Amen.

Are you dying to hear?  I've been dying to hear.

Just hung up with Matt, and they are all going to bed.  Exhausted, drained, fed and done.

And at peace.

It was a good day.  Matt kept saying "I got some pictures of it..." so I'll have more tomorrow, but for tonight's update...

When they got to Port, they found the house they're staying in, found Junior, all got dressed, talked through and prayed through the service, and headed to the morgue, where there was a preliminary viewing.  They thought the service was going to be there, but it was WAY too small for the hundreds already arriving.  With the time for the funeral rapidly approaching, a place had to be found.

One of Junior's brothers is the yard man for the huge Mormon Temple next door, and there we go.

This afternoon, the ten Christians shared the Gospel at the witchdoctor's funeral to almost 1000 men and women rooted in Voodoo in a Mormon Temple.  

Again, I'll share more tomorrow, but Matt said the service was great.

As people were gathering for the service, the guys got to meet lots of area witchdoctors, mambos (female witchdoctors), politicians, family members, followers and friends.

Matt was surprised to see Junior meet several men and women who are ALSO children of Ti-Paul (Junior's dad) for the very first time.  Some of Juinor's siblings are in their 70's!  Others, small children.  Junior was continually meeting "new" family throughout the day...being cast out from the family for the last 18 years has kept him from even meeting some of his own siblings!

"God's Spirit was just with us, Stace," he exuded tonight, "in a powerful way.  Belony was the MC for the event, and from the start of the funeral to the finish, he took every opportunity to teach the truth of the Gospel...with such humility and clarity and joy!"

Then Junior got up and shared his personal testimony, tributing his father for initially giving him permission to convert.  "The greatest gift I ever received from my father was the gift of freedom..."

I wish something awful I could have sat in that front row for that testimony this afternoon.

The whole time Belony and Junior were leading and sharing, there was a woman in the front row, demon-possessed, screaming, wailing, thrashing, eyes black and rolling, etc.  Berthil prayed, and ignored or accepted by everyone, she continued.  A few of the students sang a song.  She continued screaming.

While everyone seemed to almost be expecting demonic action, Matt--not all that accustomed to it while preaching in church--was unsure of how he was going to preach with this woman screaming and collapsing literally 2 feet from him.

Men, women and children not only packed out every bench, but filled every aisle.  Matt said there were even dozens of people standing outside of every window and door, listening, watching, wondering at the 10.

"It was like everyone was in a state of uncertainty," Matt said tonight.  "It was obviously SO different than what everyone expected to hear, and everyone was almost intrigued...spellbound."

When it was time for Matt to share, he stood and opened his Bible to Isaiah 6, praying, praying.  Matt said as he began, he felt the Holy Spirit meet him and pour through him in a way he's rarely experienced, with a great boldness, great love for everyone around him, and great authority.  With the students all sitting behind him, praying and supporting the Gospel going out, Matt started into the Word, Isaiah 6.  "In the year King Uzziah died, I saw the Lord sitting on a throne..."

The screeching woman immediately, immediately went back to the front bench, sat down, silenced, and sat, unmoving, the entire sermon, her mouth wide open and eyes fixed on Matt's face.

Matt said he talked first about the realities of life.  Of death.  Of grief.  Of sadness.  Of loss.  Of difficulty.  Of the place every single one of them found themselves today.   Of the world.  Of Haiti.  Of Ti-Paul's loved ones.

And then?  Then he talked about an entirely different Reality.

Praise the Lord.  Praise the Lord for our entirely different Reality.  Praise the Lord for the entirely different 10 men and for Christ and boldness and His authority in them.

Unpacked the new reality, the entirely different.  Entirely different from everything they've ever known.  Halfway through, Matt realized these people had never even been in church, didn't even know how to respond.  They knew how to do darkness.  But needed some help recognizing light.

"If you hear Truth" Matt encouraged them, "...if your heart moves within you and seems to say, YES, that is TRUE, then you say, Amen!  Amen, may it be."

From that moment forward, Matt said he was overwhelmed with Amens.  Can God work in the hearts of men who have never met Him?  Does His Truth ring true even in the midst of lies?  Can Light be seen even in the darkest places?  With joy we say YES.

"I still cannot figure out WHY Junior's family let him do it, Stace" Matt told me tonight.  "Every prayer, every song, every word was given by one of us 10.  Nine of us strangers, foreigners.  I don't know why they let us do it, but they did."

The students finished off the service, Belony still unpacking the Gospel throughout, songs of praise sung boldly, loudly, and alone.

The spirit of disgust, of hatred, of anger, all seemed to have left the Mormon Temple while the men shared God.  Openly.  Freely.  Boldly.

Afterwards, Matt said family members of Junior and witchdoctor's he'd met beforehand who had refused to shake his hand, refused to look in his face, refused to soften, approached him afterwards.  One particular man, a brother of Juniors and also a witchdoctor, had been so seething and hateful towards Matt before the service, and then ran to him afterwards.  "Thank you.  You have convicted my deepest heart."

"It wasn't my finger that poked you, friend, but the hand of God."

"Yes."

The service over, most everyone headed home, and Junior led the 10 to the place of his birth, the house of his childhood, the head temple for the region where Junior both played as a toddler and saw horrific things, both slept and experienced nightmares, both lived and died, in many ways.  It was at this temple Ti-Paul was to be buried.

But today, cloth covered all four sides.  What was to happen inside was to stay inside, and was not for the Christians to see.  Not for others to see.

So with boldness, Junior entered, the 9 with him.  Everyone in the yard tried to stop him, but Junior quickly told them that there was NO place he could not be.  No place God could not go.

In the middle of the temple, surrounded by all the talismans and trinkets of Ti-Paul's life and trade, was a huge pit, still being dug by three men.  The siblings all came in, and on one side of the pit were the 10, and on the other side of the pit, the witchdoctors and leaders Ti-Paul had worked with.  Siblings all around.

Matt said within a matter of moments, it was complete chaos.

"God can't BE in here" the witchdoctors hissed.  "You can't bring your stuff in here.  You can't come in here.  You can't be a part of this.  You can't see this.  You will only mess stuff up.  You will all go, NOW."

Matt saw the boldness of Christ in Junior in a way he has never seen it before.

Junior stood before them all, almost shaking with boldness and anger, and countered back.  "I am his son.  I am in charge.  This funeral has been given to us.  We are not going anywhere, and God was here before we came."

Then Belony, who we already know to be greatly bold about the Gospel, began to share it, again.

The family began fighting over whose funeral this was, who should be sharing what and why, shots of whiskey began to be ceremoniously and yet chaotically taken by everyone in the temple but the 10 (alcohol is a rather large part of voodoo in Haiti, as well...), the coffin began to be carried in, while the hole was still being dug, being lifted over fighting family members heads, it was over 100 degrees in there, everyone was screaming and yelling...

And there were the ten, standing silently.

Matt said it was complete and entire chaos.  When things calmed down a little, Belony began again, this time to several priests/family members had had ENOUGH.  They started threatening and jeering at Belony, drinking, drinking, fighting, fighting, pushing, finally dropping the coffin haphazardly into the hole and cracking it.

"Get these religious ones out of here," the ringleader finally hissed, and Matt fully expected to be bullied out.

But he said as many fists were flying, not a one was at the 10.  As much fighting as was happening, none of it was in the face of the 10.

"I am very glad you brought that up," Belony said, boldly, calmly.  "You continue to call us the religious ones, and I know that many people call you that, as well.  I want to let you know, before all these witnesses, that we are not religious men.  We claim to be followers of Jesus Christ and nothing else.  We are nothing but followers of Jesus."

The fighting continued, the 10 waited, and as tension continued to mount, the ringleader barked again, "Are you finished, so we can get on with OUR ceremony?"

"Almost," Junior glowed.  "Father!", Matt said Junior poured out in prayer, "Forgive these people.  They live in such utter darkness, such confusion, such foolishness and such complete ignorance of You.  Forgive them, for they don't know what they are doing."

"We are finished."

They piled into our small truck and pulled away while the curtains closed and the drums began to pound.

Victorious.  Because the battle is not theirs.  But His.

And we already know: He's victorious.

The Gospel was shared today, WELL and completely (Matt was so proud of our students...I am so overwhelmed by motherly/sisterly Godly pride) to almost 1000 people, probably 90% of whom are deeply engrained in voodoo.   People coming to hear more fear and darkness were surprised and touched by light and truth, instead.  God showed up mightily, and was at work...IS at work.

Our 3rd and 4th year students had the senior trip of a lifetime, embracing an opportunity to BE the Body of Christ for Junior and for each other, to sacrifice their time, their comfort, and realistically, their necks, to be faithful to sharing the Gospel.  They practiced, in the hardest context I can imagine, what they have preached and studied and learned.  They are Davids.

And Junior?  Junior has done nothing new.  He has lost his dad, but he had already done that.  As a 12 year old.  And he stood alone when he had to, but he has already done that.  Many times.  And He has given to God what is God's, which he has done over and over.  And he has cared not at all whether he lives or dies or eats or has, as long as He is after God's heart.  Again.  I am, with all the depth of the word, inspired.  Again.

And Matt?  Well, it's true.  There are a lot of great things he could do with the brain and articulation God has given him.  Others aren't slow to remind us what is being "squandered" through Matt being poured out in a place like Haiti.

But we have said it before and we will say it again.

There is absolutely no better, no greater, no richer, no sweeter place to be than smack in the middle of wherever God's asked you to be...

And today, that was preaching The Bible at a witchdoctor's funeral in a Mormon temple in Haiti.

Praise the Lord, He is Good.

That all the earth may know that there is a God in [the WORLD], and that all may know that the Lord does not deliver by sword or by spear; for the battle is the Lord's."  1Sam17

the battle

There are many things churning below my surface today, but the one that keeps rising are thoughts of David.  

Ever since Vilmer reminded me that the battle here is not ours, but at the feet of God, my perspective has been peering over that battle field with the cowering Israelites and the mocking giant.

Goliath's challenge to Israel in the name of his pagan gods was not ultimately in defiance of King Saul, nor the Israelites, nor David.  And it was not for self-preseveration nor for ego defense that David went out.  David rose and went and fought that "All the earth may know there IS a God in Israel, and that the battle is the Lords."  (1Samuel 17)

And as that giant's challenge reached the feet of our God, it was His to fight, not Israel's.  Not David's.

Nobody thought David, a boy coming with sticks and stones, could defeat Goliath.  And they were right.  Even David knew he couldn't.  "I come at you today in the name of the Lord you have taunted" David declared, and his effort, a pathetic pebble from a scrawny kid, in the hands of God, sunk in and defeated.

You know, when I asked just a few days ago for help for Emmaus, I was asking you well-established business people, you churches.  I was like Saul, most comfortable to have the situation addressed by a strong soldier sporting some shiny armor.  

And praise the Lord, I know there is indeed help coming from that field.  Frankly, I wasn't asking you, young sister, to talk to your high school classmates and raise up your minimum wages.  I wouldn't have asked you, retired women, to generously doll out your widow's mite.  I never would have uncomfortably approached you, fellow Haiti missionary, to fork over your precious and much needed tax return.

But all that's exactly what has happened.  What felt like Goliath a few days ago has arisen many Davids with many pebbles, and again--the battle, the challenge--is STILL NOT MINE to approach, but His.  And He is.  And He's using His children.  And as we've seen from David's story, it is enough.

And I wasn't ASKING for the funeral to be given to Junior.  I wasn't ASKING for the Gospel to be preached in the midst of utter darkness.  I wasn't asking for a David in the midst of a battle.  I was just hoping God could use Christ in Junior, in some small way.  And yet the battle, I'm reminded, is the LORDS.  And He can do with it what He wants.

And Junior never should have asked.  And his family never should have agreed.  And Matt should be here right now, not on the road to Port.  And the guys should be polishing off their breakfasts, not piled in the cab and in the back of our truck in the scorching sun on the dusty road, heading to Port with him.  And you, guy that doesn't know us and doesn't know Junior and doesn't even know Haiti, you never should have listened to that still, small voice and found the $500 this whole thing is going to cost and sent it off to Haiti.

In my battle, none of that stuff ever would have been.   

But the challenge of the world, of Haiti, of Satan, of man...they're not challenging ME.  It's HIS.

And even when 1 man stands before hundreds, speaking the foolishness of God before the wisdom of men, God works in that man.  God works in Junior.

And even when 10 men (yep, I said ten.  Junior. Matt. Berthil. Jean Marc.  Leandre.  Gesner.  Jodenel. Simeon.  Belony.  Samson) stand before a thousand, that all the earth may know that there IS a God in Haiti, God rises to the occasion.  Comes out to meet the challenge.

When Goliath called, and mocked, and taunted, and challenged, his voice did not echo over the empty valley forever.  There were many many people who were fully aware of the fight who God could have used.  But they just plain didn't believe the battle was actually HIS.  Just plain didn't trust Him enough TO be used by Him.  OUCH.

It's true, they also didn't take any risks.  They may have been the "smarter" ones.  

But they entirely missed out on being used by Him.  And were NEVER heard of again.  And David, he was given the label, the legacy, the stories I long for greater than any other tagline: a man after God's own heart.


TODAY there is a quiet battlefield, in a small valley, on a small island off of Florida.  And for many years, silence has echoed in response to much taunting, many lies, much challenging.  

But there are some small boys.  A witchdoctor's son.  A pasty foreigner.  A tiny man who used to beat the drums. A tailor.  A preacher.  A soccer player.  A poor man who lives to serve children.  A student.  A musician. An orphan.

And they're coming before the challenge not with sticks and stones, but with Bread and Water.  That all the earth, that every man, woman and child may know that there IS a God in Haiti.  That there is a freedom from chains.  That there is a hope for a future independent from the past.  That there is a rebirth available to grown men.  That there is a Light in the Darkness.

Today, they stand.

I am with them.

Gesner

Belony

Samson

Simeon

Junior and Jodenel

Matt

Leandre

Jean Marc

how it really is.

Last week, with a mango cobbler in the oven and wearing pajama pants, a team from Florida unexpectedly appeared at my door and came in to chat for a while.  

The team leader, Wayne, was a man I've met a few times before and I know he and Barbara to be faithful blog-followers and partners of the Seminary.

Before Wayne asked me to share a few thoughts with the team, he said to them, "Now, most missionaries won't tell you how it REALLY is...they'll just tell you the good stuff off the surface.  But if you want to know what it's really like, the Ayars life in Haiti, you gotta check out this blog."

At first, I was a bit honored.  Hey, something different.  That's good!

But then, I thought...huh.  Why do you think most people don't do that, Stace?  Sometimes if no one else is doing it, maybe YOU shouldn't be doing it, either.  It's possible he's kindly saying you're a nut-job who's splaying all her issues on the world wide web.

WELL, that may be, but good or bad...too late now, and as a disclaimer, the point of this blog was never to inform you of our life or to make people feel good about begin involved with us, EBS, or Haiti (though I hope that is sometimes the case).  

Instead, I hope the blog can be used by Him through this call He has on our life to impact Our relationships with God...a cross-cultural, multi-lingual, personal God.  

Sometimes, this means opening our hearts and minds to a very different perspective...a challenge, pain and joy that we get to experience daily here...and is worth sharing.


THIS is one of those posts.  You don't have to understand it.  I don't understand it.  You probably shouldn't let your children read it.  You don't have to agree with my conclusion.  

All I ask--should you chose to continue--is that you try, with me, to have an open heart, open mind, and open-cultural lens, and that we take our questions and confusions and heartbreak, as always, with faith to the feet of Him who knows.

Agreed?


When Lily told me there was a woman at the end of our path Monday, I wiped my damp hands off on a holey tea-towel and stepped out the door ready to greet whomever. But as soon as my eyes met the woman's, I balked. 

I've never figured out how to truly describe the look of one close to death, but the woman at the end of my walk looked like she had stepped out of a coffin and onto my path.

Her arms hung limp and heavy at her sides, her cheeks were gaunt, her shoulders and hip bones protruding under her child-sized t-shirt, and the breeze, the BREEZE, was moving her ever-so-slightly as she stood, lifeless.  

Even her skin looked HEAVY, too heavy for her to hold up.  

She looked every bit a dark skeleton, and as I drew closer, I noticed large sores all over her arms and face, her lips cracked and white and flaking, her hand clawing occasionally over a scab on her forearm. 

I had seen her before in town, but NOT looking like this.  She didn't lean in for the customary kiss, nor pick up her hand to shake mine.  Honestly, I'm not sure that she had the energy.  I'm not even sure how she made it to my yard.  

I asked her her name, trying to act like her appearance was normal, and without moving her lips, she told me Cadet, wife of Ti-Boss.  

Yes, that's where I knew her from.  Ti-Boss's real name is J-something, but everyone calls him Ti-Boss. He's a skilled tailor, whipping out uniforms, our curtains, clothing and sheets rapidly and well from his tiny foot-pedaled iron sewing machine.  

I had heard from Rene a few weeks ago that Ti-Boss was very sick, that his wife was very sick, too.  That Ti-Boss's family had come all the way from Au-Bois to get him and that he was there, she was still here, both unable to care for themselves, neither caring for their boys.  

They were always a very skinny, very quiet, very respectful family.  But not like this.

When Cadet realized I knew who she was, I saw a hint of relief in her eyes, but no smile from her now bleeding lip.  

She struggled to get out her reason for coming, gasping.  She didn't really need to explain anything.  It was obvious.  It was already killing me.

"I have no money to go to the doctor.  Ti-Boss is sicker than I, gone...can't work.  No income.  Kids, hungry.  No school.  I have nothing."

My mind is swimming, and while I frequently pray in "ask" situations about what to do, there was no question of whether I needed to help or not.  I couldn't not help.  I could hardly stand it, even WITH helping.

I asked her to come to the office the next morning to talk with me, promising I would talk to Matt and that we would do what we could to help her.  

I didn't just want to give her money.  I wanted to talk to her.  She couldn't stand there much longer.  I needed to think.  I knew her appearance would greatly disturb Lily, who is downright obsessed with maladies as it is, so I didn't feel I could invite her in.  This seemed like the right thing to tell her.  I don't know.  I hope so.

So, I shared the heartbreak with Matt that evening and he agreed we definitely should help if I felt led.  He and I were thinking the same thing based on other cases we've seen...maybe something like AIDS.   

As promised, her stick-figure appeared at my office door first thing Tuesday, and I begged her to sit, though I could see she was uncomfortable...She really just wanted the help and wanted to go.  

I asked a bit about her family, and talked for a moment about the recent rains and events, and then slid an envelope across the desk to her.  

"Because you are giving me this money, I'm going to go to church Monday," she said immediately, eyes wide and voice urgent.

"Ummm, ok."  I said, caught off guard by her bizarre response.  "That's good, if that's what you want to do.  But you don't have to, you know."

"We used to go to church, you know" she said just as urgently, weakly.  "Then we got so discouraged.  But you gave me this money, and Monday there is a weekly prayer service, and I'm going to go."

"I understand.  We pray that this money will be a blessing to you and your family.  If you want to go to a prayer service, that's great.... but..."

This was my chance.

"You know, Cadet, you don't have to go to church.  If you are looking for God, you don't have to go to church.  You can meet God here, in your home, on the road.  If you are looking for Him, He promises to be found."

She looked overwhelmed.  No.  Terrified.  

"Oh, NO"  she quickly said.  "I'm not looking for God.  I don't want to find Him.  I just want Him to do a thing for me.  I've tried everything..." she looked down quickly, and I knew she meant she'd spent some good time and money with the witchdoctor..."and nothing is working.  I just figure if I have this missionary money, and I go to the prayer service, maybe He will do something for me."

I told her that God was nothing like the witchdoctor...functions nothing like a witchdoctor.  You don't take your problem and some money to God, and He does what you want for a great price, and holds it over you in the form of fear forever.  I told her what God HAS done for her...

"Whatever" she finally said, very anxious to go.  "I just want healed.  Thank you."

I didn't think I could feel more bewildered after she left. 


I was wrong.

Almost immediately, a Haitian female friend and godly woman popped her head in my office.  

"Stacey, please tell me you didn't give that woman money."

"Uhhhm.  Yeah, I did.  I mean, did you see her?  Of course I did."

"Stacey!  She and her husband have the sickness of Satan."  (Open mind, friend...you promised!...this is a GOOD friend who has proved herself wise and godly and full of fruit!)

"You mean they were cursed or something?"

"No.  They made a deal with Satan and when you open yourself to Satan and ask him to help you, the result is death.  What do you think your money is going to do about THAT!?"

"Uhhh.  I don't know.  Feed their kids?  What do you mean?  I'm sorry... what are you talking about?"

So here's the very-long-story-short.  As apparently "everyone" knows.  

They've been living together (and "man-that-you-live-with" and the word for "husband" are the same exact word...seen as the same thing by non-Christians) for several years, and he thought she was cheating on him.

He asked her, she said no, but he was confident that she was sleeping around.  SO, he went to one of the many community witchdoctors, forked over a sizable amount of money and bought the poison of Satan.  

This poison of Satan, apparently, would go into any man she slept with, making him very sick, and would make her very sick, as well, and Ti-Boss would have his revenge.

It is understood that Ti-Boss gave her this poison without her knowing, and watched the men of the community closely, waiting for her and her lovers to fall sick.

After several months, nobody seemed to be sick, so, he figured he had been wrong, she hadn't been cheating on him after all, and he let her come back home.  

But, Satan's poison can't do nothing when it was intended for evil, so after Ti-Boss slept with her, he was poisoned instead, as was she.

OK.  

So, remember where we are, remember there is no Web-MD, remember there is way more knowledge of and confidence in Satan and tradition then there is of viruses and transmissions, and here we are.

It occurs to me when she finishes that maybe we actually ARE talking about AIDS or some kind of virus, but by different terms, because if you haven't noticed by now, we all have very different terminology.  Maybe we're just talking about sexually transmitted diseases, and a witchdoctor got paid in the middle.  Or, maybe we're talking about the poison of Satan.  I don't know.  

What I DO know: If I let you into my life, invite you into my home, bring you into my family circle, then what you do and say will affects us.  If I invite you in, I invite you to have power...the power to help or hurt, the power to build or destroy, the power to bring joy or pain.  

I believe firmly, after these years, that if we are not alive in Christ, and we go out of our way and invite Satan into our lives, into our homes, into our families, that he then has power there.

Add in that your country has invited him?  Your community?  Your leaders?  Your grandparents?  Your parents?  Yeah.  That's a pretty decent foothold, if we give it to him. 

By the time she left, I was right where I'm asking you to be.

Sitting at His feet, not knowing what the truth is (after all: God=The Truth, Satan=King of Lies), not knowing what I should have done, should do, not even knowing what to think.   A lot of emotions...discouragement, doubt, depression, frustration...thinking...thinking...wondering...


Then O. Chambers for November 13th (SAME day) told me this:

We must battle through our moods, feelings, and emotions into absolute devotion to Jesus.  We must break out of our own little world of experience into abandoned devotion to Him.  

All of our fears are sinful, and we create our own fears by refusing to nourish ourselves in our faith.  How can anyone who is identified with Jesus Christ suffer from doubt or fear?  Our lives should be an absolute hymn of praise resulting from irrepressible, triumphant belief.

Doesn't quite answer all your questions?  Mine neither.  

But it sure did change my focus.  

It doesn't matter.  In a very large scheme of things, it doesn't matter what really happened, nor what they have.  Doesn't matter if it's AIDs or something else or Satan's sickness.  

All that matters in this situation is THEM before HIM, and whatever they have and however they got it puts them NO farther from the reaches of His grace, forgiveness and salvation than anyone else.  

What matters is that my belief is irrepressible. Triumphant.  That my devotion is utterly abandoned, despite my little world of experience.  

That there is no doubt.  No fear.  

So, there it was.  

That money might be handed right to a witchdoctor.  But it was my hymn of praise, and therefore, lovely unto Him.  

And my sharing of the Gospel might not at all be what she was interested in or looking for.  But my abandoned devotion requires I share it, and if I see her again, I will share it again.  

Culture, confusion, change, concern, compassion, craziness...nothing can be allowed to take me from His feet.  

So I'm just giving Cadet and Ti-Boss to Him, and hanging out as close to His robes as I can get.

And THAT's how it really is.

Hang with me.  And pray...

drums, Moses and the miracle of soccer

For the first night since the earthquake, we fell asleep to drums pounding, pounding right behind our heads. Chanting, loud singing and aggressive, steady drumming began around 7 pm and continued long into the red moon night.

"Those whom the earthquake scared," a neighbor-friend told me today, "Are not scared anymore. Enough time has passed. They think that the demons have grown hungry. It is time, they think, to return to what they like."

But as I closed down the house last night, locking up the doors, putting out even more rat poison, turning off all the fans, the Lord quite clearly brought an image to my mind. Through pounding so loud that Matt and I had trouble speaking to each other, I saw the scene Moses once did...coming down the mountain after fantastic time with God, carrying stones that His finger had engraved, only to hear the sound of chanting and singing in the distance.

"There is a sound of war in the camp!" his companion Joshua said.

"No," said Moses. "It is not the sound of the cry of triumph, nor is it the sound of the cry of defeat; It is the sound of singing that I hear."

They round the corner at night, I pictured, and in the glowing firelight under a red moon see God's people, their brothers and sisters, dancing wildly and singing praises and 'pounding drums', giving thanks to...an idol. A gold cow. One they made themselves by Aaron's hand from their rings and earrings.

"This is your god, O Israel, who brought you up from the land of Egypt" Aaron told them.

Moses, who had just finished begging God to "turn from Your burning anger and to change Your mind about doing harm to Your people", loses it himself...shatters the commandments still warm from God's hands, grinds the calf into dust and makes the people drink it, chews out Aaron, sees "that the people were out of control", and stands at the gate and yells, "Whoever is for the Lord come with me!"

He then enlists these God-fearers to take up their swords and to charge from gate to gate, killing every brother, friend and neighbor. "And about three thousand men fell that day."

Moses returns to the Lord: "This people has committed a great sin, making a god of gold for themselves. But please forgive their sins, and if not, please blot me out from Your book which You have written."

"Whoever has sinned against Me, I will blot him out. But you, go now, and lead the people where I told you." (Check it out: Exodus 32)

"It is the same today as it was in the beginning of time," one of my students said this past Saturday as we talked about Noah and the flood and why God had decided to destroy His beloved creation.

"What do you mean?" I had asked.

"I mean, God had a plan for good for people back then, but they did what they wanted and did what was evil. And when Adam sinned, he had death. And when Cain sinned, the punishment was death. And when the people sinned, they had death. It is the same today."

And THAT is what broke my heart with each piercing cry last night and with each pounding beat. Each slap on each animal-skin drum was done by a hand...a hand I have shook, another hand among trillions of others He has made. Each chanting praise sung to Satan, to demons, just another bowing to an idol. A gold cow, money, Satan, whatever. If it's not God...if our focus, if our desires, if our sacrifices are not for God, they might as well be to a earring cow or a waving flag (flags waving signify here that a demon is present.)

The same God that was rightfully infuriated, broken and enraged over His people worshipping an idol thousands of years ago was just as pierced last night over His people worshipping an idol. As a cow was killed last night, prepared and sacrificed to demons literally one block from our pillows, God's holy anger burned, and THAT was what was disturbing.

I LOVE that He wants us enough to want us COMPLETELY for Himself. I love that He loves us enough to be enraged when we give ourselves to another. I love that we are His children deemed worthy of nothing less than all of HIM.

Today was such a ridiculously incredible day at Emmaus Biblical Seminary that I KNOW He has yet to give up on His people.

"But go now," He calmed my heart this morning, "and lead the people where I have told you." I am reminded, in the midst of all the beauty of the last days, that Haiti, that the church, that our friends, that our family....that the world is still a mission field.

On a happier note...THREE more students from Port-au-Prince began with us today, and one of them is a woman! (Our first female student to live on campus for...years.) My English class now holds more new students than old, and as Matt began to teach Old Testament to the first year class today, we had to get more desks and chairs out of storage because there weren't enough for all the students. Two weeks after we start classes at Emmaus Biblical Seminary, and we're already having to get more furniture!

Then this evening, when I came home from visiting a few friends down the road, I heard shouting and cheering coming from the campus. EBS has been a rather quiet place since the earthquake, but as I rounded the corner of the drive with Lily, we found the soccer field teeming (for the first time ever) with guys, all playing their hearts out in a pick-up soccer game, all barefoot, all laughing their heads off.

This might not seem like much: guys playing soccer. But it is. For years now, that field has waited. Waited for the day when it could be a beautiful lush place of rest and joy for men and women suffering and struggling and sacrificing to serve in Haiti. And then when the goals trembled 6 weeks ago with the shifting earth, it felt as if there would never be soccer again...seemed like the new lines of concern, hardship and heartache etching the students faces would never soften for "GOAL!" cheers again.

But it was my great joy this evening as the sun dipped behind the mountain for the hundred thousandth time, to stand back and SEE that the Lord is good in a bunch of burdened-pastors-turned-carefree-boys.

Because He has forgiven and continues to forgive my idols...

Because He died to have me, and rose again...

Because of His never-shifting faithfulness...

I'm gonna go and lead His people where He told me...to Himself.