A LOFTY PRIVILEGE

"To enter into loving people and possible loss, is to enter into suffering, to enter into the daily hurts and heartaches. To soldier on well we must have an understanding of suffering or we will let it overwhelm us and stomp out God’s goodness, and then we become a martyr rather than an overcomer." -- Sarita Hartz

Jesus promised pain and suffering. Paul suffered. Mary suffered. Peter suffered. Stephen suffered. Jesus himself suffered. Must I continue?

I gather this: I cannot live a gospel-motived life without suffering. Yes, maybe there will be seasons where suffering doesn't seem so dang prevalent. But in reality, it will come. 

For some, it may never leave. 

So wether I am stuck in the hot, dusty valley, climbing up the never-ending mountain in the blazing sun, or working my way back down the mountain (which is must easier than the original climb, but still a tedious task as you must work hard not to tumble down to the bottom), suffering is inevitable.

But that doesn't mean I have permission to sulk in a self-pity filled, woe-is-me, negative Nancy kind of attitude. 

Again, Sarita puts is perfectly:

"Expect that there will be pain in this life and in what you do for the Kingdom. Decide that you won’t let it make you a martyr. Decide to not let the unfairness of this life make you bitter. You will face the disappointments and rise, because you know ultimately all things do work together for the good of those who love Him. He is working out the beautiful tapestry of your life in ways you can’t even imagine. He knows everything you need to fulfill your call. He doesn’t waste a single one of your tears. I believe He has a bottle in Heaven of each tear I’ve cried. He will not waste any of your suffering or any opportunity to shape it for your good and for the good of many others."

Thankfully, amidst the trials, Jesus has promised that he'll never, ever leave or forsake us. We overcome because he already overcame. No matter what kind of terrain I find myself on, I can rest assured that my suffering is not in vain. In fact, I should count it as a lofty privilege to suffer for Jesus' name sake. I am a warrior on the frontline of battle! As Paul puts it, "I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us."

(If you haven't read a blog post from Sarita Hartz, you're missing out. If you are a missionary, going to be, was at one point, or just want to understand a missionary better, go and read her stuff. She says all the things I don't have words for and deeply encourages my soul.)

"Not that I have already obtained this or am already perfect, but I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own. Brothers, I do not consider that I have made it my own. But one this I do: forgetting what lied behind and straining forward to what lies ahead. I press on toward the goal for the prize on the upward call of God in Christ Jesus." (Philippians 3:12-14)

This is oh so relevant for me right now. Life here has been so ridiculously challenging. It's difficult to see a fruitful future what you're stuck in the heart of a treacherous storm. The words straining and press on give the impression that doing so what no easy. And that's where I find myself. It's not easy to strain forward when simply surviving the current seems impossible. 

But, I'm choosing to take Paul up on his challenge to press on.  And I do not take on this challenge alone, for Jesus has made me his own and I absolutely need him.

IT IS FATE

I pull out of the school yard, unsure of who I was going to visit. I knew I wanted to visit students, I just didn’t know who. To give myself time to think, I decide to get a fresco (a frozen Haitian treat) from the market nearby. As Sonson and I pull up to park, three students appear: Loudemia, Dana Leïda, and little Fritznerline. It is fate; I am supposed to visit them. 

As we head through the market to get fresco, they two older girls tell me their mother works in the market and we walk over to pay her a visit. I asked if we could visit their home, she says yes. But when they tell us where they live, Sonson is unsure if we should go. They live in an unsafe area in the midst of gang activity, and apparently it is not the best place to visit. However, I can't imagine why God would prohibit me from visiting these precious students just because of my potential physical danger. Feeling lead by the Spirit, we decide to go anyways. And knowing this may not be the safest feat, I pray. I let God know that I trust him, I trust that He is with us, and ask that He would protect us. I also send a quick message to a friend for some extra backup. 

We pull up to their street and I get out of the car. Loudemia grabs ahold of my arm with a protective grip. Although she is only 13, she possesses strength and confidence as she leads me through the narrow ally ways. I feel safe. 

Soon after, we arrive to their dark, hot, two-room home. Their mother had walked from her work at the market to meet us there. We sit and chat awhile with the her and the three girls. We find out Loudemia’s father had passed away and Dana Leïda’s father is not present. Fritnerline is her granddaughter, and lives in the home along with her young mother. Her father is present, but does not live in the home. She tells us that that she, all 9 children, and one grandchild live together in this home. I do the math and figure out that is a total of 11 people in this small house with 4 beds to share. 

I ask who provides for this family and she replies, "me and God."

While sitting in their presence in there home, I sense joy. I am amazed that in the midst of poverty, physical danger, and sorrow, this family still chooses to trust God - our provider, protector, and comforter. This is a true testimony that our circumstances do not have to determine our joy, God does. 

HINDS' FEET ON HIGH PLACES

One of my dearest, Jesus loving friends gave me a copy of Hinds’ Feet in High Places by Hannah Hurnard and said I must read it. I am not even halfway through and it is already becoming a favorite. And for this non-reader, that’s huge! It’s a beautiful story. It relates to me on so many levels, especially now as I find myself in the valley (both figuratively and literally, I actually live in a hot, dry valley).

I don’t have much else to say about it yet, other than the fact that I think you should start reading it too. Then, we can be friends and chat up a storm about it! 

Here is a quote that nearly leaped off the page at me:

“The High Places,” answered the Sheperd, “ are the starting places for the journey down to the lowest place in the world. When you have hinds’ feet and can go ‘leaping on the mountains and skipping on the hills,’ you will be able, as I am, to run down from the heights in gladdest self-giving and then go up to the mountain again. You will be able to mount to the High Places swifter than eagles, for it is only up on the High Places of Love that anyone can receive the power to pour themselves down in an utter abandonment of self-giving.”

TAKE HEART

It’s officially been 10 months since moving to Haiti; and let me tell you, it has been quite the stretching experience thus far. The last few months have been especially trying. Thankfully, this past month, I was able to go on a vacation to my old home in Southern California. It was wonderful to see many friends and family, as well as conjure up some much needed rest.

After returning home to Haiti, I climbed the mountain (it's  more like a hill, but mountain sounds more adventurous) behind our school property. As I was sitting on the top overlooking the Caribbean Sea, God said in His still small voice, “be still andtake heart.”

To put it simply, life has been hard. Following Jesus is hard. And extremely messy, for that matter. I know Jesus promised, “in this world you will have trouble”; but I did not realize how hard it would actually be. But thank goodness that promise does not end there. It continues on…“so take heart! I have overcome the world.” (And on the note of promises, I’m glad that Jesus is glorified in our weakness, because I’m feeling pretty weak right about now!)

I have visited over 60 homes of our 275 students. More than half of them are without a loving, caring father. For some, their fathers have passed away. Others just shrug their shoulders when I ask where their father is because they have no idea. Some live with their single mothers, while others are staying with relatives due to incapable or deceased birth parents. A very small percentage live within a good family structure. All of them live amidst immense poverty—lacking the proper amount of food and nutrients a young body needs. Most live in a hot, one room home with more people than what is practical.

And, so here I am. But what am I supposed to do? How can I continue to love these kids with a whole heart when mine continues to shatter? I know that God is a God who sees, but how could that really be? How could the compassionate God of the universe let children go hungry, without a loving mother or father to kiss them goodnight? So many questions, so little answers. 

But take heart.

It’s like God is whispering, “Jamie, it’s going to be ok. Sin has made this world a traitorous place. Some kids I’m sending your way are broken and need My love. It’s going to break your heart. I know it’s hard, but I sent you there for a reason. Do not try to comprehend it, you will not be able to. So, just keep moving forward, remembering who is in control: Me. I am God. Be still, and know that. I am here and have promised to never leave you. So, don’t give in. I love you, and I love them. Rest in that truth. Take heart.”

So, that's exactly what I'm going to do (with supernatural help from Jesus, of course). And although hard, I am in awe that God has chosen me to live here. I consider it a great privilege to love these people, and am deeply excited for what lies ahead.

BACK ON THE ISLAND

To all those who faithfully keep up with my writings, please accept my apology. I've lacked both time and motivation to write. Also, since returning from Christmas break, I have yet to see the kids. Which, as you know, are the main source of my story telling. 

With that said, I do not have much to add. I have no fun stories or magical epiphanies. 

But what I do have is this: 

I am so happy to be back on the island. When I boarded my plane to return to Indiana for the holidays, I was not so sure I would want to come back (although I knew I would, regardless of how I felt). But, as we sped down the runway and lifted off American soil, my heart was filled with excited anticipation for what is to come in this place. I know this is exactly where God wants me to be, complete with much growing, pain, and joy. And, of course, I can hardly wait to see my students again very soon!

Thank you to all who have and will continue to support me in this venture. Support of all sorts is deeply appreciated; and I would not be here without it.

BEYOND THE MOUNTAINS

Not long ago, I met an elderly and brittle woman who is taking care of her grandson, one of our students. A woman who has probably spent 60+ years in survival mode, working hard just to eat for herself let alone provide for her family. Statistically speaking, it is likely she has been cheated on and abused physically by a man. Potentially by more than one, and more than once. She may have never finished school, and she has probably never experienced a hot shower or the luxury of running water in her home. She probably did not get her license and a working vehicle when she was 16 years old. Actually, she probably has not ever owned either of those things. Like many in the village, she may not even be able to sign her own name. There is a high probability she does not know her birthdate for sure. 

There's a Haitian proverb that says, "beyond the mountains, more mountains." No matter how many mountains climbed & overcome, there is always another. And on top of that (or rather underneath), with mountains come many valleys. 

The things one individual here in Haiti might go through in a lifetime is incredible, and far outweighs most. I cannot imagine, and will probably never be able to relate. I can not beat myself up about this, for I did not chose to be born and raised in the land of opportunities. However, I can chose to be thankful. I can live without the feeling of entitlement. I can extend compassion and love. I can go outside of the comfy, safe walls of my life to follow Jesus.  

HE CAME TO HAITI

After fervent prayers, many journal entries, and surrendering to the Lord, something I thought would never happen did: my dad came to Haiti.

Ever since I decided to go to Haiti for the first time in 2011, my dad has not been so keen on me going. From what he had heard it was a completely God-forsaken place. Last year, I remember him telling me that he'd never step foot in Haiti, and couldn't understand why God would call me, a single white girl, to such a place. For a daddy's girl who regarded his opinion as highest, this was hard to go against. 

Before making my decision to move here full time, there were many things the Lord asked me to surrender. One of the hardest to give up was the need for my parents' support. I remember thinking of these words from Jesus: “If you want to be my disciple, deny yourself, take up your cross, and follow me." 

When I think back to that moment, it would have been an easy "yes" to follow Jesus to Haiti if I already had the approval of my parents. It seemed like God wanted to see if I was willing to follow him no matter what.

I was willing, and I did. I remember telling my dad the next day after making my decision to deliver the news. I could tell he was skeptical of my calling, but knew that if God really wanted me to go, there was nothing he could do about it. He said we'd know for sure if the money was raised in time. 

This was a bit nerve-wracking due to the fact that I had about $60,000 dollars to raise in less than 4 months. But, I knew God was able.

As time drew on, my dad's heart slowly started to shift (even before the money was raised). During my benefit night, he signed up to sponsor me at a lofty amount per month; when I spoke at our family's church in attempt to raise funds, I could tell he was proud as he gave me a fist bump and a hug; and one day he asked about the price of flights and later said, "well, it looks like I'll be going to Haiti."

To fast forward to a couple weeks ago, he did just that. He came to Haiti.

It was more than a blessing to watch him love the Haitian people, serve wholeheartedly to build a home, spend time with our students, share his testimony with boys who could relate, and best of all, see his heart change. God probably brought my dad here to give him a fresh perspective and a transformed heart for the third world; but in return, He blessed my socks off. And get this: he will be returning soon (hopefully with my mom and sister, fingers crossed). I cannot wait for what God has in store!

This, my friends, is proof that God is faithful and following Him is completely worth it! 

Oh, and my baby brother tagged along for his first time out of the country! Isn't he handsome?

I WISH I WAS BLACK

Can I be honest with you? Sometimes, I wish I was black. Doing ministry in a third-world country makes things interesting, especially considering a massive majority has the opposite skin color of my own. [Beautiful dark skin, I must add.] Everywhere I go, I am labeled as the "blan" who has loads of money and is automatically seen as better than everyone else. Blending is the furthest thing from possible.  

But if my skin color creates such problems, why would I be called to this place? 

Good question. I really hope you were not looking for an answer, because I do not have one. I often question why the Lord would call me to a place I am unfamiliar with and to a people I do not really relate to.  But then again, I remember Apostle Paul's calling:

"...Paul said: “I am a Jew, born in Tarsus of Cilicia, but brought up in this city. I studied under Gamaliel and was thoroughly trained in the law of our ancestors. I was just as zealous for God as any of you are today. I persecuted the followers of this Way to their death, arresting both men and women and throwing them into prison,  as the high priest and all the Council can themselves testify. I even obtained letters from them to their associates in Damascus, and went there to bring these people as prisoners to Jerusalem to be punished...When I returned to Jerusalem and was praying at the temple, I fell into a trance and saw the Lord speaking to me. ‘Quick!’ he said. ‘Leave Jerusalem immediately, because the people here will not accept your testimony about me.’ ‘Lord,’ I replied, ‘these people know that I went from one synagogue to another to imprison and beat those who believe in you. And when the blood of your martyr Stephen was shed, I stood there giving my approval and guarding the clothes of those who were killing him.' Then the Lord said to me, ‘Go; I will send you far away to the Gentiles.’" - Paul, Acts 22:3-5, 17-21

Paul's conversion could have been a great example of Jesus' transforming power to his fellow Jews. And he was not just any Jew. He was top notch, trained under the best of the best, and one who persecuted many Christians. However, God decided that it would be best to call Paul elsewhere: to a people he heavily tormented, to a people he did not relate to, to a people who disliked him. I am not exactly sure why God chose this route for Paul, but the fruit of his ministry is quite evident in remainder of the New Testament.

So, what does this truth mean for me exactly? I am not promised to be called to my "area of expertise." I am not promised to be called to a comfortable place. I am not promised that it will be easy. Although it does not always make sense from a mere earthly perspective, I can rest assured that God knows best.

"For my thoughts are not your thoughts, 

neither are your ways my ways. 

As the heavens are higher than the earth, 

so are my ways higher than your ways 

and my thoughts than your thoughts." 

- The Lord, Isaiah 55:8-9

HOME SWEET HOME

I've made it! I've officially spent one full week in my new home here in Haiti. I figured that arriving would make it all a bit more real feeling. But, nope! Still surreal. Maybe it will change when I stay a few months and realize I'm not going home to the US; or maybe when I visit my family for a week and return back to Haiti. Who really knows.

All I know is that I am more than thrilled to be here full-time. To invest more deeply in the lives of the Haitians that I love so much. To build intentional relationships and share the light of Christ with all I encounter. I'm thrilled for what God has in store. I know it won't be easy; and I know there will be times where I just want to feel "normal." But in reality, my life should probably never feel that way.

Following Christ is abnormal. Full of wonder, mystery, and adventure. And the best part? We know the end of the story! Jesus wins. I remember chatting with my friend, Lindsay, and she went on about how being a chid of God is fun. Although I know it won't always feel that way, I totally agree!

I pray that I will always remember these words from Paul's experience as I continue on in this journey: "...for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all this through him who gives me strength." Philippians 4:12-13