Finding Jesus in unusual places

We grow up in a world where being different than the status quo is "weird," or an anomaly. Where we let others' opinions of us determine who we are. We live in a society where we are required to judge and label people according to their appearances and actions. I was at work yesterday, and my manager gathered us around her and began to talk to us about how busy the night would be. Since I work at a fast food restaurant in the South, we are usually busy on Sunday nights primarily after everyone leaves church. Now, my manager says, "We aren't going to be very busy until around 7:30 because everyone is at church. When all the church people come in they're going to be rude because they've been nice all day and they're sick of being nice. So, serve them with a smile and accuracy."
Jesus commands His followers to "love your neighbor as yourself." (Matthew 22:39)
 If Christians are known as rude, grouchy, "church people" by everyday fast food workers, what does that say about our religion? It says that we are fake, and we are different people at church, than we are the rest of our lives. It says we treat those who attend our churches better than those who serve us. Jesus served His disciples; He washed their feet and broke bread with them. Would you treat Jesus like you treat people working in the food service industry?
Jesus said He was the "least of these" (Matthew 25:40). That means the poor, the naked, the hungry, the thirsty, but it also means those who serve you. Those working menial jobs for minimum wage. Where will you find Jesus?

An Experience

After waiting three hours for a patient to come out of a surgery that should have taken forty-five minutes, the nurses began to worry. Finally, the patient emerged.

         “I need you to check this woman’s blood pressure, heart rate, and temperature regularly,” said the nurse frantically. She then thrust a decrepit blood pressure monitor into my trembling hands.  I followed directions until I heard a painful whimpering coming from the corner of the room. I glanced over and saw a young man about my age crying, with his hands covering his face. I turned to check the patient’s blood pressure again; while waiting for the half-broken machine to cooperate, I snuck a glance at the young man. This time, however, I was shocked. I had failed to notice a giant tumor on the far side of the boy’s face. I was instantly stunned. I couldn’t move for what felt like hours, but what was really only a few minutes.

     Thankfully, the beeping of the monitor brought me out of my trance. I then realized the woman’s blood pressure had dropped to 46/25. Bordering hysteria, I scrambled out in to the hallway in order to find the head nurse. Instantly, I was overcome with the smell of heat and disease. The Haitian people admired my scrubs with looks of respect I didn’t deserve. As I found “Momma Sheryl,” and explained to her what had happened, we hurried back up the stairs while mumbling, “Bon swa,” to the families of the patients. We burst into the room, and as I glanced around I saw several doctors, translators, and nurses huddled around a bed containing the young man with the tumor.

     I dashed to the other side of the room to help raise the woman’s blood pressure. After adding sugars and nourishing minerals to the IV, we prayed and wept over the lady. Slowly, her blood pressure and heart rate steadily increased until she was no longer on death’s door. Next, her husband rushed through the door; I’ll never forget the look of gratitude in his eyes as he whispered “Merci, merci,” with tears rolling down his face. As I turned my attention toward the young man, I slowly came to realize that our mission team could do nothing for this boy. His condition was past hope.

      I sadly left the medical clinic and walked down the dusty road that led back to Institution Univers. I smiled and danced with all the little children, trying to give them some reason to hope things will change. I smiled at the street vendors haggling prices in order to feed their families, the shoeless children in tattered clothing playing soccer in the street, and the old women carrying buckets of water on their heads. Those two patients at Univers Medical Clinic taught me that in order to change the world, one must change individual lives first.

Thoughts on Giving

Both times I have been to Haiti, our mission team usually leaves old shoes or old clothes. This is good, perhaps, because the items are going to those in need. BUT, if we truly believe that the Haitians we are serving deserve the same opportunities we possess, why would we leave them clothes we don't care about? Matthew 25:40 says, "Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these of my brothers and sisters in Christ, you have done for me." Would you give Jesus your old, hand-me-down clothes? Or would you give him your favorite, most-loved shirt? 

Just a thought.

My Passion

Most people have something that they love. For some, it's soccer, football, show choir, art, or academics. For me, it's mission work. Specifically, Haiti. Haiti has this ridiculous pull on my heart. I've been twice, and both times, it has changed me in completely different ways. Haiti has allowed me to realize God's plans for my life. It has helped me become more globally aware. It has helped me to become the person I am. 

I want to be like the Haitian people in so many ways. They are so loving and thankful; they don't resent God, even though they easily could. I will forever love Haiti. Even though I become really angry with God for giving me this love, it is a blessing. I'm thankful for the heart He gave me. I will go back to Haiti.

Here are some pictures of my crazy adventures!

This boy truly shows the happiness and gratefulness of the Haitian people. All we were doing sponsoring a Field Day for Institution Univers. In order to change the world, I have to change individual lives first.

Poverty in Haiti (and all other third-world countries) is nothing like poverty in America. They don't have unemployment benefits, welfare, social security, or medicare. They have no one except for God to help them.

 Little children in Haiti are the most precious things ever. They yell "BLANCO! BLANCO!" at white people because they think we speak Spanish like the Dominicans. You can always tell which kids haven't ever seen a white person before. They always have a scared/excited look in their eyes and they yell "BLANCO!" with more gusto than any of the other kids.

 These are the kids of The New Jerusalem Foundation. We helped these kids the first time I ever went to Haiti. I love them. Donate here: http://www.newjerusalemfound.org/

 This is my best friend. We've had all these Haitian adventures together, and we're going to go to Africa together someday.

Motorcycles in Haiti are taxis. A taxi ride costs $1. At first, I was really scared. You're getting on a motorcycle with an unknown Haitian man, who you are blindly trusting. He could easily kidnap you and do who knows what to you. But they don't. They never do.

 On our last day, we always go and visit Fort Liberte. Our second trip, we had to fit 13 people in a truck bed and 7 on the inside. Extremely entertaining.

On our way back from Fort Liberte, Hugues showed us the scenic route. We got stuck in mud... or poop. The guys pushed us out.

During our work at Univers Medical Clinic, we saw several patients that needed hysterectomies, which is where the doctor removes the uterus. This is a picture of a uterus infected with fibroid tumors. 

 JDUB, our awesome youth minister. I'm so thankful for him. Without Jason, I probably would have had an emotional breakdown on the first night of the first trip.

These are the children of the men that work at Hugues' farm. Hugues is the director and founder of IU and UMC. He has revolutionized the town of Ouanaminthe.

Friends at IU. 

 These kids were ecstatic to see "Save Haiti" written on my shoes. They loved it.

This is my favorite picture of me. Ever. One of the little girls at Alex's orphanage took it. I was so happy.

 This was our first day at The New Jerusalem Foundation. I had made a poster that said "We love you!" in Creole and French. I've never been more nervous. The man in the picture is Alex. He runs the New Jerusalem Foundation. He's the most caring man I've ever met.

This little boy had JUST been taken in by Alex. He was a street kid. Street kids are not looked upon fondly. There are hundreds of thousands of them. I want to help them all.

This was my first time riding a motorcycle in a third-world country. Since, I have done it twenty times. Riding a motorcycle in Haiti is nothing like riding a motorcycle in America though. They beep their horns at people they know, people they don't know, everything. It's a crazy mess. I love it.

On our third day in Haiti, Alex had come to pick us up. This boy was in the back of his truck. Alex had never seen him before, he had no idea how the boy had gotten there. So, we gave him food, shoes, a soccer ball, some clothes, and a toothbrush. Later, I realized that this boy embodied Jesus.

Matthew 25:40.

And last but not least, this is Momma Sheryl. She is the lady that enabled me to go to Haiti in the first place. She is my inspiration, my role model. I want to live my life like she lives hers. She is loved and known by everyone in Haiti. She has such a huge heart. I want to continue her work. I love her so much.