Haiti. Sweat and Sabbath.

Friday-
Our work was on Friday was varied. Some of us built/varnished pews, others painted a new Nazarene Compassionate Ministries building on campus. However, Nate Kerr and I worked on assembling 7 wooden crosses for the church buildings to be built during the summer and 7 smaller crosses for the front of the pulpits which Jacob Morris and Megan Arnett were building. While I am no master carpenter like Jesus or Will Knowles, I was pretty stinkin' proud of our work. Also, there is something unique about assembling crosses you make with your hands. I spent most of that day reflecting and praying about the very things my hands were doing.

Saturday-
Our day consisted of some work around the Nazarene Seminary Cleaning up in the morning. Then we kicked it up a notch after lunch. We then did some of the hardest work I had ever done as we moved a huge pile of rocks from one side of campus to the other. I was literally so tired that the thought of pulling out my camera to document our work overwhelmed me :) But trust me, hard work was done!

Sunday-
After Jacob (and myself) played some accidental bumper cars loading up for the day, we headed off to the church in Pernier that we had worked at earlier that week for a Worship and Dedication Service. I will let the pictures below speak for themselves, but it was an amazing time of worship and watching the Kingdom of God break into our world. It is a day forever etched in my memory.

Grinding Mill near the Church we worked at in Pernier II.

The New Church Building.

Pastor Brent preaching and our Translator/Guide/Foreman, Frantz

After the children sang, "This is the day that the Lord has made" in English, they invited us all up on stage to sing along with them!

Woman in the village we were in.

Pastor Breville. 5'1". 77 years old. 30 years as Pastor in Pernier II.

Group shot with church board in the new church, on the stage, after the church service.

Children waiting to receive the school supplies that we had brought with us.

Haiti- The First 4 Days

Sweat. Flexibility. Hard Labor. Humidity. Humility. More Sweat.

These are the words that best sum up our time here in Haiti so far. 

Day 1-
Our first day as a time was spent traveling from Nashville to the Nazarene Seminary just outside of Port-au-Prince in a town called Petionville.  After a plane delay in Miami, we were finally on our way.  Upon arrival, we searched for all our bags in an old airplane hangar where we then walked through "Customs."  Undoubtedly, our trip from the airport was consumed with dropped jaws and culture shock as we drove through dirty streets, and a heavy downpour.  By the time we reached the Work & Witness house on the Seminary Campus, it was almost completely dark out.  Upon our arrival we were greeted by a Work and Witness team from Southern Nazarene University, where we began to sweat.


Day 2-
We began our day early with breakfast at 5:30am.  Fueled and ready to work, we quickly began our first lesson on flexibility.  Our plans for the day were halted as we waited for our our Work & Witness coordinator, Frantz, to return from some errands.  Finally around 6:30am, we began working on the campus prepping some materials for the rest of our week.  We began by sorting school supplies that we brought.  We also, stained pews, welded some seats into the back of a big cage truck, sorted tools, built a pulpit and built a cross for the church we would be working on Wednesday and Thursday.  Once our day was completed our sweet Haitian house "mom" (Elise) had made up sloppy joe's to eat! Sleep came early, as we knew day 3 would quickly be approaching and the sweat would begin to pour once more.

Day 3-
With breakfast at 5:30am and a departure at 6:00am, our day started early.  Only, once more, our start was delayed. After some 5 gallon jugs of drinking water were bought at market, we began to make our way to the church we would be finishing in a very pour community in the mountains called, "Pernier #2."  Upon our arrival, around lunch, we found all of the masonry work completed by locals.  The church was responsible for housing and feeding the masons; a huge burden.  They were also responsible for finding the rocks for the foundation, pulling them out of the river bed, and climbing the mountain up to the construction site with them. We were told the community woke up early for several weeks to be able to complete this task.

Anyways, once there, we set up our tents we would be sleeping in. The community began to gather and would watch us work (and some work beside us) for the entire time we were there. Once we got going, we heard news that one of the Work and Witness Coordinators from Oklahoma had been rushed to the hospital with a ruptured appendix. So Frantz, left us to go be with her and take care of her.  (Continue to pray for Jennifer, as she recovers... Brent and I just saw her in the hospital and she is in a lot of pain, but is going to live)

Even without Frantz, we still competed our tasks for the days.  We built pews, assembled roof truss, and painted a lot of the building.  We ended our day by scarfing down some spaghetti and crashing into our sleeping bags.  Also, I killed the biggest spider I've ever seen that night.  (I just thought you needed to know that and know how manly I am.)  Also, I sweated the whole night.

Day 4-
We woke early (5:00am) and got straight to work after a quick breakfast.  Frantz was back, helping and instructing by the time breakfast was over.  We worked hard screwing tin to the beams, painting the entire building with a second and third coat (inside and out), and cleaned up around the building.  We never stopped sweating and as I now sit in the the Work & Witness house on the Nazarene campus, I continue to drip with sweat!

Gifts

It was Christmas time and I was home visiting my family. As per tradition, all of family who lived within a few hours drive, had come over for a huge Christmas day lunch. As we gathered around the table to eat, chatter, food and the love of a family swarmed throughout the room. Food was everywhere, but my Aunt Lisa had cooked her famous sweet potato casserole, so in my eyes, I was happy as could be.

Once we had gorged, we found ourselves split, half of us in the den watching Christmas day parades, while the other half kept busy in the kitchen cleaning up from our feast prepared for an army. Before my Aunt began to wash some of the big pots and pans in the sink, she removed her bracelet from her wrist. It was a charm bracelet of sorts, silver and shiny, as she placed it at the edge of the sink. My mother swooned and quickly complimented my aunt, her sister, on the beauty and elegance of that bracelet. Aunt Lisa quickly and graciously accepted her compliment, being sure to tell my mom exactly where so had purchased it as well as how much she had paid for it. She then promptly told my mother that she would keep her eyes open if she ever came across another one.

After our gluttony had passed and our bodies were rejuvenated from napping, the house once more came alive. Soon footballs were soaring across the living room and the men grew restless on the couches as the parades and football games had come to a close on the television. After the mom’s chased all the boys and men into the yard to play football, my mom and her sister remained at the kitchen table talking and catching up. When we returned back inside from the football game of the century, my mom was quick to point out the gift she had be given while we were outside; my Aunt’s charm bracelet.

For maybe the first time in my life, I had witnessed the giving of a gift out of pure love, demanding nothing in return. How often are do really ever give something away without asking for some kind of payment, whether its monetary, a “thank you,” or by expecting something in return? We often only give at Christmas because we want to get something “good” in return. And we give gifts at birthdays so that hopefully someone will remember our birthday and give a gift to us. But how often do we truly give gifts out of the same love for our neighbor that Christ gave to us through his death and resurrection. Perhaps this Easter season should be reminding us of that gift.

In the coming days, I challenge you to look for opportunities where you can give a gift without the expectation of getting anything in return. Reteach yourself how to truly give something away. Maybe it will be something physical, such as a bracelet your friend really likes or a meal you buy for them. Or maybe it will be giving love to the loveless, or hope to the broken. Whatever you give, give out of love that Christ has so generously given us. Allow the Kingdom of God to break into our lives as we learn to love both God and our neighbor.

Pawpaw, Theology, and Worship.

{Insert obligatory comment about time from last post until now… then insert obligatory disclaimer that current trend of blogging may or may not last}

The day is etched in my mind. I was home on Christmas break during my sophomore year of college. My family was gathered around the dining room table, during an unusually warm Thanksgiving day. Like every year, there was a separate children’s table, where for my entire life I had been forced to sit. This year was different, because this year, I finally made it to sit at the adult table. For the first time in my life, my voice was valid at the family table and I was finally mature enough to enjoy the company of my elders.

After the feast was finished, but before we retired to the living room to watch the Lions lose another football game, my family remained at the table paralyzed by all the food we had devoured. It was that “too full to move” mentality that walks the fence between shear laziness and pure contentment. While sitting there, our family began to tell old stories about the past. We laughed loudly, and at some points cried softly as we remembered my grandmother, Meemaw, who had recently passed away. My grandfather, however, remained at the table. He sat quietly, requiring a lot of help and assistance throughout the entire meal. At the time, he was in the final stages of Alzheimer’s with very little, if any, ability to care for himself. He had virtually no interaction with us that day, and chances are, he didn’t even know who we were.

As our stories began to fade, and as the adults grew ready for an afternoon nap, one of my younger cousins, George, grew restless at the children’s table. As he began to wonder around the house, he ended up at the family piano, playing some of the melodies he had been learning at his piano lessons. This quickly grew into an entire family affair. Before you knew it my mom was at the piano, playing the old hymns of the church.

Then, out of nowhere, Pawpaw began singing alongside all of us! He joined in, quietly, but assuredly, singing the lyrics of those old Christians hymns. The songs that he had learned in his childhood were now sung with child-like innocence. It is a moment forever etched into my mind.

If you have spent any time recently in the church, you know of the worship wars that unfortunately divide many within the body of Christ. Today, I’m not trying to make an argument for or against a certain type of worship. All are valid and have a place in the church. Rather, today, I want to call attention to another aspect of what has divided so many of us.

For hundreds of years, people developed, retained, and grew their theology from songs being sung and taught to them by rote. John Wesley, one of my spiritual forefather’s, knew how songs impacted the lives of people. This is why he and his brother, Charles, wrote such theologically charged songs at the end of the 18th century. When Charles Wesley wrote, “And Can It Be that I Should Gain,” he was writing his theology of atonement, love, and soteriology.

Other examples of this come from Spirituals written and developed by African American’s during slavery. “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot,” for example, was much more than a song about freedom. It tells a theology… a theology of liberation. “Amazing Grace,” is more than just a song about grace. It tells a theology. A theology of grace.

Unquestionably, this current generation, my generation, more than any other generation, is rooted in the art of music. Music is everywhere. Music is not just a part of culture, it dominates our culture. Yet, today, I’m forced to ask the question, “What theology is being taught by the songs we sing in our churches today?”

Please don’t hear me advocating for the hymns of old. For surely, there are theologically terrible hymns from antiquity. At the same time, there are theologically rich songs being written all over my home city, Nashville, today. We must learn to engage the lyrics of what we sing. We can’t become enamored with a key change or a catchy melody. Instead, we must become aware of what the words being sung are teaching us.

This week at church, read the words. Ask questions. Learn from the words. Grow from the words. Let the words work on your soul. Never neglect the practice of worship. But always be reflexive (or reflective) on the words we sing, and the subsequent theology being derived.

In Colossians 3:16 Paul says, “Let the message of Christ dwell among you richly as you teach and admonish one another with all wisdom through psalms, hymns, and songs from the Spirit, singing to God with gratitude in your hearts.”

When you come to the day, in childlike innocence, like my PawPaw, what will be the words you recognize? What words will dominate your inmost being? What words and theology are forming you?