Number Three

Someone once told me that there are three ways to know if God is telling you to do something:

1)  It doesn’t conflict with God’s Word.

2)  Your church family confirms it.

3)  It scares you to death.

I always loved that but at the same time, it challenged me.  I mean, going to Haiti doesn’t conflict with God’s Word.  Everyone completely supported me and told me that I would do amazing things through God here.  But it never scared me.  I actually feel more at home here than I do in the States sometimes.  Simply coming to Haiti must not be enough.  So I asked God why He really wanted me here and to help show me ways that I could make a difference.

Well, ladies and gents, be careful what you pray for because you just might get it.

Last blog, I talked about a woman—her name is Ifozya—that I met down in the Nutritional Program who I invited to church.  Honestly, I wasn’t actually expecting her to come, so I wasn’t too disappointed when I didn’t see her.  Instead, I decided I wanted to talk to her again.  So yesterday I went down there again and a couple of the other interns were painting fingernails and doing a Bible study with the women.  I said hi to them as that same little girl, the woman’s daughter, ran up to me.  This is just about how it went down:

Me: This girl is so cute!

Intern: That’s her mother there behind her.

Me: Yeah, I know!  I came down specifically to talk to her.

Intern: She beats her daughter.  The girl doesn’t live with her anymore.

I’m sorry.  What?  This woman beats her child.  Beats her child so badly that she was taken away from her.  And that means something in Haiti.  Accepted discipline in Haiti might look like child abuse to Americans, so the fact that this girl was being beaten so badly that other Haitians took her away is a big deal.  And this is who God calls me to talk to?

Well, that takes care of Number Three, I guess.  You win, God.  I’m scared.

I was so scared that I literally ran.  I turned away and ran to try to find a place I could be alone and assess the situation.  (That’s code for cry.)  Did I cry because I found out a little girl was being abused?  Well, yes… partly.  But really I cried because I still felt completely called to talk to her mother but had no idea what to say anymore.  I mean, she’s the same person right?  But I’m not prepared for this.  I’m not equipped for this.  How do you minister to a woman who beats her child?

After I talked to a friend of mine about it and calmed down a little bit, I decided I needed to just go back down there and talk to her like I planned.  So in my terrible conversational Creole, I asked her if she remembered me, and she said yes.  I told her that I missed her at church on Sunday, so I wanted to come see her again.  I said that I’d really like to be friends with her and visit her in the mornings.  Ifozya smiled and said okay.

I decided that if I couldn’t get her to come to church, I would bring it to her.  So this morning, I visited her again, just like I promised.  This time I brought a translator and a Creole Bible.  When I came down, Ifozya came over right away.  I asked her if she wanted to do a Bible study with me, and she said yes.  Long story short: I have officially started a study on 1 John with Ifozya.

FYI: I’m still scared.  I don’t really know where this is going to lead, if anywhere.  She didn’t really open up much to me today, but that’s fine.  Mostly I’m just letting God take care of the hard part because I have no idea what I'm doing.

Creole lesson: “Men nouvèl nou te tande nan bouch Jezikri a, nouvèl m’ap fè nou konnen an: Bondye se limyè.  Pa gen fènwa nan Bondye.” -1 Jan 1:5

“Here is the message we have heard from Christ and now announce to you: God is light, and in him there is no darkness at all.” -1 John 1:5

Please pray for me everyone!  And Ifozya, too.  :)