Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Joyeaux Mardi Gras!
Greetings from New Orleans! It's Mardi Gras day, the culmination of the carnival season. It's a great long weekend here, lovely weather, a bit chilly for New Orleans, but great fun for the kids, and all!
Quote of the season - When getting up early for the infamous Zulu and Rex parades, the crowning parades of the entire season, in the chilly morning air, two thoughts flowed:
Adam: "It's chilly. I'll dress warm."
Beth: "It's Mardi Gras. What costume shall I wear?"
No, she never considered the morning air and froze during the two parades!
:-) Happy 'Who Dat' everyone!
Sunday, February 14, 2010
What is a life worth?
The figures are not final, but the Haiti project could run $55,000.00 total. That's not cheap to send four guys on a very short notice to a chaotic hot spot for three weeks, unless you think of a dozen people who created a supply logistics line for critical medical, fuel and food supplies in a third world nation immediately after a major disaster. Consider this:
We know our efforts directly saved 250+ lives, and significantly impacted 250,000 lives. The amount of money for us to deploy sounds huge, until you do the math....
$55,000.00 to save 250+ lives.... that's less than $220.00 per life. We can't go to the ER for that - for a common cold!
$55,000 to significantly impact 250,000 lives.... that's .22¢ per person. You can't jack for that!
Tasting and seeing that the Lord IS good, leaving the fragrance of Christ behind, and incarnating Christ to the least of these... PRICELESS.
We know our efforts directly saved 250+ lives, and significantly impacted 250,000 lives. The amount of money for us to deploy sounds huge, until you do the math....
$55,000.00 to save 250+ lives.... that's less than $220.00 per life. We can't go to the ER for that - for a common cold!
$55,000 to significantly impact 250,000 lives.... that's .22¢ per person. You can't jack for that!
Tasting and seeing that the Lord IS good, leaving the fragrance of Christ behind, and incarnating Christ to the least of these... PRICELESS.
Monday, February 08, 2010
Elloquent Words
Seldom do Baptist pastors/preachers write elloquent poetry of their city. I know this pastor-author. He still retains his southern accent, though he has lived in New Orleans (an island in the south sea) for years.
He loves our city, our people, owns our identity. This small essay at first appears a tribute to the Saints Football team, but don't miss it. He's talking about a people - who's football team carries the symbol of Orléans, our symbol, the fleur de lis. Take a moment, be moved by who we are - the Superbowl for New Orleans was only partially about football...
Saints Triumphant
By David E. Crosby, Pastor
First Baptist New Orleans
February 8, 2010
Jesus rode a colt on his triumphal entry, and our football team did the same last night.
I never prayed that the New Orleans Saints would win the Super Bowl, although I was running in circles in my living room, screaming my head off when it happened.
I prayed with the team in their chapel services several times, but I did not pray for them to win. Win or lose, my prayers were that they would respond with the Christian character I know many of them possess. I prayed that they would give God the glory, speak unselfishly, and embrace their role as civic leaders and cheerleaders in a city still struggling to gain its footing.
I prayed for the New Orleans Saints. The players are young men with great athletic abilities under an intense spotlight. They respond spontaneously when the microphones are thrust in front of them. They face great temptations and great opportunities all at once.
My prayers were answered last night. By and large, the Saints responded to their astonishing victory with joy and self-restraint, celebration and thanksgiving, and often an explicit acknowledgment of faith in God. I was proud of them.
The term “Saints,” meaning “holy ones,” comes right out of the Bible. It is used most often in the letters of the Apostle Paul to refer to the members of the churches. It points to the holiness of God which he applies to us through the death of Christ upon the cross. We are “set apart” for God when we trust Christ as Savior and Lord. Saints are special in that they have been set apart for the purposes of God.
“Saints” also comes right out of New Orleans. We are and have been the “city of the saints” from the names of our streets to the names of our many churches (Catholic, Protestant, and others) to the monuments in our parks. You will not visit a city in America with more visible religious roots or more spiritual public culture.
The team here uses a religious term to designate their players. We use a religious symbol—the fleur de lis—as our team emblem. Down here in the bayou, we mean it. “Bless you, boys,” is our common commendation for these star athletes. Three archbishops have blessed this team with their interest and widely publicized attendance at games. Their presence is always front page news. So also is the display of the bones of Mary Magdalene and Ash Wednesday.
The local newspaper put a religious spin on the pilgrimage of our Saints. “Hell froze over” when we won the NFC championship, and we were “at heaven’s gate,” according to the headlines. The Saints went marching in last night. We were all in their number. Monday’s front page said it all: “Amen! After 43 years, our prayers are answered.”
The country—and maybe the world—have been cheering for us because we were the underdog. Our city and region are still struggling back to normalcy from a disaster of staggering proportions. The Saints have given a resounding answer to the question, “Can New Orleans recover?”
We are happy to be “America’s team” this year. We have been the subject of prayers and the destination of thousands of mission teams since Hurricane Katrina visited our shores. This outpouring of benevolence, perhaps unparalleled in the history of America, is followed appropriately by a great victory which all caring souls can embrace. As the Indianapolis Colts knew, the Super Bowl was a road game for them and a home game for the Saints.
New Orleans is an enigma, especially to those who view it from the outside, but also to us who live and work here. The city of the Saints is known to be one of the country’s flesh markets. The television shots bounced back and forth last night between Sun Life Stadium in Miami and the wall-to-wall, throbbing party on Bourbon Street. Is there any other place on earth where people dressed like nuns and popes lead parades of revelers? Is there another city where “revelers” is common lingo for Super Bowl enthusiasts?
Professional athletic competition may be mostly about entertainment, but it is also about character. The courage, determination and team work of the athletes inspire us to greater effort and better performance in our own contests of faith and strength.
The Saints are leading the charge in a city that aims to do better on every front. With the highest per capita murder rate in America and the lowest literacy rate and the highest rate of child hunger and rampant public corruption, the urgent needs in New Orleans transcend our tourist-focused Bourbon Street. The time for prayer has just begun.
The city elected a new mayor Saturday, Mitch Landrieu. Now there is a man to pray for! The son of a former mayor and brother of a current United States senator, “Mitch” won a landslide victory in the primary against five opponents—as startling a win as the Super Bowl.
The church of Jesus Christ, full of worshiping saints, is marching boldly into the future of this city, energized by the Holy Spirit, full of hope and faith, and prepared to do battle for the souls who live here. With the Good Samaritan as our model, we plunge into the fray eager to demonstrate the care of Christ in “the city that care forgot.”
He loves our city, our people, owns our identity. This small essay at first appears a tribute to the Saints Football team, but don't miss it. He's talking about a people - who's football team carries the symbol of Orléans, our symbol, the fleur de lis. Take a moment, be moved by who we are - the Superbowl for New Orleans was only partially about football...
Saints Triumphant
By David E. Crosby, Pastor
First Baptist New Orleans
February 8, 2010
Jesus rode a colt on his triumphal entry, and our football team did the same last night.
I never prayed that the New Orleans Saints would win the Super Bowl, although I was running in circles in my living room, screaming my head off when it happened.
I prayed with the team in their chapel services several times, but I did not pray for them to win. Win or lose, my prayers were that they would respond with the Christian character I know many of them possess. I prayed that they would give God the glory, speak unselfishly, and embrace their role as civic leaders and cheerleaders in a city still struggling to gain its footing.
I prayed for the New Orleans Saints. The players are young men with great athletic abilities under an intense spotlight. They respond spontaneously when the microphones are thrust in front of them. They face great temptations and great opportunities all at once.
My prayers were answered last night. By and large, the Saints responded to their astonishing victory with joy and self-restraint, celebration and thanksgiving, and often an explicit acknowledgment of faith in God. I was proud of them.
The term “Saints,” meaning “holy ones,” comes right out of the Bible. It is used most often in the letters of the Apostle Paul to refer to the members of the churches. It points to the holiness of God which he applies to us through the death of Christ upon the cross. We are “set apart” for God when we trust Christ as Savior and Lord. Saints are special in that they have been set apart for the purposes of God.
“Saints” also comes right out of New Orleans. We are and have been the “city of the saints” from the names of our streets to the names of our many churches (Catholic, Protestant, and others) to the monuments in our parks. You will not visit a city in America with more visible religious roots or more spiritual public culture.
The team here uses a religious term to designate their players. We use a religious symbol—the fleur de lis—as our team emblem. Down here in the bayou, we mean it. “Bless you, boys,” is our common commendation for these star athletes. Three archbishops have blessed this team with their interest and widely publicized attendance at games. Their presence is always front page news. So also is the display of the bones of Mary Magdalene and Ash Wednesday.
The local newspaper put a religious spin on the pilgrimage of our Saints. “Hell froze over” when we won the NFC championship, and we were “at heaven’s gate,” according to the headlines. The Saints went marching in last night. We were all in their number. Monday’s front page said it all: “Amen! After 43 years, our prayers are answered.”
The country—and maybe the world—have been cheering for us because we were the underdog. Our city and region are still struggling back to normalcy from a disaster of staggering proportions. The Saints have given a resounding answer to the question, “Can New Orleans recover?”
We are happy to be “America’s team” this year. We have been the subject of prayers and the destination of thousands of mission teams since Hurricane Katrina visited our shores. This outpouring of benevolence, perhaps unparalleled in the history of America, is followed appropriately by a great victory which all caring souls can embrace. As the Indianapolis Colts knew, the Super Bowl was a road game for them and a home game for the Saints.
New Orleans is an enigma, especially to those who view it from the outside, but also to us who live and work here. The city of the Saints is known to be one of the country’s flesh markets. The television shots bounced back and forth last night between Sun Life Stadium in Miami and the wall-to-wall, throbbing party on Bourbon Street. Is there any other place on earth where people dressed like nuns and popes lead parades of revelers? Is there another city where “revelers” is common lingo for Super Bowl enthusiasts?
Professional athletic competition may be mostly about entertainment, but it is also about character. The courage, determination and team work of the athletes inspire us to greater effort and better performance in our own contests of faith and strength.
The Saints are leading the charge in a city that aims to do better on every front. With the highest per capita murder rate in America and the lowest literacy rate and the highest rate of child hunger and rampant public corruption, the urgent needs in New Orleans transcend our tourist-focused Bourbon Street. The time for prayer has just begun.
The city elected a new mayor Saturday, Mitch Landrieu. Now there is a man to pray for! The son of a former mayor and brother of a current United States senator, “Mitch” won a landslide victory in the primary against five opponents—as startling a win as the Super Bowl.
The church of Jesus Christ, full of worshiping saints, is marching boldly into the future of this city, energized by the Holy Spirit, full of hope and faith, and prepared to do battle for the souls who live here. With the Good Samaritan as our model, we plunge into the fray eager to demonstrate the care of Christ in “the city that care forgot.”
Saturday, February 06, 2010
It is Finished
That's it. Final convoys delivered today.
We went with the final food delivery to the small city of Fort Liberté, which has doubled in size with two plus thousand refugees from Port au Prince. Food for such a dramatic increase is key. We're supporting Matt, the local missionary we have worked with.
The town was a bit busy - so many people, unrest due to food issues, etc. The UN insisted in accompanying us. We've never had more than two vehicles with troops. Today we had four - almost an entire platoon of guys. They cordoned off the depot and truck and each had tear gas and pepper spray, in addition to their machine guns. They felt to show strong before the crowds got out of hand was better than having to come down heavy if it got hot.
It went smoothly, we crossed the border back into the DR. Mission accomplished. Twenty two deliveries made to over two dozen missions, hospitals, food distribution points, etc. I was numb. So was everyone else.
Tonight, we had dinner with the Dominican guy and his family, who helped us get the supplies we needed at prices that helped so many.
We are thankful, tired and ready to go. Mission accomplished... Tomorrow the others leave, we begin closing everything we've set up, pay the bills, etc. We couldn't get a flight until Tuesday, so we'll have a rest day. Maybe we won't be zombies when we get home to our families.
We end today with the conviction that led us to put life on hold, even the most important parts of our lives, and come. As one friend said, Being "men for others" (the Jesuit mantra) sometimes means leaving yours for others.
So - when our emotions are spent - we stand on what we know to be true...
We went with the final food delivery to the small city of Fort Liberté, which has doubled in size with two plus thousand refugees from Port au Prince. Food for such a dramatic increase is key. We're supporting Matt, the local missionary we have worked with.
The town was a bit busy - so many people, unrest due to food issues, etc. The UN insisted in accompanying us. We've never had more than two vehicles with troops. Today we had four - almost an entire platoon of guys. They cordoned off the depot and truck and each had tear gas and pepper spray, in addition to their machine guns. They felt to show strong before the crowds got out of hand was better than having to come down heavy if it got hot.
It went smoothly, we crossed the border back into the DR. Mission accomplished. Twenty two deliveries made to over two dozen missions, hospitals, food distribution points, etc. I was numb. So was everyone else.
Tonight, we had dinner with the Dominican guy and his family, who helped us get the supplies we needed at prices that helped so many.
We are thankful, tired and ready to go. Mission accomplished... Tomorrow the others leave, we begin closing everything we've set up, pay the bills, etc. We couldn't get a flight until Tuesday, so we'll have a rest day. Maybe we won't be zombies when we get home to our families.
We end today with the conviction that led us to put life on hold, even the most important parts of our lives, and come. As one friend said, Being "men for others" (the Jesuit mantra) sometimes means leaving yours for others.
So - when our emotions are spent - we stand on what we know to be true...
Nicene Creed
I believe in one God the Father Almighty
Maker of heaven and earth
And of all things visible and invisible
And in one Lord Jesus Christ
The only begotten Son of God
Begotten of his Father before all worlds,
God of Gods
Light of Light
Very God of very God
Begotten, not made
Being of one substance with the Father
By whom all things were made
Who for us people and for our salvation came down from heaven
And was incarnate by the Holy Spirit of the Virgin Mary
And was made man
And was crucified also for us under Pontius Pilate
He suffered and was buried
And the third day he rose again according to the Scriptures
And ascended into heaven
And sits at the right hand of the Father
And will come again, with glory, to judge the living and the dead
Whose kingdom will have no end.
And I believe in the Holy Spirit
The Lord, the giver of life
Who comes from the Father and Son
Who with the Father and Son together is worshipped and glorified
Who spoke through the prophets
And I believe in one holy Catholic and Apostolic Church
I acknowledge one baptism and one remission of sins
And I look for the resurrection of the dead
And the life of the world to come.
Amen.
I believe in one God the Father Almighty
Maker of heaven and earth
And of all things visible and invisible
And in one Lord Jesus Christ
The only begotten Son of God
Begotten of his Father before all worlds,
God of Gods
Light of Light
Very God of very God
Begotten, not made
Being of one substance with the Father
By whom all things were made
Who for us people and for our salvation came down from heaven
And was incarnate by the Holy Spirit of the Virgin Mary
And was made man
And was crucified also for us under Pontius Pilate
He suffered and was buried
And the third day he rose again according to the Scriptures
And ascended into heaven
And sits at the right hand of the Father
And will come again, with glory, to judge the living and the dead
Whose kingdom will have no end.
And I believe in the Holy Spirit
The Lord, the giver of life
Who comes from the Father and Son
Who with the Father and Son together is worshipped and glorified
Who spoke through the prophets
And I believe in one holy Catholic and Apostolic Church
I acknowledge one baptism and one remission of sins
And I look for the resurrection of the dead
And the life of the world to come.
Amen.
AD 325
Friday, February 05, 2010
Destruction of Haiti - his goal.
As you can see from these multiple posts, I’ve had time today – first time in 17 days! Gosh, seems so short. Feels like we deployed three months ago! Home seems so far away, so historical. I feel like I’ll return and my boys will be in university! I digress.
In this reflection time, sitting here by a pool, I reflected upon the spiritual warfare experience this week. One naturally attempts to make sense of it. I can’t. Was this an attack, perfect ambush – caught us completely off guard, which it should not have being here, the result of an amassing resistance over the past several weeks? We seldom remember the realities God’s Word teaches us, that there are actually territorial authorities within the demonic ranks. Did we anger the dark forces in Haiti so much that they ambushed us? I don’t know. Won’t know this side of Heaven.
What I do know is that Lucifer is the destroyer. It is his nature now, from angel of light to the destroyer. He lives to destroy everything God loves – His creation, and the center of His creation –people. We works to destroy the Imago Dei (Image of God) that marks all people. In our world it is divorce, addiction to porn, narcissism, drugs and abuse of alcohol. In Haiti where the control is so much more prevalent, the demonic powers have completely ravaged these poor people. This nation, born in slavery, then a slavery revolt, then bloody civil war and occultic worship, this nation is a den of destruction of a society. There is so much that is left in the Imago Dei in these people, yet so much destruction: ethics, pathologies, spiritual darkness, abuse of substances, poverty, dirty low self esteem, no hope for change, no self confidence, generational dependence for survival from the international community. It is sad.
What I know from being here and from my experience – Lucifer, Satan, is a destroyer. Pray for Haiti, pray for the people, pray for the complete Shalom of God to descend upon her.
In this reflection time, sitting here by a pool, I reflected upon the spiritual warfare experience this week. One naturally attempts to make sense of it. I can’t. Was this an attack, perfect ambush – caught us completely off guard, which it should not have being here, the result of an amassing resistance over the past several weeks? We seldom remember the realities God’s Word teaches us, that there are actually territorial authorities within the demonic ranks. Did we anger the dark forces in Haiti so much that they ambushed us? I don’t know. Won’t know this side of Heaven.
What I do know is that Lucifer is the destroyer. It is his nature now, from angel of light to the destroyer. He lives to destroy everything God loves – His creation, and the center of His creation –people. We works to destroy the Imago Dei (Image of God) that marks all people. In our world it is divorce, addiction to porn, narcissism, drugs and abuse of alcohol. In Haiti where the control is so much more prevalent, the demonic powers have completely ravaged these poor people. This nation, born in slavery, then a slavery revolt, then bloody civil war and occultic worship, this nation is a den of destruction of a society. There is so much that is left in the Imago Dei in these people, yet so much destruction: ethics, pathologies, spiritual darkness, abuse of substances, poverty, dirty low self esteem, no hope for change, no self confidence, generational dependence for survival from the international community. It is sad.
What I know from being here and from my experience – Lucifer, Satan, is a destroyer. Pray for Haiti, pray for the people, pray for the complete Shalom of God to descend upon her.
Combat Vets
You know, I’m the old guy in our mob. I’m the oldest in our community. I’m the oldest on our team here. Sure, my graying sideburns have come in handy, giving perspective, experience, etc. But you know, I’ve been impressed at what these guys in their 20’s and 30’s have done. Like our great people in the armed forces, these guys have amazed me. They truly have.
None have amazed me like our guys from our community, though. I know them, intimately. We all live together. We work together. We play together. They know me. They watch me as leader, friend, brother, father and husband. It’s cool. But, I’m always the old man. They follow my lead and defer to my experience, and yea, it’s broad, really broad and my brain goes fast. I know it. Stay with me, here….
But here, you know, these guys, my guys, have simply outdone themselves. They’ve simply been marvelous. Besides working hard, they’ve worked independent, interdependent, cohesively, complimentary, and have proven themselves amazing in their tasks, their leadership, their thinking, dealing with people, and their servant’s hearts. They’ve looked for opportunities to bless each other, and me, and made contributions that were reliable. I never had to check up on them, never had to second guess or doubt them. It’s like they’ve had Leminal experiences together that have bonded us more than before. That is the very definition of Communitas. And they’ve changed. All three of them came novices to this real world crisis stuff. Life was American, predictable and measured. This was like combat in many ways. In a funny way, it was like graduation, like suddenly entering a new level as leaders and adults. They’ll never be the same.
In the Army, there is a system to immediately identify those who have and have never been in combat. On the left shoulder there is the patch of the unit you serve, such as the 2nd Cavalry Regiment, or the 82nd Airborne Division. On the right shoulder one wears a patch only after having served in a combat zone. It is worn humbly and with pride. It is a rite of passage. It changes you and people treat you different.
I’m eager to see how this has affected those we left in New Orleans. We know they’ve had multi-faceted things to manage. It’ll be interesting as we all reintegrate and adjust to the changes this emergency deployment in a real world crisis has changed us all.
What I know today, though, is simple… I came their leader, I leave with three peers, combat vet’s, changed, matured and fellow sojourners for life… Communitas.
None have amazed me like our guys from our community, though. I know them, intimately. We all live together. We work together. We play together. They know me. They watch me as leader, friend, brother, father and husband. It’s cool. But, I’m always the old man. They follow my lead and defer to my experience, and yea, it’s broad, really broad and my brain goes fast. I know it. Stay with me, here….
But here, you know, these guys, my guys, have simply outdone themselves. They’ve simply been marvelous. Besides working hard, they’ve worked independent, interdependent, cohesively, complimentary, and have proven themselves amazing in their tasks, their leadership, their thinking, dealing with people, and their servant’s hearts. They’ve looked for opportunities to bless each other, and me, and made contributions that were reliable. I never had to check up on them, never had to second guess or doubt them. It’s like they’ve had Leminal experiences together that have bonded us more than before. That is the very definition of Communitas. And they’ve changed. All three of them came novices to this real world crisis stuff. Life was American, predictable and measured. This was like combat in many ways. In a funny way, it was like graduation, like suddenly entering a new level as leaders and adults. They’ll never be the same.
In the Army, there is a system to immediately identify those who have and have never been in combat. On the left shoulder there is the patch of the unit you serve, such as the 2nd Cavalry Regiment, or the 82nd Airborne Division. On the right shoulder one wears a patch only after having served in a combat zone. It is worn humbly and with pride. It is a rite of passage. It changes you and people treat you different.
I’m eager to see how this has affected those we left in New Orleans. We know they’ve had multi-faceted things to manage. It’ll be interesting as we all reintegrate and adjust to the changes this emergency deployment in a real world crisis has changed us all.
What I know today, though, is simple… I came their leader, I leave with three peers, combat vet’s, changed, matured and fellow sojourners for life… Communitas.
Lessons Learned
We came to be the nimble front guys who flexed and maneuvered to get aid in when no one else was doing so, to help the many hospitals, missions, etc. We didn’t come for the long haul. We worked underground, even paying “overtime” at the borders to get our stuff in to save lives. We fully wanted and expected the big guys to come in behind us and overwhelm Haiti with support, which they are supposed to do and are doing now.
What surprised me was the posture of one agency we worked with – well known, respected and fronted by a big name we all look up to. This organization does so much, really good stuff, prepares and pre-stations supplies around the world for the next disaster. This is admirable. They have quite an operation going, on the compound (aka plantation – see blog prior) they’ve taken over. When working with them though, our experience was a bit push-pull. They needed us, sending an emissary with a briefcase full of tens of thousands of dollars to meet with us late in the night, to get them the supplies they needed to operate until their ships (yes, plural, ships) docked and got unloaded. Then they wanted us to get them a large convoy of supplies – we did. They allowed us to operate on the compound, but three days later, we were on the verge of persona non grata. Why? We used nationals and their trucks. We had issues coming across the border (they use the port 10 minutes away now) where we had border issues between two third world nations. We have breakdowns and flats, and the UN military escorts getting our convoys delivered safely didn’t go fast enough and our trucks arrived at odd hours. The compound commander (yes, commander) made this statement to me, “Mike, it’s just messy, real messy.” This after I went to de-conflict and reconcile an over reaction of their security patrols (yes patrols) who threatened our Dominican driver who had a knife in his hand. It was dark and the guy had made a funnel from an oil quart sized bottle. The security people came upon his and did an episode of “Cops” on him… “Sir, drop the knife, NOW!” Oh my… I went to say, “what the?” The guy was simply preparing to go. He couldn’t go until the next morning when the UN would convoy North again, or escort him to the southern DR border. They were so upset they kicked the guy out into the night, alone, petrified in his truck along the road and would not allow him to sleep on the compound. No brown guys allowed after dark. OH MY!
They also got upset when we wrapped some rice (thousands of pounds in sacks) in a tarp and we didn’t wrap it with their logo facing out and centered. Really? Any mention there was an earthquake that killed 250,000-300,000 people recently?
Something missing from the nature of Christ. You know the one – the one where He was humble (Philippians 2.5-11) or in Luke where Jesus tells us He will personally dress down to a towel and wait upon us at the feast in heaven. Wrong priorities. Wrong posture and really OCD, and that from me, Mr. OCD.
What surprised me was the posture of one agency we worked with – well known, respected and fronted by a big name we all look up to. This organization does so much, really good stuff, prepares and pre-stations supplies around the world for the next disaster. This is admirable. They have quite an operation going, on the compound (aka plantation – see blog prior) they’ve taken over. When working with them though, our experience was a bit push-pull. They needed us, sending an emissary with a briefcase full of tens of thousands of dollars to meet with us late in the night, to get them the supplies they needed to operate until their ships (yes, plural, ships) docked and got unloaded. Then they wanted us to get them a large convoy of supplies – we did. They allowed us to operate on the compound, but three days later, we were on the verge of persona non grata. Why? We used nationals and their trucks. We had issues coming across the border (they use the port 10 minutes away now) where we had border issues between two third world nations. We have breakdowns and flats, and the UN military escorts getting our convoys delivered safely didn’t go fast enough and our trucks arrived at odd hours. The compound commander (yes, commander) made this statement to me, “Mike, it’s just messy, real messy.” This after I went to de-conflict and reconcile an over reaction of their security patrols (yes patrols) who threatened our Dominican driver who had a knife in his hand. It was dark and the guy had made a funnel from an oil quart sized bottle. The security people came upon his and did an episode of “Cops” on him… “Sir, drop the knife, NOW!” Oh my… I went to say, “what the?” The guy was simply preparing to go. He couldn’t go until the next morning when the UN would convoy North again, or escort him to the southern DR border. They were so upset they kicked the guy out into the night, alone, petrified in his truck along the road and would not allow him to sleep on the compound. No brown guys allowed after dark. OH MY!
They also got upset when we wrapped some rice (thousands of pounds in sacks) in a tarp and we didn’t wrap it with their logo facing out and centered. Really? Any mention there was an earthquake that killed 250,000-300,000 people recently?
Something missing from the nature of Christ. You know the one – the one where He was humble (Philippians 2.5-11) or in Luke where Jesus tells us He will personally dress down to a towel and wait upon us at the feast in heaven. Wrong priorities. Wrong posture and really OCD, and that from me, Mr. OCD.
Colonialism alive and well
Okay, now it’s time for classic “Mike” to return… We’ve had a day to rest. I thought we were done going into Haiti (Adam and I, anyway). Yet, it has born necessary for us to escort one last large load in tomorrow. So during our down day when the load manifest guys told us to get lost, we slept, took long hot baths, ate and enjoyed a quiet nip by the pool. Now watching palms swaying in the late afternoon.
Okay, my thoughts on colonialism – alive and well. Well, it surprised me here in Haiti. Having been with Matt and Jarod, I had only been with missionaries who live incarnationally, which aligns with our conviction of how mission should be done. It is how we do mission. It is how Hudson Taylor did mission and taught so many of us to live in mission: in, among, with, for those we love and long to see know Christ.
What surprised me as we went to Port au Prince, wasn’t the destruction, the return of a new normalcy, the great work of the 82d Airborne, but – the colonial approach of so many mission agencies. Before you burn me at the stake, allow me to explain!
When we met many of the missionaries, every last one who loves Haiti and the people, and has moved here for decades, I was floored by the way in which they do mission. When we come into a culture, fence ourselves off in compounds with high fences, bar our windows, have twenty-four hour guards everywhere, create oasis within the compounds, create little America or Britain, when we the white people live plantation lives, in charge of everything, deliver our services and ministry paternally to the poor uncivilized peoples, when we have all dark skinned servants in uniforms, doing all our manual tasks, living in hovels out side of the compounds, and we dress western, and after decades on the ground never learn the language, well… Looks colonial to me. Reminded me of 17th, 18th and 19th century America.
I know, they live a long way from home, no comforts of home, hard to have comfort foods, deal with power on generators, etc. I get it! Matt’s house is better than his neighbors, beneath what we live with… pumps water to a cistern on the roof to come own (cold) for use, power on a generator, few lights, no oven, etc. I get it. But he and Pam are amongst the people, not full up with servants, not separated, but with them, as servants, as equals on their turf, in their town, in their country, not the great white saviors.
What I saw was a spiritual dependence, an economic dependence. Their lives are better because they are servants for the white people than in the slums. There is a spiritual class system established. It made me feel uncomfortable. As I step back nearing our departure, I saw so much Christianity in the nation, but little transformation. I saw busses and taxis with Jesus logo’s and pictures, but a nation rife with crime, darkness, poverty and inability to organize and develop, but completely dependent on foreign aid, an addiction, no growing into self sustainment. All the money poured in may not be creating last change. The missionaries I met who live incarnationally agree that the cut off of aid might be the saving severe mercy needed. Hmm…
Don’t get me wrong, I don’t advocate the church leave Haiti to its own devices, rather than we imitate Christ. The Word became flesh and moved into the neighborhood.
Okay, my thoughts on colonialism – alive and well. Well, it surprised me here in Haiti. Having been with Matt and Jarod, I had only been with missionaries who live incarnationally, which aligns with our conviction of how mission should be done. It is how we do mission. It is how Hudson Taylor did mission and taught so many of us to live in mission: in, among, with, for those we love and long to see know Christ.
What surprised me as we went to Port au Prince, wasn’t the destruction, the return of a new normalcy, the great work of the 82d Airborne, but – the colonial approach of so many mission agencies. Before you burn me at the stake, allow me to explain!
When we met many of the missionaries, every last one who loves Haiti and the people, and has moved here for decades, I was floored by the way in which they do mission. When we come into a culture, fence ourselves off in compounds with high fences, bar our windows, have twenty-four hour guards everywhere, create oasis within the compounds, create little America or Britain, when we the white people live plantation lives, in charge of everything, deliver our services and ministry paternally to the poor uncivilized peoples, when we have all dark skinned servants in uniforms, doing all our manual tasks, living in hovels out side of the compounds, and we dress western, and after decades on the ground never learn the language, well… Looks colonial to me. Reminded me of 17th, 18th and 19th century America.
I know, they live a long way from home, no comforts of home, hard to have comfort foods, deal with power on generators, etc. I get it! Matt’s house is better than his neighbors, beneath what we live with… pumps water to a cistern on the roof to come own (cold) for use, power on a generator, few lights, no oven, etc. I get it. But he and Pam are amongst the people, not full up with servants, not separated, but with them, as servants, as equals on their turf, in their town, in their country, not the great white saviors.
What I saw was a spiritual dependence, an economic dependence. Their lives are better because they are servants for the white people than in the slums. There is a spiritual class system established. It made me feel uncomfortable. As I step back nearing our departure, I saw so much Christianity in the nation, but little transformation. I saw busses and taxis with Jesus logo’s and pictures, but a nation rife with crime, darkness, poverty and inability to organize and develop, but completely dependent on foreign aid, an addiction, no growing into self sustainment. All the money poured in may not be creating last change. The missionaries I met who live incarnationally agree that the cut off of aid might be the saving severe mercy needed. Hmm…
Don’t get me wrong, I don’t advocate the church leave Haiti to its own devices, rather than we imitate Christ. The Word became flesh and moved into the neighborhood.
Okay, sit down in a quiet place and read
I am about to share something that will cause many of you to have your eye brows raise up into your hair line. Others will be incredulous and not believe it. A couple will know exactly of what we speak. It won't make sense for almost all of us, including us!
Having worked to not live a religious life, but a life that manifests our conviction to follow Christ in the real world in real ways. On occasion in places there comes spiritual warfare. For those of you who have no idea of what I mean, I'm not talking the Exorcists, but the reality where the veil between the spiritual world and our mortal world is especially thin.
Haiti is and has always been dark. The presence of the church is everywhere, Catholic, Baptists and Charismatics. To be honest much of it is more a pipeline for never ending dependence upon foreign mercy and aid. The impact for transformation of society is meager. The reality of voodoo and occultic demonic activity is also present. Yet, what makes what I am about to share awe striking is that there is a real presence of Christ in Haiti.
Throughout our time here, we have always felt safe, though often in precarious circumstances. We've never felt any dark activiy hindering us, rather favor in so many ways. Until two days ago.
Adam and I were in Haiti and had coordinated a very large shipment in, both food and fuel. We had the normal hassles of dealing with corrupt third world officials at the border. We were in great spirits - had lunch just inside the Dominican Republic and came home. We showered - finally - when we got back to Santiago and took naps from the long hours of the past several days. Then that night, we had a team meeting with everyone in town to plan the next week; trucks, shipments, personnel, money moves, Port au Prince issues. The evening was spent sitting outside with the team talking, laughing and catching up as we'd been spread thin.
Adam and I got to bed by 10.30 as 4 AM comes early and we start tired these days. We were off to the border again with our largest shipment yet. About 12.30 AM I had a very, very, very real nightmare... We were in a room talking, it was dark - you know - chatter before going to sleep. Suddenly I was aware of others being present, speaking dark languages and their eyes lit red. I recognized what they were and attempted to get us out and leave. As I attempted to open my mouth to warn the others and get us out of the room, suddenly I was on swarmed by them and they had many hands on my mouth holding me back from speaking. [NO, we had not watched some strange occultic movies!] Adam woke up hearing me struggle to speak out loud from my sleep. He called out to me when I burst into consciousness screaming "In the name of Jesus, let me go!" We thought it was merely a nightmare and after a trip to the lu, went back to sleep. At 1.15 AM I awoke and was violently sick from both ends. At 1.30 AM Adam woke up violently sick also - worse than me. So here we are - two naked close friends trying to help each other, covered in the vile reality of dual volits and diarrhea. We thought maybe it was just food poisoning, but it persisted and we got severe chills. I then connected it to the dream and texted Susanne to get people praying, and to Chad and Kyle to come next door and help us. We were too weak to get up and down at this point. They prayed over us for 20 minutes as Adam and I huddled, sucking body heat to stay warm enough. As they prayed, read the Bible out loud and had mobilized dozens in the states to pray with us.
Slowly Adam and I warmed up, the illness subsided and we fell asleep from 2.30-5.30 AM. We woke to our alarms, not feeling well at all, but we had to go to get this food in. We are the ones who can maneuver the complex border. As we traveled, Adam and I prayed 3 1/2 solid hours. We began getting a touch better, but the illness persisted, and we wanted to lay down and rest. Funny, we got to the border town while not feeling great, we were able to function. We did the work, felt presence as we entered Haiti, but we prayed and prayed.
Changing chapters:
In this time of travel, we got a call from Chad and Kyle. A fellow on the loading and manifest team, Mike - LAFD - had had a very, very similar nightmare to mine at the same time. Also, Cameron, InnerCHANGE in Caracas Venezuela, had a vision while they all prayed for us as we went to the border, a premonition that this was caused by two women, one old, one young, the older with nappy hair. Also a friend in the US has the same identical premonition. At this point we put it together... The day prior as we had gotten in the large load, there was an old hag who came into the customs and propositioned Adam to go be with the the younger one. She didn't touch us, but gazed mysteriously at us. Adam said no, naturally, and they stared at us for a bit and slowly left. Now, we don't get it, don't understand it and as God's people, don't think they have special powers over us.
After the hours of getting the food stored in a depot (small old house 200 years old) in the town where Matt lives, 20km from the border... the food is for the displaced refugees) we began our trip out. I was now simply overwhelmed from fatigue, being so sick and having been praying continuously even as I encountered everyone in the village, suspicious of every person touching me - you cannot escape this in the third world. Personal space doesn't exist in these places. I began weeping. Adam put his arms around me and I went inside myself and closed my eyes. We still felt bad.
Strangest thing... As we exited Haiti back into the DR, there is a deep river gulley and the border bridge with the two gates and a tiny DMZ between. As we drove back into the DR - we looked at each other - We suddenly felt completely healthy and while sore and exhausted, completely free of the illness and attack spiritually. If you've never experienced this and most haven't, a spiritual warfare attack feels sort of like carrying a 200lb pack and you're exhausted. Within five minutes we were hungry and thirsty. We got bread - simple for where we were, and Gatorade. We got home taking turns napping and driving, talking and laughing, yet humbled and quiet over what we had experienced. We thanked God for a long while, and when we got home felt a desire to simply be quiet, humble, rest. We took a nap and then went to dinner, ate well and came "home" to the hotel. Adam and I were asleep in fifteen minutes and slept through the night.
So thanks to those who prayed with us. If you are reading this going "WHAT THE!?" and you think we're nuts. Okay. Sorry, can't explain it and make it make sense in the normal world most of us live in. I simply share a profound moment in our efforts here. The greatest question is why? Has this been building over the weeks here, where the dark side amasses strength to strike? Why did God allow it? Why was our meager shipment so threatening to a nothing small Haitian town when the UN and other massive agencies are bringing into thousands of tons?
We simply don't understand, but thank God for answering our prayers.
Having worked to not live a religious life, but a life that manifests our conviction to follow Christ in the real world in real ways. On occasion in places there comes spiritual warfare. For those of you who have no idea of what I mean, I'm not talking the Exorcists, but the reality where the veil between the spiritual world and our mortal world is especially thin.
Haiti is and has always been dark. The presence of the church is everywhere, Catholic, Baptists and Charismatics. To be honest much of it is more a pipeline for never ending dependence upon foreign mercy and aid. The impact for transformation of society is meager. The reality of voodoo and occultic demonic activity is also present. Yet, what makes what I am about to share awe striking is that there is a real presence of Christ in Haiti.
Throughout our time here, we have always felt safe, though often in precarious circumstances. We've never felt any dark activiy hindering us, rather favor in so many ways. Until two days ago.
Adam and I were in Haiti and had coordinated a very large shipment in, both food and fuel. We had the normal hassles of dealing with corrupt third world officials at the border. We were in great spirits - had lunch just inside the Dominican Republic and came home. We showered - finally - when we got back to Santiago and took naps from the long hours of the past several days. Then that night, we had a team meeting with everyone in town to plan the next week; trucks, shipments, personnel, money moves, Port au Prince issues. The evening was spent sitting outside with the team talking, laughing and catching up as we'd been spread thin.
Adam and I got to bed by 10.30 as 4 AM comes early and we start tired these days. We were off to the border again with our largest shipment yet. About 12.30 AM I had a very, very, very real nightmare... We were in a room talking, it was dark - you know - chatter before going to sleep. Suddenly I was aware of others being present, speaking dark languages and their eyes lit red. I recognized what they were and attempted to get us out and leave. As I attempted to open my mouth to warn the others and get us out of the room, suddenly I was on swarmed by them and they had many hands on my mouth holding me back from speaking. [NO, we had not watched some strange occultic movies!] Adam woke up hearing me struggle to speak out loud from my sleep. He called out to me when I burst into consciousness screaming "In the name of Jesus, let me go!" We thought it was merely a nightmare and after a trip to the lu, went back to sleep. At 1.15 AM I awoke and was violently sick from both ends. At 1.30 AM Adam woke up violently sick also - worse than me. So here we are - two naked close friends trying to help each other, covered in the vile reality of dual volits and diarrhea. We thought maybe it was just food poisoning, but it persisted and we got severe chills. I then connected it to the dream and texted Susanne to get people praying, and to Chad and Kyle to come next door and help us. We were too weak to get up and down at this point. They prayed over us for 20 minutes as Adam and I huddled, sucking body heat to stay warm enough. As they prayed, read the Bible out loud and had mobilized dozens in the states to pray with us.
Slowly Adam and I warmed up, the illness subsided and we fell asleep from 2.30-5.30 AM. We woke to our alarms, not feeling well at all, but we had to go to get this food in. We are the ones who can maneuver the complex border. As we traveled, Adam and I prayed 3 1/2 solid hours. We began getting a touch better, but the illness persisted, and we wanted to lay down and rest. Funny, we got to the border town while not feeling great, we were able to function. We did the work, felt presence as we entered Haiti, but we prayed and prayed.
Changing chapters:
In this time of travel, we got a call from Chad and Kyle. A fellow on the loading and manifest team, Mike - LAFD - had had a very, very similar nightmare to mine at the same time. Also, Cameron, InnerCHANGE in Caracas Venezuela, had a vision while they all prayed for us as we went to the border, a premonition that this was caused by two women, one old, one young, the older with nappy hair. Also a friend in the US has the same identical premonition. At this point we put it together... The day prior as we had gotten in the large load, there was an old hag who came into the customs and propositioned Adam to go be with the the younger one. She didn't touch us, but gazed mysteriously at us. Adam said no, naturally, and they stared at us for a bit and slowly left. Now, we don't get it, don't understand it and as God's people, don't think they have special powers over us.
After the hours of getting the food stored in a depot (small old house 200 years old) in the town where Matt lives, 20km from the border... the food is for the displaced refugees) we began our trip out. I was now simply overwhelmed from fatigue, being so sick and having been praying continuously even as I encountered everyone in the village, suspicious of every person touching me - you cannot escape this in the third world. Personal space doesn't exist in these places. I began weeping. Adam put his arms around me and I went inside myself and closed my eyes. We still felt bad.
Strangest thing... As we exited Haiti back into the DR, there is a deep river gulley and the border bridge with the two gates and a tiny DMZ between. As we drove back into the DR - we looked at each other - We suddenly felt completely healthy and while sore and exhausted, completely free of the illness and attack spiritually. If you've never experienced this and most haven't, a spiritual warfare attack feels sort of like carrying a 200lb pack and you're exhausted. Within five minutes we were hungry and thirsty. We got bread - simple for where we were, and Gatorade. We got home taking turns napping and driving, talking and laughing, yet humbled and quiet over what we had experienced. We thanked God for a long while, and when we got home felt a desire to simply be quiet, humble, rest. We took a nap and then went to dinner, ate well and came "home" to the hotel. Adam and I were asleep in fifteen minutes and slept through the night.
So thanks to those who prayed with us. If you are reading this going "WHAT THE!?" and you think we're nuts. Okay. Sorry, can't explain it and make it make sense in the normal world most of us live in. I simply share a profound moment in our efforts here. The greatest question is why? Has this been building over the weeks here, where the dark side amasses strength to strike? Why did God allow it? Why was our meager shipment so threatening to a nothing small Haitian town when the UN and other massive agencies are bringing into thousands of tons?
We simply don't understand, but thank God for answering our prayers.
Tuesday, February 02, 2010
Port au Prince Photos
See attached photos from Port au Prince... grim yes, but not as universal as I expected.... Yet had to be so frightening and so devastating to this 3d world crowded city's population.
Matt, the local Haiti missionary we came to help. We partner with what God is already doing on purpose. This factor alone made so many conections only He could make. The 1LT you see here is Jeff, Chaplain to 1st Squadron - 73rd Cavalry, 82nd Airborne Division. Jeff called Matt with no where to take the many severely injured they were rescuing. Matt sent them up the hill to the Baptist Haiti Mission, the oldest mission in Haiti. They saved hundreds of lives that day. Matt and Jeff know each other from college days.
Below is Dennis Pilger, close friend in Portland. He came when I called and said I had a special, hard job for him. Dennis is forward as I type at Port au Prince, at our distribution point. No glory, hot and long hard days. He's getting it done and done right.
THANKS Dennis!
The rubble is piling up on the streets with no system to collect it. No FEMA in Haiti.
Matt, the local Haiti missionary we came to help. We partner with what God is already doing on purpose. This factor alone made so many conections only He could make. The 1LT you see here is Jeff, Chaplain to 1st Squadron - 73rd Cavalry, 82nd Airborne Division. Jeff called Matt with no where to take the many severely injured they were rescuing. Matt sent them up the hill to the Baptist Haiti Mission, the oldest mission in Haiti. They saved hundreds of lives that day. Matt and Jeff know each other from college days.
Below is Dennis Pilger, close friend in Portland. He came when I called and said I had a special, hard job for him. Dennis is forward as I type at Port au Prince, at our distribution point. No glory, hot and long hard days. He's getting it done and done right.
THANKS Dennis!
The rubble is piling up on the streets with no system to collect it. No FEMA in Haiti.
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