the necessity of insanity

Wow. It has been a whirlwind few days accompanied by a whirlwind of emotions. We are back home safely, the students and our fellow missionaries are back safely, and a new session started at Emmaus today. Visiting professors Glen Wells (Canada) and Pam Simson (England) are here teaching two courses alongside of two taught by national professors. All is well, but it is obvious that Matt and I (and Lily), Junior in Port, and the team that worked alongside him are all working to process these past days.

The team had an absolutely fantastic trip. For under $2000 US, twenty-one people travelled to Port, slept, ate, and spent four separate plots of time on the children of Diquini, five plots of time on preaching and services, and hours in between ministering to and praying with the people of Diquini. They were sad to leave on Monday, and Junior was sad to see them go... now alone in the work once more (please continue to pray for him.)

Meanwhile, we also had a fantastic trip to see our families, spend precious hours in good conversation and happy moments, and eat some REALLY good food. It was wonderful to step out of Haiti, just for a few days, and for a few moments NOT think about the earthquake, about the struggle to survive and daily struggles. Lily got to see things she had never imagined before, and best, got to play on the beach with Aunt Lee and Uncle Adam, dance with Pop-Pop, swim with Grammy and shop with Grandpa.

(Lil was fascinated with this Good-Year blimp, and totally enamored by her FIRST playground...her Easter dress got in the way, and finally she just enjoyed the playground Haitian-Lily style)

While the Lord gave us rest and joyful times, He did not allow us much peace in our surroundings. Throughout the weekend we were continually blessed with a huge burden: for our brothers and sisters in Port...for the Haitian people in general, for the many Americans around us, and for the church today. Easter and the total meaning of His coming, death and resurrection was overwhelming in light of this burden.

We were in Fort-Lauderdale during Spring Break. That definitely put us in an extra worldly situation. But as we had supper together Saturday night on the boardwalk, I was sick. I saw a daughter, a young daughter, lead her completely intoxicated mother home. I heard the foulest of language used like common expressions, saw the most promiscuous of dress and behavior that I would think exists in the world. I saw behavior so appalling and selfishnesses so ugly that I had to look away. Darkness. Such utter utter Darkness.

This is all that kept running through my mind as I sat in horror at the behaviors and attitudes and carnal-ness and sadness around me: It is as if He died and rose again and the next day it meant absolutely nothing. He died for you and you and you and me and rose from the dead, making it possible for us to draw near our Holy God, and it means NOTHING. We don't even WANT it.

The next morning, we looked up a church in the phone book, checked out the pastor online, and all headed to church. I was HUNGRY for His Word, and to sit in the midst of His family, my family. I hadn't been to an American, English church service in over 9 months, and in light of the churning of my heart, I was so anxious to be there, to worship in my mother tongue, to be encouraged by His Word preached in my language.

I don't want to be critical. The music was good and it was good to be in church. But if the bearers of LIGHT to the darkness I experienced Saturday night was to shine from that service, there was no hope. Easter Sunday, the pinnacle of truth and salvation and hope for the Christ-follower, and the Word of God was not opened. The 30 minute sermon did not reference the Bible. The sermon did not come from the Bible. Instead, it was a cheery mixer of stories, memories and life-lessons, finished with, "Now Go, on this most Holy Day."

It's not just that thought-provoking stories of Babe Ruth or crotchety congregants throughout the years is not enough to transform a witchdoctor or villagers camped-out in tents above Port-au-Prince. They are not enough to transform rambunctious aimless partiers, or even mild, "good" people. They weren't even enough to transform my thirsty and eager Christ-heart. If WE, family, are not the RIDICULOUSLY set-apart, blazingly unashamed in the darkness of the WORLD, unmistakably holy, unwaveringly grounded on His Word and selflessly and passionately dying to others by His love...ah, ALL IS LOST. He came, and died, and ROSE, and made it possible for me walk with God, and WE DON'T EVEN WANT TO.

As the EBS team experienced in Port-au-Prince, and as we experienced in Florida...if people can't hear of His insanely out-of-this-world gift by our lips, ah, they never will. If people can't see His unmistakable and frequently uncomfortable HOLINESS in our lives, ah...they never will. If people can't know His love by the insanity and selflessness of ours, they just never will.

I am more guilty than us all...frequently choosing my comfort, blending in, my desires, my concern for what others might think...to walk in the midst of the darkness with a basket covering my Light. I have Him, I keep Him, I am a nice, good person spouting Christian-y tales...and it will never make a whit of difference in any darkness I have seen.

The EBS group saw over 70 come to know the Lord this weekend. They discipled many more. They preached His Word and sang His praises (stories to come this week). And in Haiti, they did something absolutely insane: They turned back to a level of poverty that had already defeated. They CHOSE to live in the mud. They CHOSE to work in the sun. They suffered in ways they did not HAVE to. They CHOSE to ride in the hated rain, work in the muggy heat, preach in the poorest village...And so, HE WAS SEEN this weekend in Diquini.

Listen, family. I don't mean to be morbid, and I do not want to preach. But we HAVE to step up. We have to start being INSANE and SET APART...Insane enough in His PURITY, His HOLINESS, His WORD, His LOVE that a dark world who doesn't even believe that He exists, or does but doesn't want Him, becomes DESPERATE for Him.

I should never say that there is no hope, because we (praise the Lord!) are not in control here. If there was NOT ONE faithful, there would still be Hope in He For Whom Even The Rocks Cry Out. But I can't stand the thought of Him having to pass me over to bring His children to Himself.

Just as the 21 this Easter weekend in Port were desperate enough to sacrifice themselves to be used by Him, we must be. We must be. CHRIST IN ME, the HOPE OF GLORY