Church in Haiti is always emotional.
It's hard to pinpoint why.
All I know is there are many days when I leave the building with a headache from constantly blinking back the tears.
There are some days when I am so overwhelmed by emotion I want to run out of the room, across the yard, into my house, throw myself on my bed, and cry.
Maybe I'm moved by the beauty of the church, that we're gathered here and you're gathered there. God's people, together, all over the world, in every culture, worshiping God. I look around the room. I think of my church back home. So different, and yet this day binds us together.
Everything is so different in this country. So alive. So vibrant. Every word in every song I've sung for years means something hard and deep to me here. I can't get through the simplest song or a verse I've heard a thousand times without my eyes filling up with tears.
I've always prayed in church, but today we spent time praying for all of the people in our church on the front lines of serving those with cholera. When a fourth of our congregation stood up...a fourth of them caring for cholera patients...the tears...oh the tears. I was overcome with thankfulness, that God lets us be a part of this church body. Zach, with Real Hope for Haiti led us in prayer for this country, begging God to intervene.
How gracious the Lord is to allow us to be around people who love God enough to risk disease, and care for people who are losing 10 liters of bodily fluid a day. Jesus. Washing feet. Serving sinful man. I was overcome with gratitude that we get to know people like this, that we get to watch them, and learn from their lives.
The prayer time was loud and ferocious. Like thunder. I've never heard people pray like that. But I've also never heard people praying who are watching other people die in front of their very eyes. I've never heard people so desperate for God's mercy and deliverance from sickness and death.
There's always been singing at my churches back home, but there's nothing more moving than listening to a room full of Haitians sing I'll fly Away.
They sing it loudly. Their hands reaching towards the sky.
Even the babies and the children.
Just a few more weary days and then...
This is when you put your face in your hands and you sob.
Because you know they mean what they sing.
And because there's nothing you want more for them, for all of us, than for Jesus to come and redeem this mess.