September 2012 Postings

09.19.12 - art ross - reflections on psalm 139:1-6, 13-18;
This Pastoral Reflection began sitting on the roof as dawn was breaking over Port-au-Prince, Haiti. Haiti is said to be the poorest country in the Western Hemisphere. Two weeks earlier, troublemakers filled the streets, smashing thousands of windows, overturning countless garbage cans, looting stores. Food prices were going up; incomes were going down. By our arrival, all was back to normal – normal chaos, normal poverty and exploitation, normal crowded streets.

As first light gleamed behind the mountains, the air was cool, roosters were crowing, shoe shine men were ringing their bells, donkeys were braying. Jumbled homes, built almost on top of one another, women going to the well for water, and animal sounds, created a vision of first century Palestine, a land of unstable, often violent, political forces; a land of poverty and faith, a land of hunger and hope. The words of Psalm 139 spoke with a different power than would have been possible at home.

Imagine various settings in which the Psalm has been heard, will be heard: a hospital room – awaiting surgery, or after first holding a new born child, or following a death; in a prison cell, at the beach on vacation, or, as morning comes to Haiti. Imagine, and listen as the Psalmist shares the conviction that God knows us, wherever we may be. That conviction is the heart of Biblical revelation.

God searches us, sees us as we are, where we are. God accepts us. Acceptance is not the same as approval; grace bridges the gap. Haiti came into being through the slave trade. Haiti became a free nation before slavery ended in the United States. Freedom for slaves in Haiti stirred up fear in our own nation. Remember that fact and ask, “What does it mean to be known by God, searched by God, to realize that God is “acquainted with all our ways,” both personally and as a nation.

When we see the gap, the gap between acceptance by the love of God, and lack of approval, a lack of approval that leads to the judgment of God, we begin to see the gap, the divide, and to know the power of costly grace that bridges the gap. Such knowledge “hems us in” even as it becomes “too wonderful” for us to grasp. Such knowledge becomes “the hand of God upon us.”

The power of Psalm 139 is its honesty. The Psalm is like a mirror: the Psalm reveals us as we are: “fearfully and wonderfully made.” God, our creator, has instilled both attributes within us. We are fearfully made - because God has created us and not we ourselves. We are finite, limited and that knowledge stirs up fear. We have the capacity to make choices, but we cannot choose the consequences of our choices; that knowledge stirs up fear. Consequences of the slave trade in Haiti and in our own nation are tragic reminders of that truth.

We are wonderfully made: we have a unique capacity for wonder, prayer, song, friendship, love, and redemption. Morning worship at the guest house where we stay in Haiti is a reminder of that truth. As first light filled the sky, a bell rang. I left my rooftop perch for the next level below, the chapel, to join about 20 boys and young men who live in the home. All came as orphans or children rescued from abuse. They begin each day with worship: psalms, prayer, and song, followed by shared embraces. Then they are off to do assigned chores, share breakfast, and attend school.

 I have been coming to this home for eight years; I have watched shared worship, shared support, shared education, shared friendship give these boys and young men a life beyond anything they could otherwise have imagined. In a country that often reveals all that stirs up fear in human life, I have seen shared faith and friendship create wondrous joy and hope.

Bill Nathan, who first came to the home at the age of eight, is now 24 and the resident director. Muscular, calm, athletic, and artistic, Bill leads worship. I have known Bill for almost a decade. When we visit, he quietly shares his faith, his certain trust that God directs the path of his life; that God is acquainted with all his ways.

Bill was born in the mountain city of Hinche; his father died first, then his mother. He was sent to live with a woman who beat him and turned him into her personal servant. Roman Catholic nuns rescued him and sent him to the home in Port-au-Prince. Before her death, his mother had shared her strong faith with her son. Her conviction that “God is good” has shaped Bill’s faith, become an anchor for his life.

Over the years, visitors to the home recognized his gifts as a drummer and his intelligence as a maturing man. Bill has now performed in North Carolina, New York City, Brazil, Zambia and for the Pope on his visit to Canada a few years ago. Bill knows fear and Bill knows wonder.

Bill can help us hear the closing words of the Psalm. Bill lives in a land of poverty and instability; he is surrounded by boys who are victims of tragedy and cruelty; he is a descendant of slaves. Yet, Bill can praise God, confident that God has knit his life together, woven in the depths of the earth; Bill is convinced that God’s eyes beheld his unformed substance, and that God’s thoughts for him are greater than the sand on the Haitian beaches, and that at the end – whatever that end may be – God will still be with him. Bill becomes a witness, a witness to peace-filled faith.


Worship is over; the boys scatter. I return to the rooftop. The sun is now above the mountains. A new day has arrived, a day in which we are called to go forward, trusting the God who has searched us and known us, the God we praise, knowing very well that we are fearfully and wonderfully made.

09.19.12 - jarrett mclaughlin - Bondye bon - God is good;
The first time I went to St. Joseph's Home for Boys, I was a 20-year-old college student on a ten day trip to Haiti.  I still remember that cup of cold water and the boys singing and bringing us flowers upon our arrival.  I remember making Michael write the words to "This Is The Day" for me in Kreyol so I could learn to sing along for at least one song (I still carry that one with me).  I remember meeting my prayer partner Lucson and how I quickly befriended him and his brother Melchi.  I remember at the end of my trip, we exchanged the crosses we wore around our necks.  I have a number of crosses from a number of different places in the world, but I have a special place in my heart for that one. 
I remember Michael telling our group that if we ever wanted to come back and stay - to just get to Port-au-Prince and they'd take care of us if we'd work with them.

A few years later, after I graduated, I remembered that offer.  Before long, I found myself living and working at Wings - terrified out of my mind, but open to the blessings of this special home.  From Esther, I learned the humble power of what it means to feed somebody else.  From Gesner, I learned the practice of watching...of just watching the people walk by in the street.  From Celeste I learned just how much joy could be packed into the word "Yeah!"  I learned more than I could ever put in words. 

Bondye Bon...God is good indeed.