Today was the hardest day, by far. This morning, we went to Camp Corail for the last time, which is the camp with over 5,000 people. The craziest thing is that we met the camp manager who was my TA in my Economic Development class! He was the one who pretty much enabled me to ace my class. So anyway, we invited people to accept Christ and about ten youth did. Afterwards, the oldest girl who was 13, asked that I go pray at her tent for her grandmother who was sick. As we were walking back from praying, I asked her if she had any questions. She asked where she should go to church. We get those questions a lot because the camp is so isolated, but I asked her which churches were around. Without skipping a beat, she said that her dad had killed her mom, her brother, and her sister, and she couldn't leave the camp because her grandma was afraid that he would try to kill her as well. While I was still shell-shocked, my friend Daniel shared that a church was anywhere where believers gathered. We introduced her to the pastor who plans on returning and following up with people. As we were about to leave, she asked me for my name, and after I told her, she says, "My sister's name was Gabrielle." And at that point, I'm not sure how I didn't just break down in tears--I was frustrated that I couldn't do more than tear up though. I didn't know how to make the reality sink in.
My former TA invited us to go to a different part of the camp that afternoon, where another 1,000 people had been placed just that past weekend. I had another flurry of emotions, far more intense than the morning. We went to share the Gospel and invite people to a service. We didn't get past one tent. We had almost finished sharing with the owners of the tent, when a man practically ran to us and asked if we were Christians. I said yes, and he said he wanted to pray right now to accept Christ--it kinda took us aback but we gladly prayed with him. While we were praying a bunch of guys (his construction worker friends) came over and started laughing and making fun of him; after we finished praying, he explained that they were laughing because they didn't believe he was for real because he drank a lot but he told them he was for real. So then we asked the six or seven young men who had come over if they wanted to hear the Gospel. They agreed, and there was one young man named Jude, who was particularly vocal and stopped us to discuss a bunch of different points. I was grateful for that. But while I was sharing with them, some guys came up and started trying to talk to the two girls I was with. And by "talk to", I mean hit on. So I tried to stop it by telling them that they didn't speak Kreyol. The two guys just started cursing me out, saying I presumed that they only spoke Kreyol, and called me every curse word in the book. Didn't expect that--thankfully, Jude, tried to get them to calm down and they finally left. The toughest part was that they thought I was trying to demean them, but they were so angry and hateful that I couldn't really explain myself.
So I went back to sharing the Gospel and this one guy (not Jude) was being really responsive, but as we shared about Jesus suffering with us, and I shared about how the people in Haiti weren't alone during the earthquake because Christ was there and had suffered, Jude got really upset. He said, "You mean, Jesus was there when my mom and dad were crushed in the earthquake? When babies, 1 day old, were dying and their brains were spilled onto the floor? He was there? Now I'm all alone. I should have died too. What kind of God is that? He's a mean God." After that, he just walked away and said I can't accept that. It just broke my heart. Because I can totally understand where he's coming from, in the sense that I can understand how that would push you away from being able to believe that God was so sovereign and loving at the same time. And I don't know why I was so surprised by his reaction, but no one had ever been that honest about their loss with us yet. Most people have remained joyful and that's what surprised most of the students. But I'm grateful God gave us a glimpse of this reality before we left. Because yes, Haitians are resilient and strong and joyful. But Haitians are also suffering tremendously, and God cares about that reality just the same. I'm still trying to process everything. I don't really know how to do so, so I'd appreciate prayer for that.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Monday, July 26, 2010
Raising up Samuel's
God's doing something daily in Haiti. I never expected I'd blog this much but I can't keep this stuff to myself. Our team went to Camp Corail the other day, which is one of the largest IDP camps with about 2,000 families, to share the Gospel. They asked me to stay to translate and minister to the people here in the medical clinic's waiting room. At the clinic, we were able to pray with a family who shared that they had been Christian but after the earthquake, had lost everything (their house, all their clothes) and had stopped going to church, primarily because they didn't have clothes to wear to go to church. We shared that the most important thing was your personal relationship with God and your outward appearance isn't what matters to God, but it's still heartwrenching. The awesome thing was that the mom did come to church with her beautiful baby that Sunday, and we were able to pray with them again.
But back to the trip to Camp Corail: When the team got back from the IDP camp, one of the staff members, Hsiang-en Tsui shared that he had met a woman whose baby who was only one day old. She was a Christian before the earthquake and before she became pregnant, but because of difficulty conceiving a baby, she became frustrated with the Lord and walked away from God. She became pregnant and regained faith in the Lord, but three months later the earthquake hit. She was on the third story of a building but survived the earthquake and because of the experience, she knew that God loved her and her unborn baby. She understood God's providence and plan for her. She has continued her faith since, even through the hardships of living in an IDP camp while pregnant, and having to give birth to a baby in the tent where she lives, in the bed where she sleeps. While we sat and talked, we learned that the baby did not have a name, and Hsiang-en suggested 'Samuel" (pronounced 'Sam-well' in Creole) because the woman's story was similar to the story of Hannah and her son Samuel in the bible (1 Samuel 1-2). The woman liked the name and told her husband, who had just walked into the tent. He agreed that the name was good and they took it.
When the staff leader shared that story, one of my friends, Daniel, burst out laughing. And I was like, what's so funny? He reminded me that while we were praying a few mornings ago, I had read Hannah's prayer, and asked God to raise up Samuel's in Haiti, to stir up a spiritual revival in this country. It's crazy how I had completely forgotten that, but it was just evidence that God is at work here like whoa, answering prayers and raising up leaders in the next generation. Please join me in praying for this generation and all that God has for Haiti.
But back to the trip to Camp Corail: When the team got back from the IDP camp, one of the staff members, Hsiang-en Tsui shared that he had met a woman whose baby who was only one day old. She was a Christian before the earthquake and before she became pregnant, but because of difficulty conceiving a baby, she became frustrated with the Lord and walked away from God. She became pregnant and regained faith in the Lord, but three months later the earthquake hit. She was on the third story of a building but survived the earthquake and because of the experience, she knew that God loved her and her unborn baby. She understood God's providence and plan for her. She has continued her faith since, even through the hardships of living in an IDP camp while pregnant, and having to give birth to a baby in the tent where she lives, in the bed where she sleeps. While we sat and talked, we learned that the baby did not have a name, and Hsiang-en suggested 'Samuel" (pronounced 'Sam-well' in Creole) because the woman's story was similar to the story of Hannah and her son Samuel in the bible (1 Samuel 1-2). The woman liked the name and told her husband, who had just walked into the tent. He agreed that the name was good and they took it.
When the staff leader shared that story, one of my friends, Daniel, burst out laughing. And I was like, what's so funny? He reminded me that while we were praying a few mornings ago, I had read Hannah's prayer, and asked God to raise up Samuel's in Haiti, to stir up a spiritual revival in this country. It's crazy how I had completely forgotten that, but it was just evidence that God is at work here like whoa, answering prayers and raising up leaders in the next generation. Please join me in praying for this generation and all that God has for Haiti.
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Beauty in the Broken
Today was my favorite day of this trip, so far. This morning, we deviated from our usual visits to IDP camps, and visited a Christian high school. Our team gathered with the high school students in the chapel; we worshipped and a couple of us shared our testimonies. After translating for multiple people, I was so grateful to be able to share my testimony in Kreyol. The fun part is when all the kids get really surprised that I can speak Kreyol. After our testimonies, some of the Haitian students shared theirs. And Jimmy, one of the coolest, most faithful Haitian students I met, shared his testimony about being hospitalized only two days before but he didn't want to miss the chance to share the Gospel with people, so he came today. He invited students who hadn't accepted Christ into their hearts to do so, and six students got up.We had a beautiful time of worshipping and praying for them. Afterwards, a bunch of students wanted to talk to me (some were just guys trying to holler, lol, but others were really sweet girls). Right after we were done, I said hi to this one girl who had a stank face on. She said hi and I learned that she was in her third year of high school, but we didn't talk for long. But after ten or so minutes, she came up to me and asked if we could talk one-on-one. When we sat down away from everyone else, she asked if we could be friends. It was so sweet, and I said of course; I started asking her questions about her faith background and she shared that she was Catholic. I asked her if she had a personal relationship with Christ and shared a bit about what that looked like, and she admitted that she didn't but she'd like to have one. We prayed together and I knew this was for real. Afterwards I asked her what she thought about the service we had and she said, "A lot of things changed for me today." She shared that before today, she didn't believe in God because her dad had abandoned her and she couldn't believe a good God would allow that. I was able to share with her about all my dad conflicts, and how I felt like I had lost two dads, but how God had promised to never abandon her and that He had proven Himself to me as my perfect father. We talked about forgiveness, surrender, and how God didn't intend for these relationships to be broken the way they are. I was just blown away because I was able to speak into those places of deepest hurt in her life, and share from experience that God could restore her and would be with her in those places--it was such a privilege.
As we were finishing talking, one of the other girls who accepted Christ during the service came to talk to me. Her name was Kattia Gabriel, and we bonded over having a similar name. I asked her what had drawn her to accept Christ; apparently, she was in a bad car accident that morning and she realized she could have died, so she felt the urgency of accepting Christ. She also shared that her mom had died and her dad had also abandoned her, so I was able to share with her the reality of God being our perfect and constant Father. I'm going to be honest and say that this was the first time during this trip I was really excited about people praying to accept Christ, because the other ones, I wasn't able to know how real they were. That's problematic, I know, because it's not about me knowing whether they're legit or not, because they still made a step towards God.So that's probably something God's going to need to work on in me. But it was just really cool to see God at work in these young women's lives, and it's amazing how God works through the most difficult parts of your life to speak to other people, even if those parts are still broken.
As we were finishing talking, one of the other girls who accepted Christ during the service came to talk to me. Her name was Kattia Gabriel, and we bonded over having a similar name. I asked her what had drawn her to accept Christ; apparently, she was in a bad car accident that morning and she realized she could have died, so she felt the urgency of accepting Christ. She also shared that her mom had died and her dad had also abandoned her, so I was able to share with her the reality of God being our perfect and constant Father. I'm going to be honest and say that this was the first time during this trip I was really excited about people praying to accept Christ, because the other ones, I wasn't able to know how real they were. That's problematic, I know, because it's not about me knowing whether they're legit or not, because they still made a step towards God.So that's probably something God's going to need to work on in me. But it was just really cool to see God at work in these young women's lives, and it's amazing how God works through the most difficult parts of your life to speak to other people, even if those parts are still broken.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Blan Yo Kite Ou! Translation: The white people left you!
So after a super intense update, here's a lighthearted story:
Blan Yo Kite Ou! Translation: The white people left you!
That's what the Haitians were yelling at Jessica, Dee, and me (two of the other students) as we ran through their village. Why were we running, you ask? Because the bus of CCC students was pulling away, with everyone else in it except us.
Our team went to an IDP camp this afternoon to share the Gospel; our team's experience (Jess, Dee, and I) was unique from the beginning.I was the translator. So we were going into the IDP camp and a man who told us that he was one of the camp organizers came over to us and asked us to come with him to pray for certain people who were sick. I asked him if there were also people who weren't believers there, and he said yes. So naturally, we followed him (with permission). We ended up going further and further away from the rest of the group. But anyway, we prayed for a couple older Christians who had difficulty walking. And as we walked away from them, this little toddler comes running up to us screaming bawling his head off. And everyone starts laughing around us, so we asked what was wrong. The little kid was screaming, "Blan yo ap pran'm!!" (The white people are going to get me!). He was apparenty running away from the rest of our team because he was terrified they were going to steal him. Our guide was his dad so the little boy jumped into his arms. I tried to comfort him by speaking Kreyol and telling him we were nice people (blan = foreigners as well, so I was also a "blan") and he stopped crying for a bit.Then I asked if I could hold him. He looked at me and yelled, "NOOO!" We hadn't won him over yet. So later on, I started making funny faces at him to try to make him laugh. He kinda smiled...until Dee stepped into his line of vision and smiled. The kid promptly started to cry again. This happened twice. We never won him over.
So we continued to talk to different people in the village, two who were Christians and one man who said "Not yet" to our invitation to accept Christ, which has been a common response. He asked us why God would create us if he knew we would sin, so we delved a bit into the theology of free will and so on. His name is Alfred; please pray for him. And the last man we spoke to was named Yves; he accepted Christ and shared that he had been thinking about it for a while, which was cool. So while we were praying with him to accept Christ, Jess and Dee hear the bus driver honking the horn but they assumed that the driver was just warning everyone it was time to go. We ignored it and kept praying. When we finished, we noticed that more and more people were coming into the village. Then they told us that the team had left. So we started running. In the wrong direction. So the guy we were with had to redirect us. And so I start running full speed. And as we're running out of the village, all the Haitians are laugning and yelling at us, "The white people left you!" We finally get into the "parking lot" as the bus is pulling away. The best part was that no one knew we were gone. Yes, they were going to leave us. My group and the little boy we met had opposite fears. He was freaked out that our team was going to take him. We quickly got freaked out that we were going to be left. God has a sense of humor. Thankfully, it was totally worth almost being left to see Yves decide to accept Christ as his Lord and Savior.
Gabrielle
P.S. Don't try this at home, kids.
Blan Yo Kite Ou! Translation: The white people left you!
That's what the Haitians were yelling at Jessica, Dee, and me (two of the other students) as we ran through their village. Why were we running, you ask? Because the bus of CCC students was pulling away, with everyone else in it except us.
Our team went to an IDP camp this afternoon to share the Gospel; our team's experience (Jess, Dee, and I) was unique from the beginning.I was the translator. So we were going into the IDP camp and a man who told us that he was one of the camp organizers came over to us and asked us to come with him to pray for certain people who were sick. I asked him if there were also people who weren't believers there, and he said yes. So naturally, we followed him (with permission). We ended up going further and further away from the rest of the group. But anyway, we prayed for a couple older Christians who had difficulty walking. And as we walked away from them, this little toddler comes running up to us screaming bawling his head off. And everyone starts laughing around us, so we asked what was wrong. The little kid was screaming, "Blan yo ap pran'm!!" (The white people are going to get me!). He was apparenty running away from the rest of our team because he was terrified they were going to steal him. Our guide was his dad so the little boy jumped into his arms. I tried to comfort him by speaking Kreyol and telling him we were nice people (blan = foreigners as well, so I was also a "blan") and he stopped crying for a bit.Then I asked if I could hold him. He looked at me and yelled, "NOOO!" We hadn't won him over yet. So later on, I started making funny faces at him to try to make him laugh. He kinda smiled...until Dee stepped into his line of vision and smiled. The kid promptly started to cry again. This happened twice. We never won him over.
So we continued to talk to different people in the village, two who were Christians and one man who said "Not yet" to our invitation to accept Christ, which has been a common response. He asked us why God would create us if he knew we would sin, so we delved a bit into the theology of free will and so on. His name is Alfred; please pray for him. And the last man we spoke to was named Yves; he accepted Christ and shared that he had been thinking about it for a while, which was cool. So while we were praying with him to accept Christ, Jess and Dee hear the bus driver honking the horn but they assumed that the driver was just warning everyone it was time to go. We ignored it and kept praying. When we finished, we noticed that more and more people were coming into the village. Then they told us that the team had left. So we started running. In the wrong direction. So the guy we were with had to redirect us. And so I start running full speed. And as we're running out of the village, all the Haitians are laugning and yelling at us, "The white people left you!" We finally get into the "parking lot" as the bus is pulling away. The best part was that no one knew we were gone. Yes, they were going to leave us. My group and the little boy we met had opposite fears. He was freaked out that our team was going to take him. We quickly got freaked out that we were going to be left. God has a sense of humor. Thankfully, it was totally worth almost being left to see Yves decide to accept Christ as his Lord and Savior.
Gabrielle
P.S. Don't try this at home, kids.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Background: I'm in Haiti on a missions trip with Campus Crusade for Christ from July 12-Aug 8th.
So there's a verse that says "Don't boast about tomorrow because you don't know what the day may bring." I read that verse Saturday morning and I think God was trying to warn me. The one line from my last update stated that I wasn't emotionally overwhelmed at all--that was completely thrown upside down on Saturday. We went into Port au Prince and while we had driven out from Port au Prince on our way from the airport the day we arrived, all we saw were some of the tents from the IDP camps. But on Saturday we drove by huge buildings and homes that had completely crumbled and entire neighborhoods that were in shambles. And it broke my heart because it looked so much like it did 6 months ago. And you knew there were people probably still buried under all of that concrete. As we passed more and more buildings, I grew sadder and angrier at the ame time. Tears started to roll down my face, and it was my first time crying since being here--and I usually hate crying but I felt like I needed to cry. We were going to a Campus Crusade for Christ meeting with the Haitian students, so when we finally arrived, some of the girls prayed with me and as they prayed, I was able to really cry.
Then we went into the meeting, which like most Christian meetings, started with worship. It was really tough to sing, 'Glory to God' but then I thought about the students who live in this reality everyday, and are still singing with all their heart. And the Lord broke through to me through the lyrics of "Blessed be your name/in the land that is suffering/ though there's pain in the offering/ Blessed be your name." And I was reminded of the powerful reality of Jesus choosing to enter into our suffering Here I am to worship: "Light of the world, You stepped down into darkness/ Humbly you came to the earth you created/ All for love's sake became poor." So yeah when I left there, I was feeling allright but then they decided to drive through downtown.
I don't really know how to explain it, but the vastness of the devastation unbearable. As we passed crushed house after crushed building, I didn't want to look anymore. Every crumbled home I saw signified another family devastated. And it broke my heart that babies and children were growing up in these conditions and with this being normal...having to constantly walk around or through rubble. It was hard to drive down roads where the last time I had rode down them, there were bodies on the sides of them. But the worst part, which I can't entirely explain why, was seeing the National Palace. A lot of the other students were taking pictures of it and I couldn't at all. I couldn't even look at it. It grieved me so much because it was one of the things that all Haitians prided themselves in--even when I thought it was a bit too much, people would tell me about how they wished it was more beautiful. And to see that completely destroyed just made me weep.
It was also hard because there were fifty other students on the bus, all processing everything very differently. A lot of people were just snapping away with their cameras; some (like the two people next to me) were crying; other people were trying to lighten the mood by singing. But that was so frustrating and I finally couldn't take the singing anymore and asked them to stop. But I learned the lesson that people will deal with things in very different ways, and I can't judge people's responses as some being better than others. Once we left Port-au-Prince and returned to the camp, I could barely talk to or look at anyone, because I didn't know what to say. But I was part of the prayer team and we were in charge of leading the large group that night. And they asked me to lead prayer and share about my experience on the bus ride--I was kind of hesitant but one of the leaders, Rachel, encouraged me to because she felt that it still wasn't real for some people and could feel like a movie, so it would help them to see from my eyes. As Rachel and I prayed about our prayer time that night, I felt like the Lord told me, "I'm calling you to bridge the gap." And as we prayed, the chapter Isaiah 62, came to mind and God showed me that as hopeless as things seemed, there is real hope and Isaiah 62 is what God wants to do in Haiti. It was a powerful time of prayer where we prayed for Haiti's restoration and also for our team's unity and "bearing with one another in love." I felt so encouraged and grateful that all things are possible with Christ, even though it seems impossible in our eyes.
Prayer Requests:
I'd really appreciate it if you all would continue to pray for Haiti's restoration, our team's unity in the Holy Spirit; we're going to different IDP camps to share the Gospel and distribute food throughout these next two weeks. And more and more people are starting to not feel well, so prayers for our health. I've also felt that the level of spiritual warfare is increasing, so prayers for all of that would be really great.
So there's a verse that says "Don't boast about tomorrow because you don't know what the day may bring." I read that verse Saturday morning and I think God was trying to warn me. The one line from my last update stated that I wasn't emotionally overwhelmed at all--that was completely thrown upside down on Saturday. We went into Port au Prince and while we had driven out from Port au Prince on our way from the airport the day we arrived, all we saw were some of the tents from the IDP camps. But on Saturday we drove by huge buildings and homes that had completely crumbled and entire neighborhoods that were in shambles. And it broke my heart because it looked so much like it did 6 months ago. And you knew there were people probably still buried under all of that concrete. As we passed more and more buildings, I grew sadder and angrier at the ame time. Tears started to roll down my face, and it was my first time crying since being here--and I usually hate crying but I felt like I needed to cry. We were going to a Campus Crusade for Christ meeting with the Haitian students, so when we finally arrived, some of the girls prayed with me and as they prayed, I was able to really cry.
Then we went into the meeting, which like most Christian meetings, started with worship. It was really tough to sing, 'Glory to God' but then I thought about the students who live in this reality everyday, and are still singing with all their heart. And the Lord broke through to me through the lyrics of "Blessed be your name/in the land that is suffering/ though there's pain in the offering/ Blessed be your name." And I was reminded of the powerful reality of Jesus choosing to enter into our suffering Here I am to worship: "Light of the world, You stepped down into darkness/ Humbly you came to the earth you created/ All for love's sake became poor." So yeah when I left there, I was feeling allright but then they decided to drive through downtown.
I don't really know how to explain it, but the vastness of the devastation unbearable. As we passed crushed house after crushed building, I didn't want to look anymore. Every crumbled home I saw signified another family devastated. And it broke my heart that babies and children were growing up in these conditions and with this being normal...having to constantly walk around or through rubble. It was hard to drive down roads where the last time I had rode down them, there were bodies on the sides of them. But the worst part, which I can't entirely explain why, was seeing the National Palace. A lot of the other students were taking pictures of it and I couldn't at all. I couldn't even look at it. It grieved me so much because it was one of the things that all Haitians prided themselves in--even when I thought it was a bit too much, people would tell me about how they wished it was more beautiful. And to see that completely destroyed just made me weep.
It was also hard because there were fifty other students on the bus, all processing everything very differently. A lot of people were just snapping away with their cameras; some (like the two people next to me) were crying; other people were trying to lighten the mood by singing. But that was so frustrating and I finally couldn't take the singing anymore and asked them to stop. But I learned the lesson that people will deal with things in very different ways, and I can't judge people's responses as some being better than others. Once we left Port-au-Prince and returned to the camp, I could barely talk to or look at anyone, because I didn't know what to say. But I was part of the prayer team and we were in charge of leading the large group that night. And they asked me to lead prayer and share about my experience on the bus ride--I was kind of hesitant but one of the leaders, Rachel, encouraged me to because she felt that it still wasn't real for some people and could feel like a movie, so it would help them to see from my eyes. As Rachel and I prayed about our prayer time that night, I felt like the Lord told me, "I'm calling you to bridge the gap." And as we prayed, the chapter Isaiah 62, came to mind and God showed me that as hopeless as things seemed, there is real hope and Isaiah 62 is what God wants to do in Haiti. It was a powerful time of prayer where we prayed for Haiti's restoration and also for our team's unity and "bearing with one another in love." I felt so encouraged and grateful that all things are possible with Christ, even though it seems impossible in our eyes.
Prayer Requests:
I'd really appreciate it if you all would continue to pray for Haiti's restoration, our team's unity in the Holy Spirit; we're going to different IDP camps to share the Gospel and distribute food throughout these next two weeks. And more and more people are starting to not feel well, so prayers for our health. I've also felt that the level of spiritual warfare is increasing, so prayers for all of that would be really great.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Amazing Grace
Apparently I can also pass for homeless. On Palm Sunday—which is the day that Jesus entered Jerusalem and was welcomed by the people who laid down palms before the feet of the donkey he was riding—I gathered with a mixed group of “homed” and homeless individuals outside for a Palm Sunday service. The church hosting the service is called the Welcome Church. The Welcome Church hosts a drop in center, holds weekly indoor services that include the homeless, and on the last Sunday of every month organizes an outdoor service in central Philadelphia in front of one of Philadelphia’s largest and most beautiful cathedrals.
I was dressed in a rather mismatched way that day; I was wearing two different colored jackets, my jeans were loose fitting and hadn’t been washed in a few days, and my hair was messy from the wind blowing it around. When the priests and volunteers organizing the service brought out the coffee, I intentionally chose to line up for a cup with the other homeless men and women. As I sat enjoying my coffee, one of the homeless men came up to me and introduced himself as "Lester." (Name changed) We chatted for a little well, and then Lester asked, “Are you out here….with us?” Without asking, I knew what he meant. Was I homeless?
I was immediately put in a dilemma. I wanted to say yes, because I didn’t want to draw any line of difference between him and myself, but at the same time I couldn’t lie. So I shook my head “no,” and watched as something changed in his eyes. A few minutes later, he drifted away. I spent the rest of the time before the service talking with a few of the other homeless men and women as much as I could. They never asked me if I was homeless, and from their conversations with me they seemed to assume that I was.
Nevertheless, I couldn’t help being bothered by what had happened between Lester and I. Earlier I had listened in on a conversation between a priest and one of the homeless men. The homeless man (I never learned his name) was loudly proclaiming that he had never done drugs, never been in jail, and never committed a violent crime, “Like all these others”—pointing his finger around the gathering. I felt immediately that he was trying to put himself above them, and say, “I’m not like you—I’m better than you are.” I also felt that this was what I had done to Lester by saying, “I’m not homeless.” Shortly after observing this conversation, the service began.
At the close of the service we all sang Amazing Grace. As we did so, tears came to my eyes. I was standing next to a homeless woman, "Mary," who had shared some stories of her life on the streets with me beforehand. I couldn’t help thinking, “Despite what anyone may or may not have done, I am no better than Mary or anyone else standing here. We are all wretches, saved by Grace, and welcomed to the table of Christ in forgiveness and love.” I realized that while there was a difference between Mary, Lester and myself in that I had a home and they did not, in God’s eyes we are the same, and He welcomes us in the same way.
Jesus stepped down from His throne in heaven, beckoning to all “come.” Suddenly the words, “Come to me, all you who are weary, all you who are heavy laden, and I will give you rest,” had new life for me. In our little circle stood tired men and women: men and women with houses or apartments, shuttling endlessly between work and home, burdened with the cares of life, and men and women living on the streets, carrying bags on their backs and in their arms, cold and hungry, and without rest. To them, and to us, Jesus says, “come…for my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”
What is that yoke? What is that burden? Micah 6:8 tells us, “What does the Lord require of you? To act justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly before your God.” Jesus was a living example of this justice, mercy, and humbleness. He threw the money changers out of temple, healed the crippled, and welcomed a prostitute in love. Then, after living a perfect life, He chose to die a sinner’s death. That the Lord, the God of heaven and earth, in His holiness would sacrifice Himself, choose by His grace and mercy to call us also holy, and welcome us all as equals to His table, is truly Amazing Grace. --- Anna Hunt
Saturday, February 20, 2010
I've decided to run in World Vision's 5k for Haiti on April 3rd, 2010. To be honest, I don't really like running but I can't imagine a better cause for me to put aside my own preferences. The fact that I can run at all is a miracle; everyday, I'm reminded of how close I was to being crushed by rubble. Through my participation, I hope to raise as much money for the people of Haiti as possible. My team's motto is "5k for 500k!"
I'm choosing to lead a team (Hope for Haiti) in this World Vision race because not only does World Vision have a tremendous presence in current humanitarian relief efforts in Haiti, they also do incredible long-term development work and will be in Haiti for many years to come. World Vision has been working in Haiti for 30 years and currently has 370 staff on the ground in Haiti. Your donation will help provide urgent supplies needed for survival: things like water purification tablets, food, and tents. World Vision will also help provide continued support to Haiti as they rebuild and recover...a long process for a country already struggling with poverty.
It would mean so much to me if you would join me in this effort and help me to reach that goal. You can partner with me and stand with Haiti by sending a monetary gift or by deciding to run as well(there's also the option of running a half-marathon)! I pray that as you consider joining me, either financially or physically, that you would remember the children, Marie-Olene, Woodson, and Emmanuella, that I wrote about in a past entry. I'm attaching a picture of Marie-Olene to this one. Your partnership will enable more children just like her to get a meal or vital medical treatment, and help to rebuild their country. Whatever you choose to do, please continue to pray for the children and families devastated by the earthquake in Haiti.
The problems in Haiti are overwhelming. But I know there is something we can do. Whether you can give $10 or $10,000, no amount is too small. And if you are unable to partner, please feel free to forward this email on to anyone you know who you think may be interested in joining.Again, thank you for all of your prayers and support.
To donate or join a team, please visit: http://twv.convio.net/site/TR/TeamWorldVision/General?px=1048841&pg=personal&fr_id=1160
To learn more about World Vision, visit http://www.worldvision.org.
To learn more about Team World Vision, visit http://www.teamworldvision.org
Much love,
Gabrielle Apollon
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