OUT OF DARKNESS

co-written with Kristi Bucher

Every once in a while in life, you meet a soul unlike any other. One that makes you wish you where a little more like them, and that somehow after spending time with them, a bit of their sweetness will rub off on you. Manita is one of those people. She possesses the kindest and most gentle soul with a heart so unbelievably in love with Jesus. 

As a child growing up in the village of Cabaret, Manita would dance at voodoo ceremonies. She worshipped Satan, the same as the rest of her family. She didn’t know any differently.

Then Manita started attending Grace Emmanuel School in 2005. Her family had heard of a new, free school for their daughter to attend and enrolled Manita in 2nd grade at the age of 10.

At Grace Emmanuel School Manita heard about Jesus. She remembers a man named Manela who would lead devotions every day for all the students. It was during one of these devotions in 2009 that she made the decision to follow Christ. She had seen death in voodoo, but in Jesus, she found life. She says it was by the grace of God that she became a Christian.

A few years ago, Manita’s family moved to Bon Repos and she almost had to quit school because of the daily cost to travel the distance. Staff encouraged her to continue and assured her God would provide, and He has proved faithful.

Now 21 years old and in 12th grade, Manita expects to graduate next year (high school in Haiti goes through 13th grade) and would like to study to become a pediatrician. She is a quiet leader of the whole student body. She sings beautifully, stays out of trouble, and is always near the top of her class.

I ask Manita if I can visit one day as we are driving to Bon Repos from school. She leads me to the two-room wooden structure where she lives with her mom, uncle, his wife, and their three children. She shares a full-size bed with her mother in a small room also shared with her three young cousins.

Her mom is not home, and Manita tells me she will be at the local market selling beans until dusk.

Seven years after putting her faith in Christ, Manita is the only Christian in her family. Her mom still believes in Satan and practices voodoo.

I ask her if this is hard. “I used to talk to my family about Jesus and tell them that He is coming back, but they won’t believe. I tell my mom that Jesus loves her and wants to give her life. My mom says she wants to believe in Jesus, but she still hasn’t.”

Curious about her father, I ask about him. She says he used to practice voodoo as well. In 2006, he became very ill and bed-ridden. Because of this, neighbors came to visit and shared the gospel with him. Before dying in 2007, he gave his life to Christ.

I leave her home encouraged. Manita’s story is one that speaks of bright light in the midst of darkness. What Satan meant for destruction, Jesus meant for life! What a wonderful reminder that the enemy has no dominion over who belongs to Him.

“But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s special possession, that you may declare the praises of Him who called you out of darkness into His wonderful light” (1 Peter 2:9). 

A month or so after I visit her home, I receive word that her mother is ill and needs to go to the doctor. She is in a lot of pain and cannot walk because of her inability to move her left arm or leg. I feel in my heart that I am called to lend a helping hand. After a few trips to a nearby clinic, we find out she is suffering from paralysis due to hypertension. Her elderly body is literally wasting away. 

Myself and many others who know the situation continue to pray with expectation. We are confident that God, according to his perfect will, has the ability to heal both physically and spiritually. 

A few weeks go by and I receive the greatest news of all. After spending a lifetime practicing voodoo and worshiping Satan, her mother has finally given her life to Christ! She may not be healed physically, but she has been saved from the dominion of darkness! As Manita put it, "all the glory belongs to God!"

"So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day." (2 Corinthians 4:16)

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.)

IT IS WORTH IT

Life in Haiti has been far from what I expected. I am currently in my fourth month and have been struck with the realization there will be more rough days than delightful ones. There have been many moments where I find myself stuck in the valley, drained and frustrated.

I used to think missionaries in foreign lands were "super Christians" who had it all together. I'm now realizing this is not true. Missionaries, like everyone else, need lots and lots of grace. I will be the first to admit, as the old hymn says, "I need Thee every hour." 

Although that reality currently rings true for me right now, I can say with full confidence that following Jesus is worth it all. From getting attacked with hugs from a mob of kindergarteners, to being followed around everywhere by the same two first grade girls everyday, to building relationships with unexpected students, to loudly singing songs about Jesus, to seeing the excitement in a young face when I visit their home. It is worth it. 

Every moment I spend at the school and in the village visiting homes, I am reminded of why I am here: to radiate the love of Jesus as I enter into their lives. So although life here has been difficult, I feel fortunate to serve Him in this way. I cannot wait to see what God has in store as I continue serving the beautiful students of Grace Emmanuel School. 

"Blessed be the Lord, my rock, who trains my hands for war, and my fingers for battle; he is my steadfast love and my fortress, my stronghold and my deliverer, my shield and he in whom I take refuge, who subdues peoples under me."  —Psalm 144:1-2

"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.

JACMEL, HAITI

I recently went on a day trip to Jacmel, Haiti. Instead of driving 4 hours on terrible roads, we decided to adventure on an extremely small plane no bigger than a minivan (with some nerve-racking turbulence included). 

After flying right through the mountains, I now realize that the Haitian proverb, "beyond the mountains, more mountains," is no joke! Also, Haiti literally means "land of high mountains." Now, I can understand why. And man, are they beautiful! I loved them before, but after this trip, I've fallen for them in a head-over-heels kind of way.

Here are some of my favorites captures from the day. 

FRANTZY

I am in the school office around lunch time when I hear someone crying loudly in the yard.

Frantzy, a first grader, is walking up the hill towards the office with his hand over his face, trying to catch the blood that is gushing from it. I yell for Marie-Lyne, our nurse, who pulls him into the nurse’s station and begins to clean and wrap his wound. He has the deepest cut I have ever seen outside his right eye. She informs me he will need to get stitches today, and we will need permission from a guardian to take him to the clinic.

I tell Frantzy, “We need to call your mom. Do you know her phone number?” 

He shakes his head no. “My mom is dead.”

He tells me his father is alive, but his elderly grandmother takes care of him. An aunt ends up coming in her place.

We sit at the clinic together and wait for hours. I have time to get to know Frantzy a little bit better and find out he loves to play soccer and he wants to be a doctor one day. He is nine years old and will turn ten in a couple weeks.

 When the doctor finally starts to give Frantzy the stitches, I stay with him because his aunt proves unable to stomach the procedure.

As I sit next to the bed with my hand on his shoulder, another woman in the room asks if I am his mother. I laugh and say no, but sober when I remember Frantzy doesn’t have a mother. He doesn’t have a mother to help him get ready for school in the morning or prepare him breakfast. He doesn’t have a mother to stay with him while he gets stitches, or check the wound every day while it heals.

A couple weeks later, we visit his home. I am eager to learn more of his story. We all crowd into his small home, partly demolished by the earthquake, and are warmly greeted by his grandmother. The room is hot and barely large enough for the two beds and their few possessions. Though the sun shines brightly outside, there is only one small window and no electricity, making it very dark inside.

This is where Frantzy lives with his 79-year-old grandmother and a cousin who was left severely disabled after an illness.

Frantzy’s grandmother has been widowed for over 20 years. She makes and sells coffee every morning to earn a living. She explains that Frantzy’s mother died when he was young. Although she doesn’t say why he is unable to live with his father, we learn that he sees him often and he helps provide.

As we leave, she thanks us for taking Frantzy to the hospital even though she wasn’t able to give us money to do so. We assure her that we love him very much and our school is happy to help our students. Frantzy’s story is one of many at Grace Emmanuel School filled with brokenness. All of the students live in poverty, and many without a mom or dad present. His story is not unique. Yet, though many of our students face daily tribulation, we know that God sees them, knows them, and loves them deeply.

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.

GOD IS WITH ME

There are many stories of struggle, pain, and grief amongst the 275 students of Grace Emmanuel School. There is one story in particular that has left me broken, filled with joy, and encouraged all at the same time. I’m convinced, however, his story is far from over.

One day at school, I asked one of our older students if I could visit his home soon. He did not hesitate to say yes. A few days later, we took off in a tap-tap (sorta like a taxi) after school to his home in Cabaret, a village north of GES. We walked for awhile on this hot and dusty day until we finally arrived. When we reached his property, we pushed through a mangled tin gate reading “knock before entering” in red letters.

We walked through his sheer curtain of a front door to find his one room home. There was a bed, two pillows, a side table filled with the bare essentials (tooth paste, matches, nearly empty bottle of cologne, soap, comb, brush, a battery powered light, and a small radio), a broken cooler, some bowls and buckets stacked up, and a chair. He lives alone with the company of his small dog. His dad died when he was 14, and his mom died two years ago. He has two sisters, both living elsewhere. He has no nearby family member to turn to. He “supports” himself on the weekends by cleaning shoes at the market with an old brush. He does not go to church anymore because he lacks the proper attire. One time while he was gone, someone had stolen his clothes due to not having a proper front door with a lock.

His house was made up of an unfinished wood frame, a tin roof, walls made of tarps, blankets, cardboard, and scrap wood, and a dirt floor. There is a gap in the roof, causing problems when the rain comes. As I sat beside him on his uncomfortable bed, I noticed one of his pillows was covered with an old shirt instead of a pillow case. He does not eat often. His only reliable meal is the one provided at school; and at times, he is able to provide another meal with the money he makes on the weekends.

When I asked if he was a Christian, he said he accepted Jesus into his life a long time ago. His favorite thing bout Jesus is how He came to die on the cross for our sins. He shared that many times at night, something comes in and presses him down on the bed, making him unable to move or speak. He said it has happened more times than he can count. 

I considered this a perfect opportunity for prayer, truth, and encouragement. I shared with him that his oppressor is the enemy, and that the power of Jesus is much greater than evil spirits or demons of any kind. I read Mark 9:14-28 with him, letting him know Jesus reigns.  I encouraged him to use the power of Jesus through prayer for help and demanding the spirit to leave and never come back in His name. I prayed over him and his home for protection from the enemy, and that he would always remember Jesus in times like those. 

I asked if he owned a Bible. He has a small one in French, a language he does not speak. He said he can only understand some of it. “If we got you a Bible in Creole, would you read it?” With assurance he replied, “Yes.” I promised I would get him one and highlight passages that have to do with his spiritual warfare.

After learning all this information about his life, I was speechless. From what I have seen at school, he can always be found wearing a warm smile. When I asked why, despite all he goes through, he said, “God is with me.” That day, I walked away encouraged. What a beautiful, inspiring example of faith in its rawest form. 

A few days later, Gerson came up to me at school asking about his new Bible. “Come get it from me after school,” I said. He walked in the office, I pulled out his brand new Bible, and flipped through the pages showing him the highlighted passages. As I handed him this precious gift, he flashed me a heartwarming smile accompanied by a thank you.

To fast-forward a few weeks later, Gerson’s sponsor came to Haiti. Knowing Gerson needed help with his housing situation, his sponsor wanted to pay him a visit. After chatting for awhile and praying over him, I asked whether or not the enemy continues to oppress him at night. He said no, but that he had a terrible dream the night before that someone disguised as his sister came into his house and tried to kill him. He woke up and immediately pulled out his Bible, opened up to the Psalms, and read a passage. He said he was able to fall right back to sleep peacefully. What incredible faith. 

Gerson and his sponsor, Bruce

And to put the cherry on top of this story, his sponsor offered to pay to help renovate his home. Now, thanks to his sponsor and a visiting group, Gerson’s unstable living situation is now a durable home. It went from walls of blankets, cardboard, and mangled pieces of tin, to walls of siding; his curtain entryway became a real door with a lock; and his roof no longer has a gaping hole inviting the rain to enter in. 

As I was sitting in the yard watching them finish up the house, tears began to fill my eyes. God is a magnificent Storyteller, and I’m thankful I get to be here to watch it unfold. As Katie J. Davis perfectly wrote in her book Kisses from Katie, “I am blown away that my God, who could do this all by Himself, would choose to let me be a little part of it.” 

THEY CALL HER MOM

As I was figuring out who to visit that day, I asked my co-workers which students have no parents. They replied, "Rosney." So, we found out where he lived and headed out. I was expecting to show up to a broken situation. A situation lacking love and care where a poor aunt took in her orphaned nephew.

We pulled off the main road, parked the car, and walked to his home. When we arrived, I was surprised to find a nice, brightly colored home. We were welcomed in by Anette, Rosney's aunt. She asked us to sit down and called for Rosney to join us. I then saw another head peak out...it was Jamesky, another student at school who happens to be his brother.

Eager to learn their stories, we sat down in the chairs provided and started chatting. Roseny and Jamesky share the same mother, with different fathers. Roseny’s dad, an alcoholic, died before he was born. Jamesky’s dad died when he was just 3 years old to an unknown cause. Their mother died shorty after the earthquake from a fever, leaving them as orphans

Thankfully, Anette stepped in. She is a loving, caring aunt who loves Rosney and Jamesky like her own. She calls them her children; they call her mom. Her and her husband have been married for over 18 years, own their home (a rarity in the village as most homes are rented), have a successful business, and have two beautiful biological children, one of which they are putting through college in Port au Prince.

I was in awe. I had thought I was about to enter into brokenness, but instead left deeply encouraged. This precious family is a beautiful representation of the Gospel. God, in is perfect grace and mercy, chose to see us as sons and daughters through His son's death on a cross. We were once broken orphans unworthy in our own efforts; but because of Jesus, we are now deeply loved and seen as righteous. 

"Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in the heavenly realms with every spiritual blessing in Christ. For he chose us in him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in his sight. In love he predestined us for adoption to sonship through Jesus Christ, in accordance with his pleasure and will—to the praise of his glorious grace, which he has freely given us in the One he loves. In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of sins, in accordance with the riches of God’s grace that he lavished on us." - Ephesians 1:4-9

KIKI'S HOME

Today's home visit is definitely ranked among my favorites thus far. Kiki (the older boy in the royal blue polo) is a student at Grace Emmanuel School who has recently become a buddy of mine. I am beyond thrilled to have met his family; and his baby brother about made my heart explode. 

JEAN DANIEL

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.

DOING A "GOOD THING"

There are days when I feel like I’m going to go insane. Days when frustration beckons and the enemy bangs on my door like an angry landlord. Days when I feel like it’s time to throw in the towel, pack up my belongings, and call it quits. Days when it’s really hard to trust that the Lord has it all under control. Days where I find it hard to run boldly to the throne of grace. 

Living in a third world country and doing a “good thing” is not satisfying in and of itself. I used to romanticize oversea missions and thought missionaries had it all together; but, I’m willing to admit I need Jesus more than ever. My motivator, my source of strength, my place of refuge, my helper, my sustainer. The one who loves me beyond measure and has promised to be faithful to the end. If Jesus is not at the center, it will all be worthless and unfruitful with no light at the end of the tunnel. So no matter how long and narrow the tunnel might be, or how unrelenting the opposition, it will all be worth it to hear Jesus say, “well done my good and faithful servant.”

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?

MEET LELE

Meet Lele. He is one of the goofiest and fun-loving kiddos around. The combination of his smile and laugh has the power to turn anyone's bad day into a good one. Although he's a big boy who just graduated kindergarten and is in 1st grade now, he still showers me with hugs and lets me kiss him.

Lele humbles me. He, along with his many siblings, live in a poverty-stricken village with their mother. Although they have few material possessions, some of their most basic needs are not met, and they go without many meals,  you'd never know it.  His mother can always be found in the front row at church praising Jesus with all her might, while Lele and his siblings can be found with the biggest of smiles, having fun, and causing a ruckus! Why, a mere outsider might ask? I'm convinced it's Jesus.

A PRETTY BIG DEAL

Yesterday concluded our second week of school for our students in their beautiful, new classrooms! Last year, many of our classes were held in tattered army tents, while others were split up into sections of our church pavilion. As the ribbon was cut on the first day, we could not help but cheer with loud voices, big smiles, and excited hearts. As you can probably imagine, it was a pretty big deal. You can see a video of the action here. My heart is overflowing with joy as I think about what God has done and will continue to do in this place!

Here's just a small glimpse of what went down:

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

HAITI'S NEXT TOP MODEL

In my humble opinion, I think this young lady is one of the most beautiful individuals on the planet. The pairing of perfect natural lighting + a lovely girl willing pose for the camera was too good to pass up. These photos turned out wonderfully thanks to her stunning complexion, smile, and well, let's be honest: her entire face.

MY SOUL SISTER

Words cannot describe how thankful I am for this gem, but I'll do my best.

About 2 years ago, Lauren and I became Facebook friends. Why would two strangers do that? We both loved Haiti, and more specifically, the people of Jesus in Haiti Ministries. About 6 months after that, we decided it was time to become real life friends. Two other friends and I (who also love Haiti) decided to meet up with Lauren halfway between our homes in Indiana and hers in Ohio. We chatted for hours about our passion for Jesus, the Haitian people, and how we desire to be missionaries. Ever since, we spoke often and started becoming great friends. 

I had some conversations with God awhile ago that if he wanted me to come to Haiti, I would need a friend (whether that was a girl my age or a husband, I didn't care). And not just any friend, but a good one. 

Shorty after, I got word that Lauren made the decision to start fundraising for her move to Haiti that coming January. And to fast forward, that January I returned to Haiti for the 3rd time to scope out my potential future there. (In case you haven't read my story, I decided to move to Haiti on my flight back home from that trip.) 

Little did I know when we first met that Lauren would be the friend God would have for me in Haiti. Someone to encourage and be encouraged by, pray with, confide in, spend time with, and co-labor alongside. He didn't put just anyone here for me to do life with; He handpicked my soul sister. Literally, we have almost everything in common. This is just tangible proof that God is capable of blessing us immeasurably more than we can imagine. Moral of the story: God is a faithful and quality provider.  

Thank you, Lauren, for following Jesus to Haiti. I can't wait to see how our friendship unfolds as we serve alongside each other in this place we love and call home.

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