In preparation for Haiti

Most of you know this, but I went to Honduras for eleven days in January.  I haven't been able to go more than about 20 hours without thinking about that experience and how much I want to go back.  I might not get the opportunity to go back to Honduras, but I'm hoping to travel again this January.

The professor with whom I traveled takes a group to Haiti on the years he doesn't go to Honduras.

I am elated about Haiti.

I loved my experience in Honduras so much that I cannot even imagine how much fun I'll have in Haiti.  I just want to hang out with kids again.  Sweat in the sweet heat and giggle with some kids on the front porch of a school.  I've been Googling things about Haiti for the last week in anticipation. 34% of the population is younger than fourteen.  I couldn't be more excited.

Haiti intimidates me.

I don't know how to speak even a tiny bit of French.  And French Creole sounds even more exhausting.  How am I going to connect with people when I can't understand anything? When I can't speak anything?  But if I learned anything while I was in Honduras, it's that laughter and silliness are languages without distinctions.  I might be alright.

My heart breaks for Haiti.

Haiti was the first post-colonial black-led nation in the world.  They endured so much persecution by the Spanish and French over the years that their government has been pretty unstable for its entire existence.  It is currently the poorest country in the Western Hemisphere.  Poorer than Honduras? I think to myself. How my heart breaks for the people there.

Haiti is hurting.

In 2010, an earthquake struck Haiti, killing over 300,000 people and leaving over 1.5 million people homeless.  Four years later, they still haven't recovered.  They may never fully recover.  Their environment is subject to extensive deforestation and soil erosion.  And there is barely enough potable water to provide everyone with enough throughout the year.

Haiti can teach me so much.

Over 95% of Haitian citizens are black.  Over half of the population practices voodoo (although the census says that they are 80% Roman Catholic).  I am so incredibly interested in the culture there.  Not as a specimen of study, but as people I'd love to have relationships with.

I am so excited to meet my brothers and sisters in Haiti.  I'm going to be hitting everyone up for money soon.  It makes me ill to ask for money like this, but these trips are formational and completely priceless to the ministry for which God is calling me.

My Restlessness

Restless (adj.) - unquiet or uneasy, as a person, the mind, or the heart; unceasingly active; averse to quiet or inaction, as persons.

I think my restlessness started when I was very young. We moved around a lot when I was a child and once you are accustomed to something for 14 years, it becomes a part of who you are. Every two years (sometimes sooner) I feel a type of tugging- a want for less routine, more spontaneity, something new, a purging of all that is old.

My restlessness has led me to do some silly things. I begged my mom to redecorate my bedroom while I was in high school because we had no plans of moving. When I was in college I cut off all of my hair in the quest for something new and different. Sometimes I try out a new style of clothing for a while. It's like a midlife crisis every two years.

My restlessness has also led me to do some other mildly crazier things. Like draining my bank account on a ticket to Hawaii for ten days. And writing an entrance essay for seminary.

Sometimes it's a combination of restlessness, anger, sorrow, the need for freedom - the realization of something small - for me to do the big things that need to be done. Breaking off an engagement. Ending a relationship of almost five years.

I'm afraid my restlessness will leave me alone in this life. If not alone, it certainly has the potential to leave me lonely. In my need for change, I pick everything up and move. I leave the people I love in the search for something to stop my restlessness.

I used to be afraid I would never find the cure to my restlessness.

Then I went to Honduras.

Honduras seemed to settle me. I never felt more physically healthy than when I was in Honduras. Even the things you'd expect from international travel (exhaustion, stomach issues, soreness from more physical work I'm used to) didn't bother me at all.  I have had neck and shoulder issues from being a student for 17 years and sleeping on a thin mat on a concrete floor didn't leave me aching in the morning.

I also couldn't have been happier than I was in Honduras.  I missed talking to my parents and friends, sure; but I don't think I've ever laughed for ten days straight and I was filled with so much joy while I was there.

I felt filled with the Holy Spirit on a moment to moment basis in a way I've never felt before. I could see God in every child's face and every evening worship service.  I felt God's touch every time a six year old held my hand and in the mornings when the weigh of the mist in the mountains was heavy.

I wasn't restless there.

It took me about 4 hours in the country before I felt as if I belonged there. I've never felt so at home. We had something to do every single day and there was a new adventure around the corner of every dirt road. If I ever got bored in Honduras, I was doing something wrong.  There were endless things for me to learn there.

I miss it every day.

I'm no longer afraid that I will never find a cure for my restlessness. I know that God will lead me back to a place like Honduras. I feel the workings of that every day as I sit in class and as I talk to professors and pastors about international mission.

But it's really hard to wait. I'm doing everything I can to convince myself to stay in seminary and finish my degree. But it's so hard when I'm restless here. Especially restless here. I'm comfortable here and I hate being comfortable.

I long for poverty and adventure and challenge and love. I long for the faces of children and laughter surrounding me every day. And I don't know what that means for my future or where I'll be in the world, but I know I won't settle until my life is consumed by it.

Mission Trip

You might be thinking, “Sarah is going on a mission trip?” That’s a completely fair thought. I keep asking myself that too (except in the first person, not the third person). Seminary is really intense right now and this is not a good time to go on a mission trip. But I’m not sure if there is ever a “good time” to go on a mission trip. 

Next summer I will have Clinical Pastoral Education. 

Then another full year of school. 

The summer after that, I will hopefully be preparing for a move to my internship site. 

Then internship. 

Then school. 

My first call. 

Life. 

I'm not sure if there is ever a "good time" to go on a mission trip- especially as a full-time graduate student. 

And I could probably come up with a list of reasons why I shouldn’t go, but I keep coming back to the one reason why I should – God loves people.

I’ve been trying to live through love in the life I currently have. It’s easy to pray for far off places and far off people, but loving who you live and work with is a challenge. I’ve been trying to see my life as a mission field, not just this trip. And it has been cool to see the way God has used this new approach to everything from the way I work with my classmates to the way I treat people in traffic. But now, it’s time to take the things I’ve learned to a new longitude and latitude.

I’m going to Honduras for ten days. We are going to be doing a a building project and working in a medical clinic. But we are also going to hang out with children, learn about the culture, and be loved by people who have absolutely no reason to love us.  There will be a community built and love stared that is only possible through the love and sacrifice of Jesus Christ.

Going wasn’t a hard decision. When it comes down to it, Jesus laid out a pretty simple plan for us, didn’t He? Love God and love others. Nope, deciding to go was easy.  Also, the last time I tried resisting what God wanted me to do, I ended up doing it anyway (hence my being in seminary in the first place). Paying for it, however, is a real challenge.

To be honest with you, I just don’t have $2,000 laying around my dorm room with me while I’m eating baked Tostitos chips and watching Glee. So, instead of selling my plasma 43 times, I decided to send letters to people I don’t usually write and ask for something I don’t usually ask for: money. 

I’d love if you could financially support me on this mission trip. A little, a lot, anything would be great. You can stay updated on my progress and trip here on my blog.

I completely understand if you cannot support me financially, but if you could pray about this trip, that would be awesome. There will be a whole host of obstacles that pop up and entangle themselves around our ankles as we prepare to go love the people of Honduras. And knowing that you are praying would mean a lot to us.

Thank you for reading this rambling post. And I hope to hear from you soon.

Why are people poor?

I think many of you probably know that my most recent and engaging call has been pushing me (maybe not away from parish ministry but) toward mission work in a Spanish-speaking country.

So when I heard that I have the opportunity to go to Honduras this January with some really amazing classmates, I jumped on the chance like a slightly crazy and desperate girl.

In preparation for my mission trip to Honduras, I will be writing about some missional things.  This first post is how I responded to our application question.  It got me thinking about my own identity in Christ and whether or not I am really living into that.  

Why are people poor? What role should the Church have, if any in responding to poverty?

People are poor because we are a broken humanity.  People are inherently self-centered and concerned with having enough and, in the Northern Hemisphere, an abundance of resources.  We live in a Western society that shouts, “more!” in every commercial, store front, and magazine.  Capitalism buys into the excessive culture and perpetuates it until it is out of control.  Westernized countries own the most wealth in the world because of a society that is disconnected from the needs of the entire world.  As long as broken, selfish people are in charge of distributing resources, there will always be people who do not have enough.  

The Church is all about identity.  If, as missionaries, Christians are able to confuse the identities of people in other nations as well as our own nations, to the point of only considering ourselves Christian, the first step to end poverty will be accomplished.  This is not an easy task.  Changing the core identities of people who have been told for hundred of years that they are American, European, or African is not something that will be accomplished overnight.  

Responding to poverty is not about charity from Westernized countries.  It starts with a change in identity, continues with education, and is carried out with love that transcends borders and ethnicities.  The Church must provide an alternative to wasteful selfish consumerism, and thus far, we have been pretty unsuccessful at providing an example for Christians and nonChristians.  

Let me know how you would respond to this question. Why are people poor?  What, as Christians, are we called to do about it?  How can we practically live that out in our lives today?