The Heart of the Father for His Children: An Incredible Love and Pursuit

I read this story out of the book Enjoying God (and promptly burst into tears):


During the Korean war, a pastor in a small rural village awoke one morning to find that his young son, his only child, had been killed. Apparently some soldiers had slipped in during the night and randomly excited a number of villagers in a brutal act of terrorism.

The pastor was beside himself with grief. He had looked forward to his son someday following in his footsteps and becoming a pastor. Now his friends feared for his emotional stability, so severe was the grief he experienced over the boy's senseless death. It seemed so cruel, so unjust. His son was not in the army; he posed no threat to anyone. Why should he have been singled out like this?

Finally the Korean pastor decided what he must do in return for this act of violence. He announced that he would hunt down the men who had killed his son and would not give up until he had found them. No obstacle would stand in his way, no hardship would deter him. This grief-stricken father resolved to do whatever it took.

Amazingly, he was able to learn the identities of the two terrorists, slip behind enemy lines, and find out where they lived. One early morning he stole into their house and confronted them. The pastor told them who he was, and that he knew they had murdered his son. "You owe me a debt," he said to them. "I have come to collect it."

The two men were obviously expecting to be killed in retaliation. But the pastor's next words astonished them. "You have taken my son," he said, "and now I want you to become my sons in his place."

The pastor stayed with them for several days, until he was able to persuade them to come with him. In time he adopted them as his legal sons. He loved them and cared for them. They became Christians, went to seminary, and were ordained. Today, these two men are pastors in Korea- all because a father who was willing to do whatever it took to win them, whose love was utterly unstoppable.

Right now I'm spending a lovely couple of weeks with my friends and family in Washington and getting to play auntie to my gorgeous niece and nephew, as well as one of my best friends' kids. She had her second baby, Juliet, just a few weeks ago.

Before coming back here I moved in with our church's new pastor, John, and his wife, Jocie. They are from Australia, hilarious, kind, wise, and also my friend Brittany's parents-in-law. A great perk to living here: Brittany and her family, as well as my nurse friend, Ashley, all live next door to us. John and Jocie have begun ministering to a couple of boys from a tent city in a really beautiful way. A couple of days a week the boys come over to their house and they work a bit around the house (teaching them a skill that they can use in future years and giving them dignity, as well), then John and Jocie provide a meal for them while they all talk. Then, they play soccer, basketball, or other games with the boys. The love, guidance, prayers, and wisdom they are giving these boys is very beautiful to watch.

A few Sundays ago, after church, we found that one of the boys, Dupren, was throwing up in the bathroom. We were also told by another boy, Edly, that Dupren's bike had been stolen at church. Jocie and I talked to Edly and a third boy (I don't recall his name) who had witnessed the bike-steaing incident. This third boy knew where to find the kid who stole the bike. Jocie fetched a nice English and Creole-speaking man from church who could help us and we loaded up the kids in her car. Pastor John had a church meeting to attend to, so he wasn't able to assist. I looked at Jocie and asked, "Is it wrong that I am excited about going to find this bike?" "Oh no, I am just as excited as you!" This was our first adventure as Nancy Drew wanna-be's.

The third kid took us to the thief's neighborhood, then some of us walked the rest of the way in. Jocie stayed behind with her car and a few of her friends who were passengers in the car, but I was instructed to remember every detail of the encounter. When we approached the suspect's house, we all saw the bike "hidden" behind some cardboard. Our Haitian translator/muscle spoke with the kid's father, who said he had suspected something amiss when the kid brought it home, saying he found it in the trash. I chewed out the kid a bit when he told me that he just found it at church, thinking no one wanted it (Dupren didn't have a way to lock it up). "Do you take everything you just see you want?" We left, with the bike, with no struggle or arguments. When we returned to the Meadth's house, Jocie and I told John we will be opening our own detective agency. Apparently I need to watch the show or read the books The Number One Ladies' Detective Agency. Let me know if you live in Haiti, preferably the Delmas area of Port au Prince, and need some crafty, smart detectives to solve your crimes. All this adventure and more, you'll find in Haiti, people.

A Scandalous God

To be honest, I've never spent much time thinking about war. I've never had an opinion one way or the other. My brain has never engaged in much thought about how it affects those living daily amongst bombings, battles, and death. Until now. I'm still devouring Shane Claiborne's Irresistible Revolution. See my last post. I'm not going to comment on what he wrote. Read it for yourself. I pray you are as affected by these words as I was.

"....and I headed to Iraq, where I ended up living through the most beautiful and horrible month of my life. I was there during the bombing of Baghdad, visiting homes, hospitals, and families- and going to worship services with the hunders of Iraqi Christians there. Essentially, I went to Iraq because I believe in a God of scandalous grace. I have pledged allegiance to a King who loved evildoers so much he died for them, teaching us that there is something worth dying for but nothing worth killing for. I went to Iraq in the footsteps of an executed and risen God. The Jesus of the margins suffered an imperial execution by an oppressive regime of wealthy and pious elites. And now he dares me and woos me to come and follow, to take up my cross, to lose my life to find it, with the promises that life is more powerful than death and that it is more courageous to love our enemies than to kill them. May we stand by those who face the impending wrath of the empire and whisper, "God loves you, I love you, and if my country bombs your country, I will be right here with you.

One of the things that became painfully clear to me in Iraq is that what's at stake today is the reputation not just of America but of Christianity, and that's what keeps me up at night. I heard people in Iraq call leaders in the US "Christian extremists," just as leaders here speak of "Muslim extremists." Everyone is declaring war in the name of God and asking for God's blessing. One beautiful Iraqi mother threw her hands in the air and said, "Your country is declaring war in the name of God and asking God's blessing, and that is the same thing my country is doing. What kind of God is this? What has happened to the God of love, to the Prince of Peace?

Revolutionary subordination exposes the evils of power and violence without mirroring them, by gently allowing them to destroy themselves and then rising above the ruins. This approach, of course, is exemplified by Jesus, who was led like "a lamb to slaughter"; it was with revolutionary subordination that Jesus "disarmed the powers and authorities" and made a "public spectacle of them, triumphing over them by the cross" (Col 2:15). His was a humble redemptive suffering that flew in the face of the arrogant myth of redemptive violence.

We know all too well that we have a God who shows mercy on evildoers, for if he didn't, we'd all be in big trouble, and for that, this evildoer is very glad.

As we drove into the town, were were deeply disturbed to see that it was devastated by bombing. Before we could get out of the car, doctors greeted us, and the town began to gather. When they learned that several of us were from the US, the head doctor asked loudly, "Why this? Why? Why is your government doing this?" With tears in his eyes, he explained that only a couple of days earlier, one of the bombs had hit the hospital, the children's ward. So they could not take us to the hospital. He added with a dignified smile, "But you are our brothers, and we will take care of you. We take care of everyone- Christian, Muslim, Iraqi, American...it doesn't matter. We are all human beings. We are all sisters and brothers." And they set up a little clinic with four beds and saved my friend's life, apologizing for the scarcity of supplies due to the sanctions. The townspeople began to bring blankets and water...they smiled and invited us to live in Rutba. We offered the doctors money, but they insisted that they were caring for us as family. They did have one request: "Tell the world about Rutba." And we have."

Rather than separating ourselves from everyone we consider impure, maybe we are better off just beating our chests and praying that God would be merciful enough to save us from this present ugliness and to make our lives so beautiful that people cannot resist that mercy.

Convicted

From Shane Claiborne's Irresistible Revolution:

"When we get to heaven, we will be separated into those sheep and goats Jesus talks about in Matthew 25 based on how we cared for the least among us. I'm just not convinced that Jesus is going to say 'When I was hungry, you gave a check to the United Way and they fed me', or,  'When I was naked, you donated clothes to the Salvation Army and they clothed me.' Jesus is not seeking distant acts of charity. He seeks concrete acts of love: "you fed me...you visited me in prison...you welcomed me into your home...you clothed me."

"It is much more comfortable to depersonalize the poor so we don't feel responsible for the catastrophic human failure that results in someone sleeping on the street while people have spare bedrooms in their homes."

"And Jesus did not set up a program but modeled a way of living that incarnated the reign of God, a community in which people are reconciled and our debts are forgiven just as we forgive our debtors (all economic words). That reign did not spread through organizational establishments or structural systems. It spread like disease- through touch, through breath, through life. It spread through people infected by love."

Merry belated Christmas and Happy early New Year, friends, family, and readers! 

Many of you may be looking for ways to help others in a tangible way in the New Year. Let me present a way for you to do so. I have a wonderful friend here in Haiti named Fritz who is the manager of our ministry. I have known him since I started coming to visit and work with Maison de Lumiere.  In 2004, right when our boys' home started, Fritz moved in and began overseeing the care of the first twelve boys. Fritz's parents died when he was young. He was raised in one of the roughest, most violent areas in Port au Prince, called Cite Soleil. Fritz worked hard doing many different jobs to put himself through school. He now has a lovely wife, Magolie, and two beautiful daughters, Sienna and Tassia. Magolie is also pregnant right now. Fritz is the oldest of eight siblings.Right after the earthquake Fritz took in all of his extended family members who had lost their homes. At least, if not more than, twenty people moved into his home and into his yard in tents. For months they remained there while they searched for new places to live. A few months after the earthquake one of Fritz's sisters who still lived in Cite Soleil suffered what appeared to be a stroke. She was hospitalized for a time then Fritz began to pay for her housing and care when she moved in with another of their sisters. She continues to require full care and cannot speak. Over a year ago two visiting nurses and I paid a visit to her home. You can read about that visit here. Fritz took in this sister's two daughters, Jennifer and Ruby. This last spring other family members decided to move Jennifer and Ruby and their mom into another relative's home further away from our neighborhood. Fritz was heartbroken and worried for their health and safety. Eventually he learned that whoever they were staying with was abusing the girls, as well as their mother when she attempted to cry out against them. In order for Jennifer and Ruby to move back in with his family, Fritz needs extra financial support for them. As the oldest child in his family, he financially and emotionally supports each of his younger siblings and their families. In addition to working for our ministry, he has a business out of his home where he sells water, food, and dry goods. Yet taking in these two girls again is an extra expense he cannot afford at this time. If you would like more information about Fritz and these girls and/or would like to sponsor the girls, please leave me a comment on the blog sharing your interest and a way for me to contact you. Mesi Anpil (Thank you very much!) for all the ways you have supported those I care about here in Haiti! 

Driving....can make you insane

Last week I drove Ensa and her mother to a clinic in Petionville, which is only a few miles up a hill from my house, but it can take an hour or longer to get there with traffic. I took Anderson, one of our boy graduates, along with me to help me navigate and make me feel safe. I knew already that he's not the best at navigating...but he's better than nothing and always provides entertaining conversation. He is willing to ask for directions. We started out the morning with him calling the doctor to ask for directions. She told him a landmark then said for him to call back when we arrived there. Thankfully he knew how to get to this location, a church. After that we pulled over so I could call the doctor. Two attempts and she didn't answer. I pulled over to the edge of the street, but cars honked furiously at us nonetheless.  We had not been given the address or the name of the clinic when we'd called her earlier in the morning. She had given Anderson a general area. We could no longer stay in the intersection so I picked a direction and drove off. Finally, the doctor's assistant called back and Anderson spoke to her. With confidence he told me where to go. Then, silence. "Where do I turn?" "I don't know," he responded. I called the doctor's office again and Ensa's mother spoke with her. Same result as with Anderson: we turned a bunch of times and then were lost again, as we looked for "Thyle Market," which the office claimed was nearby. And she was told the office was named "Citi Med." I pulled over again and a female street vendor offered to get in the car to show us where to go. Upon arriving at "Citi Med" we were told they did not know the doctor we were looking for. Another phone call. NO, its not Citi Med, its called "Omni Med." Are you kidding me? Again, we drove in circles looking for a market supposedly close to the office, but this time we were told it was called "Star Market." Ensa's mother gave directions to me from the back seat using hand signals. That doesn't really help when you're trying to avoid hitting other cars and people. You can't look behind you. I frequently told her to say "Right, Left, and Straight" in Creole and she agreed to, but then I began to wonder if she knows her right from her left. Anderson would tell me where to go two seconds AFTER I had passed the intersection. A few more phone calls, being told to look for "Big Market", and praise God we found it! When we pulled up the lady who had been giving us directions shook her head in wonder and laughed at us. Thanks so much.

The doctor, a rheumatologist, was very kind and thorough in her examination of Ensa. Hospital Espoir had been unable to figure out why she continued to have fevers and pain even though she received treatment for her diagnosis of typhoid. All of Ensa's symptoms and clinic picture led the doctor to believe she has Juvenile Rheumatoid Arthritis. She started Ensa on three times per day Aspirin which Ensa seems to be responding to. She had labs drawn last week and the results should be in in the next few days. We are very thankful that it seems some answers are being found for her.

Thank you very much to those who donated to Ensa and Mikerlange's medical fund! Mikerlange seems to be gaining strength and her skin is completely cleared. She has a follow-up appointment with her HIV doctor next week. Both she and Ensa and family attended our annual Christmas program on Saturday. 

Ensa all dressed-up for our Christmas Program

Thank you and blessings to all of you, for reading and for supporting these girls!

P.S. My friends and coworkers moved into the apartment below me. Last week, in preparation of them moving in, a couple of painters came by to paint. When my friends saw the apartment the day before it had white walls...dirty white walls, but white walls, nonetheless. They assumed that when the owner said she would have the walls re-painted they would be re-painted white...right? No. Wrong. Pink. Pepto-bismol pink. I shouldn't be surprised, because this is actually a  popular color here. At least my dining room is a muted shade of pink. I am so blessed.

P.P.S Yesterday I was talking with two ladies who were staying for a few nights at our guesthouse. They spent most of last week at a hotel downtown. A fancy-schmancy nice one. So nice that it had mice running in and out of holes that the managers or maids stuffed with newspaper. So nice that someone working there provided them with a billy club as a weapon to kill the mice. How would you like that for your first trip to Haiti? Here's some mice to entertain you while you sleep and here's your weapon to kill them. Wow. So thoughtful of you. 

Friends

I have two lovely friends visiting since last week: Lexie and Paula. We used to work together in Seattle and they have been to Haiti numerous times to help with my organization and a couple of others. Thankful for you both! Both ladies blogged about meeting Ensa. I will use their links to update you: 

http://lexiemarie.tumblr.com/post/13498439854/haiti-nov-dec

and: http://growingwithpurposepaula.blogspot.com/2011/11/ensa.html

*Since these were written, I heard that Ensa had bone X-rays performed (most likely of her arms and legs) that showed no abnormalities. She is continuing to have fevers despite being on antibiotics. When I go see her today (hopefully) I will be given the phone number of a specialist to call. Hospital Espoir wants to discharge her today- despite her continued fevers- because they don't know how to help her any further. Please pray for answers! For her healing! Also, thank you thank you thank you to the generous people who have contributed to paying for her care and to those who have contributed to our general medical fund. You Are Awesome! 

Off topic: I have been so pampered lately. A few weeks ago my favorite chiropractor, a friend I met here three years ago (the guesthouse flooded when we first met. A few of us were electrocuted. It has bonded us for life), came to visit with her church and adjusted my back. One of her teammates gave me a haircut and to-die-for head massage. Is this what heaven will be like? Today I got my bangs trimmed by another visitor and my hair dried (oh, glorious heaven!) Jesus, you are so nice to me. Thank you for providing amazing people to love us!