Haiti

 

HAITI TRIP REPORT by Penn Clark

When I was leaving Haiti last year, the officer in the immigration booth stamped my passport and said, “So, I guess you will never come back again”. It was not really a question, but more like a conclusion he had heard expressed many times before. I must have surprised him by saying, “No, I found the people here to be very beautiful and gracious. I would love to come back”. He handed back my passport with a nice smile growing across his face.  

The morning I left my home in Northern New York this May, it had snowed about an inch. Now, as I as I walked across the tarmac I was engulfed by the thick, oven-like heat that usually welcomes people to Haiti. I thought of the words I said to the immigration officer. It is the people that make you to want to come to Haiti, nothing else. 

After I cleared customs, I met Pastor Lesly Bertrand who is a Haitian brother who had come to New York last year for our International Retreat. We have a lot in common. We are both the same age, we both had been part of the Mennonite church, and now we are both leaders of network. He looks after about twenty-five churches, which are mostly nestled in the mountains. At the beginning of the year he had invited me to come and teach “Cultivating Your Call” to his pastors and lay-leaders. We also invited whom we had last year to join us.

After I cleared customs, I saw Geoff Ward strolling across towards the airport looking for me. He is so tall, lean, and white, compared to the crowd of Haitians who had to walk quickly to keep up with his long easy strides. I called to him and we finally connected. Geoff had come five days ahead of me. Before he left home, he was not sure why he was coming early or what he would do once he got here. We found out that had he not come early we would not have many pastors attending this seminar. Geoff and his Haitian partner, Michael, traveled to some of the more remote out-lying areas to collect about forty pastors from that part of the island. When they arrived they discovered a major breakdown in communication on two fronts. For some reason, these pastors had not been told about the seminar. When Geoff told them of our plans, they dropped everything to attend, even though it meant traveling to Pastor Lesly’s area, which was a long and difficult journey for all of them. Also, Pastor Lesly had no idea that these forty pastors were coming. Geoff had told him, but somehow it was overlooked in the e-mail. He had not prepared food and lodging for them.  Pastor Lesly, in true Haitian style, shrugged it off saying, “No problem”. We stopped at his orphanage and picked up some extra blankets for our pastor friends to sleep on.

The drive was about two hours long, heading towards the central part of the island. Although this is one of Haiti’s four main highways, it is really just a washed gravel road cut through the mountains. After you leave the flat plains, filled with cactus and shrubs, you begin to wind your way up to the top of one and down to the bottom of the next. The called it Goat Mountain, which gives you an indication at how sure-footed you need to be. It was really rough. I don’t think I have been on a road this bad before. Much of it was like driving through a quarry, with white chalky gravel and boulders strewn across our pathway. We saw lots people working with shovels and met many trucks that were removing the easily accessible gravel from the sides of the road. 

As our driver carefully picked his way around the washed-out areas, or rocks that people have left in the road to keep them from rolling backward, we are passing or being passed by other trucks and cars of every kind. On the right hand side, there is no shoulder and very little in the way of guardrails. From there, it is straight down. At every corner, and there are many, the driver sounds a pretty thin-sounding horn, to give whoever may be barreling around the corner a little heads-up. 

I sat in the back of the truck with several of the brothers who were traveling with us. While it was dusty and a real workout on my abs (that’s a joke), many times I realized that Geoff’s comfortable seat in the front of the truck was the worst place to be. At least I did not have to watch as the truck careened around those corners.

We were told that the place we are going to is one of the poorest parts of the island, as it is dry, rocky, and does not get the rainfall that other parts of Haiti receives. Geoff seemed to agree, as he had come from another part that was more lush, more fruitful, and had more stores and industry. Over all, he felt that Haiti was in the best shape he had seen it, since having first visited ten years ago.

As we passed shack after shack, teetering on the side of a hill along side the road, I found myself marveling, at these poor people. In time, this notion eventually gave way to a kind of envy as I saw how simple and easy their pace of life was here. It left room for the real riches in life, family, fellowship, and time to focus on spiritual things. It left me wondering who was really rich. 

Finally, we arrived at a guesthouse, which stood in a large pasture on the side of a mountain slope. To the north, we faced a beautiful mountain range, with a broad valley spread out below us. The building had been newly constructed and was almost finished. Inside it was comfortably stocked and furnished by teams who had come from Canada. It could sleep about a dozen people comfortably and had a great kitchen with a propane stove and refrigerator. The men wheeled out a portable generator and the place became fully electric. It even had toilets and a place to take a shower by pouring rainwater over yourself. Lesly had arranged for a cook to stay with us and prepare our meals. The food was good and wholesome.  Normally, you have to be very careful about everything you eat and drink in Haiti, but they took great care to see that we were not at risk.

We arrived too late to teach the first day and spent that evening getting settled in. We could not teach at night because it was the rainy season. It rains each evening like clockwork and the sound of it hitting the tin roof so hard it drowns out the generator. There is no way we could preach above the noise.

We felt safe and secure; the only invasion of our goods occurred when a mouse got into Geoff’s duffle bag where he kept his snacks beside his bed. 

In all, we taught for two and a half days, ministering to about 100 pastors and potential church leaders. We witnessed some wonderful times of worship. It was so refreshing to see people worship the Lord with all their hearts for over an hour. In my opinion, we are behind the Haitians in this respect. We are also behind them in the way they apply themselves to their devotions. We were also humbled and astonished at the amount of Bible knowledge they have. In conversation with some brothers, we marveled as they quoted verse after verse, including the reference. They do not suffer from sensory over-load as we do from being exposed to so much television and other forms of media. This, I think, attributes much to their spiritual openness. 

One of the reasons Haiti needs Bible teachers is because people exploit their open and child-like faith with religion and false teaching. For example, as we made our way up Goat Mountain, I looked down and saw a group of about 35 people out in the middle of nowhere, standing motionless among the rocks in the scorching sun. They were all dressed in white linen. Pastor Lesly told me that they were Evangelical believers who were fasting. He then rolled his eyes. He said there is so much false teaching in Haiti that people are blown around by every wind of doctrine. Haitians need help connecting all the scripture they have diligently learned and making the right application. They have wonderful Bible knowledge, but need revelation and confirmation to keep them from going to extremes. God has done, and is doing, a wonderful thing in Haiti. The church is growing with many new converts and they desperately need Bible teachers to come. 

When I taught I was met with some of the most eager and open faces I have ever seen. They were very responsive and receptive. I thank God for the good interpreters I had in Pastor Michael and Pastor Lesly. I am always amazed that this system of communication can ever work at all, but people seem to be impacted by truth. I consider it a rich, rich blessing to have had the privilege to teach these dear brothers and sisters. 

We had the opportunity to talk to some of the leaders about setting up a new Word of Grace Fellowship, with Michael coordinating those who might be interested in joining over the next couple of years. He will work with us in building a fellowship for about fifty independent pastors that we have come to know and appreciate. We want to ensure that the group we form would continue to work with other networks that already exist here, such as the one Pastor Lesly leads. A couple of times during this seminar, he expressed his gratitude that these groups had come together. They need each other and could help break the sectarian spirit that prevails among the churches on this island. Plans were made for another seminar together next year.

After the last session, we drove back to Port au Prince. Geoff and I separated as I was to preach at Pastor Lesly's church in the morning, and he was headed for the airport and home. My last night in Haiti was spent preaching at a church in Port au Prince, which we called Pastor Adrian's church. There was some discussion about the wisdom of going there because it involved traveling around the city at night, which Lesly said he would not do. Michael assured us that it was close to the guesthouse where I was staying and that we should not be too late.

When the men were about an hour late picking me up, I began to have second thoughts about going at all. It was beginning to get dark and we had not even left the guesthouse yet. The brothers finally arrived and we headed off to Michael's house to see his family. As we drove through the neighborhood that the church was in, it was almost dark. I could see the concrete block church wedged in amongst a cluster of houses. The sanctuary is located on the second floor, which you get to by picking your way carefully up a dark stairwell. When you come to the "upper room", the first thing you notice is that it has no roof. They have taken the fabric off a large billboard and draped it over the concrete beams. Looking up, I could see the car that was being advertised and the dealer's location.

The next thing you notice is that a few people have already gathered and are deep in prayer. You can feel the presence of the Lord immediately. Over the next forty-five minutes, people slowly gathered and found their place in prayer. Because there is no glass in the windows, you can look into the houses all around you and they could hear everything that was going on in church. You can smell what was cooking in a number of homes.

When the first song started, I knew I was in for a treat. They were immediately in the spirit, with the most wonderful sense joy. They sang one song about being washed in the Blood of the Lamb, which lasted about an hour, but was never boring. The song lifted and rose; got stronger then softer, taking us places in worship that I’ve rarely been before.

As I looked around, I could see a young brother bringing new life out of an old set of drums. A couple of men had electric guitars. One man sat at an electric piano and I was sure I could smell the amplifiers burning. Several times during the meeting, I looked to see if there were any flames coming out of the "cobble" of wires and equipment. No one else seemed concerned.

It would be wonderful to have their sense of worship and the presence of the Lord to feast on every day. I truly envied them as I looked around at their faces; so soft and tilted towards their only focus, lost in the Lord. It was a rare experience and I am glad I didn't miss it.

Many of those in attendance had been at our seminar. I realized that they were the ones who had carried the worship there as well. Can you ever preach after a time like this! It almost doesn't matter what you say, they respond and encourage you to share more. It was a preacher's delight!

I had trouble with my microphone and wanted to set it down to have more liberty, but they said no, people throughout the neighborhood would be listening.

After the meeting, a few hours later, we went down to a room where they had food prepared and had a time of fellowship. Someone mentioned about my coming back, and I said I would love to come back there next time. This brought a chorus of cheers. I think I found a home church in Haiti. The next day, as I went through immigration to go back home, I thought if that same immigration officer could have experienced what I had in church the night before, he would be able to see why I want to go back again, and again.