Anyways, it all started when I heard a small voice tell me to sing. I thought, “why would I ever!” I was told a couple of times before that I had a great voice, but I never thought God would want me to use it for him! He put it on my heart for several weeks. I was still too afraid to ask our pastor. Deathly afraid. I’m not very social about stuff like this. God wouldn’t let me say no.

So finally, one brave Wednesday, I asked him if I could sing. I told him that God put it on my heart to sing. He looked shocked. It’s rare when people go and ask him that because God tells certain people to. J.R. told me to go to the following week’s practice that Tuesday night. I was thrilled and proud that I did it. I thanked God and was actually unafraid.

That all changed Tuesday. I attended the practice. Naomi is a beautiful girl who has the most amazing voice. She took me into the Sunday church for me to show her how I sing. I was extremely nervous and intimidated by her. You have no idea how amazing her voice is. I finally sang, “Here I am to Worship.” I sang it just the same as I always did to myself. There were other people in there that I didn’t notice. They heard me too. 

Naomi kept encouraging me the next couple of weeks. I kept coming and started drifting away from God unfortunately. It was horrible. The worst weeks of my life. Walking through school miserable and numb to everything. I don’t even know what was going on, but I had my best friend. And my boyfriend, Luke, encouraged me and saw that that was what I was supposed to do.

I kept listening to the enemy inside myself, telling me I wasn’t good enough, that they didn’t care, and that I didn’t deserve to be up there. One week, Naomi told me I could sing after all these weeks of waiting for a spot! I was beyond relieved that I thought I had an answer from God. After praying and reading the Bible, I got up there and rehearsed and did pretty good. The next day, I got there a little late to the rehearsal before church. I saw another girl up there but thought nothing of it. Church was starting and that girl was still up there. I walked over and gave the back up singer, Breanna, a confused look. She shook her head no. Sadly I pulled myself together and felt so heavy.

Naomi felt horrible. She had no idea that was gonna happen. She promised me I was going to sing. The next few days, I began giving up on church, singing, and God! I started questioning if he was real. And I’m a strong believer, don’t get me wrong. It was horrible. I skipped the rehearsal and was going to give up. But something was telling me to go to Church. Plus, I was scared because I haven’t missed church in like months. I showed up to church and saw Naomi walking towards me. I froze inside. I didn’t want to look like a quitter. She came to me and gave me a choice to sing or not. I said no. I told her I didn’t have an answer from God. She wanted me up there, I could tell. But I fought and said no.

As church started, I started feeling guilt, like I chose the wrong answer. The sermon was so deep. It hit EVERYBODY in the inside. God gave me answers that night. I can’t even explain how. He showed me that he wanted me to sing. He showed me he was real in heart wrenching ways. I bawled that night. I finally realized, GOD IS THERE. HE’S AMAZING IN EVERY WAY.

After church, Naomi was on stage about to leave. I walked up there and asked if I could talk to her. I told her about almost quitting. I told her about questioning if He was real because I was deeply desperate to find answers from him. She gave me the biggest hug and started praying for me. The most bonding prayer between me and the Lord. She told me afterwards that when she saw me, she saw her when she was younger. She waited for 3 years for something that God wanted her to do. I realized I was being so selfish. She sees my heart, she knows how bad I want to be up there, and how much I love God.

This story is for the people feeling alone. DON’T GIVE UP! He’s there. Just keep praying and fighting for what’s right and he’ll show you the way. The moral to this story is to not search for the answers, but to pray that he’ll show you. I realized that the people at my church do care. God didn’t give up on me, and I’m not giving up on him. Ever.

My God Journey starts when I was three. Well I don’t remember when I was three but my parents have told me that I told them that I wanted Jesus in my heart. The first time I remember going to church was when I was really young. I went to kid’s church. I thought actual church was the most boring thing I’d ever experienced in my life! I lived in England. They sang hymns. The pastor had a drowsy voice and I can’t even remember how many times I’d fallen asleep.

We left that church when we went traveling for a year around the world. We went to Florida and we went to this amazing church, where I saw the kindness and joy of God oozing through the people there. They were so friendly and fun, and I couldn’t believe that this church was playing games and having puppet shows about God. I thought it was the coolest thing I’d ever seen. I loved it so much. I was really upset when we had to leave. To think of going back to my old church was like a nightmare.

We got back to England and couldn’t face going back to church. So we didn’t. We didn’t go to church for about 2-3 years. I didn’t have any sort of relationship with God. I didn’t pray. Or read the bible. Or anything.

About three years later, I moved to Australia. We went firstly to the Gold Coast. I fell in love with it! It was like heaven on Earth. We found the most amazing church, Generation Church. And 3 months later, when we decided to live on the Gold coast, I made Geno my home, my family. I started going to the youth. Met my best friend Kirtsy, who introduced me to my other best friend Chlo. And I met the person who has helped me most, the most amazing leader, Sam.

Since going to youth I have started becoming more and more involved, I now am in charge of events at youth. I have become a leader at kids. And have made so many friendships. I’m so excited about my future. And God has shown me some amazing plans that he has for my life.

Hey My name is Rebekah - yes my name’s from the bible :)
And I wont say anything else because this is my life story.

Jesus entered Jericho and was passing through. A man was there by the name of Zacchaeus; he was a chief tax collector and was wealthy. He wanted to see who Jesus was, but being a short man he could not, because of the crowd. So he ran ahead and climbed a sycamore-fig tree to see him, since Jesus was coming that way.  When Jesus reached the spot, he looked up and said to him, “Zacchaeus, come down immediately. I must stay at your house today.” So he came down at once and welcomed him gladly.

Brennan Manning writes in his book, The Ragamuffin Gospel, [in the Jewish tradition]:

To share a meal with someone is a guarantee of peace, trust, fraternity, and forgiveness:  the shared table symbolizes a shared life. For a Jewish man to say, “I would like to have dinner with you,” is a metaphor implying “I would like to enter into a friendship with you.”...That is what Zacchaeus heard when Jesus called him down from the sycamore tree...”

There was a time when I wondered what would happen if we treated the communion table in this fashion.  I wondered if such fellowship and community could ever truly be found inside the walls of a church.  Bad past experiences had led me to this conclusion.  But I was still hoping that things could be different.

Then one night, at a candle lit Saturday evening service, as the table was opened for all to come, a marvelous thing happened.  A couple walked to the table first and broke the bread for each other saying, “This is His body which is broken for you.” They did the same with the juice saying, “This is His blood which is shed for you.” The gesture was so tender I couldn’t help but smile.

And it became a ripple effect for the whole congregation.  Married couples broke bread for each other.  Entire families stepped up to the table together, the father breaking bread for them all.  A young man and his girlfriend.  A grandmother, mother, and daughter.  Two ladies stepped up to the table not as friends but as sisters-in-Christ.  “This is His body which is broken for you.  This is His blood which is shed for you.”

Over and over again, the ritual was repeated.  And suddenly the Bible verses I’d read only days ago came to the front of my mind and I felt I understood how Jacob must have felt in Genesis 28:16-17 (NIV)When Jacob awoke from his sleep, he thought, “Surely the LORD is in this place, and I was not aware of it."…"How awesome is this place! This is none other than the house of God; this is the gate of heaven.”

The night before I met her I laid in bed thinking what could I possibly say to her that would be meaningful? I am not handy and thought that I would be useless.

I couldn’t sleep so I got up and started playing around on our computer. Our son’s name is Connor so I started entering his name and seeing what would come up. The first site I saw was a memorial site for a baby boy who had died of SIDS who’s name was Connor. I read the webpage, felt sad and then wondered why I was reading such a morbid thing in the middle of the night. I noted the photos and the little messages from this baby’s “Nana”.

The following morning, I went to this woman’s home and she invited me in to help. I really wasn’t much help and after awhile she started talking to me about her Lupus. (I have an auto-immune disease too). She offered me a coffee. As I waited for the coffee in her kitchen, I looked over at a photo on a shelf and I see the exact photo of the baby I saw the night before. This baby was her grandson!!! SHE was Nana. I didn’t even know that they were from my country let alone that I would be in their house the next day! I stood there shaking and she said “What’s wrong?”, and then after seeing me look at the photo, “Do you know about Connor?”. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Not only did I know the whole story, I had now met his loving Nana. We grieved for this little boy and I left so elated that God had prepared me for meeting her. HE knew who I was going to see and what had happened in her life. HE wanted me to know a little about her so that I could comfort her and HE wanted ME to know that he will always know my plans and guide me.

I’ve always known God. At 5 years old I prayed the prayer. I knew he was there and Jesus died for me, but I didn’t really know him. Well, who would expect that a 5 year old to have a loving, growing relationship with the Maker of the universe?

The years go past. Mummy reads the Bible stories before bed every night. Daddy does the prayers. Have grace before dinner. Go to church every Sunday. But other than that there wasn’t really anything.

School started. A brand new school. Made some friends. Mum stopped reading the stories. Life goes on...not much happens. I never really talked to Him much. I started doing the swim program at Emmanuel College on the Gold Coast, Australia, met some people, got to know the school.

Grade 7 came along...I changed schools. From a boring, uninteresting, not overly friendly non-Christian school, to a fantastic, interesting, loving, caring Christian school. My world went upside-down. I made friends quickly, the whole grade loved “Tim the new guy.” At year 7 camp, everything was fantastic. In tents in the middle of no where. Eating out of cooking tents.

On the last night, the school Chaplin, Dr. King, came and spoke to us. It was the same stuff. Jesus loves you. He died on the cross. It was the same drill. But then something happened. I don’t know what; but something, somewhere in what he was saying, clicked. He asked those who wanted Jesus to put up their hand [everyone’s eyes were closed]. Immediately my hand was in the air, confident that nobody would find out. Then he asked for those people who put their hands up to go forward for prayer. I was terrified. But then I saw a stirring in the crowd. This wasn’t like my old school. I wasn’t one of 10 in a class of 40. I went forward.

He started praying. I was SO wanting God. I asked him to come into me, knowing and understanding that he would; to be my friend, my adviser, my go-to guy, my mate. I prayed my guts out. Then there He was. It was amazing. The nothingness, then the feeling of absolute joy. ABSOLUTE joy. It was at that moment I knew that this was the joy I wanted to be feeling, not the joy of playing the Playstation or going over to mates places. Not the joy on Christmas day opening the presents, but the joy of Jesus Christ. I realized that I needed to ask for forgiveness. I prayed so HARD for it. And it came. I became overwhelmed by the Holy Spirit and started bawling my eyes out. It was as if all the badness, the swearing, the bad thoughts were just rushing out of me. It was the best feeling of my life, weeping for joy, because I was saved. The feeling I felt was AWESOME. Dude, you don’t understand unless you’ve felt it.

Nearly a year later, I went to the PlanetShakers conference in Brisbane. There was music and lights and speakers and the youth group was staying in a hotel so it was all very exciting. On the second last night of the Christian conference, Reinhard Bonkey spoke to the crowd of 6,000. There was this anticipation of what I had heard about him. It was said that he was amazing. Converting 1 million Muslims to Christianity in Africa in the one, open-aired arena. There was this anticipation.

“The flame of the Holy Ghost is going to come down here tonight. Well, lets get started. The way...that you get the Holy Ghost to come down on a crowd like us...is to call on it. Raise your hands...don’t worry about your mates next to you **I was very worried** and shout ‘Hallelujah.’ “

So that’s how it started. People in front of me, people behind me, next to me, above me, below me, everyone in the arena started shouting “Hallelujah” with all of their might. The effect was immediate. Down came the Holy Spirit. It poured down on us. It was absolutely crazy. Then it happened again. I started crying. And again, it was the best feeling, all of my sins being washed clean by the blood of Jesus Christ. Absolutely amazing feeling. I was sobbing the hardest I ever have in my life. The only words I said were “Hallelujah” and “Thank You Lord.”

So there I was, in a mosh pit with 6,000 people, both arms above my head, saying only three words, “Hallelujah, Thank you Lord”, bawling my eyes out and feeling the best. The power of the Holy Spirit is ABSOLUTELY MAD! Absolutely, incredibly, amazingly flippen awesome!

I am now a guy who knows Jesus personally. Works at the church helping out at the kids church for tech on Sunday morning. Loves the youth on Friday nights. Prays whenever and where-ever, asks for forgiveness every day of the week.Tries to do the right thing by everyone. Gives advice. Is patient. Absolutely LOVES God, Jesus and the Holy Spirit. I live for Christ. Without him I would be nothing.

I was only going to write a little bit about my experience being best mates with the Creator of the Universe, but look at this; I’m 4 pages down. If you’ve gotten this far thank you. I have 3 more things to write.

#1. A quote by Reinhard Bonkey, “Let’s plunder hell and populate heaven,” which means go and tell people about Jesus. Help them find the light.

#2. Jesus Christ is the light of the world. He saved me by the school Chaplin [thanks Dr. King]. He is the most AWESOME, cool, understanding, weird, cool, massive beyond understanding. I love YouthStreet that keeps my faith on a high with their awesome music. Jesus is the rock of my life, my biggest rock.

#3. At the age of 13, I have decided to become a minister when I’m older, and I am deadly serious with doing that.

My name is Tim. I am 13 years old. I love God.

I was to find the truth about my beginnings, discover the story that lay behind how I came to be and know who was responsible for my life with the circumstances that surrounded it. It was to entertain my thoughts about having a mother that didn’t know better, or couldn’t help what she did-so I could forgive and feel pity on those last precious moments we may have had together. I was suppose to find this “person” who exists only on papers in a file tucked away in a social service agency; filled with Korean volunteers who see thousands of hopefuls like me. It seemed too mechanical. They take my photo and hand me a gift all in the same movement but then tell me that nothing in my file will help me. Anger tells me that they keep parts of my file behind closed doors when they realize I’m coming. In the same breath, they utter, “Good luck” in their Korean accents and walk away.

I smelled the land, the people and air. I tasted the people’s breath; I saw the world they lived in. I listened to my story in the land she walked. She left me abandoned on a highway, moments after birth, 2-3 hours north east of Seoul- in a city that is claimed to be a vacation spot for locals. Her hopes that an angel finds me and brings me home. I also hear Pyung Chang is near a beautiful mountain but also near the border of the North. Not many people live up there but somehow; this was my 2nd womb.

I used to laugh at this story growing up. I never cared about it- the reality of these things. I only knew life here- in the States, learning to live like everyone else. I had everything I could want and more. I didn’t know what pain like that meant- I scoffed at the Korean Adoptee who had issues with finding their beginnings and these iconic “mothers” who could complete their broken life. I said, “Jesus and God could fix it all…” because that is what I was raised to believe and know. I am not saying this isn’t true; however, what people fail to teach you is that the road to feeling this peace and comfort is paved with human nature and humility. Finding God in this situation is just as hard as finding the birth mom.

So, I lost myself in Korea somewhere- between Korean Soju, the food and women walking around in beautiful outfits. I lost my ability to remember who I was in America and decided to leave all it on my passport when I went to Korea. I think I did this on purpose so that I could tell myself that I at least lived somewhere in the truth of what I never knew. Maybe I did it to take revenge on something? Someone to blame? But it always comes back to self. I didn’t take pride in who I was raised to be already. This supposed American. A Christian wife and mother who had a lifetime of experiences to share and teach. Sure, I feel completely ashamed of this now- because of the repercussions it reaps but why was it just as equally important to want to feel like what it would have been JUST to be like one of them; without knowing what I’m “SUPPOSE” to do based on a life that was already made? 

This life in Korea was something that was stolen from me. Something that I will never know- and even if I tried hard enough, I would risk loosing all that I have been given by a God who found me and had mercy on me and gave me everything and more then what that culture could provide. Or is that what I was made to believe to benefit another? Yet, I had to throw it all back in God’s face and ask this silly second best. After I get the milk and honey=America the land of privilege?  Did I have to work for all that I was given? No, hardly. It was handed to me on a silver platter- I was at the mercy of death, abandoned. With no one wanting me. And yet I was found a home and a very decent life to live…according to standards with in a culture that I didn’t choose. So then why does my heart yearn for something that may not have been the best for me? And how dare I even go there? So, I fight the urge to want to understand this part of me that is denied- this part of me that was abandoned because I rationalize it in my head over and over. I say, “Come on- you don’t REALLY need this. You never did so why now?”

Oh..but how real it was to me when I was there. How in my face it was when I woke up, saw the people, and rode the subway and shared a meal. Was I just being immature? Was I being silly like all those other Korean adoptees that talk smack about having an identity crisis all their life? Was I just seeing things? I spent my whole life in the states, assimilating to what it meant to be a white, Christian American. With rewards as high as the sky—while building (unconsciously) a wall to protect me from this very thing. So, was it God who knew my most inner thoughts and said, “Daughter, you must work and live here- in America, all these years of your life so I can protect you from this one moment?” I have heard stories about how birth mothers come back and just wreak havoc on the adoptee. God may have had to protect me and keep me naive to these things – in doing so, he allowed me to become so entangled with every part of my being- physical, spiritual, emotional here- in the states, that when I return to Korea, I have no choice but to return back to the life he gave because I will be torn in half if I choose to stay and explore this forbidden right. So now, I see why I was brought here, to a little town of Holland, where I yet again condemned those ways that seemed so traditional and routine and so stable. It was exactly what I needed to cement me. Because I wonder just how free spirited I really am in the right environment. Like an alcoholic waiting to be discovered in their first sip, someone that is predisposed to a weakness inherent with in. What the heck would I do out there? What kind of life would I live? It is nothing compared to here. My drive would be completely different; my views would be tainted because I would fight the urge to be an independent woman as I’ve always infused it in my blood. Would I die for a change or to lead a change because I know no better and be like a fish out of water? Is that how those leaders in life who die for their causes feel everyday?

A man stopped me in the subway station while I waited for some acquaintances. He asked me if I wanted to go to bible study- and whether I went to church there. I wasn’t sure if this was a pick up line or God’s way of reminding me who I was to be at all times. I laughed and said I am from the United States, I don’t go to church here and thank you for the offer but I would like to keep in touch. He seemed to misunderstand me, with his broken English and my non-existent Korean. I was about to go off and be a “part” of this culture for a minute when in reality I should have been more like the man witnessing to others. Korean men do not approach women very often so I took his email address and hoped to explain when I got home. I found out that he was part of a church that is all over and I gave him our church website address for future references. He said he was praying for me and I haven’t seen him on line since.

In the quiet of my soul, God shared yet another paradox with me (as one man’s trash is another man’s treasure…and that which you search for is already found)

“My daughter, you were abandoned at birth. You had no name. You, who survived off of borrowed identities, always dependent on those who should find you and manage to create you into what was needed at the time, will not be forgotten. For you have fulfilled many desires, some of broken dreams and even blessings that became miscarriages to those who continuously asked why. You, never knowing your past, or your future, but always able to trust with pure innocence; this makes you rare and a priceless gem. I, the Lord your God, who is of Heaven, found you first. I adopted you as my angel…I lent you to an earthly father who took you in and cared for you as an orphan. I told him to give you the name: Yoon, Chang-Ju, which means Shining-Jewel; all the while, praying that you will shine brightly for someone’s Kingdom. My daughter, owners always come back for their lost treasures; and this you are to me. You then, were bought with another price. To fulfill the white man’s prayer, and pacify a wife that could not carry seeds of their own. You borrowed the name Robyn. In America, you learned how to assimilate in this chapter of your life and with the new name; you carried the season of spring, new life and song to a barren woman. Even the Father of all lies came hunting for your worth. He proposed to unlock the mysteries of life, training you in deception. And yet, after all of this, you came back.

Now, you stand before a Black man’s world, filled with poverty and racial tension. You gave your body to carry and birth three new generations of this line, filling it with all you are and yet you know nothing about who and from where you come. You are fragmented, your identity has been cast among the nations, tied to many lives that you know nothing about- a vessel to carry a blessing in disguise, a messenger with out shame and now you ask of me, to give what you yourself cannot give to your own offspring? My daughter, in my Kingdom, lie great treasures. Gold, Diamonds and shining Jewels. As all houses have working parts and purpose to it, these beautiful things were created specifically to adorn and magnify his majesty, the Lord most high! When people see you on this earth, a shining jewel dropped from my Kingdom, the contrast will be so wide, they will ask and you will point them back to their roots. Remember, your offspring are also mine; therefore, I have equipped you for that which you seek. The paradox of this quest-is that you already found ‘home’… you are just waiting to be put back in the owner’s hands… a jewel on the crown of his majesty”

Robyn Afrik is a life long resident of Holland. Growing up, she attended Holland Christian High School, studied Social work and business as her undergraduate studies at Valparaiso University and Cornerstone University. She is in the process of attaining her MSW at Grand Valley State University and is a national certified Global Career Development facilitator endorsed by the National Career Development Association, the National Employment Counseling Association and the National Association of Workforce Development Professionals. Robyn is an active member on the LEDA board, is the treasurer on the executive board for 70 X 7 life recovery and serves on the board of Buen Pastor. Robyn has traveled and lived in Senegal, W. Africa, Seoul, Korea and enjoys speaking for diversity forums such as the Alliance for Cultural and Ethnic harmony and served as the 2007 keynote speaker for Calling all Colors. Currently she is raising a multi-cultural, multi-ethnic family in Holland, enjoys writing, challenging status quo and community collaboration.

I as a kid, I had only been able to go to church occasionally as mom couldn’t drive till I was in high school, and dad didn’t care to go.  But I went when I could, at an early age to see something different and cause Mom told me to go, and at a later age, my high school years, to be near my aunt and 2 uncles who attended the Methodist Church in Wathena, my home town. 

Well, for whatever reason after that, after I married, I changed to the Baptist Church, and became a Steward.  Later I felt I was called to be a pastor.  I resisted it all I could as the only thing I had ever wanted to do was farm.  Finally after 2 yrs of it, it came to me that Jesus said; “Ok, if that’s what you truly want, then that’s what you can have.  But you’ll never see the joy of difference you would have made in people’s lives.  You’ll never have the joy of seeing souls saved, of people coming back to me, and you’ll never be a successful farmer”. 

He was right in all aspects.  Now, whenever there is a job needing done, I volunteer for it, and I know that Jesus is still with me, giving me wisdom and assurance, safety, and all things I need to survive in this world.  I now play the accompaniment to my church in Okla, I teach Sunday school when needed, and I still farm. 

He never left me, and He said He never would, and His word is good.

Haiti is currently the poorest country in the Western hemisphere. At the age of 18, I traveled there hoping to make a difference.  Young, sheltered, and clueless, I only knew that I felt called by God to take this short term medical trip.  I’d even spent three years of high school learning to speak French.  I felt that if could make a decent attempt at the language, I could make a better connection with those I spoke to.  Instead, what I witnessed only made me want to shrink back and disappear.  Because maybe if I closed my eyes and pretended it wasn’t there, then I wouldn’t have to deal with the reality that such a level of suffering and abject poverty existed.

We rose early in the morning to pack the truck, a large rusting beast.  When started, the engine would snarl, gears grinding in protest, and I wondered if the machine could get us from point ‘A’ to point ‘B’ without breaking down in the middle of nowhere.  Sometimes there were roads, and sometimes there were paths of dust and rock cut to resemble roads.  Fourteen hours later, we reached our destination; a village nestled high up in the mountains. 

I was so overwhelmed and exhausted by the end of that day, I graciously accepted a thin wiry mattress as a place to rest my head and pass out.  News of our arrival spread quickly and we had angry visitors that night.  Voodoo worshipers danced and cavorted wickedly around the four concrete walls that kept us safe.  Or maybe the walls had little to do with our safety.  I dreamed of being surrounded by angels, and woke hearing the sounds of Voodoo drums and chanting ‘worshipers’ that sounded like roosters screaming in the night.  I could hear the evil.  I could feel the heaviness of it as it clung to the air like a rotting stench. Their screams and cackles seemed so close; suffocating and relentless. 

Pray.  You are safe, April.  Pray.  Don’t be afraid.  Pray.  I thought of the verse I’d learned as a child to cast away the bad dreams.

“Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the LORD your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you.” Deuteronomy 31:6

Finally dawn broke, and a newer sweeter sound pierced the air.  The village Christians had gathered in the church to sing hymns of praise.  Calm gathered around us and quickly smothered the noise of the Voodoo worshipers.  Soon, all that could be heard was the sound of God’s children raising their voices to Him; beautiful, powerful.

That morning my devotional scripture was 1 John 4:4:

“You, dear children, are from God and have overcome them, because the one who is in you is greater than the one who is in the world.”

From that point on, I decided that shrinking back into a corner of avoidance would serve no one but me.  Good and evil are real, and someone’s got to stand and fight.  I’m willing, Lord.  Send me.

The morning after that first crazy night, I wouldn’t say I was so alert.  Every detail was sharper.  Every experience had a heightened emotion attached to it.

On this short term medical trip, we had within our group an eye doctor and a dentist.  Two separate clinics were set up to take patients that either needed their teeth or their eyes examined and treated.  Aside from the clinics, we also ran a VBS (vacation bible school) for the village children. 

The first day I assisted with the VBS, our group leader conducted the class in English while the interpreter repeated everything in Creole.  This was slow process and children are not always patient.  The lot of them quickly turned into a chaotic bunch of youngsters.

I’m not good in crowds.  I used to suffer from minor anxiety attacks that would frequently have me backing into a corner to escape and calm down.  And surrounded by this very large and boisterous bunch of children I found myself moving away and seeking refuge on a simple wooden bench along the far back wall occupied by a small group of girls who seemed to act as shy of the crowd as me.

One of the girls that had clustered around me looked to be about five years old and so small.  Her right eye was glazed over, and it seemed to produce a lot of tears.  She carried a handkerchief with her to dab at it every few minutes.  She had such a beautiful face, I couldn’t help but to keep looking at her.  And every time I looked, she would return my gaze, until finally she got up from her seat and crawled into my lap.  With that simple move, she nearly broke my heart.

I put my arms around her and prayed for what her life would be after we left.  In a day or two we would leave the village and travel down the mountain, and I would never see her again.  I knew that.  But in that moment, I wished that things were different.  I wished that I were older and married to someone who wouldn’t mind adopting a little girl like her.  I knew it wasn’t completely impossible.  Two different families from our church had adopted Haitian children.  I knew that the process took a long time and involved a lot of red tape.  But if only I was older, if only I had a stable job, if only I had a husband, all those things would show the authorities that I would be a good candidate for adoption.  If, if, if.  But “if” doesn’t get you anything more than a hand full of broken dreams.

I couldn’t heal her maladies, and I couldn’t keep her.  So I did the only thing I could do.  I prayed for her, thinking of 2 Corinthians 12:9 “But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.”

When I’d finished my prayer, I asked her, “Aimez-vous Jésus ?” (Do you love Jesus?)

“Oui, Avril.” (Yes)

“Vivrez-vous pour Jésus ?” (Will you live for Jesus?)

“Oui, il vit à mon coeur.” (Yes, he lives in my heart.)

That was good enough for me.  It had to be.

Later that night, we went to sit on the roof top of the compound and gaze at the heavens.  Rumor had it there was supposed to be a meteor shower that night.  Maybe it was because we we’re closer to the equator, but, the stars looked so much bigger and the way they shimmered in the night sky, well, it was like singing.  The magnitude of God’s creation came crashing down on me, and in that moment I felt consumed by His awesome love.

“When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have set in place, what is man that you are mindful of him, the son of man that you care for him?” Psalm 8:3-4

A week later we started the long journey home.  We’d been on the road for a few hours, heading towards Port-au-Prince and the airport.  And then it happened.

Our truck broke down in the middle of the dessert.  The driver and the interpreters pondered our situation and time passed slowly as we baked under a tropical sun.  All we could do was sit tight and pray.  And I wasn’t afraid.  I can’t explain it, but I wasn’t afraid.  I even took a few pictures while we were waiting.

Maybe an hour had passed when a Voodoo Priestess appeared, all skirts and red sashes.  She began dancing and chanting all around the vehicle.  When we asked the interpreters what she was saying, they told us that she was putting a curse on the truck.  “It’s a little late for that, don’t you think?” They also said she was placing a protective spell on herself and her village, that our Christianity would not infect her or her people.  And still, I was not afraid.  It was almost surreal how calm I was.  For that moment in my life, I totally trusted in God 100%.  And I knew that he would take care of us.

Two hours passed and then a miracle happened.  An empty truck drove past us, stopped and came back to see what was wrong.  Understand that trucks are never empty in Haiti.  They are always packed to the bursting point with people traveling from here to there.  Secondly, the driver was a Christian.  Over 80 % of the population practices Voodoo, but here in the middle of the dessert was a Christian with an empty truck who was willing to give us a ride into the nearest town about two hours away.

So many dangerous things could have happened to us in that circumstance.  And yet, nothing bad happened.  God provided for us in a very miraculous way.

By nightfall we had reached Port-au-Prince.  The team camped out that evening on a concrete porch.  I don’t remember why or how we came about those sleeping arrangements, but I do remember the spider.  I used to be afraid of arachnids.  Those eight-legged beasts gave me the heebie-jeebies.  Then an encounter with a peaceable spider changed all of that.  I woke at dawn to discover a tarantula waking very close to my head, and I wasn’t afraid.  As I sat up slowly, I watched her meander away from me and around my other still-sleeping team members.  Then she leaped off the porch and sauntered off into the thick grass.  I can’t explain it, really.  I can only tell you what happened.  I can only tell you that I was there, that a spider was there, and that God was there.  He was there, He is here, and He will be with us always and forever.

Recently we had the best sermon at church and I realized finally why we went through all these struggles.  God did this to refine us and to pull us closer to Him.  By these struggles we can come through them and give Glory to God for all He has done and helped us through.  So now if someone asks us how how we came through these events, I will tell them so we could give Glory to God. 

As our Pastor says almost always the answer is “To Glorify God.”

And then it hit me: I was not really thinking about what I was praying. I was just praying on “auto-pilot”. I paused, and admitted to myself that I didn’t know what Andrew needed that morning.

I waited a moment, then began to pray that Andrew would grow in dependence on God, and that whatever his circumstance he would know the loving presence of his heavenly Father.

A few hours later, we were in church. No Andrew. Instead, when the time came, the senior pastor went to the pulpit and explained that he had had a call from Andrew’s wife about 7:30 that morning ... roughly the time I was praying, in fact! “This is the kind of call you don’t want!”, she had said. Andrew was quite ill in bed, and there was no way he would be preaching that morning. Could the senior pastor step into the breach?

Well, he did. And the sermon was powerful.

I took several lessons from this. One is that God is always doing more than we think he is, always doing things beyond our imagining. I took comfort for Andrew: God’s hand was on him for good (as it often says in Nehemiah!), even if outward circumstances might not have looked that way. Personally, I was greatly encouraged in prayer. With eyes of faith, I can see God directing my prayers: my praying isn’t simply me talking to the ceiling, but it really is communing with God and cooperating with his work in the world.