Limel.

There's a lot.  You know.  A half inch of water has my laptop (tests, class audio, EBS videos, photos, student testimonies, etc) dead.  The nearest Apple store continues to be not on the entire island.  Greg and Cathie have come and gone (Monday), Brent and Julie have come and gone (Wednesday) and my dad and his wife are coming tomorrow (Thursday!)  Sofie's new uniform for her new school is almost done, the kittens are growing like weeds, Lily is throwing Fiddler on the Roof quotes into all areas of life and it is month end in the finance office...which happens to be MY office.  Yikes.

Forgetting all that, I am REALLY excited about something today, so I'm going to talk about that instead.

You know Ezechiel.  Every since the first time I (barely) hiked his mountain and spent the day with the people he spends his life with, I have been inspired and encouraged in my walk with Christ.  It is not enough to give a little.  It is not enough to go a little.  It is not enough to love a little or to serve a little.

All, is what He asks. It's easy to point to lots of people and churches and places, and think, "Aw, nobody's doing ALL.  Something is something.  More than such-and-such is enough.  Better than nothing is enough.

It's not.

And Ezechiel humbly and unintentionally reminds me of that every week when he comes, worn shoed, broken biked, busted backpack, to tell me.  Tell me about the school with almost 200 kids, tell me about the church he's working so hard to disciple away from lifetimes of dark worldview, tell me about the awe-inspiring road project he continues to motivate and pick-ax every Saturday.  (speaking of which, I have the most AWESOME video of this...on my laptop.)

He tells me when he is discouraged, which isn't nearly as often as I think it should be.  He tells me about the little things he hangs on to as hope.  He tells me what's hard and what's a joy.  He tells me if it weren't for Jesus, he'd be as lost as the many he's given EVERYTHING to shepherd TO Jesus.

There are a lot of people doing a lot of things in Haiti...some good, some not so good, some true, some not so true.  But I've never met anyone who lives a more abandoned, selfless, sacrificial life to God in Haiti (or anywhere else, for that matter) than Ezechiel.

And he's told me before about Limel.  We've stood on the very tip top of the world in Baron and looked out together, and as I have marveled about what God's done through him in Baron all around us, Ezechiel's looked out further still and pointed out to me all the places the Gospel still hasn't been.  All the mountains that have never experienced feet bringing Good News.  All the places he's heard stories about but has never been.

I always try to encourage him for what he's already done, but it wasn't me who put those places on heart.

A few weeks ago, he came to the house excited, but not about the road project, the church or the busting-at-the-seams school.

"I'm going," he said, "I've got it all planned.  I've told you about Limel ten times before, and I'm going.  November 1st and 2nd.  They've never heard the Gospel, they have NO church, no school, the people continue to live in utter darkness, they are killing each other when they disagree, and the zones all around the mountain are afraid of them, because they are so sovage."

"God's been giving me a heart to get there since I first returned to the mountain after I led my parents to Christ, and I've been working to build up believers in our church to go with me."

"But they are afraid, they are still not ready.  Everyone is afraid of Limel."  Ezechiel always speaks cool as a cucumber...there is no drama in this man.  Nor is there any fear.

"So," he concludes resolutely, "I am going.  Pray for me!"

"By yourself?" I ask.

"I guess so," he says.  "They cannot wait any longer for the Gospel, and no one is ready to go."

"I AM READY TO GO," I shout at him (I never said there was no drama in me) without thinking.  If you'd been there, you would have shouted it, too.

He smiles at my enthusiasm, and I start thinking what he's thinking, but is not rude enough to tell me.
A female foreigner may actually not be what Limel needs upon their first exposure to the Gospel. The Gospel may not need to be distracted by Limel's first exposure to a foreigner.  I may actually NOT be the solution to every problem.  Gasp.

"That...may not be best, huh" I admit, wishing for the gabillionth time I could be or NOT be a foreigner whenever I wished.

Immediately, Junior's face came to mind.  I know a LOT OF PEOPLE way way better than myself.  I'm surrounded by the PERFECT PEOPLE to go.  I could send them with Ezechiel.

I sent him off promising to pray, and pray and think I have.

Identifying who to ask, and then asking them, has been of the greatest joy this past week.

I figured I'd try to send 5.  So I figured I'd need to ask about 15 to get 5 who were willing.

I really should stop trying to figure stuff and let God.

The person I picked out to go, Junior (of course), was the only one who said no.  He's got a lot going on, he's really busy right now, it's not a great weekend, I get it.

So if not Junior, who?  Junior said, "Ask Aldy. He'll go in a heartbeat."

Aldy's gone with me every time I've gone, and spent a big part of his summer up there.  But, it would mean missing two days of school entirely for hiking so that he could do the crusade all day Saturday and Sunday.

So I called Aldy in (second year class), explained the situation (he'd already heard of Limel from Ezechiel), told him the people there have been known to be violent (my version of a risk waiver) and asked if he'd pray about going.

"Why yes," Aldy smiled, always shyly looking down when talking to me.

"Yes?  You'll go?  Do you need to think about it?"

"I'll go.  No, I'm good.  God always wants us to go share the Gospel, doesn't He?"

A few days later, I went into the main office only to see Luddie sitting there!

Graduate of 2014, she also spent part of the summer in Baron, and is as responsible, sensible, compassionate and sacrificial as they come.

As soon as I saw her, there to pick up a paper, I said, "Luddie, come talk to me when you're done!"

I explained the whole situation to her, and asked her to consider it prayerfully.

"Ok," she said happily.  "I'll go!  When should I be here?"

Can I tell you what joy has filled my heart as Aldy, Luddie, Brave, Napo and Phida quietly listened to the story of Limel and Ezechiel over these past two weeks, and joyfully, sweetly and immediately accepted to go?  One, even upon learning about it this morning?  Four days? In a tent?  On top of a mountain they have to hike themselves, in the middle of exams and work and lives and jobs, to share the Gospel with people they've never met, who live in utter darkness, and kill each other?

Quick note here:  The Emmaus side of Stacey is SO stinkin' proud.  THIS is what it's all about.  Not the big churches and the prestige, not the degree or the education, but discipling and equipping hearts that are READY to go, READY to serve, READY to preach and READY to die.  

SO, that was a long story to where we are at today.  Tomorrow night, everyone is meeting here on campus, and Friday morning, Ezechiel (class of 2009), Napo, Brave and Luddie (class of 2014) and Aldy and Phida (class of 2017) are heading out together to Limel.  Together with our prayers.

How beautiful on the mountains

are the feet of those

who bring Good News

who proclaim peace

who bring good tidings

who proclaim salvation

and who say, "Our God Reigns."

Isaiah 52:7