When we came to Haiti, we left Canada. Not permanently, but for a year.
Leaving the people you love and who have formed you is a painful thing, even when you have something good to go to. So, when we moved here on August 6th (Carol, the boys, and me) and 29th (Meghan and Erin), we brought some pain of loss, a void, and though we wouldn't have named it as such, we had a need for community.
Since coming, we have been welcomed into community in so many ways, and in each one, I can feel the love of One greater. Through this, I have found my own desire to welcome others increase.
It started with the staff of Sous Espwa. In our first visit to the office, they not only had a big welcome banner and an equally big cake, but they added meaningful sentences of welcome, including World Renew's Lunise Cerin-Jules who said, "Thank you for coming. It means a lot to us simply that you have come here to live among us and to know us."
Our co-worker, Larry and Tracey Luth, not arriving until mid-August, welcomed us to use their home until the Kings, who were leaving mid-August, vacated theirs. The Kings - Zach and Sharon - bent over backwards to make their home ready for our use and to show us around, orient us to laws, locations, and customs of our strange and chaotic home-nation.
Our first Sunday, we attended Quisqueya Chapel, an interdenominational congregation serving to help English-speaking Haitians and ex-pats advance the Kingdom of God in Port-au-Prince and beyond (words from their mission statement which I found clear and inspiring). Their worship team quickly welcomed our children to play and sing and within a few weeks we were sharing a meal with the pastor and his wife -- Bobby and Magalie Boyer. Since then, Bobby and I have gotten together three times, as colleagues and new friends, for mutual encouragement.
Quisqueya Chapel became a place where many other new friends were introduced. It has become the place the girls can go for their twice-weekly "Cross-Fit" and where, increasingly, there are familiar faces we can greet during the extended time of welcome at the beginning of the service.
We've also been welcomed into friendships, which is a wonderful thing. We've been to a number of folks' homes for dinner -- Randy and Karen Lodder, Will and Judy White, Jason and Wilhelmina Krul, Larry and Tracey Luth, Lunise Cerin-Jules, Zachary and Sharon King. And we have been welcomed into a small group with five other couples to study Kyle Idleman's "Not a Fan."
In small group this past week, we reviewed chapter one of "Not a Fan." In our review, we talked about the distinction between being a follower of Jesus versus simply being a fan. A fan is one who knows all the lingo, identifies themself as a Christian, maybe even enthusiastically, but whose life gives no real evidence of actually following Jesus, to carry the metaphor, of "being in the game" with Jesus rather than on the sidelines. We talked about the ways we are tempted to shrink back from Jesus' example. Like when he was drawn toward people with pain but away from people of status. Like when he resisted the temptation to win arguments so that he could instead win followers. Like when he hung around with people who dragged his reputation down instead of padding his resume and facebook friend collection with all the folks in high places.
As I reflect on all the welcoming that has been extended to us, it is clear to me that the welcomers are followers, and because of this, we have felt the love of the One who has gone ahead of all of us to welcome us. This is both gift and calling. It is a gift to know and experience the true and greater love of God through tangible expressions of real people who could have easily had better things to do or decided that investing in what would turn out to be a short-term relationship just wasn't worth it. This gift, when any of us receive it, is a grace, an unexpected breaking in of something we cannot earn or contrive. All of this welcoming we have received is also a calling. The welcoming others have done has pointed us to the one whom we are following, and in so doing, called us to, as followers, also welcome others.
Tomorrow is another day. Another opportunity to meet folks and make decisions about whether to live an insulated life or a welcoming one. In my heart, I know which one I will choose. Only time will tell if my actions will follow. I hope they do, because as much as we can see that God was using this place (Haiti) to help us grieve the loss of where we've been (Cambridge), we also know that he is using these days to prepare us for what he has planned for our future. And my desire, and I believe God's, is that I would use all the things I am learning today for whatever he has planned for our tomorrow.
Leaving the people you love and who have formed you is a painful thing, even when you have something good to go to. So, when we moved here on August 6th (Carol, the boys, and me) and 29th (Meghan and Erin), we brought some pain of loss, a void, and though we wouldn't have named it as such, we had a need for community.
Since coming, we have been welcomed into community in so many ways, and in each one, I can feel the love of One greater. Through this, I have found my own desire to welcome others increase.
It started with the staff of Sous Espwa. In our first visit to the office, they not only had a big welcome banner and an equally big cake, but they added meaningful sentences of welcome, including World Renew's Lunise Cerin-Jules who said, "Thank you for coming. It means a lot to us simply that you have come here to live among us and to know us."
Our co-worker, Larry and Tracey Luth, not arriving until mid-August, welcomed us to use their home until the Kings, who were leaving mid-August, vacated theirs. The Kings - Zach and Sharon - bent over backwards to make their home ready for our use and to show us around, orient us to laws, locations, and customs of our strange and chaotic home-nation.
Our first Sunday, we attended Quisqueya Chapel, an interdenominational congregation serving to help English-speaking Haitians and ex-pats advance the Kingdom of God in Port-au-Prince and beyond (words from their mission statement which I found clear and inspiring). Their worship team quickly welcomed our children to play and sing and within a few weeks we were sharing a meal with the pastor and his wife -- Bobby and Magalie Boyer. Since then, Bobby and I have gotten together three times, as colleagues and new friends, for mutual encouragement.
Quisqueya Chapel became a place where many other new friends were introduced. It has become the place the girls can go for their twice-weekly "Cross-Fit" and where, increasingly, there are familiar faces we can greet during the extended time of welcome at the beginning of the service.
We've also been welcomed into friendships, which is a wonderful thing. We've been to a number of folks' homes for dinner -- Randy and Karen Lodder, Will and Judy White, Jason and Wilhelmina Krul, Larry and Tracey Luth, Lunise Cerin-Jules, Zachary and Sharon King. And we have been welcomed into a small group with five other couples to study Kyle Idleman's "Not a Fan."
In small group this past week, we reviewed chapter one of "Not a Fan." In our review, we talked about the distinction between being a follower of Jesus versus simply being a fan. A fan is one who knows all the lingo, identifies themself as a Christian, maybe even enthusiastically, but whose life gives no real evidence of actually following Jesus, to carry the metaphor, of "being in the game" with Jesus rather than on the sidelines. We talked about the ways we are tempted to shrink back from Jesus' example. Like when he was drawn toward people with pain but away from people of status. Like when he resisted the temptation to win arguments so that he could instead win followers. Like when he hung around with people who dragged his reputation down instead of padding his resume and facebook friend collection with all the folks in high places.
As I reflect on all the welcoming that has been extended to us, it is clear to me that the welcomers are followers, and because of this, we have felt the love of the One who has gone ahead of all of us to welcome us. This is both gift and calling. It is a gift to know and experience the true and greater love of God through tangible expressions of real people who could have easily had better things to do or decided that investing in what would turn out to be a short-term relationship just wasn't worth it. This gift, when any of us receive it, is a grace, an unexpected breaking in of something we cannot earn or contrive. All of this welcoming we have received is also a calling. The welcoming others have done has pointed us to the one whom we are following, and in so doing, called us to, as followers, also welcome others.
Tomorrow is another day. Another opportunity to meet folks and make decisions about whether to live an insulated life or a welcoming one. In my heart, I know which one I will choose. Only time will tell if my actions will follow. I hope they do, because as much as we can see that God was using this place (Haiti) to help us grieve the loss of where we've been (Cambridge), we also know that he is using these days to prepare us for what he has planned for our future. And my desire, and I believe God's, is that I would use all the things I am learning today for whatever he has planned for our tomorrow.
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