Devote yourselves to prayer, being watchful and thankful. And pray for us, too, that God may open a door for our message, so that we may proclaim the mystery of Christ, for which I am in chains. Pray that I may proclaim it clearly, as I should. Be wise in the way you act toward outsiders; make the most of every opportunity. Let your conversation be always full of grace, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how to answer everyone. Colossians 4:2-7
Influence without motivating others to action is a wasted opportunity.
That verse and that phrase haunt me. I want to live my life in such a way that leverages whatever influence I may have on this planet to move people closer to the heart of Jesus. As Paul says, I want to proclaim the mysterious Jesus in a world where the simple Jesus is all people know.
But how do you influence people with influence over others? For me, that’s the question. It’s one thing to have a role that puts you in contact with influencers. It’s another to influence those influencers.
Here are five quick ways I’ve found (this isn’t wisdom, it’s me stumbling towards figuring it out) to influence influencers towards things that truly matter:
Proclaim the whys. I’ve found that a lot of influencers are so busy that they need help connecting the dots and being told “why” something is important much more than how to do it. Influencers are smart and know how to get things done. But you need to have them own why it is important for them to do something.
Heart tugs. A person has influence over others because they have a huge heart. If I can expose that heart to the need… they can make mountains move. A challenge for me isn’t putting them in that situation, it’s finding out what will tug a leaders heart to action. What, you thought this was easy?
Biblical truth. Call me a crazy conservative all day. I don’t care what you label me– the Bible holds truth I cannot fathom. When I have the opportunity to bring up biblical truth, or remind a leader what the Bible says about the situation they are in, that moves them.
Appeal to pride. You thought I’d say humility? Heck no, I play dirty if it means that they will take action. Have you read the Bible? The Old Testament is full of examples of prophets and friends motivating a leader with a well timed rib shot. Why? Because it works.
Challenge them to take responsibility. I’ve noticed that highly influential people are very happy to disassociate themselves from opportunities. Surely, their plates are full. It helps to look them in the eye and challenge them– if not you, than who?
OK, so in order to really appreciate this video you need to know that Kristen has no moves whatsoever. She loves music. She actually likes to dance and clap to music. But the poor woman… well, she has no beat. And this has long held her back from sharing her dance-worthy moments with the general public.
But put her in an orphanage full of children filled with joy– no problem!
Saturday afternoon most of the team pealed off to go to do VBS and I just felt like I needed to make one more little trip to the Sons of God orphanage. I wasn’t sure why. It was just in me and I needed to do it.
So I did.
As we made our way through the series of dirt streets from Pastor David’s house to the orphanage I was just asking God… please, show me your forgotten child. I was praying for just a moment of connection with a child to let him know that Jesus is there for him. I didn’t have a clue how it’d work. But that was my prayer.
We opened the green heavy steel gate and wound our way through the Pastors house to the little courtyard the children hang out in. Of course, 3-4 visitors from America drop in and every kid just comes to hang out.
Within a few minutes I was carrying around a little two year old boy… the same one who attached himself to Kristen on her visits there. My heart melted as the warmth of our bodies created a silent bond of sweat. (Older kids, about 6 years old, put the younger ones on their shoulders to bring the babies to you to hold. It’s sweet and scary at the same time!)
As I held one boy, another would poke me in the back of the leg and go hide. He and I would lock eyes and he would run off to another place. And so, in this tiny little courtyard filled with children and carrying a two year old, I began to play a game of poke/chase with this older boy. (About five years old) It was cute to see his smile and the joy he got from being chased by a fat white man.
About 15 minutes of this go by. I’m laughing, he is laughing, the baby boy is laughing as I bounce him around, and my back is aching. Eventually I decide I can’t bear the pain of it any longer and sit on the steps leading into the main house.
The little boy who had alluded me while playing chase just sat down next to me and leaned against by big sweating body. He touched my head, bald and sweaty. He felt the hair on my arms. He kept leaning against me. It was a sweet moment. Then he took his t-shirt, filled with holes, and gently squeegeed off the sweat from my arms. It was tender and loving and I hoped a ball of sweat would land in my eye so I could release the tear building up.
As I rested and played with the antsy baby he and I just shared a moment where we were in one another’s presence. No words were shared… we just were together and silent among the swarm of activity.
Suddenly, he got up and went inside. We were sharing such a moment that I didn’t even think it was odd that he got up. He just got up. About a minute later he came back out of the house and sat right next to me… just like we were before. Except he had a picture.
When I saw the picture I lost it. Sure, I didn’t weep outwardly. But I wept inwardly and only allowed that one Cherokee tear to trickle out. I held those tears in for me. But maybe I also just held it together for him?
He reached out his arms and showed me a picture of his parents. It was worn and torn. It was faded. And whoever took the snapshot had somehow clipped off the top of his fathers face.
The photo was of his parents wedding day. The bride beaming, the husband standing proudly next to her, and the table before them filled with foods and a 3 tier wedding cake.
The boy made eye contact with me. Then pointed to his mom. Then made eye contact with me again. Then pointed to his dad. Then made eye contact with me again to make sure I was looking at his prized possession.
I understood. He understood. These were his parents. He was orphaned. His heart longed for a day when one of them would walk through the doors of the orphanage and take him home. And that day may never come.
And so, he and I sat, staring at the picture.
God answered my prayer in that moment. I don’t know why I felt like I needed to go to the orphanage that afternoon. But I did and this was why. As the little boy and I shared our presence he was able to know that he was not forgotten. Perhaps his parents had abandoned him or perhaps they had died… but he held onto hope.
The truth is that the orphanage scared me to my core. I never had it perfect as a kid but I always had a loving home to sleep in. My parents loved my brother and I. We never doubted it. And we both knew they would never abandon us. Through the toughest of times they took care of us before they took care of themselves. I never felt the way this boy felt. My empathetic pains were merely hypothetical. I couldn’t fathom his pain. But I could rest in the presence of sharing that moment with him.
One of the most biting things ever said about me was a pastor, early in my church experience, who said from the pulpit one morning, pointing right at me and asking me to stand up so he could use me as an illustration of his point, that he and the elders had labeled me a “spiritual orphan” in the church.
Those words punched me in the chest and I don’t know if I have ever recovered from that pain. I felt like I was part of that church community and they merely looked at me as an orphan. I knew those words didn’t reflect the words of Jesus… and yet I knew that I would never quite fit in again in that kind of church.
Perhaps, at the very core, that is the thing deep inside me that looks at the evangelical church and says… somewhere, deep at the core of who we are as a church… we need to reform?
You see, we are all spiritual orphans. We are all adopted by Christ.
Without the love of Jesus, we are all like that boy in the orphanage. We all are looking for a moment of presence. We are all holding on to an image of what a reconciled life will look like.
I think the open questions in everyones mind boil down to this.
1. Are we (outside visitors, aid workers, missionaries) making a difference in Haiti?
2. Are there any signs that there is a hope for the future of Haiti?
To answer that, I thought I’d just share some observations from my week that I feel are signs of hope.
– there is hope, not despair, in the eyes of the children. Everywhere we go, smiles from kids greet us.
– tent cities seem to be getting their acts together. You kind of rate tent cities like hotels… A star system of sorts. We’ve seen none of the 1 star tent cities (the ones made of sticks and sheets) you see a lot of 3 star ones with well-constructed tents, water systems, latrines, schools, and even play areas.
– commerce is everywhere. We saw hundreds of small business owners. Many run simple shops selling gum or sodas… But the desire to run a store is huge! We also ran into many men using their trades to turn garbage into money. People are recycling rebar to turn it into grills. They are turning smashed cars into bridges. They are turning cans into piggy banks.all of these are great signs. Desperation leads to innovation.
– play is coming back. All week I’ve carried a soccer ball in my backpack. And we’ve played hours of simple soccer games with kids. Earlier today we came across a soccer field and watched actual organized soccer.
– churches have stayed full. I’m actually writing this post while our host church has night worship. The service started 3.5 hours ago. When the pastors house filled up people spilled into the streets. Over one hundred people have spent all night worshipping Jesus. The revival we saw in February was not just temporal. God is still calling people to Himself through Jesus.
– the past is the past. No one seems to care about things pre-January 12th. They seem very intent in the future of their nation.
– the youth don’t want to flee. Our team has been served by 4-5 wonderful translators every day. These talented and bright men want to stay here. They aren’t interested in moving to America. Instead, they want to help rebirth their nation.
– there is no complaining. Before we came here we heard a lot about people growing tired of the government not acting. I’ve not heard that this week. Instead, I’ve seen people taking action to work on true circumstances.
Sure, things aren’t significantly better than 6 months ago. And there is much left to do… But there is still hope in their air here in Haiti.
It’s unexplainable and completely a fault in my personality. But I can be as stubborn as an ox and as tactful as a vuvuzela in a movie theater.
It’s one of those things where an asset is also a liability. If you know me, you know this well. (sorry)
It’s happened a few times on this trip. Just little moments when I strike out in opposition of the three dominant rules on short term trips.
1. Pack whatever you are told to pack.
2. Do whatever the leader asks you to do.
3. Be flexible and willing to be uncomfortable.
So, I’ll admit right now that I stink at all three of those things.
Submission to authority is something that I struggle with. I suppose it’s why I’d never join the military. (Or end up in military jail, if I did) and why it was odd that I did ministry in a Baptist context for 5 years. It’s not that I’m incapable. It’s that I need to understand the “why” way more than most people!
Just ask my mom, I’ve been this way since birth. Actually, I was two weeks overdue so you can see I’ve always done things on my own timing.
Two examples of my suckitude:
– going through security in Ft. Lauderdale, they have one of those new scanners that looks under your clothing. But I noticed this little sign which basically said, “If you object to the scan you may use the metal detector.” Of course, I don’t really care that a TSA agent can see my junk. But I decided to opt out simply because of the option. Apparently to dissuade you from simply opting out of their million dollar toy, they insist on forcing people who opt out to go through a full secondary search So, I waited about 5 minutes for some poor guy to get on his gloves and pat me down. And in the process I shared some smartypants remarks about the new devices. In the end, it wasn’t a big deal either way… It was just something stupid I dug in on.
– I didn’t buy pants for this trip. Giggle all you want, but I really don’t have pants to wear on a missions trip. Hey, I live in San Diego… I wear shorts to work just about every day! Plus, with temps of 115 F I was positive that they were unnecessary. So, I didn’t bring them. No biggie, right? Wrong. Today we encountered a ministry opportunity that required pants and since I chose to not go out and buy stuff for this trip, I just had to pass on the opportunity. (And accept the harassment of my teammates for my packing failure.)
In both of those, I am very frustrated with my stubbornness. I just wish I wasn’t such a punk sometimes.
So, that’s something I get to take away from this trip… I need to work on this character flaw. I guess it isn’t as endearing a quality as I’d like to think it is.
Those were the words of my friend and teammate, Mark Helsel.
Our team was overwhelmed today as we joined in the craziness of an orphanage running in the backyard of a doctor turned pastor.
Today we got a glimpse of an amazing ministry here in Carffuer, the Sons of God orphanage.
What is it? Well, it’s nothing and everything at the same time. Upwards of 100 children live in a makeshift orphanage. The conditions are very rough. It’s messy and smelly in the backyard where the kids play. There are chunks of broken concrete and piles of mud. Little boys urinate in a drain next to workers doing laundry.
But this isn’t about the squalor of the conditions. It is about the condition of their spirit. The children all wear huge smiles. They are warm and affectionate. They are clearly loved and safe. And thanks to the efforts of people like Ed Noble (Journey Church, La Mesa) and Doug Paggit (Solomons Porch, Minneapolis) they have plenty of food and supplies.
This is what joy is! It is knowing that you are an orphan and have been brought from life threatening danger to life giving security. That’s why, when the singing begins, so does the dancing. Joy erupts from the very fact that you are loved and taken care of.
Oh, to be a person that opens your home, life, and family to the needs of your community! What satisfaction and honor that must bring to the family in God’s eyes.
Maybe, just maybe, this is what the church ought to be doing?
A refuge in life’s earthquakes.
A family when you have none.
Security when you are left insecure.
A future where there was none.
Sharing to the point of poverty.
I’m now back to the place I was in February. I simply cannot reconcile the world Iive in with the world I know exists here.
One of the joys of this trip is getting to know new people. I suppose it is odd to some that this team is assembled of people somehow related to me. Obviously, some are old friends while others are brand new to me. Though that may seem odd, it’s how my life works. As Kristen says, “that’s how we roll.”
It’s the same with Haiti. This trip is entirely different from my first one… The experiences bear almost no resemblance yet feel strikingly similar. It’s like buying a replacement for your favorite shirt. It’s the same but different in a way you kind of like and kind of don’t.
I’m happy to see our team push past discomfort today. The pain/annoyance of traveling here is now nostalgia while the heat feels a little less oppressive every hour. Though, in both cases, it is probably not actually easier, just that we are used to it.
Erin finally made it tonight. She was delayed in South Florida by a day. Her arrival brightened Kristen and my spirits. She is such a great friend to us… And her arriving was an awesome pick-me-up bouquet of joy.
A rainstorm came to put a period on our day. Just as Mark, Jeffrey, and I were tiring of a long game of keep away with a soccer ball and about 10 boys, drizzle turned to downpour. We lumbered inside and made our way to the balcony just as sheets of heavy rain arrived. Secure and dry my heart sank knowing that many in the city were bracing for a night of misery while we rejoiced in the cool breezes the storm brought.
I’m looking forward to tomorrow. We plan on doing some stuff to help construct a church roof, some sort of VBS thing for a local church, as well as visit the Sons of God orphanage.
We all know that this just means I will take pictures and tweet about people doing the actual work, right?
Right now I hear a congregation praying in the first floor of the building I am trying to sleep in. I hear crickets and look out of the balcony and see returnless lightning in the distance. The night is filled with stilled activity under the oppressive humidity of the Carribean.
Moments ago the congregation sang Blessed Assurance. ( apparently 10:45 pm is a great time to worship) Maybe imagined it, too? You never fully know. But as they sang my heart sang as tears filled my eyes. I don’t speak Creole yet I know the song well enough to sing along.
Blessed assurance. That is the only hope for Haiti, right? We can serve the physical needs of the people, but the difference here between joy and misery comes from the spiritual realm.
It’s been a long day. A trip to Haiti is about working past the physical discomfort to find joy in the journey and knowledge of what God is doing.
And today was physically uncomfortable. We arrived at the airport at 2:20 PM and yet we didn’t make it to our host home in Carffuer until about 6:15. (10ish miles) The harsh roads pounded our weary body and reminded us that we didn’t have any water. Likewise, the shock of the beggars at the airport dehydrated any hopes that things are significantly better here. Two team members didn’t make it to our flight. One will come in the morning and the other went home. One team members baggage got lost… So we all shared to try to make him comfortable while hoping it arrives in the morning.
It’s been a long day. I pray we each find sleep.
And so we rest. We rest tonight not just under the cool breezes of the Haitian sky, we rest in the blessed assurance that no matter what, God’s people can praise their Savior!
The next week on my blog is going to be a smudge different. I’ll be posting updates and photos as much as I can, but it’s not possible to know what our cell reception will be like. I had hoped to have my new iPhone 4 before we left so that I could post videos and such, too. But I guess that wasn’t to be.
Right at the last minute, I decided it would be better to leave my MacBook at home… So, anything I post will come from my iPhone. ( I have my camera, so lots of pictures will come later.)
Kristen and I flew to Ft. Lauderdale yesterday. With flights and time changes it wasn’t going to be possible to get to Port-au-Prince without doing a red eye… So we opted to come to South Florida a day early.
Today, we slept in. Then we walked to a cool breakfast spot on the beach. Than walked along the ocean back to our hotel. The heat zapped us! So we lounged a bit before headed back to the beach to swim. After that, to the pool, then a nap. Then we jumped on the water taxis and went all over. Phew. The evening culminated with a romantic riverside dinner overlooking houses we will never be invited to even visit!
In a way, we feel silly for this little luxury. But at the same time we get alone time so rarely that we needed to take advantage of this opportunity.
So, next stop is Haiti. our flight arrives there about 2:30 PM.
