DS3 Blogging

Haiti Reflection #3: A Black Man in Haiti

On the first real morning in Haiti, one of the RMI guys asked Greg (our trip leader) if I was Haitian. I was shocked by this at first because I assumed that I obviously looked American. During our trip, someone in the village would walk up to me and ask me a question in Creole. I always responded with 'I do not speak Creole, I am sorry'. Most would give me a strange look at first, then smile with an 'Oh yeah' kind of expression. The most ironic moment was during our children's program when a little girl, no more than 4 years old, comes straight to me, speaking in Creole, with what looks like a small crisis going on in her head. The irony is that Amy Long, a white girl who knows a little bit of Creole, immediately stepped in and the little girl forgot all about me. I thought it would be obvious that I was not Haitian, but apparently, that was not always the case.

As we continued to hang out, it became understood that I was indeed an American with very little Creole and very limited (and very mediocre) French. I wondered what they thought of me as a Black American coming to them. I even wondered if they were disappointed that I didn't know more about their culture even though I looked so much like them. I had (and still have) fear that not being more familiar with their culture would be offensive, but I was not exactly sure how to fix it.

I had a conversation about these thoughts with Benjamin, one of the RMI guys and a Haiti native. I was surprised to find out that many Haitians (including  Benjamin himself at one point) believed that the US was a place only for white people. They thought that the only people who could truly live and thrive in the US were European descendants. So when they see someone like me, a Black man, coming from the states, leading meetings and looking fairly healthy...it gives them hope about life outside of Haiti, and the potential for those of us with African ancestry.

While in Tiburon, I led a number of youth/young adult meetings. My goal was to inspire them to live for Christ and be the Church today while they are young. One of the guys who attended was named Harold. Harold is an artist and works in the Tiburon Children's school. After the meeting, he commented to Amy that he enjoyed hearing me speak. Amy pressed him for more specifics and his comment back to her was 'he looked like me'. It had not really dawned on me, but chances are the number of Black Americans who come in on missionary teams to this country is probably smaller than one would think. What an honor to connect with Harold in such a unique way.

I cannot believe I am gonna say this, and I hope this comes out okay. But as I continue to make trips to Haiti, I hope God uses the fact that I share a common ancestry with these people to be a point of contact and a source of hope. I pray that when they see me, they really see that they can do more than I have ever done. I hope that my Black face is inspiration for them to dream big and believe God that those dreams really can come true. Then maybe one day, they'll be able to inspire others who not only share ancestors but also nationality to trust the God who is able to do exceeding abundantly above all they could ask or think. All praise and glory to the Good God!

Haiti Reflection #2: My friend Amos

I went to Haiti for two reasons. 1) Because I cannot act as if I did not hear God tell me to go (and I have said it many times, I was not excited about going at first.) 2) I have a deep desire to see young adults all over the world inspired to be the Church today, make a positive impact on the planet and advance the kingdom. These two reasons in my spirit were enough to get me on the plane. I did not expect anything more than a confirmation of these two reasons. And as I write these reflections, I can honestly say they were confirmed.  However, these two reasons were not as compelling as they sound nor did I expect their confirmations to be. I could see God telling me to go to Haiti to expand my worldview (like prerequisites for a major in college) and sending me to the young adults in Tiburon in order to fulfill my general calling to lead this generation, regardless of location and culture. I was not expecting to have the moment I am about to describe.

On Saturday morning, we painted the Church. When I say we, I mean our team, the RMI guys (the organization we work with in Haiti), and a whole lot of men from Tiburon Church. All I can say about this event is that it felt like Church...no worship songs or message, but Church none the less. Who knew that a little yellow paint could bring people together the way that it did that morning? It makes me smile just thinking about it.

During the painting day, I met Amos. Amos is a rockstar...he just doesn't know it. I met him as we were painting. We were actually competing for the same spot as we were both just desperate to do something significant with our remedial painting skills. The amount of English that Amos knew was equal to the amount of Creole I knew. And we both stumbled around the little French we knew. So we just smiled and kept avoiding each other's painting space. When I finished, about to go find something else to do, I looked at him, smiled and said 'great to meet you'. He smiled and replied with 'ou', meaning yes. At that moment, I believe (cuz I am never quite sure) I heard the Holy Spirit say, 'Amos is why I brought you here to Tiburon'.

I will explain the significance of that moment in a second. But from that moment, every time I saw Amos (and we saw each other a lot), we had a regular exchange of 'ca va'  (meaning are you well and I am good). Other than that, we did not say much. Just a lot of smiling and fist pounding...but that was more than enough to develop a strong unmistakable bond of friendship. No matter what the event was, I looked for Amos. And if Amos was in the room, he always found me first. I kind of got used to walking out of my bedroom in the morning and seeing him sitting outside...and I was told he was waiting there to see me. I was just as excited to see him. I spent a lot of time with Amos this week.

I'll be honest...I wanted Amos to come back to the states with me and be my 16th brother (you know I have 15 brothers and sisters). I wanted to bring him back to Jacksonville and show him everything I have ever seen. I wanted him to have the same inspirational experiences that have shaped me and challenged me to live a life of purpose. There is a call on this young man's life, but I know that his quality of life and lack of exposure will play a role in his inability to see it.  I made lots of friends in Tiburon this week...but none of them affected me like Amos. I will be coming back to Tiburon for many reasons, but primarily, so I can see Amos again. If you could see my boy smile, you would understand why.

It is great to go places because my job and calling demand it. Great to experience new cultures and deepen my understanding of the world. It is humbling to know that God often pulls us into His heart so that we can see the people that He loves so dearly. But all of these can easily be detached from real relationships and connections. After all, it is one more plane ride, one more cultural nuisance, and one more ministry opportunity.  But when you hear God say, 'I sent you here for a person', it changes everything. You have no idea how that one moment reshaped the entire context of my Haiti trip. How being sent for one person made all of the inconveniences almost unmentionable sacrifices. From now on, when I think of Haiti, Amos' smiling face will be the primary picture in my head. And whenever I hear about a hurricane in the Caribbean, political crisis or civil unrest in the country, the prayers will become very specific. 'Jesus. take care of Amos, and give him the opportunity to be all that he can be for the glory of Your Name'.

I cannot wait to see Amos again, and I am gonna work hard and pray hard that it happens sooner than later. Praise the Good God!

Haiti Reflection #4: Perspectives

Priorities always seem to change on the mission field. There are lots more situations and circumstances that fall into the 'not the biggest deal in the world' category when you are hanging out in the countryside of poorest country in the Western Hemisphere. And there is always a desire to bring those 'mission field values' back home and integrate them into everyday life. There seems to be something compelling about living a simpler life of servant-hood. I definitely felt this...and I am currently discerning which values function best in the context of Haiti and which values should be more than a memory for my daily life.

One value that I need to hang onto is this: NO MORE SPECTATOR CHRISTIANITY. That phrase rang true in my heart during our trip. Part of the reason is that I was encouraging the young adults to be the church, not just come to church. But greater than that, I thought about the various issues that come up in the church community...the issues that I have with the American church (including my denomination and my church), the issues that others have with church leaders (including myself, those I lead and those that lead me). Again, all of those conversations feel different when you are using out-houses and sleeping on other people's thin mattresses.

Tuesday morning of the trip was my self-imposed Sabbath. I wasn't going to do anything but rest and reflect until lunch. Just before I begin to rest, I got into a conversation with one of my team-mates about some tense situations back home. These were stories that I carry around with me daily, still learning how to move on, trust God to be the Savior of the world, and praying that healing and understanding will come sooner than later. My team-mate did not know it, but the conversation tore me up (as it always does). Couple that with the weight of being in devastating poverty and trying to inspire eager young adults who do not even own personal bibles  to be the Church...my Sabbath was not pretty at all. And for about 2 and 1/2 hours, I just mourned, physically ached and mentally begin to shut down. It was good that God ordained very few people to be around me during this time.

And then about 11am, (I think) the Holy Spirit begin to remind me of what I was doing in Haiti. The Holy Spirit brought the faces to my mind...Amos, Obenson, Rudolph, Alexandria, Evelyne - the next leaders of Tiburon Church. He reminded me of the 30 or so young adults who came to the first meeting that seemed to break through something spiritually oppressive and replaced it with a hope for young adult ministry that did not seem to exist in Tiburon before that point. He reminded me that I was there to be a spark for their ministry and movement. And basically (in great Vanetta - my mom - fashion) explained the difficulty of being a spark underneath the weight of the past. I had to get up and leave the irreparable past in the hands of Jesus and move into the irresistible future with Him (via Oswald Chambers).

One of the things that keeps us in the pews are the unresolved and unsettled conversations. In a perfect world, we would have the words, the courage, the forgiveness and the conversations that are usually needed for closure. In a perfect world, closure would be given to all parties involved, not just to those who had the last word or who stood their ground. But this is not a perfect world yet. And while I am all about conflict resolution (believe it or not), Haiti taught me one thing...it is the enemy that wants us to stay in the pews and he will use whatever he can to leave you there. It takes faith to move past the irreparable into the future. It takes courage from heaven to move past the 'left unanswered'. And the reason why the enemy wants us to stay in the pew...because then we'll never be the spark that could be freedom and hope to someone else.

What is keeping you in the 'pew'? What person or what moment is giving you permission to not be actively involved in the kingdom? Who knows...what if the moment you moved past the hurt (which is common for all of us) was the moment that someone else experienced freedom?

The enemy would love to keep you in the pew. And I personally don't really want to give him the satisfaction of one more spectator moment.

Coffee with Jesus

It took me a long time to understand the purpose of prayer...and I am still on the journey. My first memories were of my Great-Grandmother on Sunday mornings. She would start cooking breakfast and then literally get on her knees in the dining room. If I actually made it to Sunday morning breakfast (which was extremely rare), I would join her in the same position...on my knees and leaning on the plastic covered dining room chairs.  I would eventually fall back  to sleep only to be the awakened by the feeling of my skin sticking to the plastic.

The thing that is still special to me about this Sunday morning prayer time is that on a normal day, you couldn't pay Ma Hessie to get on her knees, close to the ground. But on Sunday mornings, you would always find her on her knees in prayer. She did this ritual every Sunday morning, regardless of how she felt or if anyone joined her. I started to understand that prayer was something important...worth waking up for, worth being physically inconvenienced for, worth doing it alone.

The other initial memory of prayer was from my home church. Wednesdays was prayer meeting. Each week at 7pm. Sometimes there was only 10-12 of us, and some weeks there could be as many of 30. Mostly the older folks attended...and me and younger brother of course (cuz we were at everything). Prayer meeting has a simple format: Someone starts a song, we all sing it, someone decides to pray and goes up to the altar, everybody gets up and walks around the front of the church shaking the deacons' hands and the hands of the next pray-er. Then we all sit down and that volunteer would literally pray their heads off...and while they prayed, the rest verbally agreed. The pray-er would finish, and we would do the whole thing again. We could do this a number of times, but somehow we always got out by 8pm. It never got old. It was always strong, always loud, and always honest. Even now, I remember the feeling that God was so close...actually listening to prayers of his people.

The amazing thing about the prayer meeting was that it was never so much about whether God did what we asked. Don't get me wrong...when someone prayed for healing in their body or restoration of a relationship or whatever, we hoped and believed that God would provide. But the thing that kept you coming back to weekly prayer meeting was that it seemed that God was really listening when you sang the song, walked around shaking hands and screamed out a prayer. And that feeling, of a God who hears us, was so comforting. Everything else seemed like mere details. In fact, I don't remember any specific prayer from my prayer meeting days. But I do remember being very careful not to play around too much (as young kids in prayer meetings do) because I somehow knew that God was near and that meant something significant...even for a kid.

Years later, my thoughts on prayer have evolved. I still believe in the power of prayer and I still believe in a God who listens. But I wonder if you have to be on your knees or in a church  at all to lift up a prayer that God hears. I have found myself sitting in coffee shops and having the same feeling I had in those childhood prayer meetings...that everything I'm saying, even in the silence of my heart, is being heard. What's more, I am realizing that prayer is not just about me talking to God, and isn't just God talking to me. In fact, I have found that simply talking at God might be missing the point of this great opportunity we know of as prayer. Could prayer be a conversation, a casual chat with eternal ramifications. It is hard to believe, but I have literally had coffee with God. While I truly believe that prayer is an important topic, I wonder if it at times becomes inaccessible to those who find it all confusing. So I am asking the question to myself, through the scriptures, to some other folks I trust and to God himself...could prayer be as simple as having coffee with God?

Join me on Tuesdays at the A218 Main Gathering to hear more thoughts...

Ode to My Friends

Sorry for the abscense. They say that in order for a blog to be popular, you have to post at the very least twice a week. Well, I always seem to miss the popularity contests of my life, let alone compete in them. Hope you are enjoying  this...

It has been a trying week. All good though. I have attributed most of my issues this week to what many Christ-followers call spiritual warfare. The next few months of my life will hold many steps forward, I believe, for the kingdom of God and the plan of God in my life and in the life of the community I lead. Jesus said that the kingdom suffers violence daily, and the violent take it by force (Matthew 11). With those words in mind, I am aware that there is force in the universe that is against all things that are good and pure and positive and restorative in the world. I am also convinced that being a part of that restorative movement will be tough, but fruitful at the end of the day. So while there is opposition, mostly unseen, I (and I know we) press on for the future. 

I am not going to talk so much about the opposition though. There are some interesting stories like my wallet being run over and soaked by the rain. I would rather spend this blog highlighting some of the people that came alongside me right as I needed them. They may never know how much they mean to me. And hey...if your name doesn't pop in the next couple of lines, please know that I love you and how grateful I am that you are in my life. The hard thing about being me is that every moment of my day, people like Geri Bass, Harley Henry, Alecia Frederick, Ryan King and Jon Kretzer do small things that make me thankful I am alive. It isn't a complete list by any means.

Okay...Ode to my friends...

To David Sandlin...who didn't mind bunking with the guy who was sicker than he would admit.
To Joey...who consistently tries to relieve any stress that presents itself in my life.
To Kelsey...who listened to every rough moment the morning we left for DC without laughing.
To Adam...who made it easy for me to be honest.
To Daniel...who helped me persevere during a moment of stage fright.
To Gil...who always has a way of making me smile just when I need him to.
To Jenn...no one has ever made me sound so hilarious - thanks for the instant replay!
To Anna...who cared so much for my khackis that she would not let me get out in the mud.
To Damien, Jackie, and Amanda...you'll never know how much the film festival meant to me - better than Christmas.
To Kate Q...who single handedly made Friday a better day.
To Kevin and Kelly...who picked me up from UNF and gave my car a jump - it did my soul good.
To Brett...who is always assisting me in my long journey to manhood.
To Erica...it is always a self esteem booster, even if I blush.
To Mike T...makes me thankful we started Forward.
To Joel...'recalculating' and driving in Sydney that first day.
To Xin Hua...seriously, I think we are gonna be brothers one day.
To Scott...for affirming the call on my life without fail every time.
To Bruce...all I needed was a text message -  thanks!
To Marcus...I don't deserve the grace you show me.
To Sam O...I know friendship has to be a spiritual gifting.
To Katie W...for always making me feel like I am funny.
To Tibbs...reminding me that we are never alone.
To Wade...for every time you could have said no.
To Alison...for always acting like you have a minute or an hour.
To Dan and Michelle...cuz you always wanna know how it went - no matter what 'it' was.
To the A218 Community...such an honor to serve every single one of you.
To the good people at CrossRoad Church...you have literally changed my life.

And finally, to Nelson...for consistently calling out the leader in me.

I missed so many people...might have to do another one of these. But it is late and I have a big day tomorrow. So please know this: Every time I say out loud, 'I love my life'...some of that is because of you. Yes you, the one who is reading this blog right now. Be well and love your life.

D

Great Tuesday Gathering

So landing in Jacksonville at 8:30am on Tuesday was not the highlight of my trip or my week, but wasn't altogether bad. Had a great meeting with Kelsey, Joey and Cody (somebody needs to move to Jacksonville next year). And then went home for what I thought was gonna be a nap...darn jetlag.

Thankfully, I had done a great deal of work on the talk for that night on the plane ride home. This series we are in right now, 'Commissioned' isn't coming out as neatly as I want it to because it is so close to my heart. I am really amped about seeing college students and young adults in Northeast Florida being the Church. So my thoughts are just kinda pouring out...but I think the Tuesday crowd is getting some good stuff.

So anyways...tonight's gathering ended in the most memorable way ever. We all shared from the Lord's table (Communion, Eucharist, Lord's Supper) but the way we did it took a lot longer than I had anticipated. So I felt the need to stop in the middle to release people who were waiting for the close of the service, and then continue serving. The result was about an hour of unplanned community. The band kept playing (really well too), people were still in line at the Lord's Table, others started talking and others were grabbing dessert. It was awesome! I know it sounds like it was chaos. But actually, it was a community of Christ-followers being together and enjoying the presence of the King all at the same time. Hard to explain I guess...but still really really special. What a way to come back.

It didn't stop there...two of our awesome community members, Dan and Jessika are going through some complex trials right now. So a few of us (actually a lot of us) came together after the gathering to pray for them. It was one of the most casual, yet really spiritual and honest prayer meetings I've ever sat in. We laughed, some cried, lifted up everything from the big picture to the details, asked our Father for what we we wanted, and confessed that we trusted whatever His will was for their situation. Again, so not hyper-spiritual, yet I could feel that God was completely pleased. In fact, I am still unpacking what that prayer meeting might have done for my personal prayer life.

One of our leaders, Stacy Arnett, is in Spain this summer. She has been quoted as saying something to the effect of, 'everyone in A218 should go out of the country alone for a period time...all you'll think about is the community'. Probably didn't get that completely right, but I can testify that for a week and a half, all I thought about in Australia were the college students and young adults (and older adults) that call A218 their community. And to come home to such a gathering was just great for my soul. I guess this posting is just to say...I LOVE ACCESS218!

Sydney - Day 1

I will save you the drama of the few days leading up to this year's Sydney trip...just thankful to be here honestly. Joel and I landed in Sydney on Saturday morning, grabbed a rental car, plugged in the handy GPS (thanks to Joel for downloading an Australian map) and headed for the Hills District. Again, anecdotes that don't need to be shared at this point, but Joel did a great job driving on the right side (I mean wrong side) of the road today.

For those readers who know my buddy Sam, he is doing well. For those who have not had the chance of meeting the funnest friend ever, come with me to Sydney next year. Sam continues to be the carefree guy I know and love. He and his dad are in a new place in the suburb of Glenwood (not far from where they were before and still pretty close to Hillsong Church). Love staying with the O'Donnells.

Joel and I left for lunch at the Centrepoint Tower. They've changed the decor...it's now a little more trendy cafe looking and less general restaurantish. The view from this place is amazing...you get to see most of the city of Sydney. They did serve kangaroo...and yes, it was pretty good. I hate like I didn't have a message to write for a year, and Joel ate like Joel.

Then we went to the Sydney Opera House for a free screening of short films. It just so happens that a film festival is in Sydney this weekend. It is called the Message Sticks Indigenous Film Festival. Most of the films in this festival have been made by or about indigenous people (primarily Aboriginals in Australia but also others such as Cree and Eskimo Native Americans, etc). Dude...the films were fantastic...completely. Particularly fascinating was an aboriginal doc called Who's Paintin' Dis Wandjina?. Not gonna ruin it...you'll probably see it at a Community Night in the Fall as it is that good. So glad God allowed me the chance to be here for this event...I am a blessed man who loves independent film.

One last thought from today...I overcame my fear of (and to some degree failure in) driving in Sydney. Joel did a great job getting us to the suburbs, but after that he decided that it was time for me to drive the rental. So I did...and well, I'm here a few hours later alive and in one piece. Rock on...

It's gonna be a great week. This is the 10th annv of my first trip to Sydney and I am so thankful to have had the chances to come so many times (this being my 8th trip). Hopefully, I'll be able to keep blogging while here...until then, love your life...

My new friend Xinhua!!

So we hung out with some Chinese scholars today...amazing time. Like nothing else I have ever done. We participated in an English Corner lunchtime where we helped visitors and immigrants from China work on their English. And I made a new friend, Xinhua Ren. He is the president of the Chinese Student Scholars Association (or something similar) and has been in the states for a couple of years. He is studying engineering (something to do with magnetic fields...way cool!) I particularly enjoyed explaining my slang greetings including homes, dude, 'you my boy' and 'you're a rockstar!'. He wants to take me to an authentic Chinese restaurant in Orlando...I'll be making another trip down here really soon. More than that, I am looking forward to developing a friendship with my new buddy from China. It was a really rewarding day of building relationships. See how happy I am to meet Xinhua...