³³ “‘When a foreigner resides among you in your land, do not mistreat them. ³⁴ The foreigner residing among you must be treated as your native-born. Love them as yourself, for you were foreigners in Egypt. I am the Lord your God.” Leviticus 19:33-34

This blog post is a little unusual for me and my style, but I wanted to take a moment to update everyone on my current situation with in light of everything that is going in Haiti.

At the beginning of March, many of the active gangs in Haiti banded together in an attempt to overthrow the remaining government and infrastructure in Haiti. This started with attacks on the Port-Au-Prince airport, which lead to the cancellation of flights, and ultimately delayed the return of the Prime Minister Ariel Henry to Haiti. Then, on March 2nd, the gangs broke into two major prisons in Haiti, freeing a few thousand prisoners. Many of these prisoners were members of the gangs themselves. On Monday, March 4th, the airport in PAP officially shut down, further delaying Ariel Henry’s return, and a state of emergency was declared in the Ouest department, where I live.

Ultimately, the gangs were successful. Haiti’s remaining infrastructure crumbled, and the highly unpopular Ariel Henry was eventually pressured into resigning. He is still unable to return to Haiti.

While there is so much political and social discourse surrounding these hugely important events, I’m going to largely stay away from those discussions in this post. Those conversations are extremely important, but my heart is breaking for the average Haitian – the regular, everyday citizen that is literally just trying to live and carry out everyday tasks. And, these “normal” people – these everyday citizens- those are the people that are my family. Those are the people who have changed my life. I don’t want to miss them in favor of higher level political discussions right now.

I was in my home in Delmas 31, an area of Port-Au-Prince, when the airport shut down. My home is close enough to the airport that we could hear what was happening, but not close enough for us to be in any immediate danger, praise God. I was scheduled for a routine visit to the States only two days after the airport shut down, so of course my trip was cancelled. This wasn’t my first rodeo by any stretch of the imagination. I’d been “stuck” in Haiti before, and I am no stranger to the sounds of automatic gunfire, or to the threat of gangs getting a little too close for comfort. But, this was a different situation – the gangs were taking over the capital, and they were doing so with great success. They took over all ports, land and sea, and they were hitting hospitals, government buildings, and banks as freely as they wanted. It felt like a waiting game, we never knew what the gangs had planned or if they might get even closer. The results were devastating, and the atmosphere was heavy and dark.

I was in Haiti for just over two weeks after this started, and there is still so much I’m unable to put into words. I took place in a State Department-lead evacuation from the U.S. Embassy, a wild experience on its own. And while there are so many things I could unpack and share, my heart continually comes back to the people in Haiti who did life with me during those two weeks.

I’m safe in America now, and frankly, I was safe the entire time I was in Haiti. I had everything I needed brought to me, and I was able to safely participate in a helicopter evacuation in the middle of Tabarre – which is currently under control of one of the major gangs.

All of this is true because of the amazing Haitians who have become my family over the past six years. They have consistently cared for me, welcomed me, included me, and taught me how to live successfully in their country. My heart is so filled with gratitude for all they have done and continue to do for me, and I feel honored to know them and be a part of their lives.

Many people have asked me if I’m relieved to be in the States, and the truth is – I’m not. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful that I had the opportunity to get to safety, and I believe that evacuating was the right decision for me, for my family, and even for the Haitians I work with. But, I’m not relieved. How could I be? I am in America, but the situation in Haiti has not changed. In fact, it’s still declining. I’m here, but my Haitian friends aren’t. They’re still in the trenches, and they know they will never be offered the same opportunities for rescue that I was offered. They’re stuck in it, and they’re doing everything they can to cope with unimaginable trauma and risk.

I always try to look for what God is teaching me when I find myself in a place I don’t fully understand. And while I’m still processing and unpacking my feelings about all of this, I can say one of the blessings He has given me has been a deeper compassion for the displaced around me.

My home is in Haiti. My life is there now. Yes, America is and always will be a home for me as a natural-born citizen… but I’ve built my adult life in Haiti. I fled my home. I left my pets, my belongings, and most importantly, my people, for a currently unknown amount of time with only my backpack and purse.

I’ve talked to several Haitians who have relocated to the States, and they understand what I’m feeling. We have all connected through a tension we’re living in – a gratitude for our own safety, and a guilt that others we love won’t have the same opportunity. And for the Haitians who have fled, they’re often met with another set of challenges that I’ll never know in America – they aren’t welcomed here. They hear the constant political discourse about immigration, and their hearts hurt.

“Why can’t Americans understand I wish I could return to Haiti? This is not my home.”

I hear this question from displaced Haitians so often. They long for home, but they can’t have it. Then they turn on the news, and they’re reminded they aren’t welcomed here either.

I am reminded of Leviticus 19:33-34, and the call we are given to welcome and care for the foreigner. Having lived in a foreign land myself, I know how important that kindness and hospitality can be.

No matter where you stand politically on immigration and foreign policy issues, I urge you to approach your conversations with love and kindness. No matter how you vote in regards to policy, I challenge you to extend hospitality to the foreigners around you. We never truly know what someone is walking through privately, so what is the harm in leading with love? Folks, we’re directly called to it. We simply cannot ignore God’s word about foreigners among us here: “love them as yourself”.

I miss my home. I miss my Haiti family, and my heart is burdened for them. I’m praying for the day to come quickly for me and my displaced Haitian friends to able to safely return.

Jesus, You know my heartache. Thank You for sitting next to me in it. Bringing healing to the hearts of all the displaced, and help us to better love them. Soften our hearts towards them; fill us with your love and compassion. Help us love them as ourselves.

²⁸ “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. ²⁹ Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. ³⁰ For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” Matthew 11:28-30

If I had to sum up my 2023 in one word, I would choose the word heavy. From start to finish, it was a tough year. I experienced what seemed like trial after trial, loss after loss, and trauma after trauma. And on top of the personal experiences, the world seemed to be in shambles - wars, hunger, and sickness seemed to become more widespread than ever. Not to mention, I live in Haiti, a country that is going through unprecedented levels of oppression and violence And it seems that the rest of the world has tuned out the cries for help from the Haitian people.

With all of these issues looming over me, I began to feel a growing pressure: a pressure to fix things, a pressure to make very major decisions very quickly, a pressure to do more, a pressure to do less, a pressure act, a pressure not to act, a pressure to lean more left, a pressure to lean more right, a pressure to be more productive, a pressure to slow down… and the list goes on. And while some of this pressure was coming from relationships and voices that were growing too loud in my life, I’ve come to realize I was also placing pressure on myself. I was being crushed under the weight of all these burdens.

I was in a place of despair and darkness for most of 2023. To be candid, I slipped into depression. I struggled as I fought against feelings of hopelessness, thoughts that I couldn’t get it right. But, God showed me the depths of His love and mercy last year. He was with me in the depths of my despair, and He made His presence known in ways I never would have expected. And while I’m not totally out of the woods, I’m realizing that wasn’t really the point of the trials I faced – God is with me in the dark. I don’t have to get out of the darkness to find Him; He’ll come and meet me where I’m at.

Matthew 11:28-30 are the verses I’m focusing on 2024. I want to learn the ways of Jesus, to bring the burdens I’m carrying to Him. I don’t want to carry the things that aren’t meant for me anymore; there’s no freedom in that. I’m learning to let go of the pressure, and to rest at His feet when life gets too heavy. The pressure that I was feeling wasn’t coming from Him, and many of the burdens I have been carrying were never intended for me.

As I write this post, I’m sitting in Haiti during one of the more intense bouts of political unrest I’ve seen sense moving here. The people of Haiti are tired – tired of senseless violence. Tired of the lack of resources and opportunity. Tired of being ignored. Tired of leaders who don’t care. Tired of an international community that is full of empty promises.

And as I sit with my tired, hurt, and angry Haitian friends, I’m remembering Matthew 11:28-30.

I’m giving Jesus the burden I feel for my friends here. With so many of their situations, I can’t offer solutions. I can’t fix the problem.

And hallelujah – those burdens weren’t meant for me, anyway. So I’ll allow the One who is Able to carry those burdens. He can carry the heavy load, and He can work miracles that I can’t even imagine for my friends.

Many of you reading this may not be in the same situations I am in. For some of you, your burden may be a terminal illness, grieving a loss, an interpersonal problem that you just can’t make sense of. Whatever your weariness is, go to Him and rest at His feet.

Learn from Him, take His yoke upon you, and allow Him to do the heavy-lifting. Sit with Him in prayer, and give whatever burden is weighing you down; He can handle it. Be weary no more.

Jesus, thank you for meeting us in the dark. Thank You for being strong when we feel weak. Thank You for carrying the loads that we cannot carry. Thank You for letting us rest.

“Shortly before dawn Jesus went out to them, walking on the lake. When the disciples saw Him walking on the lake. When the disciples saw Him walking on the lake, they were terrified. ‘It’s a ghost,’ they said, and cried out in fear.

But Jesus immediately said to them: ‘Take courage! It is I. Don’t be afriad.

‘Lord, if it’s You,’ Peter replied, ‘tell me to come to You on the water.’

‘Come,’ He said.

Then Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came toward Jesus. But when he saw the wind, he was afraid and, beginning to sink, cried out ‘Lord, save me!’

Immediately, Jesus reached out His hand and caught him. ‘You of little faith,’ He said, ‘why did you doubt?’

And when they climbed into the boat, the wind died down. Then those who were in the boat worshiped Him, saying ‘Truly you are the Son of God.'” Matthew 14:22-33

The news coming out of Haiti has grown increasingly dark over the past few months. The gas crisis, the lack of infrastructure, the cholera outbreak, the increase in kidnappings, the gangs taking over… it all feels so hopeless. We all feel so helpless in the midst of it.

Yet, in the middle of such chaos and suffering, glimmers of hope shine through. I’ve seen more and more people uniting in prayer, pouring out their hearts and tears at the feet of Jesus, on behalf our Haitian friends. And as we’ve gathered together in prayer, I believe the Lord has started to move.

We’ve seen the police regain control of the gas terminal Varreux, potentially allowing gas to return gas stations for the first time in months this weekend. We’ve seen the U.S. and Canadian governments sanction individuals in Haiti who are notorious for drug and arms trafficking. We were also all pleasantly surprised to see the U.S. government announce rewards for anyone who could turn in three of the major gang leaders in Haiti. All of these things hold so much potential good! These could be the first steps towards the dawn in Haiti.

And yet, I hear the whispers that trail behind these glimpses of good; the “Yeah, buts -” that follow, the mistrust of the news we’re seeing, and even the sheer refusal to accept that these things could possibly be true. I’m reminded that these changes make barely visible dents in the mountain of problems that cover Haiti right now. And this jadedness, this inability to accept the positive and good, is pretty easy to understand. Haiti has the had the rug ripped out from underneath her too many times to take things at face value. I myself fall more in this camp because of being a Haiti resident; I won’t believe until I see it. We’re tired of being disappointed and hurt.

But then I read this story in Matthew. I see Jesus inviting Peter to take step out in faith, to walk towards. Yes, it’s a bold move to get Peter to walk on water. But it started with a first step: a choice to trust in Jesus. A choice to put his faith in the One who could stand in the midst of the waves.

For my friends who are Haitian, or who have lived and served in Haiti for multiple years, I know that right now it’s really hard to see the light. It’s really hard to believe in the good news and to take the steps forward that we’re being offered. And to be clear: I’m not suggesting that we forego discernment all-together. There are too many lies being spread, too many wolves-in-sheep’s clothing, for us to blindly accept anything positive that comes our way. However, I believe it’s vital that we sit with Jesus over the news that comes our way, and that we are constantly asking Him to show us what is truly good. We shouldn’t forego discernment, but we can’t through away faith.

We’ve been praying for breakthrough and change in Haiti. We’ve been asking for walk-on-water miracles. It would be tragic for us to miss answers to our prayers because we’ve grown used to our doubt and darkness.

Don’t look at the wind and waves surrounding us, though they are great and many. Look to the One standing strong in the middle of them. He will calm these raging seas.

Things in Haiti can cross over this raging seas; but it will take first steps to get us there.

Lord, give us the faith to believe in what You are doing. Give us the eyes to see You moving for us; help us not to miss You answering our prayers, help us not to miss the ways You are working. Lord, remove the jadedness resting in our hearts. Give us the wisdom to know the difference between jadedness and good discernment. Jesus, help us walk on water with You.

When I feel overwhelmed, I tend to disassociate. I tend to disconnect from the world around me. Be it through Netflix, extra exercise, or cleaning my house, I tend to pull away from the very real, very big problems in my life and either completely ignore them or focus on much smaller, unrelated issues. Anyone who has lived with an anxiety disorder has probably experienced a similar phenomenon.

In the short term, this feels like a great coping mechanism, because it distracts me from my stressors, and I feel temporarily less anxious. However, this has always harmed me in the long run.

When my Netflix show has ended, my body is too exhausted to work out more, and my house is completely spotless, my very big problems are still there waiting, and they’re often bigger than before. 

And sometimes, an even more troubling side effect pops up from this coping mechanism: I become numb to my real problems. I free fall into a pit of apathy, with the help of one more episode, one more rep, and one more space to tidy up. All while these larger issues, often with very real people attached to them needing my attention, are still there, waiting. 

Right now, I think our world is resting in this pit of apathy, brought on by feeling overwhelmed by a lot of very real crises. And, right now, it’s the Haitian people who are suffering because of our apathy and silence. 

Those of you who follow me on social media, specifically on Instagram, have probably seen me posting a lot of content regarding the ongoing issues in Haiti. There is a lack of fuel, which has resulted in black market fuel being sold for exuberant prices (I’m talking $30 + for a gallon of gasoline). In a country without regulated electricity, many people rely on generators for power, making gas essential for everyday function in businesses, schools, and hospitals – not to mention needing gas and diesel for transportation. The fuel crisis has had a domino effect, causing the cost of living in Haiti to be four to five times what it was at the beginning of 2022. All the while, the majority of Haitians are still being paid an average of $5 each day. On top of this, gang violence continues to affect the entire country. It used to be seen as a problem only in Port-Au-Prince… that simply isn’t true anymore. Practically every community has been touched by gang violence and kidnapping. Practically every community has felt the paralyzing terror of automatic gunfire ringing out suddenly – where they are praying it’s a police operation being successfully carried out, but it is more often a gang take over of the area. The violence being committed against the Haitian people is horrific; it’s more disturbing to know that it is being funded by prominent bureaucrats and politicians. And, as if all this wasn’t enough, the country still doesn’t have a functioning government. It has been over a year since Jovenel Moise, Haiti’ former president, was assassinated in his home.

The de facto Prime Minister, Ariel Henry, is “in charge” for now – a man who himself is suspected of involvement in Jovenel’s assassination. He rules the country with detachment; he has only addressed the country twice since his installment, both times within the last month – the first time was to announce an official increase in fuel prices at gas stations. This address came after almost six weeks of only black market gas availability and the crazy high gas prices that came along with black market gas. This announcement pushed the Haitian people over the edge, and started this “peyi lok” (country lock down) that we are seeing now – weeks of protests and road blocks. His second address came a few days into peyi lok, where he essentially told the Haitian people they needed to calm down, and accused everyone protesting of belonging to the various gangs. This, of course, only fueled the anger of the Haitian People, resulting in more intense protesting, and more roadblocks.

Which brings us to where we are now – a countrywide lock down, leaving many people without food or water. There is still no gas, and one of the country’s most prominent gangs is now holding the fuel that is in the country hostage. Hospitals are closing. School can’t open. And Prime Minister Henry has fallen back into his apathetic, and frankly criminal, silence. 

I have lived in Haiti for four years. I have seen a lot of things here. I’m not immune to brushes with gangs, or lock downs, or intense and uncomfortable situations. But I can tell you with certainty, I have never seen the situation as dark as it is right now. 

I’ve shared with many people in America the stories and the layout I shared above. What is breaking my heart, and honestly angering me, is the apathy that I’ve seen towards the situation. I’m met with shoulder shrugs, and often a “Yes, the whole world is struggling right now. Look at what’s happening in -”, and countries like the Ukraine, Puerto Rico, and even the United States itself are listed off. I’m then promptly reminded that Haiti has “always” been a country with problems, and my friends try to steer the conversation off of Haiti and on to these other issues, particularly the inflation or political disagreements in America. 

Friends, I say this with love – I know the world as a whole has a lot of problems. I know there are some truly concerning issues happening almost anywhere you go. And yes, I know that inflation in America is putting a strain on people, and there are some political situations here that have truly upset different people groups. But, what is happening in Haiti is an egregious humanitarian crisis. Innocent people are dying everyday, including women and children. The country is completely strangled and no institutions are functioning normally, from the government all the way down to schooling. Yes, inflation is problematic in America. But people are dying trying to carry out daily tasks in Haiti, and there are no government programs in place to provide them relief, there is no one listening to their cries for help.

We have to care about what’s happening in Haiti, and we must start caring as if peoples’ lives depend on it – because they do. 

When I find myself in a pit of apathy, feeling numb and blinded to the real issues that need my attention, I remember that I have a Savior to lean on when the problem seems too big. He is the source of my strength, and He is Mighty enough to tackle any problem. He also cares deeply for all who are suffering. Yes, He sees those struggling in America to afford what they need because of inflation. He sees the damage the hurricane left in Puerto Rico. And He sees the devastation and inhumanity happening in the Ukraine. 

He also sees his children in Haiti being brutalized by violence. And I think He’s heartbroken, because we’re turning our backs on them as they suffer. 

Friends, today I ask you, pray with me that apathy doesn’t take over our hearts. Pray for the leaders of our own country, for the Prime Minister in Haiti, and for those sitting on the UN’s council. And finally, ask God to open your own heart, and allow you to be moved for our brothers and sisters in Haiti.

Father God, we come before you humbled, repenting where we lack in love and concern for the people in Haiti, those who were also created in Your image. We know your heart breaks for them, as you hear their cries through the relentless pain and suffering. Lord, stir the hearts of political leaders who have the power to intervene. Father, break their hearts for what we know breaks yours. Move them, so that they move for the Haitian people. We ask that You break our hearts too, knowing that You’re with us through the tears and sadness, knowing that You are with our Haitian friends. Father, it us safe for us to feel heartache with You, because we can trust that You see our tears, and we believe that when you hear our cries You are moved to act. Father, wake us up.

“Finally, be strong in the Lord and in His mighty power. Put on the full armor of God, so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.” Ephesians 6:10-12

“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.“ 1 John 4:4

I woke up early on Monday morning, around 3 AM. I still had a couple of hours before my alarm was supposed to sound, but I was already wide awake. This happens to me in Haiti on occasion – I’ll awaken in the middle of the night, almost as if I’ve heard a loud noise. And maybe it’s possible that some loud noise in the street caused me to wake up, but I don’t think that’s really the reason. I’ve come to believe that I wake in the middle of the night like that due to the Holy Spirit stirring in me, placing something urgent on my heart to start praying for. So, as I started getting ready for my day, I started praying for peace in Haiti.

Since 2018, instability has been on the rise in Haiti. First, it took the form of protesting and demonstrations. Then in 2020, we started hearing whispered rumors of kidnappings for ransom starting. Then, in the summer of 2021, Jovenel Moise, Haiti’s president, was assassinated in his home. Following his assassination, kidnappings and gang violence sky rocketed in the country. Whole sections of cities are under the control of gangs, paralyzing movement and daily functions, making the normal daily routines, such as going to church or school, a calculated risk in certain areas. So… when I woke up on Monday morning prompted to pray for peace in Haiti, I didn’t question it. I knew I had lots to pray for.

What I would learn later that morning from friends and staff is that the gang causing the majority of the problems in the street had continued an assault on another gang that they had begun the week before. Throughout the day, this would go on to cause whole neighborhoods and communities to flee their homes, and many lives innocent lives have been lost. So much destruction. So much loss. And again, so much fear creeping into our hearts.

I didn’t stop praying all day on Monday. In fact, I’m still praying… for His peace, for His justice, for His healing.

But the truth is, friends, I’m tired. We’re all tired. This is another senselessly violent act piled on top of what feels like a mountain of other senselessly violent acts. And as I watch the videos of crowds of people fleeing their homes, as I hear the shock and sadness in the voices of my own friends who have been forced out of their communities, my heart begins to sink.

Today, I spoke with a friend who has been directly affected by this gang’s attack. We shared our sorrow and disbelief over what is happening here right now, and then He shared a great encouragement with me.

“Sometimes I look at what’s happening and think ‘God, what’s going on here? Why does the enemy have so much power?’ But then I remember that God is stronger than our enemy. He already has written down everything the enemy can do. The enemy has his limits. But God doesn’t have any. That’s why I know that He can still change this.”

The enemy has his limits, written and enforced by God himself. The same God who put death in its place… Hallelujah, and amen.

I feel weary and sad right now, in a country full of people who feel weary and sad. But oh how thankful I am that I was reminded of the power of my Jesus today, and how amazing it is to know that same power is available to me.

Greater is He that is in me than the one who is in the world. It is with this power, I ask you to intercede with me on behalf of the country of Haiti.

Mighty Father, You have the final word, the final say, in all things. You are stronger than the grave, You are stronger than death itself, and You are stronger than the evil before us right now. We thank You for freely giving us access to this power. Lord, it is in Your powerful name that I ask for immediate peace to reign down in Haiti. I pray this peace over every community in the midst of the violence. I pray this peace over the angry and violent individuals causing the problems. I ask that truth is brought to the light regarding the people in charge, so that this may end for good, and so that Haiti can move forward in Your peace and power. Amen.

John 11:30-35

“³⁰Now Jesus had not yet entered the village, but was still at the place where Martha had met him. ³¹When the Jews who had been with Mary in the house, comforting her, noticed how quickly she got up and went out, they followed her, supposing she was going to the tomb to mourn there. 

³²When Mary reached the place where Jesus was and saw Him, she fell at His feet and said, ‘Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.’ 

³³When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who had come along with her also weeping, He was deeply moved in spirit and troubled.³⁴ ‘Where have you laid him?’ He asked.

‘Come and see, Lord,’ they replied. 

³⁵Jesus wept.”

I don’t know about you, but these verses are so powerful for me right now. 

This year has been difficult, to say the least, for all of us in one way or another. Of course, the pandemic has touched all of our lives in some way. But it seems like so many of us are dealing with increased stress and heartache… At this point, COVID 19 seems to be the icing on the cake for many. I’ve heard so many stories of loved ones’ loss, lost jobs, and financial strain, while also hearing of betrayals, lost relationships, and emerging conflict. In Haiti, we’re dealing with what seems to be the “new normal”: daily stories of kidnapping, protesting, and sporadic gunfire. This is in addition to the constant reality of economic struggle and oppression within the country… For us, COVID-19 has certainly felt like the straw that broke the camel’s back. 

With this increased pressure – these growing trials and difficulties – it’s normal to think that we all may be less than okay. We may find ourselves feeling depressed and anxious. Tears may fall more frequently. We may find ourselves more irritable. And, yes, some may even feel a little bitter about the circumstances they find themselves in.

For those of us who are Christ followers, we often face the temptation to control these painful and dark situations. Or more accurately, we are tempted to control the way those around us view our trials. We push the image of positivity and strength – us smiling through the storm, barely noticing the fires we walk through. We manufacture the story we tell; we talk about the victory, leaving out the walk through the darkness that leads us to the end result. 

Please know I never want to discourage us from focusing on the goodness of God and His redemptive power. He is a good and merciful God, and I firmly believe that He can redeem any dark situation. In fact, His word states that He is working all things together for the good of those following Him (Romans 8:28). I take comfort in these truths! But I believe that when we are so focused on showing the good and positive, when we skip over the darkness we face, we completely miss an important facet of who our God is. We forget a very important character trait that He possesses, on that the suffering world needs right now: He is empathetic. 

I picked this passage in John, where Jesus grieves with Mary and the community over the death of His friend Lazarrus, because it shows the magnitude of the Lord’s ability to understand the emotional weight of a loss or challenge; He wept. Overcome with grief, and saddened by the pain of his friends, He allows the tears to flow freely. He didn’t hide himself away as He cried. No, He allowed those around Him to see His sorrow and pain. He didn’t put up a front of strength. He didn’t urge the community to be positive or look on the bright side. He didn’t attempt to ‘hold it together’. Rather, He allowed Himself to feel the gravity and weight of the loss, and He grieved with those around who were also in suffering. 

How beautiful it is to serve a God who cares for us! How amazing it is that the God who created the heavens and the earth still sees every tear that you and I cry! He doesn’t shy away from our sorrow and pain, and He doesn’t expect us to simply get over it. I don’t know about you, but I find so much freedom in these truths! 

Dear friends, we don’t have to put up a front of false strength. We are allowed to grieve our losses, be saddened by the trials we experience, and even feel frustrated by the situations around us. Our emotions aren’t beyond what our God can comprehend.

I believe right now the world needs us as believers to create more space for people to feel what they’re feeling. Let’s not push people to be positive and “strong” in the midst of their deep sorrow. Let’s stop creating false narratives of positivity in spaces where vast pain has been felt. Instead, let’s meet people where they’re at in their pain. Sit with your friends and family in their tears. Listen to their frustration and fears with a compassionate heart. Offer them the tender love of Jesus… the same love we find in John 11. The expectation that we are to remain strong, composed, and positive at all times is self-inflicted. We have the freedom to grieve and experience frustration in a safe space… why wouldn’t we want to share that with those in suffering?

Gracious God, thank you. Thank you for accepting us in the midst of our ugly-cries and deep frustrations. You are not afraid of our emotions, and You are not afraid of the darkness we face. Father, I pray that in the midst of dark days, your presence surrounds each person reading this like a comforting hug… for you are with us, even in our darkest moments. I praise You for being a God who isn’t afraid of pain, for being a God who weeps. May we hold these truths close to our heart.

Isaiah 28:16 

“So this is what the Sovereign Lord says: ‘See, I lay a stone in Zion, a tested stone, a precious cornerstone for a sure foundation; the one who relies on it will never be stricken with panic.”

The last two years of my life have been played out in two different worlds. I live full time in Port-au-Prince, Haiti, but I am still very much a Kentucky girl.

I love Haitian spaghetti… But I still crave biscuits and gravy on occasion.

I love exploring the cities in Haiti, but I miss the wide open spaces on my grandparents’ farm.

I appreciate the sounds of a Haitian morning, but I miss the quiet and stillness of a morning in my parents’ home.

I love the culture and new friends I’ve made in Haiti…. And yet I still miss the familiar found in the seemingly insignificant daily moments in the place I come from.

And as true as this is, the opposite is just as true when I’m visiting Kentucky. I never feel quite at home in America now. I always feel slightly out of place and slightly out of the loop. Something is always a little off the mark. Just as I miss my American home while I am in Haiti, I miss my new home while I am in America. This tension – this constant feeling of not belonging – is part of my life. The longer I live in Haiti, the more my mannerisms and daily processes look a little more Haitian and a little less American.  But, I will never be a Haitian. No matter how much spaghetti I eat, how great my Creole becomes, or how confident I become in living my life in this country, I will always be an American. I no longer fully fit in as an American, and I will never fully fit in here in Haiti. This sense of not belonging has left me searching for “home”, for a place where my two worlds collide in harmony; a place of peace.

I share this with you today because I know many of us are feeling this sense of not belonging. Right now, it seems as if the world sees everything in black or white. From political parties to interpersonal conflict, we are urged and pressed to choose a side and only one side. And while this isn’t the same as finding belonging in a physical location, the principal remains… Many of us don’t solely fit into one category, label, or even just one side of an argument. Our heart longs for a place somewhere in the middle – a place of harmony and restoration, a place of truth; a common ground.

As I read through Isaiah 28, I love the response that the Lord offers for the evil leaders of the time. As they boast in rooting their identity and sense of “home” in lies and death, the Lord tells of the firm and righteous cornerstone He has laid for us – He tells us of Jesus. He tells us of the peace and hope found in Him for those who choose to rely on Him. 

I’ve come to terms with the fact that I’m not truly at home in this world. And for those of you reading this that follow Jesus, the same is true for you. You are not at home in this world. The feeling you have of not belonging, while painful, is normal. You don’t belong here, for you are part of a great kingdom. Your home was forged through blood shed for your freedom. It is found in the wounds on His feet and hands, in the tears He shed on our behalf, and in the Word He left for us. We catch glimpses of this home in our moments of fellowship – when we break bread together, share laughs, and share in sorrows.

Yes, we are homesick. We are homesick for a common ground laid on the Cornerstone of truth. But praise God we have a home and family far beyond what we are experiencing today.   

Father, may we remember that our home is found in Your presence. Remind us that You are our peace, comfort, and joy. In this season where our homelessness feels more evident, remind us that You died that we may know a perfect and eternal home. May we we cling to this truth today.

1 Corinthians 13:1-13

“If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. ² And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. ³ If I give away all I have, and if I deliver up my body to be burned,^[a] but have not love, I gain nothing.

⁴ Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant ⁵ or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful;^[b] 6 it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. ⁷ Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

⁸ Love never ends. As for prophecies, they will pass away; as for tongues, they will cease; as for knowledge, it will pass away. ⁹ For we know in part and we prophesy in part, ¹⁰ but when the perfect comes, the partial will pass away. ¹¹ When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I gave up childish ways. ¹² For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known.

¹³ So now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love.”

I have often heard couples with long lasting marriages talk about “the end of the honeymoon phase” in their relationships. The time when their relationship with their partner shifted from being based on how they were “feeling” love to a foundation based on an intentional and mutual choice to love one another no matter what. When I was younger, I was dismissive of this concept to say the least. In my very naive mind, this took the “magic” out of any relationship. But as I’ve grown older, I’ve started to gain a new perspective on this concept. I can now see how incredibly beautiful, intimate, and God-honoring this idea of love-as-a-choice can be. You choose to love your friend, significant other, or family member on their bad days. You choose to love them in their imperfections. You choose to love them, even when it’s difficult. Your love is no longer fleeting and conditional; your love is enduring… Just as Christ’s love endures our sin, shame, and ugly days.

Many of you reading this have likely either wondered, or even asked me, about my experience staying in Haiti after COVID-19 hit. I haven’t been updating social media or my blog very regularly lately. And for those of you who have asked me directly how things are going, I’ve likely been very vague in my responses. The truth is, I have really struggled with sharing about my experiences over these last four months. This has been one of the most difficult seasons of my life. I’m watching the country and people that I feel called to serve crumble in front of my eyes. My heart is heavy and tired for my co-workers, who then became friends, who now are my family. My personal struggles are just piling on top of the anger and pain I feel for my friends.

I’ve watched the Haitian currency fall in value literally on a daily basis, causing the cost of living to rise uncontrollably. Prices go up, while income stays the same, or worse, decreases. I have not gotten through this reality unscathed…. It is much worse for my Haitian friends.

I’ve watched the community I serve fall into an unprecedented season of violence and suffering. Commuting to and from work most days is difficult, and at times, scary. I’m angered by the selfishness and true evil I see in these acts of violence, and my heart is broken for the aftermath of desperation they leave behind. This community has been progressing and growing steadily for some time… To see such a dramatic backslide is jarring. I still don’t quite know how to process it.

I’ve experienced acts of betrayal done out of desperation and fear.

I’ve been called selfish at the end of the day, when I’ve given all I had… of my time, energy, and finances. These words were spoken from a place of pain and suffering, at the end of a day or week of asking for help again and again and again, always to be met with no. It was painful to be called selfish; it was even more painful knowing the people asking truly needed someone to intervene for them.

I’ve also gained a better understanding of the frustration impoverished people experience at some of the words spoken by people in a place of privilege. I’ve grown tired of the romanticized and idealized version of what it’s like to live here, of people telling me how “jealous” they are of my time here; I can only imagine how it feels for Haitians.

At the end of the day, my experience over the last four months has been difficult. It hasn’t been an absolutely beautiful, joyful, or endearing season. I think I owe it to my Haitian friends to be honest about that. Life in Haiti right now is extremely difficult, and the vast majority of the people here are struggling. Life here right now does not look like what many see on a one week trip.

The difficulty I’ve had in communicating this well is that I do still love Haiti. I still love the community I serve. There is a depth and authenticity to my friendships here that I don’t think would have ever formed had I not stayed through this season. I’d venture to say the love and calling I have for this place and these people has been strengthened. My love doesn’t look the same as it did in March… Praise God for that.

I have been praying about the best way to talk about this season in my life since May. I didn’t know how to explain what is happening in Haiti to friends who haven’t lived here. I also really struggled to talk about my own emotions and perspective throughout this season. Finally, the Lord brought me to the infamous chapter in 1 Corinthians.

The truth is, my love for this community has shifted from a “feeling” to an intentional choice. Life here on a daily basis isn’t fun, easy, or simple… but I still have a calling to answer. At the end of the day, I still want to choose obedience. My view of my calling isn’t romanticized anymore; it can’t be. The Lord is refining the love I have for this place into a love that endures the darkness.

I’m committed to the calling the Lord has placed on my life, even when it doesn’t look pretty. I am choosing to love this community; my love can’t rely on how I feel or how my day went. My love can’t rely on whether or not I was able to complete my checklist, how instragrammable my day was, or how easy my commute was. My love can’t be dependent on my comfort, and truthfully, it can’t always depend on my personal safety. My love for Haiti can’t be selfish. It must be one that endures all things.

For those of us who serve in Haiti, be it long term or short term, God is inviting us to take off the rose-colored glasses, and still choose to love His people. He is inviting us to love this place, even if it doesn’t “feel” rewarding, even when all we can see is the immense struggle and darkness in front us. He’s inviting us to love this place, even when we don’t see immediate results… Even when the end result wasn’t we personally envisioned.

This pandemic has forced us all to pause and re-evaluate; I am thankful for that. If we allow it, I firmly believe that God will change our perspective on the communities we serve in such a way that we become better servants.

The broken and hurting need the love and light of Jesus. They need selfless and enduring love.

I am not the same missionary I was in March, and I am praising His name for that reason. I’m a better servant because of it. My prayer is that He continues to refine me and change me.

Father, help us see truth, and help us speak it well. Give us your eyes. Give us your heart for broken places and people. Give us a selfless love. Give us a love that endures all things.

“As a prisoner for the Lord, then I urge you to live a life worthy of the calling you have received. Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love. Make every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace. There is one body and one Spirit, just as you were called to one hope when you were called, one Lord, one faith, one baptism; one God and Father of all, who is over all and through all and in all. But to each one of us grace has been given as Christ apportioned it. This is why it says: ‘When He ascended on high He took many captives gave gifts to His people.’ (What does ‘He ascended’ mean except that he also descended to the lower, earthly regions? He who descended is the very one who ascended higher than all the heavens, in order to fill the whole universe.) So Christ himself gave the apostles, the prophets, the evangelists, the pastors and teachers, to equip His people for works of service, so that the body of Christ may be built up until we all reach unity in the faith and in the knowledge of the Son of God and become mature, attaining the whole measure of the fullness of Christ. Then we will no longer be infants, tossed back and forth by the waves, and blown here and there by every wind of teaching and by the cunning and craftiness of people in their deceitful scheming. Instead, speaking the truth in love, we will grow to become in every respect the mature body of Him who is the head, that is Christ. From Him the whole body, joined and held together by every supporting ligament, grows and builds itself up in love, as each part does its works.” (Ephesians 4:1-16)

The Lord has given me a beautiful gift of a heart that is burdened when I see injustice, and a boldness to call out injustices that I see. He has also blessed me with the gifts of leadership and administration… meaning I am more positioned than others at times to influence the narrative.

But, as our weaknesses are often our strengths out of boundaries, my boldness can turn into bluntness. My righteous anger towards the injustices around me can turn into a rage that becomes ineffective; people can’t see through the truth through my anger-drenched method of delivery. And my gift of leadership and responsibility can push me to take on burdens that were never meant for me.

Right now, the world looks very different, and quite frankly, intimidating to those of us with white skin in particular. We are being confronted by injustices and heartache around us in such a way that we can no longer ignore it. We can’t claim that we didn’t know. We can no longer truly say that we had no idea that racial tensions in the States were at such a high level. We can no longer say that we were clueless to the suffering of the black community. Now, it is directly in front of our faces… and to claim that we can’t see it is to claim that we are choosing ignorance and blindness. And as a the Body of Christ, we have a duty to acknowledge it and work towards change.

However, as is natural with any form of trauma, emotions are high. Anger and frustration seems to be everywhere we look. Claims of accountability tend to look and feel like sharp and cutting words. And the response to sharp and cutting words is often more sharp and cutting words.

As I look at the injustices I see – the racial injustices in the States, the political injustices in Haiti, and the frustrations and attacks I am facing in interpersonal relationships – the Lord is reminding me of the wonderful ways He has equipped me to speak truth and stand up during a time such at this. He also graciously lead me to Ephesians 4 as I start using my voice more.

We are to speak the truth, yes. But we are to speak it in love (v. 15).

Friends, the world is burning with anger right now. Can you feel it? I feel it in my heart. I’m tired of violence being committed against others solely due to the color of their skin. I’m tired of the systems of oppression that are in place. I’m also tired of my own ignorance and blindness towards it. I’m tired of violence in response to violence. I’m tired of harsh words in response to a traumatized people from American leadership. I’m tired of friends choosing blindness and anger, and their frustrations at me when I speak truth and shine light on injustices. I’m tired of dishonesty and lies to preserve systems…. At large, and in my own personal life. And this tiredness… These frustrations, make me want to want to slip into bluntness and harsh words. They make me want to take on the burden for myself, not acknowledging those around me who are working towards the same goal. This exhaustion and frustration threatens to push my strengths into their weakness territory, where my voice is no longer affective.

But I am choosing to remember the call we are given in Ephesians 4: to speak the truth in love, and to seek the knowledge of Christ for the sake of unity and maturity in the Church.

I will continue to speak out and bring awareness to racial injustice. But I will tamper my responses with grace, mercy, and kindness.

I will continue to seek truth regarding the systems of oppression around us. I will listen, even when the people speaking are speaking out of a place of pain and anger. I will show them grace and acknowledge their pain… Even when the words they speak are harsh.

I will continue to hold my fellow believers accountable. We need to hold each other to the highest standard possible. But I will do so in a way that is edifying, not in a way that tears them down.

I will daily check my heart’s desire, and make sure that it lines up with God’s desire for unity. My goal in hard conversations will be that of reconciliation, positive change, and mercy.

I will look into my own heart to see where I am contributing to the injustices around me, and I will allow the truth of Jesus to rip those lies from the enemy out of my heart.

I will use my gifts to speak truth and influence those around me to work towards ending injustice, and I will allow others to hold me accountable in the way I speak truth…. I will speak truth in love.

Friends, won’t you join me in an Ephesians 4 response?

Lord, during this time of pain and anger, help me choose to take action that honors You. May I respond in love. May I approach tough conversations with boldness, and the assurance that You have equipped me to do hard things. May the world see Your light in me. Let Your healing rain down as Your body seeks and speaks truth.

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