Church in Haiti

I've been keeping myself quite busy these past few days, hence the deplorable lack of blog posts, but before I get y'all up to speed on the busyness, I've been meaning to say a word or two about the Haitian church that I attend each week and I intend to finally do so now!

Each Sunday, I have been going to the nine o'clock service at this church:

Although usually there are two or three other white people in the congregation, there have certainly been a couple of times when I was the only one. The service takes place in a smallish room with a concrete floor and simple, wooden pews. Sometimes there is an acoustic guitar playing, other times there is no instrumentation. I know almost 50% of the songs that we sing. Including Happy Birthday which is sung in almost every service in both English and French to those who celebrate their birthdays! Each week, I am beginning to understand more and more of the Creole, and I take in 95% of the French parts. I am also greatly enjoying getting to know the people at the church. Usually we have a few minutes to talk before the service begins as well as after the service ends, and every week I know more people.

Last week, the thirteen year-olds graduated from the children's programming at the church. They were all dressed up, they performed a dance for us, there were skits and special music throughout the service, and they received certificates.

Yesterday, five people were baptized. I marveled at the joy of hearing these people professing their faith and being welcomed into the Kingdom of God.

One week about a month ago, there was a man who was visiting Eglise D'Espoir (The Church of Hope) for the first time. He was apparently blind as he was being led by another, and he wore dark glasses. He stood in the middle of the service and walked up to the pulpit. It was unclear to me whether or not this was planned. He then began to sing. His voice poured out in melody – deep, powerful, and rich. He removed his glasses mid-song; his eyes were mostly shut and clearly non-functional. The congregation was entranced. He sang with passion, with joy, with a power and a beauty that can come from God alone. After a grand finale, a string of notes that soared high and plummeted low and stretched far, the song finished and the room reverberated with applause. A woman stood up and said of lot of things I didn't understand in Creole.

He was back the next week. He sang again the next week. This time, he sang a song in English, and it was a song I knew – you are my desire, you're all I want...

Never have a heard a voice so beautiful.

Later, the pastor informed us that he was indeed blind. A blind artist, a singer, living in a tent. Somehow he found his way to the church, and asked if he could sing a special. Normally they wouldn't allow such a spontaneous special song from a complete stranger, but that time, they did. I'm glad they did. The image of him standing there, singing that God is his only desire, the image of a man without sight and without a home, but with a voice that he did not use to curse God, but to praise God will stay with me for a long, long time.

Haitian Church is wonderful, but I must say I miss Knox quite a bit. Quite a massive bit. And I'd like to give a shout out to my small group, who sent me the most fantastic packet of letters that I've read time and time again. Thank you for making me feel so loved even at such a distance!