Yesterday I got a phone call from the leader of our tent city. With a shaky voice he asked me – did I “remember” him? Of course I remember you. I just saw you a few days ago! He sounded relieved. The insecurities that these people must feel – even when they are “seen” they believe they are so easily “forgotten”. He said all our hope is in you. I immediately corrected him and said your hope is in HIM not in me. Anything I do for you – I do ONLY because of Him.
I asked for him to make a list of everyone in his zone. I want to know names/ages/family sizes. This weekend we will begin feeding them. I would really like to get back down to PAP one more time within the next week to really spend some time in that zone so that I can better know their needs first hand. We will have over 240 Americans here within the next 14 days though so it’s going to be hard to break away. At least Jose can make sure the food gets delivered over the weekend. It’s not enough to feed them every day-maybe 3 meals for the week. It’s a start for now.
I started this morning off in Bible Study. I don’t normally get the chance to do that before 8am but I found a moment where I could open His word before the knocks on my office door start. After I was finished reading I decided to listen to some worship music. I have the Daraja Children’s Choir on my ipod. The first song I heard this morning was from their cd. One of their songs starts off with Jeff Foxworthy reading an entry from a journal he kept in his back pocket while visiting Africa. Africa is so much like Haiti and so his journal entry immediately related to my home. I found comfort in hearing his words and wanted to share with you what he says:
The things I saw today should never be seen. They shouldn’t exist. Mountains of unbelievably stinky garbage – who’s ooze mixes with raw sewage – puddle up in mud streets. Atop these mountains are vultures and pigs – and women and children rooting for rotten food. You don’t know whether to vomit or to cry. Surely hell cannot be worse than this. But it is. Because hell includes separation from Jesus and that is not the case here. Amid the squaller, the sickness, the stomachs aching in hunger – there are scattered smiles the likes of which I’ve never seen. There is a joy here because they know a risen Savior. In their smiles you find the courage to help. We share the same God and we cling to the same promise that our trials here are but temporary. There is a glorious day coming. A day on which the disease and hunger and fear will be gone forever. And on that day without doubt – I know that I will wear a smile like theirs as I listen to millions of my brothers and sisters from Africa – sing to the King.
Categories: Personal Stories