This blog is the first of a three-part series on a major lesson God taught me last month in Haiti. It's real and raw and a true representation of the grime that covers my heart so often. Thankfully, God's love is greater and will always shine through. Check back the next few days as I tell you the story of how I learned to love His children last month as I get settled in our ministry here in Thailand.
Going into The World Race I knew I was going to be stretched, that God would take me outside of my comfort zone so that I may learn to depend more fully on Him. Throughout our month in Haiti numerous situations, conversations, and experiences took me outside of what I would call "comfortable", but one experience in particular stands out so distinctly in my mind.
One of the (many) ministries our contacts Rod and Deb run/support is a Sunday school ministry for slum children. It all began by them attending a church in the area and realizing that for the couple of services they attended, no children were present. Upon asking a member of the congregation why this was, it was explained to them that the children of the slums can't go to church because they don't have the proper clothes or shoes. Rod and Deb saw the injustice that was taking place in denying these children the Word of God and began a Sunday school ministry called "Let the Children Come", where the kids of the slums are able to attend church each Sunday exactly as they are, clothed or naked. Each Sunday since the beginning of the ministry the kids gather for singing, a Bible story, a video, occasional clothing distributions, and every week they receive a prepackaged meal of rice for their families. Throughout the years, the ministry has grown to approximately 1,500 children each week and some weeks hundreds of children have to be turned away because there simply isn't enough space or manpower to contain them all.
As I listened to Debbie explain all of this during our first few days with them, I had no idea what to expect for our first Sunday. I couldn't picture what 1,500 children in one little space looks like let alone 1,500 slum children who live in one of the most dangerous, dirty, and poverty stricken villages in Haiti and upon arriving in the village on our first Sunday there, I was shell-shocked to say the least.
We pulled in on the big truck, those of us standing on the edges forced to crouch down to avoid getting struck by the low-hanging wires and scraped by the metal roofs of the lean-to houses. We didn't get past the first house without tiny voices beginning to scream "Mayor Rod! Mayor Rod! Mayor Rod!", the nickname they've affectionately given Rod in their years running the ministry. Driving through the crowded village, lean-tos lining the streets barely big enough or clean enough to house chickens let alone the 15-person families that live them, child after child came piling out, all running after the truck, yelling for "Mayor Rod." As we drove the couple of miles through the village more and more naked or barely clothed children gathered behind, some having to cross a river and crawl up a steep embankment just to make it to the pavilion where Sunday School is held.
When we got to the gate, hundreds of children where already in line, pushing and shoving their way to the front, desperate to enter that Sunday and not be left behind. We drove in and shut the gates behind us, holding them back long enough to set up the projector and unload the food. Before letting them in, we circled up with the Wrays and the Haitian youth team that runs the service to pray and worship and ask God to prepare the way for the children about to enter, all while hearing the cries of babies being pushed to the ground, older children fighting, and the voices of those excited for the highlight of their week.
Check back tomorrow for Part II of Learning to Love.
