2 weeks ago, I have heard countless stories of hope, of joy, and of peace even
amidst the destruction abounding. I am encouraged and thankful.
Yesterday, however, my team and I spent our day off crammed into
a tap tap driving around the city to see the ruins. We saw the presidential
palace which still looks like a pancake. We saw government buildings and house
after house just completely destroyed. Rubble everywhere. At the first stop on
our “tour”, we stopped outside of an elaborate cathedral that had been
completely destroyed. Off to the side was a group of Haitians under a blue tarp
to shade the midday sun while they worshiped – continuing to praise God with or
without a building in which to do it, with or without food or clothing. But
what caught our attention were the children and adults who immediately
gathered around us looking for a handout from the “rich Americans”. Some of my
teammates went straight to praying and speaking in broken French and Creole with
the individuals about their experiences, their needs, their hurts. Our
translator/friend/tour guide, Esther, who was Haitian-born but now lives in
America, sat in the back of the tap tap and heard the stories of those in the
crowd gathered around: a teenage mother with no home and no food for her
children; men with amputated legs; children chewing on copper wire to forget
the hunger in their stomachs; a woman with no money to pay for the
prescriptions her child needed. I found myself overwhelmed and uncertain of how
to respond.
weeks, inwardly regretting not having the joy of ice in my water, a shower that
actually feels clean, AC, a peaceful night’s rest, etc. And here I stood face
to face with those who actually have nothing. It is not the first time I have
found myself at this loss – I just wish I had more to give, and had an adequate
way to meet their needs. I can give my bag of chips and I can give $6 for
prescriptions and I can pray that God will heal and provide and love the way He
has promised He will. But I still feel that this is not enough. That I am not
enough. I still hate giving a handout – is that enablement? – but at the same
time I hate that I am reluctant to give. During my time in Cambodia over 2
years ago I wrote a blog about the inner battle I face between what I feel is
just and fair, and what I feel called to do. I still don’t really know.
What I am called to is this:
If anyone has material possessions and sees his brother in
need but has no pity on him, how can the love of God be in him?
1 John 3:17
…and this:
food. If one of you says to him, “Go, I wish you well; keep warm and well
fed,” but does nothing about his physical needs, what good is it?
2:15, 16
…but then I question if giving is also enabling the beggar-mentality or continuing the problem of poverty and I’m
reminded of this:
what I have I give you. In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, walk.”
Taking him by the right hand, he helped him up, and instantly the man’s feet
and ankles became strong.
I know is that I must rely on the Holy Spirit in each situation, with each
encounter, to show LOVE and to welcome each stranger as I would welcome a friend…and trust that God will take care of the rest.
