Pastor Jeremy Stephens

I need to make a confession–I struggle with one of the core tenants of our faith. I get it right some times, with some people; however, my practice of it is limited.

From the moment we drove down the mountain into Dame-Marie I have been unable to escape it. Every person I come into contact with demonstrates my deficiency, causing me to become increasingly uncomfortable. In an nation that lacks a good internet connection, electricity, and indoor plumbing, I am affected more by what these people have than what they need.

Overwhelming Love.

Before I get to today, I first need to tell you about our arrival here yesterday. As we drove down the steep mountain path to the costal town, we were greeted at the entrance by a hoard of people. They had drums and were singing. We got out of the cars and were immediately mobbed by men shaking hands and women leaning in to kiss our cheeks. Each one with a cheery “bonswa!” (meaning-good evening). Then they lead us through the streets singing at the top of their lungs, the great parade snaked through the town until we arrived at the church. The streets were lined with people curious to see what all the noise was about. It was about family welcoming home their siblings. Though many of us had never visited Dame-Marie before, we walked into town like we were long lost friends. I was uncomfortable.

This morning I woke up around 5am to the sound of chickens clucking, goats baying, and women chatting over charcoal. They had woken up far before dawn so we could have a large breakfast. Families who have little food prepared us a feast.

We joined the 3 hour church service. Everyone on the team offered a brief greeting from the pulpit. When one girl in our group read her greeting in Creole, the people stood in an ovation, overjoyed that she had put the effort into learning some of their language.

When the service finally concluded, we shook countless hands and kissed more cheeks, then we made it to the lunch table where even more food was waiting for us. Those same women had never left that charcoal fire. We ate an incredible meal, then wandered out into the street to teach kids how to throw American footballs and frisbees.

Tonight we had another service. They could not have crammed another body into the church. Noticing the scarcity of seats, I walked out the side of the church and enjoyed the service from the courtyard with a dozen Haitians watching through the window. A man named John Louis, using perhaps the only English he knew, asked me if I had a family. I pulled out the little photo album I carry and introduced him to Kim, Molly and Callie. I said the one or two Creole words I’ve learned. His smile was enormous. Fifteen minutes later, he brought a woman over to me and introduced her has his wife. Twenty minutes later, he introduced me to his teenage son.

I can’t wrap my mind around this love they show to me. Its the kind of love I preach about, but struggle to practice. Its the love that says, “We are united in Christ, and that one commonality is all we need.”

Because of the very short notice I had about this trip, I entered it with few expectations. I’m thankful for that now, because I feel like God is using that openness to teach me something about myself. I think I’ve been uncomfortable receiving this overwhelming love because it is hard for me to show it to others. I hope I finish this week with more of a love for the people of Haiti, but more-so, I hope to leave with a self-sacrificing love like theirs.