earthquake

Today is the second day after our world was literally rocked. The people here on Anses-a-Galets have remained mostly safe from the physical harm, though a few reports of injuries and structural damage have been reported. However, no one seems to remain safe from the emotional impact of Tuesday's earthquake.

Families all over the city are still waiting to hear from loved ones. Today I watched about fifteen Haitian men and women load onto a boat to find their missing relatives. One passenger searching for a school aged son, another in search of his wife, and several more searching for 3 college-aged siblings who have yet to be found.

One lost child is enough to make a whole town weep. We do not have enough tears for those who are still missing.

Each moment that passes hangs heavier on the shoulders of those of us in Haiti. And occassional aftershocks make it impossible to pretend that our world could be normal.

Last night was one of the eeriest nights I've yet passed in this country. The usual loud music and yelling from the night clubs was strangely absent. The silence a sickening reminder of the silence so many are experiencing as they still wait for news from their families.

And in the morning, as I rose, I heard roosters yelling all over the town, but my sleepy heart was almost sure it was the sound of my neighbors crying.

Walking in the Dust with Us

For several months now I've been going to youth group at the Wesleyan Church here. It's been a funny experience as I've listened to Creole lessons on the etiquette of hosting or being a guest, and have fumbled through my song book to keep up with their hymns and asking everyone around me which bible passage we're reading.

Most of the time when I go, I don't say anything. I just sit and listen. Every once in a while the pastor will call on me for an answer, to which I almost always respond "M pa konnen." (I don't know). I haven't been what I would consider an avid participant or contributor.

But last month, just before I left for the States, the pastor said something that surprised me. "Thank you Justine for walking in the dust with us." He was referring to the 2 times I've gone to prayer and walked through the dusty streets which I walk through all the time anyway.

I didn't think this was a very big deal until my friend Merline explained it to me. "Sometimes Haitians feel a little bit under everyone else. And it is very rare to have a young missionary who comes to youth group."
(just for the record, Zach attended faithfully while he lived in Anses-a-Galets)
"So when you come and listen and you come and walk in the dust with us, we consider that a great honor."

I'm not sure if I got teary or not, but at the time I was trying to express to my friend what a privilege it was for me to go to youth group. I had seen how accommodating they could be, they'd switch from French to Creole bibles just so I could understand and they'd re-explain things if they knew I was confused. And I honestly felt like more of a burden than a blessing. But apparently God was doing something I couldn't see.

I've been wondering if Jesus felt the same way when he came to walk in the dust with us. I've been thinking a lot about his life and how he literally left heaven to come live amongst us. What an awesome sacrifice!!

Over Christmas, when I was living with all the privileges of the US (hot showers, Starbucks, paved roads, and English worship), I found myself resenting the sacrifices God's been asking me to make in Haiti. If other people can live with this stuff, why can't I?

Then, through the prayer of a friend, God brought my mind back to the truth of his sacrifice. Not just that he died, but that he lived here, among us. He left the golden streets to walk in the dust with us! What an honor. And what a challenge.

Youth Group

A few months ago, I started attending the youth group. I went at first to practice listening to Creole. Sometimes I understood the message, and sometimes I didn't. Most of the time I just came to watch and would have been content to fade into the background. Little did I know, my friends in the church had no intention of letting me lay low.

They immediately began asking me to pass in front of the group. One day they asked for a testimony, another day it was prayer, and still another day they asked me to teach. They made it a point to include me, and continued asking me questions even when I'm sure my responses revealed how lost I was in the language at times. My own shortcomings seemed to have no effect on their insistent invitations.

It may have even encouraged them. In fact, just last week they asked me to preach on the spot at a prayer meeting! This might deter some people, but to be honest, it has done nothing but blessed me.

Through their questions and the way they've involved me, I've experienced new levels of grace and love. The greatness of this grace and love really hit me tonight as I watched 9 youth group members file into my back porch for a special prayer time organized just for me. They came to pray for me before I leave, and in the last hour, I listened totally humbled by the sound of Creole prayers for Se Justine (sister Justine), her family, her fears, her safe trip to the United States, and more importantly her safe return.

At the end, one girl even sang a special song dedicated to me. I cannot express how incredibly humbled, blessed, and grateful I am for these amazing young people and for the picture they're showing me of love and grace.

when God is silent

God has always talked to me. And I've always liked it that way. When I read the bible the verses jumped. When I went to church the preacher preached to me. When I talked to my friends the stuff they were learning was exactly what I needed to hear.

But in the last few months, for whatever reason, that changed. I found that God wasn't talking to me in those ways anymore. In fact I would read my bible every day, read a devotional, pray, and sometimes read other spiritual books and never seem to have one deep revelation. At first, this really scared me. I wondered if I was somehow sinning and blocking out God's voice.

Or I thought, maybe he's talking and I'm just not listening. I tried with my own logic to make a message or a word from God out of the random smatterings of reading and quiet time. But honestly, that didn't work. I still felt his silence.

This was a bit discouraging and kind of scary. If I'm not hearing God, how do I know what his will is? I was so scared in fact, that I stopped acting in faith. If I didn't know what God was saying, I didn't want to do anything.

For example, I was praying about what to do w/my money. I had been thinking about hiring some people to help in my house because I knew their families could use the help. I had also been wanting to help a friend out with some school expenses, but I never heard God say, "Justine hire this woman to clean" or "give your money to this friend."

So I did nothing. For several months, I just held onto my money and waited for an answer. Eventually I got one. In the midst of the silence, I felt God's spirit start to convict me about storing my treasures up on earth instead of in heaven. He brought to mind the parable of the talents, the rich young man, and the passages about giving to your brother in need. And in my heart I felt him so strongly say, "you're money is going to rot."

Wow! Kind of intense. I still wasn't sure what God wanted me to do, but I knew I had to start giving it away. So I did. I decided to do the things that had been on my heart to do even though I hadn't specificially heard God say them.

And you know, I think he was happy with that. I wonder if sometimes I don't overcomplicate God's will, making it out to be this tightrope walk that would end disastrously w/one mis-step. I don't know, maybe sometimes God does talk to us about every single decision. And maybe in some seasons He doesn't.

Maybe sometimes he says Go here. And other times he just says be my servant, and leaves it up to us to interpret what that means. I mean really, do you think God would get mad at me for hiring a struggling young widow to clean my house w/o asking him? Or would he be angry if I helped a friend out with their schooling when I know he's blessed me financially? Probably not...

Even now, I'm still sorting out what to do when God is silent. Maybe it's this simple: Do the good that's in front of you to do.

holiness?

The night she had 6 pudding instead of 7, I'm not sure if anyone noticed that it was her who went without. No one sees the cupboard full of missmatched sheets, the aftermath of open-handed linen lending. And I've not heard anyone acknowledge her sacrifice when she continuously offers the last bit of leftovers, leaving her own plate empty.

And yet, still she does it. Every day, Joy Irvine chooses to put others before herself, in a subtle but stunning posture of selflessness. As I've watched her over these past seven months, I've often thought, I wish I had a heart like hers and wondered how I could get one.

I don't choose to use my only free moments in my week to love on a three-year old or teach math to a second-grader. In fact, I'd much rather use my time for me, retreating to my house to write and listen to some music. But she somehow consistently chooses sacrifice, so much so, that I'm not sure she's even concious of it.

Sure, 30 years of marriage and mothering five children may have something to do with her bent toward servanthood. But I think it's even more than that. To me it's an example of what happens when a believer chooses to be Christ-like in the little things. Gradually, those little things accumulate and inside that person the nature of Christ himself is cultivated, and for a few moments each day heaven is on earth in her holiness.

Research is boring, right?

I just want to say quickly, I love teaching. To see my students hungry eyes light up when a concept finally clicks, may be one of the most rewarding exciting experiences I've had. Today in one of my English classes, we talked about research for 45 minutes.

That sounds so boring, doesn't it? But it wasn't boring at all. My students were firing questions at me faster than I could answer them. They wanted to know, how can I narrow my topic when I like every topic? "The poor, for example, is a very important topic everywhere in the world," one of my students said. He wanted to know how he can choose just one topic to write about.

Then another student asked the very basic question, "How can I find information in a book?" It sounds so basic, but we then spent several minutes talking about looking at the title of the book, the table of contents, and the index. We talked about scanning and key words and bold headings.

And every eye was on me, every hand eagerly scribbling notes.

What a huge privilege it is for me to teach here!

Looking Haitian

The other day Merline and her sister stayed over to watch a movie. In the morning I was telling them that sometime, I want to get my hair braided. Well before breakfast was over sometime had arrived. Merline's little sister braided my hair in about forty-five minutes. When it was all over, I looked like this. Finished product-->

I loved it....I had to take it out after only 3 days because I went swimming and couldn't get the salt out of my hair. But for a few days, I looked quite Haitian.