It just so happened that in my excitement about possibly visiting the States in a couple of months I had gone through the boys clothing totes (yes, even here we have totes to hold our extra clothing) and had set aside a pair of khakis Noah has not worn since arriving. They had had a small stain on the back of the leg since I received them as a hand-me-down and I had not made work of removing it, so even though they still smelled of Tide and were neatly folded between dryer sheets, I figured I could just get a different pair when we were home, and we easily parted with them. I threw in a couple of imperfect t-shirts, a button up Noah hated to wear to church, and some stretched-out shorts. It's not too hard to make a kid happy here, and the boy was pretty excited about the new clothes as he left.
To be honest, this kind of charity is very easy and gratifying in Haiti. Maybe it is everywhere. The boy gets new pants and is grateful; I get a shiny new ego bump for my act of benevolence. It's almost as easy as writing a big check at a fund-raiser or clicking "like" for a compelling cause. He gets what he needs and I go back to checking facebook. Win-win, right?
He came back this morning. Kirk was still lying in bed, I was sitting on the bed in my nightgown and the boy came up to the bedroom window and called out my name. Incidentally, in a place with few windows on buildings, it is not uncommon for someone to greet you in this way. You don't go up to house and knock on the door, rather, you walk up and holler for who you want, so that's what he did. I really wanted to ignore him and pretend not to be there, I really did, but I got up and peeked around the door at him. He was very proud of how handsome he looked with his new shirt and pants, all clean and ready, and wanted me to approve of how nice he looked. But he wanted something else. He wanted money for the offering at church and didn't have any. He was worried about what others would think of him if he didn't put anything in the offering plate.
Even if our Creole was great, how do we explain to this child that God doesn't need him to bring him money to be welcome at church. Kirk told him, "God has a lot of money. It's ok for you to go without giving an offering." He looked ashamed at having to go without, so I gave him 25 gourdes (60 cents) and we agreed that we would talk more about it later.
He left happy to have the correct presentation for church to honor his mother on Mother's Day, and Kirk and I sat there feeling very sad for this boy. At age 12 he already knows what is needed for him to be acceptable to even go to church. A child who lives in such poverty that he sleeps on the ground of his family's stick home each night and literally eats the table scraps of others, has to suffer the further indignity of begging for the correct attire and presentation to enter his community's church. I would like to believe it is the fear and not the reality of the judgement of others, but unfortunately it is true. In Haiti it is not considered respectable to go to church if you are not dressed properly, so if you are too poor for "correctly", you do not go. So at 12, this boy already believes he does not belong among believers of Jesus on a Sunday morning. I could about cry, thinking about this reality.
But as I consider this sadness, I wonder how different is that than in our home churches in North America? I will admit to having snotty thoughts about a visitor's skirt being too short, or a shirt too shabby, tattoos too prominent, make-up too garish, diamonds too big or too small, hair too wet or too unkempt, sitting to close to the front or too far to the back, kids too loud etc, etc, etc. Oh Lord, have mercy on me if I have been the cause of anyone not feeling FULLY welcomed into the house of the Lord, especially if it has been a child!
Are the poor welcome in our churches? Do they dare approach the front door? Is there anything about our buildings, attitudes, practices, or behaviors that discourage them from sharing in Christian fellowship. If so, we have a lot to think about as far is what it means to be the body of Christ. If the poor can't fit in with us, then we likely don't fit in with God since Jesus made it clear in his ministry that among the poor was where he was at and who he most identified with. With the poor he loved lavishly, forgave generously, fed heartily, advocated vociferously, lived simply, and died selflessly.
Just this week I had been reflecting a bit on how my life can be fairly distant from the extreme poverty all around us because of the compound walls. I have to intentionally leave the safety of the enclosure to encounter much overt poverty, and even then, I have begun getting used to the sight of poor and their constant plight. I would like to believe part of that is because I am learning to see past outward appearances of Haitians and beginning to see hearts, but I know another part is my attempts to insulate against the constant press of need. But this week I began to pray that God would allow me to feel the reality once again and be moved by what moves Him; to once again experience compassion even when it is uncomfortable.
His discomfort cost Him his son's life, mine only disrupts moments of my time...
So friends, I am going to pray for you. What insulates you from those Jesus calls his followers to minister to? Is your distance a physical barrier of some sort, or something in your heart? I am praying that you and I will be shaken to not only know but be moved by God's heart for those in need. Oh yes, I am praying for your discontent, that you may unsettled in your life enough to move closer to Christ and his Kingdom. I need that, too. And maybe, just maybe, God will give us opportunities to reflect his perfect love in such a way that even a "least of these" kind of kid, will know he belongs in the family of God.
