As I got on the plane and began the final flight to Haiti, I felt my emotions begin to rise up into my nasal cavity and over take my face like a fever. I played music to distract myself but it only aided in turning the knobs that unblocked the waterworks. I felt the Spirit move in with His scalpel and all I could do was sit and let Him cut me open as I began my ascent to 30,000 ft. Despite my resistance, God had called me to go to Haiti and in my reluctant obedience He was able to put me right where He wanted me. Haiti was His seven-day project on my heart and He wasn't going to waste a minute of it.
Surgery continued over the course of the afternoon and we made our way through the hot, dusty streets. We got to our first orphanage and I ran for the nearest camera so that I could feign the desire to be useful while also protecting my heart, which was still bleeding out from the fight. Despite my attempts to run or hide, I was found by a few of the most precious little angels and they insisted that I hold them and take pictures of them.
That night, I chatted with various members of my team, including the students that we brought along with us from the boarding school where I'm employed. I still felt the heaviness of the Spirit doing his work on me, and it was anything but pleasant. I was approached by beloved friend, Kyle, who expressed the desire to speak later concerning what was going on with me. Little did I know that he would be the instrument by which God would begin to really remove the junk out of my heart and then also be the stitches that closed my open wound.
Looking back, I can only say that that moment was one of providence. I had been set up through circumstances and various different elements of life leading up to that conversation. My journey to that moment could not be limited to the afternoon flight and orphan visit. No, it had been in progress over the course of many months. Everything was somehow connected. My current problems of interest were reflections of deeper wounds and heartaches that had lay in my heart and festered for years. YEARS! The healing I sought was not what I thought I wanted, but was more than I could have asked for. It was irony. It was inconvenient. It was Haiti. It was friendship. Lastly, it was unbridled and courageous confession.
Each day that followed that first night was a process of recovery. Recovery from, not only the trauma of surgery, but from the trauma that had made the surgery necessary.
There were plenty of tears as I saw years of cancer and disease laid out before my eyes. The pain of loss, of misguided desires, and of a twisted self image that robbed me of value and purpose; robbed me of truth and relationship that I so desperately wanted; yet rejected because of the illness that I both hated and relied on.
That is most often the nature of our sin. It is the friend we hate most. It is the enemy we invite to dinner and even into our own beds for the sake of not being alone.
With each orphanage we visited, I found the Spirit drawing me out and doing something in me. On the second day we went to a town called Hinch where I met this beautiful little boy named Miguel. He stayed with me the entire time and, unlike several others, didn't care that I had nothing to offer. He wanted to be loved and he wanted to show love. We met each other exactly where we needed. We gave each other time and we spent our time being grateful that we had someone else that existed to spend time together.
In Les Miserables there is a line stated multiple times that "to love another person is see the face of God." The next day I met Brianna. That precious girl that I had the privilege of pushing on the swing went out of her way to find me and be with me. In a time when I felt unloved and unlovable, God sent me two beautiful, innocent little kids for me to love and love me in return. In the midst of my darkness, God brought me a little light.
I want to love well. That is my heart's desire! I am, however, tainted by sin and by suffering and lack what is needed to truly love well. Haiti broke into a part of me that had been walled up. Even though I still suffer and I still struggle with all of my insecurity, I long to love others and to bring them to a place of healing and show them there is more to life than sitting in their pain and suffering. There is life that lies beyond their circumstances. There is healing.
Surgery continued over the course of the afternoon and we made our way through the hot, dusty streets. We got to our first orphanage and I ran for the nearest camera so that I could feign the desire to be useful while also protecting my heart, which was still bleeding out from the fight. Despite my attempts to run or hide, I was found by a few of the most precious little angels and they insisted that I hold them and take pictures of them.That night, I chatted with various members of my team, including the students that we brought along with us from the boarding school where I'm employed. I still felt the heaviness of the Spirit doing his work on me, and it was anything but pleasant. I was approached by beloved friend, Kyle, who expressed the desire to speak later concerning what was going on with me. Little did I know that he would be the instrument by which God would begin to really remove the junk out of my heart and then also be the stitches that closed my open wound.
Looking back, I can only say that that moment was one of providence. I had been set up through circumstances and various different elements of life leading up to that conversation. My journey to that moment could not be limited to the afternoon flight and orphan visit. No, it had been in progress over the course of many months. Everything was somehow connected. My current problems of interest were reflections of deeper wounds and heartaches that had lay in my heart and festered for years. YEARS! The healing I sought was not what I thought I wanted, but was more than I could have asked for. It was irony. It was inconvenient. It was Haiti. It was friendship. Lastly, it was unbridled and courageous confession.
Each day that followed that first night was a process of recovery. Recovery from, not only the trauma of surgery, but from the trauma that had made the surgery necessary.There were plenty of tears as I saw years of cancer and disease laid out before my eyes. The pain of loss, of misguided desires, and of a twisted self image that robbed me of value and purpose; robbed me of truth and relationship that I so desperately wanted; yet rejected because of the illness that I both hated and relied on.
That is most often the nature of our sin. It is the friend we hate most. It is the enemy we invite to dinner and even into our own beds for the sake of not being alone.
With each orphanage we visited, I found the Spirit drawing me out and doing something in me. On the second day we went to a town called Hinch where I met this beautiful little boy named Miguel. He stayed with me the entire time and, unlike several others, didn't care that I had nothing to offer. He wanted to be loved and he wanted to show love. We met each other exactly where we needed. We gave each other time and we spent our time being grateful that we had someone else that existed to spend time together.
I want to love well. That is my heart's desire! I am, however, tainted by sin and by suffering and lack what is needed to truly love well. Haiti broke into a part of me that had been walled up. Even though I still suffer and I still struggle with all of my insecurity, I long to love others and to bring them to a place of healing and show them there is more to life than sitting in their pain and suffering. There is life that lies beyond their circumstances. There is healing.
