We are his hands

Once in Haiti, I asked God, "Don't you see this?" I've shared his response many time with other visitors. "Of course I do, that's why I showed it to you. And now that you see it, the question is, 'What are you going to do about it?"

By its very nature, omnipotence is limited only by the character of the Deity. We can assume that God will put his omnipotence on display at some point in history and forcibly eradicate those who exploit the poor and oppress the powerless, but that narrative ultimately invalidates the life and teachings of Jesus. Such an attitude suggests that even God is going to come to the conclusion that this "turn the other cheek" and "Do not resist an evil person" and "Whatever you did to the least of these, you did to me " stuff just isn't practical, and doesn't work.

On the other hand, if we accept that God has chosen to limit himself to what we will do in partnership with him, suddenly Christ's invitation to join him in the redemption of the world takes on a new sense of urgency.

Prayers like "Your will be done on earth as in heaven" aren't empty phrases about a distant time, and statements like "Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God" take on new meaning when our nation is involved in three separate wars.

So it comes back to the question that I am answered with when I ask God how he can allow injustice to stand. In the example of Jesus, we see a God who identifies with prostitutes, with the needy, with the hungry and with those who are being crushed by those in power.

And the question is this: Where am I going to stand?



Copyright © 2011 by David Learn. Used with permission.


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Christophany of the lowly

When I first saw her, Nakosa was a quiet child, easily overlooked and eager to avoid notice.

Nako was hardly friendless -- Mawoole in particular was her partner in silliness and little girl escapades, but there was no denying that she found our presence intimidating. We were loud, expansive intruders into her home, throwing her off her routine, speaking a language she didn't know, possessing items and doing things she couldn't entirely grasp.

New to the House of Blessings since we visited last August, Nako was from Callebasse, literally from next door. She had been living with her aunt, her mother and other relatives, in a house that we stuccoed last summer. At some point during the past year, she made the move into the orphanage while her mother, who is blind, remained with Nako's aunt.

Friday night was bingo night, and the other children played bingo with enthusiasm. Nako, for her part, clearly wanted to, but she had no idea what she was doing. She sat next to me, a bingo card before her, and watched, silent and unsmiling, as everyone around her laughed and joked and placed tokens on their cards.

I noted that she was having difficulty, but it was Joshua who really helped her. He stepped in, sat next to her, and as the game continued, he did everything he could to bridge the language and experience barriers, and helped Nakosa play along. He'd ask me to repeat the numbers in Kreyol so he could say them, and ask Nako if she could find them on her board, guiding her along the way.

That night, after bingo was put away and our team had all gathered around for devotions, I shared with the team what Joshua had done, how he had passed over the older, friendlier girls whom he already shared a rapport with, and let others play with Christina, our little snuggler. Instead, he had focused his time, his effort, and -- most of all -- his attention on the girl who had nothing to naturally draw us to her and, in the process, had shown her the heart of God, directly and powerfully.

I'd like to say that Nako was utterly transformed by her experience with Joshua that night, that the dogged and haunted expression left her completely over the next few days, and that every time we saw her, her faced glowed with the beauty within that was wanting only to be awakened. But she didn't.

I'd love to say that Nako became as constant in our experiences as Christina and Sarah, but she didn't do that either.

What she did do, though, was to become less reserved around us, at least around Joshua and me. She engaged in more word play with us, she let Joshua show her the pictures he had taken of her last year, and she smiled and waved a lot more when she caught us looking at her.

It's not the end of the journey, but it is a good step.

Copyright © 2011 by David Learn. Used with permission.


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