preach, in the middle

Yesterday evening, Ben and I were trying to get back to our evening walks while the girlies were running wild in the yard.  

I'm moving even slower than I was 40 weeks pregnant, but how sweet the evening breeze and how precious to watch and carry.

As I walked the campus marveling over what a wild change two days makes, I saw Yves, our night watchman, come through the front gate to start his shift, and his face lit up when he saw the crazy-haired bundle in my arms.

Many years ago I wrote a post about how life in a very culturally different Haiti had brought to life certain Scripture passages that hadn't really meant much to me before. One example was from Psalms, where David talks about his soul WAITING upon the Lord just as the watchman waits for the morning.  I'd never known a watchman, definitely never seen the flash of his light throughout the night, never had a person stay awake all night to watch over.

But as you think about Yves, walking the campus for hours and hours of darkness, watching and protecting, eagerly eyeing the sky for signs of morning light, you have a whole new sense of the intensity with which David waited upon the Lord.

As I spoke to Yves for a bit and his dark weathered hands fingered Ben's tiny red ones, I said, "Yes, Glory to God, he was just born early Thursday morning!"

"Well yes, I know," chuckled Yves, as if the Watchman needs informed of what happens in the nights of our lives.  "As I walked the campus all night Wednesday, I saw all the lights in your house come on one by one, and knew that he must be coming.  As I walked, I was praying for you and Pastor Matt and for this little boy, and when all your lights turned off and the sun rose on Thursday, I got to go out and tell everyone that your baby had been born!"

As I walked on a few minutes later, dripping in spite of the breeze, I felt so utterly blessed by another reminder of His close presence, of His family's intimate prayers.

While I labored through the most agonizing night of my life, no question, God was there in the middle, watching over me.  Yves was walking around Emmaus, encircling me in his prayers, many of you have written or called or texted to tell me that throughout the nights, you have awoken again and again and deliberately turned your midnight prayers to us. 

In the middle of a stifling, mud-hut village with only three beside me, many, many were, and even moreso, the Great God of the highest heavens, Watchman of our Nights and Bringer of the Morning, He was H-E-R-E and waiting and watching and in the middle, and brought peace.

What can preach better than Yves, that we might wait upon the Lord and lift each other unceasingly upward, waiting upon the Light intensely? 

What can preach better than Ben, that in a country and a time so broken and dark, in a night so full of pain and despair, God brings the most intricate beauty and provision and peace, that He comes and comes and comes among us in unexpected ways and in painful nights, transforming them?

What can preach better than our lives, God in the middle?