Caged: Heather Duke
Gathered in a small
room scattered around the tile floor, our team began an early Sunday morning
worship time. The music was playing and outside you could hear the beautiful
composition of birds chirping, wind blowing, and children singing. As I laid on
the floor I asked one question, “God what do you want for us?” Time passed and
after a while of listening. I clearly heard Him say, “Get them out. Get them
out of these walls but don’t let them ‘do’ anything”. I had no clue what He
meant but I knew what I needed to do.
After we dismissed from
worship I went and sat with Sister Florence. I asked her if there was any way
we could go out into the city on Monday. She quickly answered with, “why not
today?” So we agreed to take the team to the city and drive around.
As the day went on we
had church with the children, began projects around the house, and planned
meetings for other ministry opportunities. Going out into the city began to
look like less and less of a possibility. God had clearly spoken to me that morning,
despite what seemed to be every obstacle coming our way and trying to stop Him.
So I placed it in His hands and continued on with the day.
Around 3 o’clock we
finally were told the driver had arrived. I walked outside and saw the truck
sitting there, cage and all. Yes, the back of the truck was a massive cage. I
quietly laughed to myself knowing that this afternoon was going to be quite
interesting. I was getting ready to pile our team into a cage and drive them
around to see all the destruction, not allowing them to get out. This was going
to be interesting. God has a funny way of teaching us things.
Purposely not
explaining anything to the team, I got my team situated in the cage and we
headed for the city. Everyone was excited to get out and go into the city.
While they laughed and talked I was biting my nails. I didn’t know what to
expect. I knew God was about to move but I knew that it was going to be hard
for everyone to understand.
As we drove around I
stood peering out of the cage and holding onto the bars. People glared at us as if we were a caged
attraction at the zoo. I hated it. I wanted so bad to turn around and tell my
team to jump out. I wanted to stop the car, get out and do something. I knew that
is not what God had planned for that afternoon. Everything 
with in me wanted to
fix the pain I saw on my team’s faces. He began to speak over me. “Heather,
trust that I am a big God. I can restore this nation without you physically
‘doing’ anything. I want you to be obedient and through that my kingdom will be
brought.” Through his strength I was able to continue to walk in obedience
while our team seemed to be falling apart in the back of the cage. As I prayed
I just asked God to guide me. I felt prompted to turn around and tell our team
to listen. Listen to what God was saying and speak it out. I knew I was
ultimately setting them up.
Shortly after prompting
them to listen one of them spoke up and asked if we could get out. I wanted so
badly to scream yes, but I casually passed it off and said we would have to
ask. Without even knowing the circumstances of what God had said to me, Father
Michael gave a firm no, and explained that it would not be a good idea. I saw
the look on our team’s faces with they heard the news but I knew that God had just
interceded for me and I had to allow them to go through this experience. After
a couple of hours we returned home with obvious frustration and brokenness on
the team member’s faces. I was excited to hear what God had taught them.
As we opened up nightly
debrief, I began to explain to them what God had told me. With a couple of
smiles here and there they began to speak out what God had taught them. It all
makes sense now, they said. While we were physically caged in and feeling
spiritually caged in God had broken through to us and revealed that we were
uncaged.
Here are the stories of
what it felt like to be ‘caged’ through their eyes:
Caged: Ashley
Haub
As we traveled
downtown to the main area of destruction in Port Au Prince, I couldn’t help but
feel overwhelmed by the devastation all around me. My mind could not take it
all in. Everywhere I looked I saw ruined, twisted, and collapsed buildings and
rubble in the streets. I soon began to see the physical brokenness take on a
spiritual parallel. All around me it looked as if people were going through
hell on Earth. My heart cried out, “God, where is your Kingdom? Is it here in
the midst of all this? Please open my eyes.”
In the midst
of me questioning God and my mind reeling from what I was seeing, I heard God
answer me. He said, “My Kingdom is in you, and you are here. That is a start.”
Even in the midst of earthquake 
devastation, God is worthy to be praised. Even
if I saw no one else praising Him, I was capable of praising Him. So I began
singing praise for who God is and what He can do. My mind was lifted from the
muck and the rubble to the God who is sovereign over all the earth. I realized
that this earthquake was no surprise to God. God was still at work in the
brokenness, need, and desperation. His Kingdom was already there.
I don’t know
why this earthquake happened and why these beautiful people have to walk
through such a trial. But there is one thing I know, God has a plan for Haiti.
He is redeeming and rebuilding lives from the ashes of brokenness. Right now
things look horrible, but I trust that something beautiful is going to come of
this.
Caged: Amy
Bulgrien
As we piled in
the back of the truck and left the Renmen Foundation compound on a trip
downtown to view the earthquake wreckage, I did not realize that we were in a
cage. I had been in the cab of the truck the previous day and the back of the
truck was just that – the back of the truck.
We drove past
familiar landmarks: the church with the missing front wall, the river bed
filled with trash and rooting pigs, scores of Haitians selling food and wares
on the side of the road. We drove on roads pitted with potholes and puddles. We
drove ever closer to areas that sustained the most damage during the
earthquake. We drove past watching eyes.
I became aware
of the watching eyes and the reality of being a cage as we approached the
presidential palace. The back of the truck was boxed in by tight steel
crosshatch. The doors latched and we had a padlock to 
keep the doors shut. Our
roof was a tarp to keep off the rain. A literal cage. We slowed to get a better
view of the wrecked palace. One of the once-pristine white domes had crunched
into the ground floor, settling at an alarming 45 degree angle to the rest of
the building. The remainder of the second floor was no better off, and the
grounds floor was clearly shaken as well.
I wanted to
get out and poke around, get a better look, and find out the story of who had
been inside on January 12, how many people had died, what the plans were for
rebuilding and restoring the palace to its rightful majesty. But we had to
remain in the truck. I felt like a tourist taking pictures at a spectacle. And
I felt judged by the Haitians who witnessed our truck passing by, like maybe
they thought we imagined ourselves too good to even get out of our cage to take
a moment of silence in honor and remembrance of what had happened.
We left the
palace grounds and headed deeper into downtown. There were slabs of concrete
lying on the ground, slabs that used to support homes and lives. Rubble piles
were a constant theme. Some buildings were still standing, although who knows
if they were stable or unsafe. There were always a lot of people on the streets
continuing with their lives.
As we drove on
in our cage, I was saddened by the loss of life and destroyed buildings, but I
did not have the reaction I thought I would. I thought I would cry and have
pains in my chest because I simply could not express my grief over the
situation. I can’t necessarily explain why I didn’t feel quite that way. The
trip was frustrating, but I sat on my bench and sent out little prayers, hoping
they would find their mark.
I processed
the ride later that night and thought of Haiti. There were a handful of people
who were out working on rebuilding their homes but the vast majority of people
were simply living their lives among the rubble. I thought maybe it’s still
too close for them to be rebuilding their houses. Maybe they aren’t ready to
move on and let go and so they choose to live in tents among the rubble.
It was about
the time I realized that the story of Haiti is close to my heart. Over the past
five years I have experienced immense loss of life, destruction of
relationships, and have moved so many times that currently I don’t have a house
but a storage unit. I am in the rubble and have not yet been ready to build
again.
I am Haiti.
Caged: Burke Hedges
What comes to mind when
you hear of someone confined in a 9×5 ft enclosed area surrounded by steel bars
that serve only to keep you inside? Maybe the words “cell block D” come to
mind? Well, we were not in jail, but the environment we were in certainly felt
like we were in the pen. After touring Port-au-Prince in what seemed to be a
cage on wheels, I got the sense that we were supposed to be protected from something.
But from what?
While the city is
overwhelmed with absolute destruction and the unsanitary conditions are
borderline unbearable, my heart kept repeating the same questions over and over
again, “What are we scared of? Who are we to be protected from?” There’s
nothing more I wanted to do that very moment than to just kick the cage wide
open, pick up a shovel, and help the Haitians move debris off the street.
The truth is, we are
hurting ourselves by being confined (caged in) to our own reality of the world.
God is moving in miraculous ways in this country. I can feel the power of the
Holy Spirit spreading like wild fire everywhere we go. The people here are
thirsty for God’s love and in what better way can we be of service than to
embrace the people for who they are and pour God’s love into them. But how do
we overcome the barrier of being confined within a steel cage? First we must
figure out a way to become “uncaged.”
Caged: Tiffany Handley
Ten white people.
Triple locked into a white cage. Not able to pick up rubble. Not able to touch
a hurting soul. Not able to do anything but look. And be looked at. Ten
helpless doers. Twenty stifled hands. Ten frustrated spirits. Feeling useless.
Feeling broken. Experiencing the helplessness that these people had felt for
nearly six months. In only two hours we were forced to stomach sandwiched
cathedrals, rotten stenches, pile after pile of rubble people used to call
home, and faces. Faces of longing, faces of hopelessness, and most
unbearably–faces of blankness.
I felt listless,
enraged, discouraged, and then numbness. And I realized that my emotions
probably echoed what the entire Haitian victims had felt following the ‘gulu
gulu’. But I was struggling. Because I hadn’t lost anything. I hadn’t lost
anyone. Who was I t o feel hurt by any of this? 
It was then that I fully
understood what it meant to be the eyes of Christ– to see what he sees every
day in our broken world. He gave me physical insight to the destruction and
abandonment he eternally sees in each of our hearts. Then the anger left only
to be replaced by weeping. Behind my California Aviator sunglasses, God’s tears
fell for humanity. I began to understand how desperately the world needs to
know that the only hope in this world comes from knowing Christ. So from behind
the walls of our cage, I began to feel purpose and restoration. Even if I was
locked in, God’s love could not be caged.
Caged: Sammie Jo Marx
Darkness, brokenness,
destruction. All around me. In every direction.
I sat in the back of a
truck with my teammates, traveling through the streets of Port au Prince and
felt like I was in a portable prison. I was forced to see the earthquake
devastation through the lens of a metal cage.
After several minutes
of seeing shattered cathedrals, endless rubble, a crushed palace infinite
destruction — all I wanted was to be free. I could not stand being trapped in
this cage and being prevented from doing anything to help. It felt like
torture. It seemed like there was no hope anywhere. The faces of the people all
around me burned images into my mind of hopelessness. Anger and frustration
welled-up inside me because I could not do anything to help.
Enough. I cannot take
this anymore. I have seen enough. This is unbearable, God. Why would you bring
me into this city to see all of this brokenness and then force me to remain
caged-in, unable to help in anyway?
You will not let me get
out and help and even when I listen for your voice I get nothing. Your silence
is unbearable. It is deafening. Though I do not fully understand why you will
not allow me to help, I still respect that you are in control. But, I would at
least expect you to offer me encouragement or some level of insight through
your Holy Spirit. Yet, you do not. I sit in silence just ready to get back to
the orphanage.
At least the orphanage
offers hope. Kids filled with love. The Holy Spirit freely roaming. A place
that I can honestly say has become home.
Yet we did not go
straight home. I was forced to sit in silence for the rest of the trip, waiting
for God to speak, waiting to be free from these bars.
At last, we made it
back. Praise God. I was so relieved. I instantly felt the love from all the
children as they hugged and kissed me. The love and hope of the Lord. Praise
God. Everything that seemed so wrong out 
in the brokenness of the city suddenly
seemed so right. This orphanage truly is an incredible place. It has given me
the hope that I had been unable to see during my caged ride through Port au
Prince. God is in Haiti, and through the love that encompasses RENMEN Home, I
was able to gain hope for the people of Haiti.
God has not forgotten
these people. They are in His hands. Everything will happen in His perfect
timing and according to His perfect will.
Caged: Emily Whitworth
At first, I was really excited to finally see Port-au-Prince. When we loaded into the cage,
I expected that God would speak so clearly about how we were to serve the city
and its people. As we began to see the
tent cities and signs of destruction, my excitement faded. The subtle signs of devastation soon grew to
literal mountains of rubble.
At first overwhelmed by the sheer enormity of the
physical destruction in front of me, the thought ran through my mind, “This is
nothing.” The crumbled buildings, the
piles of rubble, and the tents that have become homes …none of it compares to
spiritual devastation. Instead of
focusing on the buildings, my attention turned to the people of Port au Prince.
As I sat in the cage I became frustrated. I hated being trapped…we were a cage of
Americans driving around, taking pictures of destruction, 
doing nothing to
alleviate the pain surrounding us. As we
pulled up to the collapsed Royal Palace I noticed the people who sat at the
gate that surrounded the palace remains.
A simple stop on our cage tour was their reality…I wondered about what
life was like for the man in the Duke jersey, the elderly man whose faced
showed no emotion, the woman lying on the ground staring aimlessly into the
street, and the countless others. Had
their lives become worse after the earthquake?
How can God use this? Where are
you, God, in this? Will you reach them
Father? But I didn’t know any answers…I
was just trapped in a cage…I wasn’t talking to anyone….I wasn’t helping
anyone…I.was.in.a.cage.
As we drove on, my frustration grew to anger. I didn’t want to sit in a cage looking at
this anymore, I wanted to get out and just start helping. I began to question why God placed us at
Renman Orphanage. The orphanage seems
like such a safe place, the children have Father Michael and Sister Florence to
love them…why God with so much death, destruction, and need have you placed us
there?
My first answer to that question came in the
cage. God reminded me that He is worth
it. I don’t need to know why I’m here in
Haiti, I don’t need to know how He uses me…He is worthy of and glorified in my
obedience.
It wasn’t until our team spent the night debriefing
our day that God further clarified why I was placed at Renman…He is using this
place to restore me. God is blessing ME
through the love of these beautiful children, Father Michael, and Momma (Sister
Florence). While I would love to come
home and recount to everyone the huge number of truckloads of debris I
shoveled, and how I boldly went into tent cities sharing the love of Jesus…I am
at Renman…in a beautiful act of God’s love, I am blessed to call Renman
Orphanage home for a month.
So every day I wake up and God loves me through the
people here…and He loves them through me.
Our team may end up shoveling debris, working in tent cities, or
more. While I’m not sure about how we
serve, I have no doubt that God is changing me, shaping me, and loving me
through my time here. God’s love is
powerful, it’s beautiful, and it simply can’t be caged.
Caged: Melly Piche
God loves these people. God loves these people. God loves.
For the first part of the time in our cage, these were the words repeating over
and over as I stared out at ground zero, Port au Prince, no longer viewing it
second hand through video or pictures but first hand through a metal cage on
the back of a truck.
I know each of us in the cage wanted nothing more than to be able to
jump out and go do SOMETHING: help clear something, fix something, start
somewhere, anywhere… my heart cried out for the destruction 
everywhere we
looked. What was even harder was that although I expected the destruction, I
had expected to see some sort of clean up or rebuilding efforts underway. But,
there didn’t seem to be any evidence of either. It looked as if 5 days, not five
months, had passed since the earthquake hit.
The more we drove, the more brokenness God placed before me, the more
overwhelmed I became by the enormity of it all. It was in the midst of this,
when all I wanted was to stop seeing the brokenness, the toppled buildings, the
burning garbage heaps, when I thought I couldn’t handle seeing another person
living out their life in the middle of sprawling wasteland, that God reminded
me that there isn’t anything which has been broken that He can’t make new again.
I was reminded of my own history, and how it was only by God completely
breaking me, shredding apart every last fiber of my heart, that He was able not
just to heal my own personal brokenness but give me a new heart, a heart
transplant, the heart he intended and designed for me to have all along.
And this, I am convicted, is what God is doing here in Haiti. 2 Corinthians
5:17 says that if then any be in Christ a
new creature, the old things are passed away. Behold all things are made new.
God isn’t just going to “fix” Haiti. His plans are so much bigger than that/ He
is reconciling His bride and bringing His people back to Him; He is giving them
a heart transplant.
All this destruction is not evidence that God has left or forgotten
Haiti. The bible is the most epic love story of all time. From Genesis through
Revelations it does nothing but show how far God will go to pursue humanity,
even when they reject and run from Him. Even when it may look like His hand
isn’t on His people. This book of Isaiah is a perfect reminder of this. After
coming back from the two hour ride in the cage I sat in Isaiah 49:
For the LORD comforts his people
and will have compassion on his afflicted
ones.
But Zion said, “The LORD has
forsaken me,
the Lord has forgotten me.”
“Can a mother forget the baby
at her breast
and have no compassion on the child she
has borne?
Though she may forget,
I will not forget you!
See, I have engraved you on the palms of
my hands;
your walls are ever before me.”
What began as an overwhelming sense of helplessness for not being to do
anything to “fix” Haiti, and anger that relief efforts appeared to be
nonexistent (as if the world was already forgetting this place), ended with the
realization that it is not about rebuilding the physical, but restoring the
spiritual; the work to be done here is not about fixing, but reconciling. And,
most importantly God reminded and convicted me that while some things may seem
impossible or hopeless to us, absolutely nothing is too big for God. “I am the Lord, the God of all mankind. Is
anything too hard for me?”. I am filled with hope for Haiti – nothing is
impossible with God (Luke 1:37). And, without question, we have seen that God
is very much present here in this, but I’ll leave those stories for another
night.
Caged: Robbie Lane
Traveling through the earthquake ravaged remains of
Port Au Prince, Haiti, I struggled initially with feeling overwhelmed by the
extreme devastation in every direction.
Throughout my life I have experienced extreme poverty, but nothing could
have prepared me for what I saw today. Before the earthquake, Haiti was already
considered the poorest country in the western hemisphere — now even
re-reaching that status seems almost impossible.
From the deepest parts of my heart, I wish that God
would allow everyone to see and experience firsthand what I have seen in Haiti.
Maybe then all of us will be able to support and love on the people of this
broken nation. The people here desperately need Christ.
For the first half of our trip, I focused entirely
on the destruction. God showed me a powerful lesson as I did this. As long as I
focused on the earthquake destruction, I was blinded to all of the other
positive relief efforts being done. Even worse, is that I do not even remember
the face of one person the entire time.
God showed me that in life, I can view life in two
powerfully different ways. In every situation, I could focus entirely on the
negative problem or I can direct the fullness of my attention to find the hope
and joy in every situation. Recognizing this wisdom being directly from the
Holy Spirit, I decided to put it into practice. I began to look at everything
differently. Instead of focusing on the destruction, I used every ounce of my
concentration to focus on the faces of the people going about their normal
lives. To my surprise, I saw life and not death.
I no longer saw the destruction, but now saw a
resilient people that found a way to live life amidst total destruction. I no
longer need to pity these people because in many ways they have a strength that
few people could ever display. Where churches were destroyed, tents were set up
in behind to ensure that church services still persist. People whose homes had
been destroyed have managed to establish a new life in entire tent cities that
have been set up from the aid from organizations such as Samaratan’s Purse.
The lessons from that day still resound as I desire
to look at life from God’s perspective rather than focusing on the problems in
life that seem to suffocate our ability to see God.
In some ways,
I am numb to the reality of what I saw a week ago traveling through those
streets of Port Au Prince. Is there something wrong with me? How, after only
week, can I return to life as usual? The destruction in Haiti is not just something
that I could partially envision in my head but it is a true reality that I have
seen, smelled, and experienced. No news
report or internet footage could capture what I heart experienced on that day.
Yet, even as the emotion of that moment begins to fade, I am able to cling to
the strong lessons I learned about viewing life through God’s eyes.
