Only One

And I am sick.  Again.  Sinus infection/virus/something.  Can I get a "you have GOT to be kidding me!"?

But, by His grace, I still have a story to tell, so bear with me if it's jumbly as my brain.

As we walked into church on Sunday, scraping the mud off our shoes on the front step, we noticed that Louis was sitting in the old man section.

Much like churches in the States, everybody's got their bench in church.  

Unlike church in the States, our Haitian friends don't sit together in family units, but split off into age groups.  Old women at the front, mothers in the middle, old men in the back.  Other side: children in the front, young men in the middle, teenagers in the back (well, that part might be like church in the States :).

Most churches, the very obvious "fathers" category is void.  The men work, sit and play dominoes, sit and talk.  The women and children and old people go to church.

But this Sunday, Louis, who is not yet an old man--but might as well be due to his handicap--was sitting in the back with the other old men for the first time.  Probably EVER. 

I see him almost everyday, sitting on the front porch of his house across the street.  Always sitting.  Most often, alone.  

A motorcycle accident a few years ago broke his right foot, which eventually repaired.  But last year, a tap-tap accident that claimed the life of several smashed his right foot and leg to smithereens, and despite a few surgeries and all we could do to help, his leg is now healed, but huge, disfigured, crooked and useless.

A few months ago, Cammie spoke to Louis about Jesus, whom Louis knew about from his Catholic background, but had never really been interested in.  A few weeks later, Junior shared the whole Gospel with him, and everyone was surprised and excited when he accepted.  

He testified back to Junior that he figured if anyone had saved his life, it had been the Lord, and the least he could do was follow Him.  Maybe Jesus didn't mind that he was of no use.  Didn't mind if he could only follow in his heart.

But that was a while ago, so when we walked into church and saw him sitting there, next to Pehpay, a cane leaning against the bench, we were excited.  Signs of fruit.  Signs of sincerity.

Abel rather loudly (well, everything is rather loudly with Abel :) announced Louis' presence to everyone, introduced him as Brother, and asked if Louis wanted to say anything.

Surprised again, we listened as Louis pulled himself up and shared his simple testimony again: he had grown up in the Catholic church, God had saved him, he believed for a purpose, and now he wanted to follow Jesus, praise the Lord.

Everyone was very pleased to welcome him as a part of Our Family, and when the service was over, Matt greeted him and invited him to come to chapel services at the Seminary any time he wanted.  Pehpay comes almost every service, and Louis could walk with Pehpay.

Louis seemed interested, and we went home touched.

The very next day, I was home with the girls by the time chapel rolled around, but Matt went to the service a few moments late and was pleasantly surprised to see Louis sitting near the back.  He sat behind him and welcomed him, and then a few minutes later felt very moved to run home and grab Louis a Bible and a hymnal.  When he slid back into his bench in the middle of a chorus, he saw that Louis's shoulders were shaking.  

Matt scooted down a bit and realized that Louis was indeed bawling, attempting to sing, cry and cover his face at the same time.  

In this culture, much like American culture, I suppose, people will go to all lengths to avoid shame.  Public shame, all the more.  

You can't make people be moved.  You definitely can't make men bawl.  

Only One can, and when you witness that...when you witness what only the Spirit can do? That's powerful.

We don't know what the Spirit was touching.  We don't have to.  Matt was in tears himself, watching the Spirit at work in Louis.  

Super thankful, today, that the Spirit is at work.  Super thankful He does what we can't.  Super thankful we're not responsible to convict the heart of man, to sanctify, to atone or to redeem.  Super thankful (though sometimes I wish I could!) I cannot right what is wrong, purify what is impure, make holy what is unholy.  

Only One can, and I'm super thankful to witness it, in my own life and in the lives of others...in the life of Louis.