Here in Saint Marc, many days we have the priveledge of being our own supervisors: examining the options and deciding what to do, how we should do it, and when we should finish.
It's easy to keep going on days bursting with "importance," projects we can see immediate results from and which give us the energy to joyfully persevere. Days when we're picking up litter for hours in weather with heat indexes of 112 degrees, however, it get's a little more difficult. One thought that has been coming to mind and giving me the motivation to push through, though, is this:
"One who is faithful in very little is also faithful in much." (Luke 16:10)
Wednesday especially, every single forsaken sliver of a plastic half jutting out of the ground represented a small part of something much bigger. My heart, and the willingness (or lack there of) to take part in not just the "important" things, but the little things.. knowing that a week later, that plastic sliver would be replaced by two rusty tin cans, but for the day, because it was asked of me, I needed to put my all in to it.
That same day we hosted another gathering with the girls from the Brothels. I know just being present is valuable, if proved only by the question asked on their first visit: "Do you really love us? Don't you know that people will judge you and talk about you if you are with us?" But as encouraging as it is to have a group of girls you barely know run up to hug you, calling you by name, joyful to see that you've returned to invest in their lives... the actual event is kind of frustrating. It's difficult, wanting to form relationships with people but feeling so limited not only by the cultural differences but the very language itself. That day we were doing art projects and one of the Haitians from the base was speaking, and there wasn't necessarily a specific need for me to be there. So when I left to use the restroom, I went through about a 3 minute "Ehhhhhhh," mental battle where I tried to figure out if leaving an hour early would be fine or not.
Ha.. Then God reminded me of my heart, or at least what I wanted it to look like. The things I claimed to be passionate about, the things I supposedly wanted to dedicate my life to. I've had a heart for prostitutes for awhile now. "If I went back to Amsterdam,"I have thought, "I would want to work with the prostitutes." The same for Thailand. The same for America, even.
Then I got the big "OH. Rigggght."
I am with prostitutes right now! This is the sort of opportunity I had longed for, and when I actually got it, because it wasn't the exact context I had thought about previously, I didn't even recognize it. "If you are here with prostitutes now, and you are not making the most of that opportunity - how can you say that this is what you want to do? How can you claim that this is one of the ministries you'd like to be part of, when it is right in your hand and you put it aside because there's an easier or more interesting option?" In essence, if I couldn't serve these women here and now, if I was not faithful with this "little" situation that only entailed a few hours where only the bare minimum was required of me, how could I ever expect to be faithful in bigger situations?
Ultimately, I was really just convicted to make the most of every moment. Not just moments I've looked for, but in anything that's presented to me. Returning to the Brothel Event, I wasn't specifically needed - everything would have been fine without me. But I wouldn't have been there for the woman sobbing on the ground, mourning the loss of her relatives in the earthquake and the life she now has to lead as a consequence. I wouldn't have been able to speak to her in the words of the only language we both know, embrace and compassion. I wouldn't have been able to see the paintings of which the women drew depicting themselves: full of colors and flowers and vibrance and beauty. I wouldn't have had the priveledge of hearing the prayers of the women, requests for houses or children or husbands, and the few that stood out especially, vulnerable pleas to be freed from this business... one specifically crying out a desire with a weight neither a sentence nor a person should bear: "God, free me from this slavery."
Ahhh. We are so quick to make up our own idea of what ministry looks like, or wait for the exact situation, and miss everything that is right in front of us. This is something I've dealt with almost everywhere I go, especially places like Saint Louis where I somehow get the mindset that I can only really be doing something productive if I somehow manage to escape the city. But over and over again, (especially in this past year), I've really had to remind myself of a major theme: "If not now, when?" If I am not living the way I'd like to now, chances are, even in a new scenario, I won't be living that way then either, or worse, will never actually end up in that situation and will waste all the other opportunities I'm given by not even recognizing them as such.
More specifically to my time in Haiti, it reminds me that my "ministry" is not over when my work day is. Being faithful to what God's called me to do doesn't mean feeding an orphan anymore than it does being gracious to the cashier with the bad attitude or kind to the people I already interact with everyday. If I am not treating even my tent mates with grace and love, how can I truly administer it in other situations?
Well, as always, there's a bit more to this thought but I've gotta go so feel free to think up the subject yourself. ;)
Love!
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