Three and a Half Days

Three and a half days without a mirror, electricity, internet, or computer. Three and a half days of peace, community, rest, reflection, worship, mountains, and cool air.

Saturday marked the beginning of a week-long vacation from school. My work hiatus started with a relaxing 3 ½ hour trip outside of Port-au-Prince to the forested mountains beyond. Each day hearkened a unique rest that I hadn’t imagined going into this trip. There were no feelings of missing out on something or not fully meeting potential or expectation. The time was completely removed from limitless options to “do” stuff and to achieve things.

It was purely a time of rest. Each day I fell asleep in a hammock strung between two pine trees. I wrote down reflections, dreams, emotions, notes, and things God spoke to me. I began reading the Book of Numbers. I began reading a new book, Dealing with the Rejection and Praise of Man by Bob Sorge, that was lent to me by a friend. This book is steadily convicting me at the point of the journey I am on and where I have been in the past with this issue of relying on man’s acceptance to determine my emotional wellbeing.

 

Here are a few selections from Sorge’s book:

“Now it’s nice to get acceptance from other people. But for the believer it’s not necessary when we realize we are accepted and embraced by the great God of the universe. The acceptance of people becomes secondary. All I really need is His acceptance. When I have that, I can face rejection from anyone and everyone else.” (28)

“Many people are touched by people’s acceptance and thus they are touched by their rejection. Their lives can become like an emotional roller coaster. Say something nice to them, and they’re riding high; say something the wrong way to them, and they’re devastated.” (30)

How often in the past I have relied on the praise of man to measure my aptitude, giftings, success. Somehow, those around me always sung choruses of praise to me. How often in my current season have I faced rejection from man; I have quaked under the words, the hurt.

I am reminded of how fortunate I am to hold so many precious gifts from my Father. He has provided in ways beyond measure, and when I take the time to write them down I am amazed at how faithful He has been throughout my history. Even on this journey of learning the proper place for praise/rejection of man, I see His graciousness as I stupidly find myself on that “emotional roller coaster” time and time again. I am thankful that He has continued to provide for each part of my being in ways that I could not begin to measure.

 

As Thomas Obediah Chisholm wrote from experience:

"Great is Thy faithfulness! Great is Thy faithfulness!

Morning by morning new mercies I see;

All I have needed Thy hand hath provided

Great is Thy faithfulness, Lord, unto me!"

Thank You, dear Father for drawing me close and inviting me in. :)

The Moment

 What did you do with your 24 hours today? Did yesterday spill over into today? Was today like going through the wring cycle in a washing machine or was it peaceful and refreshing like sitting down to share your heart with someone who knows you and loves you well? Was it a little bit of both?

In the passing moments of this life, I am learning a bit more of what it means to live in each moment. I’m finding a bit more joy in events as they come and go. I’m stressing a little less about how things will play out. When I’m in the middle of one of my 9^th grade classes making connections between the power structure set up in Lord of the Flies and how it is no less real in our lives; when I’m making dinner with a good friend and talking through pasts and ups and downs of being teachers; when I’m taking a ride to church on the back of Mark’s moto—wind and fresh air blowing over me; when I’m talking to my sister across the ocean because Skype tells me I can…these are places where I am savoring time as it passes. As I confess sins and receive Grace, I am given new revelation on true repentance. As I sit in my room and enjoy the space I have here, I am rejuvenated. As I realize that our electricity situation here at the house has drastically shifted for the positive, unexpectedly, I am reminded how good I have it right now. Thank You.

I’m not always in the moment though. Sometimes I’m minutes behind—agonizing over something that was said (to me or by me) and trying to get a grasp on how to treat the exchange. Sometimes I’m hours ahead—imagining my next meal. Sometimes I’m days ahead, months ahead, and sometimes I am even years ahead.

Someone told me today that God is exactly where we are right now—but He’s not in the hypothetical situations we are playing out in our heads. He is here. He is now. When those future hours, days, months, years arrive, yes, He will be in those, too. But not until they come.

I have a good Dad, and I want to trust Him more. I want to find Him more readily as the seconds pass by before me. I want to be living where my breath is—where His breath is, His Spirit.

Rest

When was the last time?

The last time for what?

Well, when was it?

When was the last time I realized the beauty of rest,

That it was divinely created,

And that it leads the way to more fullness?

Rest.

There’s not a need for justification,

Or a reason to explain

Because it was publicly sanctioned

By our Creator, as a “thing.”

A built-in kind of thing

And not a “if you feel like it,”

Or “If you can get the time off,”

Kind of deal.

They say in teaching that modeling

Is one of the most important aspects

Of getting students to understand something.

God must’ve thought the same thing

Because He demonstrated what it was like

To take time “off.”

“And on the seventh day God finished his work that he had done,

And he rested on the seventh day from all his work that he

Had done. So God blessed the seventh day

And made it holy, because on it God rested from all his

Work that he had done in creation” (Genesis 2:2-3)

And I don’t think—as big of a job as creating

ALL things is—that He needed to sit down

And take a breather.

I don’t really believe that the Creator & Sustainer

Would’ve been hard up if he’d have continued

Working.

What I think is that He is a good teacher,

Just like His Son,

And He knew that someday someone like me

Or someone like you, might need to

Get the picture

That stopping.

Pausing.

Resting.

Is a beautiful and necessary part of our

Existence.

Oh, the things we can do

By the work of our hands and the imaginations

Of our brains!

They are absolutely glorious and reflect

A Majestic, Dream-Schemer!

But my hands have overworked for days,

And my brain has burned holes in my skull

As analytical battles have ensued,

And I am thankful that built into the best

Way of living is time to

Stop. Reflect. Listen. And simply be. 

Lead Me, Faithful One

Count me faithful,
Praising You from the inside,
I am Your temple,
Make Your home in me.
I will remember that You are
My faithful One.
I will listen as You lead,
and pull me closer when I
strain away.

Make me willing to go with You
to the grave, into the darkness to bring the light.

I believe, I believe,
Father help me in my unbelief.
Let me drink deeply of Your hope,
Your truth.

Close Call

Woven like a basket in and out of

Machine openings

Dodging past ditches, diving

Below ground level.

Dwat (right): past the National

Petrol station on the corner.

Through the street with pedestrians, merchants,

Mangos, fig, banan, eggs, fried food delights.

Revved engine, Bwini alerts, warns, intimidates

Crossing women, men, and children—not

Slowing down, but taking the right away.

Stuck between tap tap and wheel barrow

Overflowing with sugar cane—some sliced, others

Whole, long, uncut.

Inwardly, I perk up. Secretly craving a “close call,”

What a fool I am to seek such a thrill.

To my delight, my leg, my thigh brush up against

The barrow of sweet fibrous branches

Of sugar cane,

And I am instantly alive,

And I’ve had a close call, a touch with the street.

I know I’m a fool, but in the moments in between

Predictability and control,

My heart throbs to reach out and touch the

Edge, in small doses

Even though it might not be wisdom that entreats me. 

The Girl Child

My body aches internally,

Sobs of wretched pain

Felt by a child, a girl, a child.

Sitting at my desk frantically

Planning away the next 1 ½ week-destiny of

My 9^th graders in Freshman English.

Running something off the printer requires

A trip to the teacher’s lounge…

Which is only halfway to the street to buy a soda.

So I went the other half and stood in line for a refreshing cold one.

I noticed Monsieur John wore a raincoat,

One that has pockets in random, out-of-the way places.

I began asking him if he keeps anything in the sleeve pocket.

He said “no,”

But I told him that was a good pocket, and

He should use it!

All of a sudden a beating ensued.

Linda, who I bought my racy, hot pink shoes from

Stood over a young girl, beating her with her hand, her arm.

The girl began screaming and sobbing, but she

Couldn’t get away because she was up against a wall,

And standing beside two vendors.

I cried out at Linda, so did Vernes.

The child, girl, child dodged out of Linda’s path just as

Linda picked up a 32 gallon milk tin,

About to throw it at her.

The child, girl, child ran behind Vernes—

The sweet, meek one who sits beside

Monsieur Mark and converses with me when I

Step outside the gate to flag down a moto

Or purchase a refreshing cold one.

Vernes just stood there in front of the girl,

Casually leaning towards the wall.

The girl, now sobbing, was in pain.

Linda was furious.

Monsieur John attempted to explain to me,

As I stood mouth gaping open.

My heart was racing, and I couldn’t understand him.

Another customer came to purchase a refreshing cold one,

And I moved to the side.

Still stunned.

Monsieur John responded again, and

I asked if she had taken something.

I believe the answer was “yes.”

Vernes helped respond as well as I asked her how the girl was

On my return inside the gate.

I guess she stole something.

She gave me something in return,

An internal chill…

Does the child, girl, child have a mother waiting for her? 

Back

Back home in a new house. It feels good to be back in Port-au-Prince again—reconvening with friends; planning out a focused school year; asking God to give me the grace, wisdom and understanding to walk this out; situating myself in a new abode (that has a balcony!); and putting my spotty Kreyol back into action! J Oh, and finding my way back to Monsieur John’s Coke stand!

I am thankful for a year to look forward to. I am thankful to start a new year, with new knowledge, new direction, and people to encourage, support, and guide me as I go. Last night, the Lord led me to this verse:

“I will hasten and not delay to obey your commands.” ~Psalm 119:60 This is my heart (and when it’s not what I’m driven by, I pray that the Lord would redirect me).

As I’ve been unpacking my boxes and suitcases over the past week, I am mindful that it is a symbolic analogy to the path of my life. I think the Lord is on an ever-existing mission to draw me close to Him and bring glory to His son via my own unpacking. When I am open, bare before him—vulnerabilities, struggles, issues, insecurities laid out—I make Him look good. And by His grace, He is most glorified when (by His grace), I am most satisfied.

So let my heart be filled with the joy that humankind cannot itself stir up. Let me be invigorated not of my own accord or from my own strength but from a divine source that never stops pouring forth.