home again

It has been almost exactly one week to the hour since we boarded a plane in Haiti to return home to Canada. It is an incredibly surreal experience to leave such a unique place and arrive a few short hours later in Miami airport. Haiti is hot and dangerous and smelly and distinct. It never lets you forget what it is - a country who's history is written in blood, lived with sweat, and sealed with tears.
But an international airport is slick and air-conditioned and clean and safe (sterile?). It is a maze of shiny hallways and grand atriums. The t-shirts in the gift shop inform you that you are in Miami or Toronto, but there is no reason to believe them, nothing to confirm their claims. If they sold Miami t-shirts in Toronto, I would be none the wiser. North American airports are built to impress, to make you think that they have it all together, that there is nothing there but beautiful scenery and happy people with well-paying jobs and smiling families. Haiti has no such ambition. Or maybe it does, but the cracks are harder to patch up. Earthquakes tend to do that.

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Over the past week Cassandra and I have been trying to process exactly what we learned from our experience in Haiti. It was different from anything we have ever known. Sometimes it already seems like our time there was just a long dream because it is so far removed from our everyday experience. We both went back to work this week, and everything is already so normal that it requires effort to really think back and reflect on our experiences. It's a strange phenomenon which is actually one of the most difficult things about coming back. Everyone always told me that the most difficult thing about going away is coming back, but we have found it incredibly easy. Instead of being angry about the injustice of the world and how I have so much while millions have so little, I find myself simply being immensely thankful for this beautiful country. I am better able to empathize with people who live in poverty because I have seen how they live first hand, but I do not feel guilty for the abundance that I enjoy. Part of me feels as though I should. But life in Haiti is so different from life here that I find it almost impossible to compare them, as if they exist entirely separate from each other. I did not expect this feeling, so I am trying to deal with that right now.


Since our return many people have asked "so, what did you learn?" or "did it change your life?" These are very difficult questions that I probably won't have a good answer for for months and maybe years. I learned a lot about life and survival - and about death and destruction. I learned about the power of the Gospel, but also the power of Satan and of evil. I learned about wealth and poverty, about love and selflessness but also about corruption and greed.

The thing that stands out and that really surprised me is the incredible challenges that face missionaries every single day. It probably shouldn't have surprised me, but I was blown away by how difficult it is to do what they do. Language barriers, racism, persecution, discouragement, loneliness, clulture shock. Everyday living even presents a challenge. Simple things like grocery shopping and going to the hardware store present frustrating challenges that can sometimes easily suck up an entire afternoon. Everything is either agonizingly slow or much too fast. I met a Christian Reformed Pastor named Zac who summarized this well. He has been in Haiti for about 5 years. Early in his ministry he made friends with a young Haitian. This young man showed great promise, and he was growing into a strong leader in the church. Four years spent investing in this young man. The ground shook for 35 seconds, and he was gone. 4 years of investment, 35 seconds of horror - and now what?

So what did I learn? The answer is a question: "What is Love?" This is the question that was ringing in my head for most of the trip, and will continue to affect the way that I live and do ministry. It's a simple question, but it takes on a new meaning when you are in the midst of such obvious need. My first reaction when a child asks me for a dollar is to give it to them. That makes sense right? Doesn't God call me to give this child a "cup of cold water in His name"? What about when secondary students from Adoration ask for money for food or a prescription or a tap-tap (taxi). Sometimes it is the loving thing to do. Sometimes it is a genuinely good thing to give money to these people so that they can start to get off their feet or feed their families.
The problem comes when they keep coming back. Day after day, they come and ask you for money. Is it the loving thing to hand them money every day? Or are you simply creating dependency on foreign aid? And what happens when there are enough foreign aid groups working in the country that it is more profitable to go from agency to agency asking for money than it is to work for a day? Is the world really showing love for Haiti when it pours billions of dollars of aid money into the country? I'm not saying that aid is bad or that money should not be given to Haitians. I'm only saying that it takes a whole lot of wisdom to figure out how to use that money without hurting Haiti more than helping.
If these questions interest you, I strongly recommend reading a book called When Helping Hurts by Brian Fikkert and Steven Corbett. They have really helped me work through some of these questions, and presented some solutions that are very challenging and very hopeful.

So, did it change my life? I don't know. I probably won't know for years. I got a glimpse of what it is like to live in a foreign country and do mission work. I don't know yet if I have caught a passion for it or if I have been forever turned off of it. Maybe both.

And that is where I stand now - caught in this weird tension. Tension is a fitting place to end this post, because tension is a word that describes Haiti well. Between the Kingdom of God and the kingdom of satan. Between white and black. Between rich and poor. Between my own desires and the call to self-sacrifice. Between love and what appears to be love. Between life and death. Between truth and lies.

Thank you for your prayers and support before, during, and after our trip. It was an absolute privilege, and a beautiful opportunity. We are praying that God will use this experience to impact us and to keep teaching us about His will for our lives.