Radical Hospitality....Come Lord Jesus

A rainy Saturday night. I found myself in a dimly lit chapel when my mind begins to wonder. I couldn’t understand what the priest was yelling about. But MAN was he convicted. I didn’t need to know every word he was saying to understand he loves Jesus. I asked myself over and over again, how much do I love Jesus. Do I love him enough to let others know that without every opening my mouth? 

I relate to Peter in so many ways. He denies Jesus three times (John 18: 15-27). I probably deny him three times an hour. Maybe not verbally but in other ways. 

Did I just walk past someone waiting on the bench? 

Did I Just place my dish in a sink and expect someone else to wash it? 

Did I complain about getting up early, how long was was, or how it is? 

But because Jesus is merciful, he allows me the opportunity to tell him I love him over and over again, just like Peter. By washing breakfast dishes, sitting with the woman I walked past even if I don’t know what she’s saying, and praise Jesus for a rainstorm even though I’m soaked. 

Throughout this short period of time in Haiti I’ve fallen deeper in love with Jesus. Wanting to know him in a more intimate way (a few weeks ago that word creeped me out). But now I recognize that it isn’t always easy. 

It’s an opportunity for growth. 

It’s an opportunity to deny and then reclaim the victory Jesus has already won. 

I desire a place of radical hospitality for Jesus in my heart. But as I remember from our Life Teen Missions Rule of Life (check it out here:http://www.lifeteenmissions.com/rule/) this simple thought on radical hospitality. “Hospitality, rather than being something you achieve, is something you enter. It is not something you do, but something you become. You try. You fail. You try again.”

I slowly find myself back back in that dimly lit chapel, in a small quiet town in Charlier Haiti. Jesus spoke into the depths of my heart at a moment where I didn’t expect him to. If I invite him, he will enter. 

COME LORD JESUS! 

Happy Advent!

What's the Number for 911 in Haiti?

Here I jot down my thoughts during a recent trip to the local Hospital. Two of our teens needed to visit the doctor. Nothing was an emergency, but they were hurting and we wanted to help.


Sensory overload.

Babies crying. 

Three women in blue outfits.
Five women in white.
Eight women trying their hardest to get the height and weight of a screaming baby. 
All eyes in the room turned to them. 

Families pass by with bags filled to the bring and pots empty that once held rice. 

Hard wooden benches. 

No clean air to breathe. 

Is the room getting smaller?

The babies are now screaming as one. Like a roaring orchestra, ascending into a crescendo of one of Bach's famous Overtures. 

A mother moves closer to me, as the sweat starts to pour off my brow. 

I can't believe this is the life I live. I wouldn't change it for any opportunity in the world. 

This life. 
My life. 
I'm so blessed. 

Time seems to go by slower when you don't really know what's happening around you. As I struggle to learn Creole, I try to pick up any word that I can. Try to sympathize with a young mother who has a screaming baby with a fever. But I don't know what that's like. That's not the cards I was dealt. I've been brought to Haiti to love, to serve, and to give as much time and energy to these beautiful people that I call family. 

It's not easy. But it's worth it.