Asking the Right Questions

I've heard the question asked more than once in (or after) Haiti, "Did I even make a difference here?" 

I can relate. This has been a very different trip for me, in ways that I can't really quantify or express. But I have wrestled with frustration and discouragement on this trip like never before. Problems abound here - and most days, it feels like every solution only generates a new set of problems. I've found myself repeatedly humming a line from a Don Henley song, "The more I know, the less I understand..." Trying to get down to the heart of the matter? Um, yeah. 

So have we made a difference here over the past two weeks? It doesn't really feel like it, no. 

But here's the thing I think this trip has taught me: we (and by "we" I mean Americans/foreigners in general) are not supposed to be the difference-makers. We are here to pour love, support, prayer and instruction into the Haitians (young and old) who are and will be the difference-makers. 

I'm trying to think of analogies: maybe wanting to be the star of the show when you're actually called to be the set designer? Being the chef when you're supposed to be peeling potatoes? Either way, confusion over these roles seems to lead to frustration and discouragement. So then  maybe clarity about this distinction might be what is needed to keep hope alive when doubt (and even despair) creep in. 

The question to ask in Haiti is not, "Did I make a difference?" but rather, "Who around me is Haiti's hope for a brighter future, and what did I do to empower them today to make a difference here tomorrow?"

Unfortunately there are a some harder, implied questions to consider, "Who around me is so sick or vulnerable that there may not be much future left for them? How can God use me to bring peace and comfort that they might have the chance see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living?"

So, then. Where and how can we make our most enduring contribution to God's kingdom work in Haiti? Some of the things we do for the Lord here will be big things and some will be small, but we can't fall into the trap of measuring our efficacy here by how big of a wave we make, by how visible the results of our efforts might be. 

Jovenel's dad Josué told me when we were here in December, "whatever you do for the Lord is a blessing, no matter how small - even if it's only a cup of water." This was only days after I had held a cup of cold water to the lips of a child named Kenise at a special needs orphanage here in Port-au-Prince. I suspected at the time - and sadly, it has since been confirmed - that Kenise was dying. The cold water was the only thing that soothed her, and the it was cold because it was chilled in a refrigerator an AUMC team had bought for the house only a few months before. Giving her that water was a holy moment for me - and for my friend Kelly who was back in the States at the time, but who loved Kenise with a mother's love from the moment she laid eyes on her. Kelly was on the team who bought the refrigerator, and I truly felt like a conduit for her love and for Christ's love during the time I tried to comfort Kenise. 

It was a moment orchestrated by God - which I believe was confirmed by Josué's words just a few days later. Was it a moment that will impact the future of Haiti? Not that I can discern. But it reminded me then - and reminds me now - that God is at work here, even in the smallest details. He will use if me if I let Him, if I trust Him enough to surrender even the saddest of outcomes to His design. 

In our service in Haiti, we're tempted to think that we should focus on being a foot soldier rather than the captain. But I'm increasingly thinking that we're neither. We're the equivalent of the cooks in the kitchen or maybe the uniform suppliers. (And some of us are the USO volunteers back home!)  It will be the Haitians who are both the captains and the foot soldiers in the battle for the future of this country - so how are we equipping them? Education, health care, nutrition, job training, leadership development, family planning, etc., - all in the context of knowing Christ and making Him known. 

And for those sweet babies who won't be healed this side of heaven, who won't get the chance to grow up to be foot soldiers or captains, either one - maybe we'll be honored with the chance to hold them close and pray over them for a brief moment or two before they go. 

God is at work in Haiti, and many hands are needed. But discouragement lurks behind every corner. Maybe that's because applying an American measure of success here is like a trap in and of itself. We want to make a measurable, quantifiable difference. And if we can't be sure that we've done that, then what's the point? 

[Not losing sight of the fact that the biggest trap at the enemy's disposal is that if I can't quantify the benefit of my my contribution here, then I just won't to anything at all.]

And of course I have to point out that there are Americans and other foreigners who are making huge, visible, measurable differences in Haiti every single day. Conjoined twins were recently separated at a nearby hospital by a surgical team made up of specialists from around the world. Talk about visible results! Clearly, there are a great many quantifiable successes accomplished here every day, and I don't want to undermine those in any way. I'm just saying that they can't be our only measure of value. 

In eight trips amounting to 96 days over the past 27 months in Haiti, I've been privileged to participate in more and more "real life" here. And while that has blessed me immeasurably, it's also left me with some outright doubts about how on earth the hope that God has planted here can ever be realized. If my time here raises more questions than it answers, then I have to consider: am I even asking the right questions? 

Who is the future of Haiti? It's not us. It was never supposed to be us. And as much as we would like to have a crystal ball to see the future of Haiti so we know how best to contribute, that would be the opposite of faith. We show up here, trusting God that He will use us and prosper the work of our hands today to accomplish His present and future purposes in Haiti. Maybe we'll see results in our lifetime - maybe we won't. But we trust Him, either way. We trust Him with our American standards of deliverables: what can we see? How can we know if it's enough? But we must also learn to trust Him the with that all too common Haitian experience of manna, of God's provision of daily bread: was it enough for today and today alone? 

If we will surrender the desire for a crystal ball and instead pick up the jar to harvest manna (ever mindful that it will only be sufficient for today), then maybe we can learn to trust God that it is indeed enough - not because we are enough, not because our efforts here are enough, but because He is here. And He is enough.