Some of you probably remember the story about the guard at the Palm Inn, who asked me to bring him the Children’s Bible (but if not, you can read the full story here) – that’s the backdrop of the journal entry below…
Thursday November 16, 2017 – Port-au-Prince, Haiti
It was such a simple moment, and yet it’s hung with me all day.
I woke up about 4am this morning and, after laying there for awhile trying to go back to sleep, I finally gave up at 5 o’clock and got out of bed. Not wanting to disturb Brandon and Jim, I figured I’d go out in the courtyard, watch the sun come up, and wait for the smell of coffee to tell me that the restaurant was officially open.
As I stepped out of the room I noticed the guard sitting there – the one who had given me the yellow slip of paper in August. I wondered for a moment if he would even remember his request – or, for that matter, even recognize me or have any idea who I was.
But as soon as he saw me his face lit up, and he immediately asked, “Ou pat bliye’m?” (You did not forget me?)
I smiled and assured him, “Non, m’pat bliye’w.” (No, I didn’t forget you.)
I went back to the room and got the Children’s Bible he had asked for, and brought it out to him – he looked like a kid at Christmas time, taking it out of the “Amazon.com” box it had been shipped to me in, and excitedly saying, “Mesi, mesi, Bondye beni’w!” (Thank you, thank you, God bless you!)
What struck me about that moment, and what has hung with me all day, was not his appreciative response (which I would have expected); what struck me was the simple fact that not only did he obviously remember making that request, he had anxiously held on to the hope of that request being fulfilled for almost 31/2 months now – to the point where it was the first thing out of his mouth the moment he saw me.
(Keeping in mind – it’s not like he had asked me to bring him a gold Rolex – we’re talking about a Children’s Bible, for goodness sake).
Honestly, I was stunned for a moment when those were the first words out his mouth this morning – I mean, seriously, when he made that request of me in August I was a total stranger that he had never spoken to before, and he wouldn’t have even had any way of knowing for sure that I would ever be coming back to Haiti again. And yet, he had held on to that hope for the last 3+ months.
Over the last few hours I’ve wondered…
…how many hundreds of guests – and faces – has he seen come and go from this hotel in the last three months?
…especially with all the American groups that come here – did he ever make the same or a similar request of anyone else? (or was it just our group that, for some reason, he chose to approach?)
…if the roles were reversed…would I even remember a request like that, made to a total stranger, three months later – or would I have let it go and forgotten about it way before now? (and would I even recognize the person, or remember who they were three months later?)
Maybe it’s because I’m going to be preaching about “Hope” in Chambellan Saturday night, but I have to wonder…do we, as Christians in the United States, really have any clue as to what the word “hope” means?
With all of our comforts and conveniences and devices and distractions – do we have any idea what it really means to anxiously long for the fulfillment of a promise that’s been made to us – including (and maybe especially?) the promise of heaven?
I can tell you honestly: the kind of hope that I saw in the guard this morning – that’s a long way from my everyday reality, or any kind of state of mind that I live in.
First of all, there’s nothing in the world that I really need (or even want) that I don’t already have, or at least could get if I really wanted it. If there’s something in the future I’m looking forward to, I think “well that’ll be nice,” but I’ve got plenty enough in the present to keep me completely (and ridiculously) self-indulged. And if somebody promises me something, I think “yeah I hope they follow through with that” – but I’ve been blessed with enough self-sufficiency and independence where, honestly, my life’s not going to be radically affected if they don’t.
And even in regards to heaven, and the promise of our eternal reward, I ask myself…do I really “anxiously long for the day of Christ’s returning”? (and, honestly, when was the last time I prayed “Lord, come quickly”?)
Truth is…that becomes another one of those “yeah that’ll be nice” future-things…but then I go back to planning my day/week/life/future, and any serious consideration of eternity gets mentally tabled ‘til a more “relevant” time to think about it (which is when, exactly?).
So I sit here, once again contemplating – as I have many times in the last 6 years – all the implications and the layers of meaning in this passage from the book of James:
“Listen to me, dear brothers and sisters: Hasn’t God chosen the poor in this world to be rich in faith? Aren’t they the ones who will inherit the Kingdom he promised to those who love him?”
– James 2:5
As American Christians, I think there are probably a lot of things that we – urgently and desperately – need to learn (and un-learn).
