The moment we crossed the border into Haiti I noticed it-
the battle scars of a land at war.
Driving through Port Au Prince at dusk, the sun cast firey light onto concrete rubble and mountains of trash. From high in our bus window we looked down on swarms of faces peering out of tent cities, dark figures building fires on the side of the streets and mothers clutching dirty children in the dark. Hands reached into our bus windows trying to sell us Coca Colas and crackers. It took over an hour just to go a few miles on the chaotic streets.
Heavy frowns reach deep into the distressed eyes staring up at us.
Although it has been two years since the earthquake wrecked the city, the restoration efforts seem to have just brushed the surface of the damage.
Countless times last month, Dominicans informed us that God sent the earthquake to Haiti in response to the voodoo worship and sorcery there. Americans don’t like to think such things- that God would ever “send” a natural disaster… But it is strange that the epicenter of the earthquake occurred in the middle of Port Au Prince, the core of spiritual darkness in Haiti. Even our Haitian pastor was convinced the disaster was meant to shake up a godless nation and was in fact the answer to years of prayers. When the earthquake hit, he and his pregnant wife and six children had to live out on the streets, all the while praising God for His righteous wrath. Since it hit, thousands have left practicing socery and turned to worship God.
The war in Haiti is not a war between literal countries, but rather a battle between Heavenly powers.
At night we lay on our rooftop, listening to voodoo chants coming from one roof combated with hymns in Creol coming from another roof.
Throughout the night we often wake tormented with unexplainable fear.
Strange banging resounds on the high metal gates that surround our safe house. Cat fights break out for hours and the screams of children echo through the night.
Even the weather in Haiti denotes supernatural warfare. Opresive heat weighs on us all day long. And at night, bombings light up the sky in the form of thunderstorms. For hours, firebolts are thrown all around us as we lay on top of our roof trying to find relief from the heat. The explosions that follows each firebolt are so loud that they shake the house, rumble deep in my chest and make my body quiver. Sometimes the lightening strikes just a 50 feet away and we sprint down the ladder certain someone is going to get struck.
“The dirt itself is cursed”, explains Watson, our Haitian translator. “When our forefathers were trying to gain Haiti’s independence, they sacrificed blood offerings to Satan and held ceremonies bartering with demons to gain their freedom. For centuries, we have been a nation that worships Satan, and finally God is battling to claim Haiti for Himself.”
There is something very dark in the air here.
Its undeniable that heavy spiritual warfare is going on in Port Au Prince.
But oddly enough, I have yet to feel afraid. Here with two other teams, we spend every spare moment battling in prayer, worship, and celebration. It’s exciting to be in the heart of the battlefield. We constantly remind each other that we have nothing to fear, the battle is already won.
For though we live in the world, we do not wage war as the world does. The weapons we fight with are not of this world, but have the divine power to destroy strongholds.
2 Corinthians 10:3
