Not a single person tried to beg, wheedle, or manipulate their way into the "better" van. Instead, I watched teenagers glow with the light of Christ as they voluntarily rotated themselves through the "worst" seat in the "bad" van. Because, it is more painful for these kids to watch someone else drip with sweat then it is to feel their own t-shirt soak through.
So, they sat, and sweated, opened the windows as wide as they would go, and inhaled putrid scents that American noses would never think to imagine. And, they watched.
We drove through a city still marked by an earthquake that shook the country, and they didn't look away. They looked past the trash to see kittens on doorsteps and vulgar graffiti. They watched closely enough to pick up on individuals. And, they asked about what they saw. "Why does that woman not have any clothes on?" "Are they getting that water for drinking?" "What are all those men doing there?" They saw, and they remembered - and they compared to the way that things were last year.
For kids who take on every pain as if it was their own, this watching, this mentally and emotionally joining in, was the greatest form of sacrifice.
They could have closed off, could have stayed safe in the world within their van, could have waited to look until we were safe within the walls of a church. But, they came to Haiti ready and willing to be spent. And, so, they took it in.
"and if you spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry
and satisfy the needs of the oppressed,
then your light will rise in the darkness,
and your night will become like the noonday." Isaiah 58:10
And, eventually, we arrived. To a church on the coast surrounded by green. To children who had never been to a VBS. To smiling faces ready and eager to great us. To a place where fresh grief - ours - mixed with all encompassing joy that belonged to us all.
And, our kids lit up.
For two days, they burned like flames within the walls of this compound. It wasn't always easy or what an American would consider smooth. But, they rocked it. (And, got an additional crash course in high context cultures along the way.) Arrive. Wait for the second van. Wait until everyone in the church is "ready." Start music. Generator runs out of gas. Stop music. Wait while someone goes to buy gas and refill the generator. Restart music. Continue with VBS. Never stop grinning.
And, God showed up.
God showed up in kids who felt so loved that their church the next Sunday was fuller than it had ever been. God showed up in smiles and quiet conversations. God showed up in laughter and spontaneous games of tag. God showed up in teenagers who realized that their comfort zone somehow included being hot, sweaty, and covered in children who spoke a language that they didn't.
Because, here, in a country still held tight by poverty, voodoo, and a history of oppression, they practiced what it is to pour heart and soul into relationships, to spend themselves completely.
And, I think you can see for yourself the brilliance of their light.
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