three: power

I don't talk about Voodoo much on our blog for two reasons.

One: it freaks people out, and talking about it makes people think you are crazy.  er.

Two: I don't like dwelling on satan, demons, or demonic activity.  I don't want to talk about darkness.  I want to talk about God and what HE'S doing.

However, if I'm going to share the POWER part of this past Sunday in Baron, I've got to take a second to fill you in on it, meaning I'll answer the first question everyone always has:

Do you really believe in Voodoo?

Short answer is yes.

Longer answer is that I have seen many a woman and man devote their lives to it, live in its grip, honor it in every situation, fear it, live under that fear, and be greatly affected by it.  To address and understand and live in Haitian culture is to have an awareness that most everyone believes that satan and demonic forces are real and active in every element of life.

No matter what I believe, if Haiti believes it, then it is real in Haiti.

Voodoo is very syncretistic, involving Roman Catholic ritual elements, animism, magic (probably coming from African heritage), ancestors, saints, demons--and permeates all elements of life, from how you paint your vehicle, how you roof your house, how you treat your illnesses, how you cook your food, how you walk on a path to even how you pee.

Socially, there is what Matt and I call Party Voodoo, and there is what we call Deep Voodoo.  Party voodoo usually involves lots of youth, lots of alcohol, lots of drumming, lots of immorality and lots of noise.  Deep Voodoo involves curses, trances, zombies, demonic possession, sacrifices, etc.  While most people who practice voodoo openly seem to hang out in the Party Voodoo realm, it is hard to find a person who doesn't have a great fear of and respect for Deep Voodoo.

It runs deep, and you would be hard pressed to find a person who didn't say that to BE Haitian is to BE Voodoo.

...Not totally unlike Scripture saying that to be in Christ is to BE not of this world.  Being of His realm means we're NOT Americans, Haitians, slaves nor free, Greek nor Jew.  It means we're of Him.

In America, perhaps, we can be in Christ and be American...though it seems that the split there is growing wider.

ANYWAY, sorry.  Story commencing.

As we got closer and closer to Baron, the "heat" on the road grew.  For some political reason I still have no understanding of, remains of rioting and the road being "cut" were everywhere as we got closer to the base of the mountain.  Every 100 feet we were having to drive around smoldering logs, pushed aside piles of large stones, and around piles of burnt tires.  At one point I wasn't sure we could continue because the road had been cut so deeply we had to stop and fill 2 spaces with stones for our tires to cross over.

Ezechiel is an incredibly responsible and aware young man, and I could tell he was growing increasingly uneasy by each roadblock...not for himself--Ezechiel cares nothing for himself--but as the one in watch-care over these students, and worse, for a foreign woman.  Can't hide her if need be.

Talking to a few locals, we continued, and suddenly ahead of us there was a large group of men, mostly all the same young age as the men I had in the car with me....20's/30's.  However, instead of being in ties and dress shirts like the men I had, they were in red skirts, red shirts, and each caring long sticks.  Bouncing up and down continuously, they were chanting and singing, bouncing in a large circle covering the whole road.  Dozens of interested bystanders watched, and I grew uneasy approaching them.

Rah-Rah, as it is called, is when a group of devout Voodoo worshipers, usually accompanied by a witch-doctor, display their support publicly of some specific spirit, involving exactly what I was witnessing here.

They were.  And chose this morning.  And chose our road, the only road.  Probably something to do with being past Mardi-Gras, pre-Easter, and during a particularly politically charged time for this area.  I don't know.

Foreigners tend to excite extra Rah-Rah attention, and I wished I could sink beneath my seat.  Wished someone else of the 9 people in the car could drive.  They obviously weren't moving, so finally I could come no closer and stopped the car.  They surrounded the car, chanting and dancing.

I tried to act uninterested, and waited patiently for them to move.  The ring-leader, talismans tied all around his neck, was holding a large staff with a huge rock tied to the top and flags down the side...the witchdoctor.

His eyes were clear.

This may not make sense if you're not at all accustomed to Voodoo, but...they were clear.  Open, sensible, conscious.  He met my eyes and there was understanding and acknowledgement of each other.

The younger men, all of them, were entirely dark-eyed.  Every bouncing face I looked into stared back blankly, entirely unaware of what was happening around them.  Caught up in their trance, the drums and the dancing, even when I started to pull the car forward, lightly bumping one of them, he didn't even react.  Didn't seem to feel it.

Ezechiel signaled that we were coming through, I saw a part in the crowd, and we went for it.  Done.  Over.  Sigh.

After a fantastic day on the mountain, I never thought of them again....until it was growing late, we were returning, and the road ahead was now full of almost 100 people, watching.

The same group of Rah-Rah.  STILL.  HOURS hours later, still doing the exact same thing.  Chanting, dancing, circling.  Empowered by the now huge crowds around them and literally 8 hours of unending dancing in their trance...they were far more aggressive.

Again, the witchdoctor looked at me with understanding, again, the young men were almost in an animalistic state...unaware, dark eyed...empty.  I felt suddenly enraged, because while he led his group in darkness and blindness...he KNEW.  He hadn't entered in himself.  He controlled them without being controlled, misled them while standing by.  Held them in darkness.  Remind you of anyone?

Ezechiel told me to stop.  Junior told me to go.  The students and Noel were deathly silent, nervous.  Praying.

I waited a long time.  They were NOT going to move.  We were NOT going to pass.

I tried going, and after tapping several of the men with front grill, realized that they were SO entranced that I could have run them down without them even realizing it.  They didn't even FEEL the car, nor react whatsoever.

I didn't know what to do.  Ezechiel, ever concerned for the party he had brought, was beside himself for our sakes, and I saw him out of the corner of my eye beside me reaching into his pocket.

"NO." I said firmly.  I didn't know what we were going to do.  But I knew one thing: we were NOT giving them ONE PENNY.

"Look," he said, "This could get bad.  I have to take care of you.  I will just give them a few gourdes, let's get out of here.  Please roll down my window."

Now, I always listen to Ezechiel.  He knows, it's his zone, he's so wise and godly.

But I knew he wouldn't give them money if I wasn't there, and as I prayed and watched, bristling, I knew we couldn't give them money.  Couldn't support.  Couldn't have anything to do with enslaving and entertaining and making money off of people for darkness.

"NO, Zeke.  NO."

I didn't know what to do, but I was NOT rolling down that window.

The chanting and drumming continued, amused men, women and children watching intently, the entranced dancers bouncing, bouncing up and down around our car, tapping it on all sides, all following the bouncing of the witchdoctor's staff and the pounding drum.

"June," I said towards the backseat.  "What do we do?  They are not moving, and we cannot give them money."

"No, no money," said Junior.  "Um.  Well.   Roll down my window."

As soon as his window was down, me praying and looking for a way through, the witchdoctor jetted to the side of the car, so observant, so alert.

The difference between the young men huddled wordlessly around me and the young men circling the car was astounding.  Day and night.

But outside the car there was no fear.  No light, no fear, no nothing.  Inside the car, calm, but uncertainty was fading into fear.

Expecting Junior to start convincing our way through, he only said one thing to the witchdoctor, softly, sweetly and boldly, as June always does.

"We are people of God and our money is of God.  It will do you NO good whatsoever.  

Make a way.  Now, sir."

Before he had even finished, the witchdoctor darted at his men, and starting thumping them, thumping their backs with the large rock tied to the end of his staff...herding them out of the way like sheep.  Like animals.  They didn't even flinch or react.

Thump, thump, thump he made the way, the men's expressions never changing...their hops shifting slightly, a path was cleared, and we went...the circle quickly closing back in in my rear-view mirror.

Inside, the car was silent.

Ezechiel breathed a long sigh of relief and looked at his hands.  "I'm sorry."

Suddenly, conversation exploded, and I realized I hadn't been the only one holding my breath.

Everyone was talking at once, patting Junior and alive with His power.

Even while that witchdoctor was holding so many in darkness, when Junior spoke the Truth, he knew it was.

Didn't argue.  Didn't think.  He KNEW it.  He knew it was true that he could do NOTHING with what was God's.  Knew it was TRUE that he could do nothing against God's people.  Knew it was truth he could nothing with God's money.

Suddenly, with over 100 people at his disposal, he knew that we. were. not.

And he could not have responded to the undebatable presence and power of God any faster.

We knew God was with us, but I'm not sure any of us (but Junior, it always seems) knew what that would LOOK like surrounded, literally, by Voodoo.

What it LOOKED like, before 100 villagers and through a witchdoctor, nonetheless, was ALL POWERFUL vs. foolish.  God of the Universe vs. NO ONE.

Whether you believe Voodoo is real or not doesn't really matter.

What matters is that what we believe IN, WHO we have put our trust in, leaves NO room for it.

It is not a competition.  It is not a battle undetermined.  IT IS VICTORY.

Three: Whatever the darkness in your life...whether it be Voodoo or past baggage, family brokenness or quiet battles, sins or injustices, disappointments, betrayals, hypocrisies, horrors or devestations alike....WHATEVER it is, listen.

IT IS NOT DARKNESS TO HIM.  And if it is not darkness to Him, then He is ready to overcome it.  Miraculously.

It's not just that His LIGHT is stronger than the darkness.  It's not just that His light can overcome that darkness.

It is that even the DARKNESS is NOT DARK TO YOU, O God
Even the night is as bright as the day.  
Darkness and light are alike to You.

Where can I go from Your Spirit?
Where can I flee from your presence.
You have enclosed me behind and before,
and laid Your hand upon me.
You. Are. There.

Psalm 139