Sunday, January 13, 2013

Sunday Musings

Ok, I must confess... We may have taken God's command for Sabbath rest a bit too seriously today. We went to the beach. I'd love to say it was a serious evangelism mission, one where we strolled the sandy beach evangelizing the natives and spreading the Good News, but alas we didn't. After church we loaded up in the old Daihatsu truck and headed up and over the mountain to the bluest ocean and the clearest water I've ever seen. We toasted our toes in the sun and wet our feet in the cool waters of the Caribbean. Now that I'm typing I feel a bit guilty, we are here to work after all. We have five rooms to paint, shelves to build, food to distribute, a race to run and a movie to share. We have English to teach and patients to see, but even Christ took a Sabbath rest. I'm not used to rest, maybe that's why it felt so odd. I'm used to doing laundry and cleaning floors, cooking meals and writing sermons. I, probably like you, am entirely too busy and despite what scripture commands of me, Sabbath rest is not at the top of my list. I think this can be categorized under "first world problems in a third world country." I'll be the first to admit that I've been a bit too preoccupied with my technology, partially to write the blog and partially to email my Isabelle, at times I'm still that American with her text fingers tapping away. But there's a lesson to learn here. Sunday is a busy day here. The streets were full of markets, the homes had their laundry flung all over any flat surface that would dry a shirt and the kids ran naked to the side of the street to yell and wave at the crazy "Blancos" driving by. But even as they scrubbed and bathed, as they combed nits out of their hair and put bags of charcoal on the road for trade early Monday morning, they were in communion with one another. They laughed and we even saw a few little tiffs between couples. They held hands and called their children by name when they wandered too close to the road. What I thought was a busy barber shop day by the lines outside the stalls, was actually a soccer game that the young men were gathered to watch. Have you and I lost this communion? Have we forgotten what it is to simply tell stories and share a small loaf of bread? From looking around, it seemed busy in every corner of Cap Haitien, but the busyness did not squeeze out that communion that people share. What will it take in our busy "first world lives" to find each other again? I'm afraid that we have so many things to make our lives easier that we've lost ourselves in the process. In a way it makes me want to go down to the river to scrub my laundry, it makes me crave a congregation that sings to the tune of its' heart instead of an organ and a friend to comb out the nits in my hair. But do you know what? I have that here, so for now I'm gonna say good night, grab a sprite ( cuz I don't like the Prestige beer) and join in communion with some pretty phenomenal people I found right here in Terrier Rouge, Haiti. And if you know me at all you'll be shocked by what I say next... I'm waking up at 6:30 tomorrow morning without Howser pulling me outta bed to a start line to go out and put in some miles. Wish me luck... I'm planning on some communion with my Elmer, Joan and Davies along the way.

No comments:

Post a Comment