One Afternoon . . . (Part Two)
After returning to our mission base, another girl walked in and asked one of the other missionaries, Emily, if we could come and pray with one of her friends. I think she may have heard about us praying with Kimberley because they lived pretty close together. Pretty soon, Emily, myself, and Paola (our nurse) were off to another house. This one was slightly different. Their friend had a cough, but otherwise was fine, so we prayed with her for healing. Soon afterwards, they took us to another house to sit and visit. They cut down coconuts from their tree and we sat around talking in the little Creole that we could understand from each other.
Pretty soon they were asking for stuff. "Can I have your bag? Can I have your shoes?" This is a common thing that has happened since we have been here. And in all of us, I think there is a generous part of our hearts that wants to give to people who don't have those things. But I know that we must also be careful, and we cannot encourage them to think we are here for material reasons. So I told them no, and tried my best in Creole to explain why. I tried to explain that we are here for evangelization, that we are here to pray with people, that we are here to bring Jesus, not to give out things. They seemed a little shocked at first, and then began laughing, but when I asked them if they understood, they nodded and said yes. The conversation continued to other things. A few minutes later, a girl tried to offer me a five-year-old child to take home with me. His mother was dead, she told me, and he had been living with her. It was a question almost in passing and accompanied with some laughter, so I am not sure if it was serious, and the subject was soon changed. Even so, I think this was the most difficult part of my day to digest. I know that in Haiti, it is almost common that people's parents die or leave and they are taken in by different family members or sometimes abandoned altogether. There are orphanages all over the country because of this problem. Nonetheless, it broke my heart that someone tried to offer me a child to take, while he was standing right there. It is quite a different thing to hear about that, and then to experience it firsthand. Again we prayed with this family before we left. Despite our difficult experiences there, I hope that by the time we left, they really did have a better understanding of our purpose as missionaries.
I spoke to our priest later that day, and he was able to explain a lot of things to me. For one, people in Haiti are used to suffering from birth until death. Suffering is a large part of their perspective on life. Although it is sad that someone could think to give a child away, there is also something loving in that they hope that if they give their child to a white person, the child could get out of suffering, and live a better life. He also told me that if the child's father and mother are both really dead, we could take him and bring him to one of the Catholic orphanages that we know.
I went to bed that night with a heavy heart, and a lot to pray and think about. That day was the first time someone had come to our mission base and taken us to their home. It was some of our first experiences of praying with people in their yards. Something opened up for us that day, and I hope it continues still now that our mission group has left. However, I think this was also one of my first experiences of culture, and language, and rich and poor all crashing together, with none of it happening on my terms. It is easier to minister to people inside of our mission base, when they come to sit on our porch, or when the girls come to dance in our meeting room, or when we invite them to walk in the street with us to mass. But it is different when they invite us into their homes. It is different when we see that our friend Joe who comes to get food every day, doesn't have a bed to sleep in, and we are told he doesn't want one. It was different yesterday when one of our missionaries walked to our gate at night, and found teenagers doing their homework under our streetlight because it was the only electricity around. It is hard to see our brothers and sisters in situations that we don't want for them. But I am more and more convinced that it is only Christ and His love that can solve these problems. We could try our best to fix every physical problem in their lives, but if we do not bring them Christ then eternally, all of our efforts are useless. While in my heart, I would love to take in all of the unwanted children, feed all of the hungry, provide electricity, a trash system, good medical attention, and better houses, I know that my mission is to bring Christ into the midst of suffering, not to fix every problem that I see.
This is especially poignant in the midst of Advent. In advent we are waiting for Christ to come again, and we are remembering how the Jewish people waited for their Messiah. Christmas is a celebration of that time when Christ, who is God, came crashing into all of our mess, all of our brokenness, all of our suffering, and became man. He became like us, and took on human flesh, willing to suffer in all of the ways that we suffer. And so, "We do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who has similarly been tested in every way, yet without sin." Hebrews 4:15. This is a comfort to me. In the midst of suffering that cannot be sufficiently changed, my faith tells me to put all of my trust, all of my hope, all of my faith into Emmanuel, who is "God with us." Let us really be little witnesses, little Christs, little lights, during this season to bring hope into our world, to show them that our God has not left us, but that He is with us in all of our mess.
Pretty soon they were asking for stuff. "Can I have your bag? Can I have your shoes?" This is a common thing that has happened since we have been here. And in all of us, I think there is a generous part of our hearts that wants to give to people who don't have those things. But I know that we must also be careful, and we cannot encourage them to think we are here for material reasons. So I told them no, and tried my best in Creole to explain why. I tried to explain that we are here for evangelization, that we are here to pray with people, that we are here to bring Jesus, not to give out things. They seemed a little shocked at first, and then began laughing, but when I asked them if they understood, they nodded and said yes. The conversation continued to other things. A few minutes later, a girl tried to offer me a five-year-old child to take home with me. His mother was dead, she told me, and he had been living with her. It was a question almost in passing and accompanied with some laughter, so I am not sure if it was serious, and the subject was soon changed. Even so, I think this was the most difficult part of my day to digest. I know that in Haiti, it is almost common that people's parents die or leave and they are taken in by different family members or sometimes abandoned altogether. There are orphanages all over the country because of this problem. Nonetheless, it broke my heart that someone tried to offer me a child to take, while he was standing right there. It is quite a different thing to hear about that, and then to experience it firsthand. Again we prayed with this family before we left. Despite our difficult experiences there, I hope that by the time we left, they really did have a better understanding of our purpose as missionaries.
I spoke to our priest later that day, and he was able to explain a lot of things to me. For one, people in Haiti are used to suffering from birth until death. Suffering is a large part of their perspective on life. Although it is sad that someone could think to give a child away, there is also something loving in that they hope that if they give their child to a white person, the child could get out of suffering, and live a better life. He also told me that if the child's father and mother are both really dead, we could take him and bring him to one of the Catholic orphanages that we know.
I went to bed that night with a heavy heart, and a lot to pray and think about. That day was the first time someone had come to our mission base and taken us to their home. It was some of our first experiences of praying with people in their yards. Something opened up for us that day, and I hope it continues still now that our mission group has left. However, I think this was also one of my first experiences of culture, and language, and rich and poor all crashing together, with none of it happening on my terms. It is easier to minister to people inside of our mission base, when they come to sit on our porch, or when the girls come to dance in our meeting room, or when we invite them to walk in the street with us to mass. But it is different when they invite us into their homes. It is different when we see that our friend Joe who comes to get food every day, doesn't have a bed to sleep in, and we are told he doesn't want one. It was different yesterday when one of our missionaries walked to our gate at night, and found teenagers doing their homework under our streetlight because it was the only electricity around. It is hard to see our brothers and sisters in situations that we don't want for them. But I am more and more convinced that it is only Christ and His love that can solve these problems. We could try our best to fix every physical problem in their lives, but if we do not bring them Christ then eternally, all of our efforts are useless. While in my heart, I would love to take in all of the unwanted children, feed all of the hungry, provide electricity, a trash system, good medical attention, and better houses, I know that my mission is to bring Christ into the midst of suffering, not to fix every problem that I see.
This is especially poignant in the midst of Advent. In advent we are waiting for Christ to come again, and we are remembering how the Jewish people waited for their Messiah. Christmas is a celebration of that time when Christ, who is God, came crashing into all of our mess, all of our brokenness, all of our suffering, and became man. He became like us, and took on human flesh, willing to suffer in all of the ways that we suffer. And so, "We do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who has similarly been tested in every way, yet without sin." Hebrews 4:15. This is a comfort to me. In the midst of suffering that cannot be sufficiently changed, my faith tells me to put all of my trust, all of my hope, all of my faith into Emmanuel, who is "God with us." Let us really be little witnesses, little Christs, little lights, during this season to bring hope into our world, to show them that our God has not left us, but that He is with us in all of our mess.
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