I’m fully aware that some things aren’t going to be right in here. Some things will just personal experiences that I will incorrectly generalize but bear with me. I’ve made several attempts to write about this. “This” being that big, scary, capital G word: God. For some of you, this is maybe right where you stop reading, and while I’d urge you not to...I’ve been there.
I grew up Catholic. Not to be confused with the “Christeasters-” the people who only went to mass on Christmas and Easters. Nope, unfortunately, this mass thing was an every Sunday occurrence in my family. When we were younger, it was somewhat more bearable being that it was socially acceptable to take a nap at that age. I remember being jealous of my little brother as my two older siblings and I would get in trouble if we didn’t sit up straight and keep our eyelids just above our pupils; but my little brother, nope, he was passed out practically snoring on the green cushioned pew just a foot away.
God and the church really meant nothing to me until I had my life turned upside by this little island in the Caribbean. This place wasn’t your crystal-clear blue-green waters, cabanas on the beach, or mimosas pool side kind of Caribbean that we see flash across our social media platforms. It was more of a place that hardly looked like anything I had seen before. There were no towering buildings, there were no “perfect” landscapes, there were no people in suits waiting on street corners, no restaurants, no streetlights, no houses. It was a place with little pockets of villages that were hardly distinguishable as “villages.” There was one long dirt road some may consider a freeway spitting up dust on the tin roof, 2 beam-houses and “shops” that lined the dirt road.
I’d love to say I had some spiritual revelation in which God was calling me to sign up for this spring break trip to Haiti, but that would be a lie. To be completely honest, I didn’t really know God at that point. I knew him like many Catholic kids knew him.... don’t make Him mad or you’ll probably end up in hell. Okay, maybe dramatic but that’s how it felt. 7 years later and I still can’t tell you why I signed up for that trip. I remember telling myself, “what does it matter if you sign up, it’s so competitive and you’re not even religious, no chance you get accepted.” I’m somewhat ashamed to admit this, but like any great leader, I signed up because my friends did. I remember my friends growing more excited as the weeks passed until we found out who got accepted. I also remember wanting to throw up a little every time they brought it up as I knew I wasn’t cut out for this. We were sitting in my friend’s basement when the email got released. Everyone lit up with joy as we all read “congratulations you have been accepted.” Everyone other than me. My heart hit my stomach.
I went to the pre-Haiti meetings once a month dreading the day in March we would be leaving. I thought about dropping out and giving my spot to someone who I thought was far more qualified after leaving every meeting (I’ve later learned God doesn’t choose the qualified). I wouldn’t allow myself to accept the fact that I was truly about to fly to a third-world country with a group of people who I barely knew. After 8 months of merely faking it, there was no more faking I could do. My 3:45 am alarm went off as a sat on the side of my bed with tears welling up in my eyes. I brushed them away and quickly went back to pretending this wasn’t really happening. I boarded one plane and was quickly on my way to Atlanta to wait out a 7-hour layover before taking off for Haiti. I was 5 and half hours into the 7-hour layover when I started looking for flights back to Indianapolis. I tried my hardest to think of any excuse I can find to convince the leaders I couldn’t go anymore. It was too late.
On the bright side, I had worked myself up so bad in the airport that I slept like a baby throughout the flight. I woke up 30 minutes to landing with a sense of peace I have never felt in my entire life. Crystal clear waters, mountains for miles and a place that welcomed us and me with open arms.
In those 7 days, I saw things and felt things I can’t explain. People with nothing, and I mean nothing were somehow the happiest people I have ever met. They loved strangers, strangers who did not look anything like them and seemingly had no commonalities. They loved us and each other harder than I have felt and seen love in my life. It wasn’t until I started reading more that I realized these people loved like Jesus loved. Effortlessly, without borders, unconditionally and patiently. It was 7 straight days of peace and community.
I took 2 more trips to Haiti, but more importantly, my daily life to this day was changed because of those trips. I’ve realized more than anything else, God doesn’t choose the qualified who seem to have it all together. He chooses the broken, the damaged, the hopeless day in and day out. He moves mountains in people’s hearts and communities through the broken and hopeless. You don’t have to have it all together, it’s not about the church you attend or how much your practice. It's your willingness to say yes in the most uncomfortable times. It’s the tough conversations. It’s the putting love above all else. It’s the connection, the family you build when you say yes to Him. A walk with God is anything but easy, but it wouldn’t be without my friends in Haiti that I realized how worth it this continuous walk is.
My hope for the world is that everyone gets to experience the love and community that the Haitians have. Just say yes.