I can’t even remember his name. I’m not even sure I got his name. All I can remember is my desperation to do
something – anything – for him.
It’s funny how we think sometimes. I think all the time that I’ve got something
figured out, or that I can do something on my own. But as soon as I get to that point, something
comes along to remind me I haven’t got a clue, and there’s no way I can do it
on my own.
Every time I’m reminded, and every time I’m humbled before
the Lord, I think of that boy whose name I can’t remember.
When I arrived in Haiti in June, the entire squad met together
for a couple of days before splitting up into teams throughout the
country. My friend Caroline Crawford spoke to the squad about several things, including Haitian culture, World Race
rules, spiritual gifts, and finally, letting go of expectations in order to
rely solely on God for the next month.
I had never really considered my expectations before, so
upon hearing this, I shrugged it off as something I didn’t need to worry
about. Besides, I had just arrived in
Haiti without knowing where I was going or who I was with. What expectations could I possibly have?
After the briefing, my team was placed in the Renmen
orphanage just outside of Port-au-Prince.
The next two weeks were filled with truly (truly) incredible people and
experiences, but all within the walls of the orphanage. We were in Haiti. We (selfishly) wanted to get out – to see
miracles, to see the city, to see the children less fortunate than those at
Renmen.
So one day, my team left the orphanage for what we called a
‘prayer walk’ in an annex of City Soleil.
A prayer walk – yea, sure. But
really, I was ready to change lives, see miracles happen, and for God to show
up in a big way.
For those that have never heard of this place, City Soleil
is a ‘tent city’
in downtown Port-au-Prince that is home to about 400,000
extremely impoverished Haitians. There
are no sewers, stores, electricity, health care facilities, or schools, and the
United Nations named it ‘the most dangerous place in the world.’
We arrived at the City-Where-God-Would-Do-Miracles and began
to walk around. Adults stared at us
while children ran toward us. We stopped
to speak to a man in charge of the area, and by the time we looked around, dozens
of kids had surrounded us. We played
games and sang songs, and I saw him standing alone.
Twenty feet behind the circle of smiling children, a boy
that looked to be about 8-years-old curiously watched the crowd. Though he had a blank expression, it wasn’t
difficult to see that he longed to be laughing and playing with us. When I walked over to him, he shyly turned
away, but smiled when I asked him (through my French-speaking friend Melly)
if he liked soccer. When he replied
‘yes’, I gave him a high-five.
Just like that, we were pals. But as soon as he started to tell me about
himself, it was time to continue our walk.
Disappointed, I told him goodbye and we headed deeper into the city. No miracles or lives changed yet.
The paths that weaved in between tarp and plywood houses
were littered with broken glass, lumber, needles and a vast assortment of
garbage. The smaller children followed
us barefoot. We couldn’t help but pick
them up and carry them, though we knew they made this walk every single day.
We walked around a small field in the center of the city
designated for going to the bathroom since there was no plumbing. We tried not to hold our breath. And then I saw him – my friend had followed
us. He was too shy to join us on our
walk, so he took a shortcut to where we were headed. He was standing nearly
behind a tent, but came over to me when I saw him. I gave him a fist-pump, and he smiled. That blank expression I first saw him with
had faded away like a distant nightmare.
I pulled a candy bar out of my bag that I had saved as a snack for later
and handed it to him. I put my finger up
to my lips and whispered, ‘sshhh.’ He smiled
once again, and quickly put it in his pocket so the other kids wouldn’t
see.
I was being left behind, so I told him goodbye once again
and hurried to catch the group. This
time, I knew I’d see him again. We
walked by the school (the first one of its kind) under construction, and beside
the school some boys were having a rap battle in Creole. A few of us jumped in and provided the beat
for one of the boys, and by the time he had finished there was another crowd of
locals laughing and cheering on the boys.
I looked around, but I couldn’t find him. Still, no miracles. Still, no lives changed.
Then I felt somebody take my hand. I didn’t have to look down to know who it
was. Melly came over, and she helped me
ask my friend if he enjoyed the candy bar.
We talked about his brothers and sisters and his new school. The group started to walk again, and this
time, holding my hand, he joined us. But
by now we had made it back to where we came into the city. It was time to leave.
“But we haven’t done anything… Why are we leaving?” I
thought to myself, “Nothing has changed!”
I looked at my friend, who had no idea that he would never see me
again. That I had just taken a guided
tour through his city. That I was a
sightseer and his poverty was the attraction.
Where were the miracles? Where
was God?
I sadly gave him a hug and told him goodbye, and that’s when
I
noticed his flip-flips. The strap had
broken off one the soles, and he had to drag his foot in order to keep it
on. But my team was beginning to walk
out of the entrance.
“Wait!” I shouted with tears in my eyes. “Help me fix this!” They came over to help, but we didn’t have
anything with us that would fix the strap.
My team wanted to help, but they weren’t desperate. They couldn’t see that I had to help him. That I
needed to help him – for myself. So that
I would feel like I accomplished something, so that maybe God had showed up,
and maybe my trip to City Soleil wasn’t in vain.
“Does anybody have any shoestring or duct tape??” I yelled.
We found a string and pulled some medical tape from a First-Aid
kit. A few minutes later, we had managed
to put my friend’s flip-flops together, though it didn’t look like it would
last more than a day or two. He looked
up at me. “Merci,” he said. Confused and defeated, I walked out of the
city. There were no miracles, no lives
changed today.
Before returning to the orphanage, we stopped at another
tent city in
the middle of Port-au-Prince.
There I saw a little boy no older than five, with a tumor uncared for by
doctors for so long that one side of his head had nearly doubled in size. I kept walking through sewage streets. My friend and teammateAshley Haub walked up
next to me. She was smiling.
Before I could tell her she was heartless for smiling at a
time and place like this, she asked me how I was doing. I gave a long and pitiful sigh. “I’m alright I guess,” I said. Then I asked how she was doing, though at the
moment I didn’t really care. “Oh! I’m great!
Hasn’t this been wonderful?” She
replied in a cheerful, typical-Ashley voice.
I looked at her like she was crazy, and my thoughts were
written all over my face. “Kellen, I have
spent an entire day praying over these people – for healing, for chains to be broken,
for life to overcome death, for miracles, for love to take over this city. It has been such a great day to just release
Jesus into City Soleil!”
Then, out of nowhere, a large boulder smacked me in the head. Wait, that’s not right. Those were her words. They hit me. I had spent so much time trying to create a
miracle on my own, I missed the point. Today,
my expectations had overtaken my faith.
What if all my little friend needed was a prayer? What if all he needed was for somebody to
believe for him? What if he just needed
me to have enough faith that his life could be great?
“And what you ask in
prayer, you will receive, if you have faith.”
Such a ridiculous verse.
It’s so simple. Believe. Just believe.
Just know Him. Just know that he loves me and will
never let me down and has a perfect plan and wants to heal and bring life to me
and my friend whose name I can’t remember.
That’s all – just have faith.
Yeah, sure.
With the World Race only two weeks away, I’ve found myself again
hanging on to expectations of what I want
to see and what I want to do. My team has changed, my travel route has
changed, my finances haven’t changed enough yet, and I’ve changed. Every time there’s been a change – every time
my expectations have been shattered – I’ve doubted instead of believed.
Perhaps my friends life in City Soleil would be different
had I
believed. Maybe he wouldn’t even
be in City Soleil anymore.
God used that day to teach me such an incredible
lesson. Yet still, I doubt. So I know he’ll keep showing me and reminding
me that all I need to do is have faith.
Now I thank Him every time I’m reminded, and just pray for more and more
faith, and less expectations.
What expectations are you holding onto that have gotten in the way of your faith
lately?
New reader? Thanks for visiting – Feel free to add your
e-mail address in the space provided on the left to receive blog updates.
Also, if you’re interested in partnering with me, please contact me, or Click Here.
