.)  Dirt roads.  Dirt floors.  It just was brown.  We worked hard there.  It was hot and sticky and dusty.  (I actually came back so tanned, someone asked me if I was black or white!)  I remember seeing men cut the grass (what little there was) with machetes, bent over in backbreaking work, because the mower was broken.  I remember walking through a very crowded, loud, and intimidating open-air market one day.  People were shouting, vying for our attention and American money.  I wanted a doll as a souvenir.  There were lots of stalls selling them, but my mother kept saying no, I couldn't have one of those dolls, but we'd find one.  The dolls she kept telling me no to were, in fact, voodoo dolls.  (We did eventually find a beautiful, non-voodoo doll, that I believe we still have.) 

One of the things that sticks out heavily in my mind was the very powerful, very real, presence of voodoo.  It isn't just mumbo-jumbo made up in a movie for a plot twist.  The belief and faith in this dark practice was palpable.  One of my clearest memories is from the nights there in Haiti.  We'd lie in our beds at the mission and, almost every night, drumming would start.  It wasn't partying.  It was voodoo drums, their rhythms flowing down the mountain, subtly filling the air.  They weren't loud.  I never heard chanting.  But unmistakable drumming.  I love music and percussions.  But this drumming chilled me to the bone in a very not-good way.

I was so impacted by the spiritual magnitude of this place that I asked my dad for a very big thing.  I was originally slated to be baptized with two of my cousins later that summer.  I asked my dad to baptize me there, in Haiti.  We had a good discussion of what baptism meant and why I wanted it then and there.  The day we went to the beach, I was baptized by my father in the Caribbean. 

When you're in a place like Haiti, there is no longer a question of "is there good and evil?"  It is obvious!  So much spiritual darkness hangs like a heavy veil over that small country.  Yet those who have been told about and accepted Christ have such joy!  Their lives were not instantly changed in manners of wealth, health, or freedom from a corrupt government.  But their outlooks, their peace, their pursuit of holiness did change their lives.  I felt so honored that my spiritual life would, in a small way, be tied to that country and to other believers who might get baptized along the beach.

I guess I would sum up my experience like this.  If you wonder, if you question, if you doubt, go to Haiti.  It isn't a bad place.  The people are not unkind.  But the weight of Haiti, the "feel" of Haiti is almost proof that there is evil.  That there is a Hell.  And that there is a devil.  But there's redemption to that oppressive feeling.  For if there is evil, there must be pure love.  If there is a Hell, there must be a Heaven.  And if there's a devil, there must be a God. 

I can see God in a flower, a rainstorm, a waterfall.  But for those who cannot, go to Haiti.  Then tell me there isn't a God.

God, Christians, and Inspiration

Today, I feel compelled to write about something very dear to my heart - faith.  Specifically, faith in One True God, people who profess it, and people who judge it.  This is not a tear anyone down rant.  So don't necessarily quit reading for fear of that.  Rather, it's a challenge to us all, churched or unchurched...

I believe in a sovereign God.  That means - He Is It!  There's only one Him and He's the Him.  I do not subscribe to the "many paths to enlightenment and joy and peace and whatever-you-believe-for-you-is-fine-just-don't-impose-it-on-me" mentality.  I am a Christian and most people know that very shortly after meeting me.  I make no apologies about my faith. Ever.  And if someone asks me why I believe the way I do, I'm happy to discuss.  But I try really hard to let my life speak without having to beat anyone over the head to "prove" that I'm a Christian or try to convert them.  I'd rather they see the peace and joy I experience BECAUSE OF GOD (not because of me!) and ask questions. 

I don't think I've ever told anyone they were going to hell.  I don't feel that's my job.  God sees hearts.  I do not.  I may think "Oh, you poor, misguided soul."  But I hope my words are "I love Him enough that I will speak about the wonderful things God has done in my life.  I love you enough that I will pray for you and freely discuss anything you'd like without backing down.  I love you enough that I disagree with you; I love you enough that I cannot support your decision; I love you enough that I do not condone that behavior.  But I will always love YOU."  I've had very, ahem, lively discussions with people in the past.  I expect that I will have more intense conversations in the future.  And I'm okay with that.

But the ultimate truth is - God is God and I am not.  So I will not judge you.  Likewise, please don't judge me.  Do not assume that because my conversion was not a "road to Damascus" experience that my testimony is less valid or valuable.  I have never been drunk.  I have never done drugs.  I have loving, Godly parents and an amazing family.  That doesn't mean I haven't walked through valleys or am too blinded by mountaintop views to appreciate sorrow and heartache.  I do not believe you have to hit rock bottom before you can be saved.  I think God's arm is long enough to reach us in the lowest pit of despair.  But I think His desire is that His arms be used to wrap us up in bear hugs of delight, whether life has always or never been rosy.

I also think that whenever someone sets out to "inspire," they usually wind up setting themselves up for the fall.  Christ said that he will make high the humble and make low the proud.  I'm not saying you shouldn't live a life to the glory of God.  But let it be just that - for the glory of GOD, not the glory of you.  No one goes around looking for bad experiences to endure.  But sometimes difficult things befall us.  It is walking those trials in sincerity and meekness that inspires, not "ooh, I'm gonna look good on the other side of this!"  I think people are inspired by watching a person prevail where the onlookers fear they might fail.  It's that victory that's lived in sincerity that inspires.  It gives us that "if they can get through THAT, maybe I will be all right, too..." feeling.  and I believe that  we endure tragedy well only through the grace and mercy of God.  Thus, it's God that's inspiring.

I have been told numerous times over the past several years that I inspire or encourage others.  That blesses me so much.  But it humbles me.  Because I know I've done NOTHING to inspire or encourage.  I write what I think.  I seek God.  I make up life as I go, for I know no other way.  I am so thrilled that God uses me in a tiny, miniscule way to touch the heart of another.  But I know it's HIM.  Most people who I consider a personal inspiration would not consider themselves thusly.  Most people I admire would probably start talking in "why, um, but, and huhs?" if I told them how much I really think of them.  But that's probably why I do.  They're genuine.  They're not after the praises and accolades of men.  They're just honestly in love with God and it is reflected in all they do.

So, if you want to have a life full of peace that defies explanation, believe in God.  If you want to inspire someone, love, serve, and seek God.  If you want to judge someone, evaluate yourself.  And if you want a lively conversation (about God or anything else), let me know!  I promise I won't be mean...

No motivation

I sit here this morning, thinking of the clean laundry that needs to be folded and put away, the dirty clothes still to be washed, the dishwasher, run but not emptied, and the freshly soiled breakfast dishes.  I think of the vacuuming that ought to be done and how the bathrooms need to be cleaned.  And I want to do exactly none of it!  (I get credit for at least contemplating it, though, right?)

It's an unseasonably warm and slightly rainy day here in Chicagoland.  And all I can think about is how I want to go wander around, exploring with my son.  Then tuck him in for an unrealistically long nap and read my newly acquired book that has sucked me in more than time permits. 

I want to blow off responsibility.  I want to ignore financially sound decisions.  I want to play.  I'd like it more if I had another adult to come along.  But my boy makes for pretty good company most of the time.  I want to disregard acting "proper" or grown-up.  (Having a child tends to make that somewhat more socially acceptable.)  But I want to just skip in the rain, play ring-around-the-rosy, and generally run around like an idiot.  I want to eat breakfast, lunch, snacks, and dinner out without caring what it costs, even though there's perfectly acceptable food in the fridge and cabinets
I want to drive around in January with all the windows rolled down and music blaring.  And no red lights or stop signs. 

I know very little, if any, of those things will actually occur today.  I'll at least get a load of laundry started.  And the condition of the cupboards will dictate that the dishwasher will get unloaded.  And the desire to eventually eat will mean that dishes eventually will get washed.  But, if you will allow me one extremely indulgement whine...

I DON'T WANNA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!