Haiti: Faith in a Fallen World

Combining faith with reason. Trying to reconcile a world full of suffering with the reality of a just and living God. These are the thoughts that filled my mind as I delved into The Case of Faith by Lee Strobel, sitting in the Miami International Airport waiting to board my flight for one of the poorest countries in the world: Haiti.



Haiti, a tropic country roughly a two-hour flight from Miami, is known for its poverty, political instability, and massive deforestation. Malaria, dengue fever, typhoid fever and parasitical infections are just a few of the health concerns I would face upon setting foot in the once beautiful Caribbean island.

Despite the rampant poverty and shocking rape of the landscape, beauty still clings precariously on in small glimpses here and there. The ocean, polluted in places and used as a waste refuge in others, still laps crystal clear on pebble beaches behind the shanties and broken-down cars. The mountains strive valiantly to cover their naked clay with bits of green foliage. As you wind through the pothole-ridden streets of the city into the mountains, the Caribbean sun kisses all it touches with warmth and light.



This will be my second trip to Haiti, having first experienced the troubled island in 2005. I traveled with the NPO organization RainCatchers, whose primary goal is providing clean drinking water for the people of Haiti.

As shocking and alien as the landscape can be, it is always the people of Haiti, in the midst of their unbelievable poverty, who wrench my heart. Driving through the streets I would see children, naked, lying in heaps of raw sewage with pigs three times their size milling about them. An old woman struggled to carry a basket on her head, her body bent and broken from years of hard labor. I saw an old blind man on his doorstep, his arms outstretched, waiting, waiting.



I wish I could close my eyes but I can’t. It's too late now. I've seen how they live and how they die. And just as my eyes stared transfixed that day on the bus in Port au Prince, I can't turn my mind away from it now.

My first trip to Haiti came swift on the heels of my father's sudden death and the end of a three-year relationship. So to be bombarded with such loss and suffering within a season was almost more than I could bear. I confess to my shame my first reaction when presented with such suffering, both in my life and in the world around me, was to look at God and ask “why?” I just couldn't grasp how a loving and just God resonated with a world full of suffering.

It was not until the last day of this year's trip to Haiti that I heard verbalized what I somehow knew all along. Teresa Murphy, a resident doctor and dentist in Seguin, Haiti, told me this after my devotion on our final night in Haiti: "When we see suffering all around us, we must resist the temptation to shake our fist at God, or doubt His reality or love. Instead we must look to ourselves and ask God: What can we do? Use us to end this suffering."

So that is what I've tried my best to do since I've returned. I know there will always be suffering as long as we live in a fallen world, but if we as Christians respond to the suffering as God would, I think a drastic change would occur in this world. If we answer the plights of others, without judgment, without reserve, but with compassion, with open hearts and with willing hands, I truly believe suffering due to hunger, malnourishment, disease and poverty would cease to exist in this world.

I know this is an almost childishly simple concept, but I still think it's something I need to exercise more in my day-to-day life. Poverty and suffering are around us everywhere, not just in third-world countries. There is poverty in our own hometowns, believe it or not. So for me these days, I’m resisting the urge to become overwhelmed when presented with suffering and loss, and simply looking to God and asking Him to use me.

~Kimberly Hall

Kimberly Hall has traveled to Haiti with RainCatchers since 2005.

The Amazon: A New Perspective

Lightning illuminated the night sky as I retreated to the lower deck of the boat. I tried to relax, but my mind was fully aware of the growing pool of water near my feet. It was hard to believe only an hour ago we were laughing and playing with the children in a village along the Amazon River in Brazil. Now we were at the mercy of the wind and waves.

But God was taking care of us, and the storm quickly passed. I peeled off my poncho and joined some fellow members of the Lee University Symphonic Band on the upper deck. For over an hour, we sat along the outer railings, mesmerized by the way the lightning danced across the horizon, the reflected light skipping across the murky water. It was one of the most beautiful and inspiring things I have ever seen.



Perspective makes a world of difference.

When I packed for my missions trip to Brazil, I threw some extra shirts into my bag, planning to give them away. The night before we left, I imagined myself and 30 of my classmates floating down a narrow channel of water in a dugout canoe, the lush, green tree canopy blocking the sun from view.

My preconceived ideas were a little off, though—okay, very off. The river was massive, and there wasn’t a tree canopy to shield us from the scorching heat of the sun. As we were leaving one of the villages, a young boy paddled his boat over to ours. But he didn’t want a shirt; he wanted a drink of water.

For as long as I can remember, I have thought about how unfair it is for me to have material possessions when so many people around the world have next to nothing. But it took a little boy asking for a drink of water for me to see the real travesty. He didn’t need me to share my closet of clothes; he needed a glass of water.

During a Sunday morning service, I was drawn to a young woman praying in the altar. I thought about the language barrier and tried to rationalize with the Holy Spirit, but He wouldn’t leave me alone.

I finally surrendered and made my way through the crowded altar to pray with her. As I held her close, I began to pray one of the most passionate prayers I have ever prayed. After the service she found someone to interpret for her and told me how God had confirmed something in her heart while I prayed with her. She didn’t need me to speak her language; she needed me to hold her and pray with her.



Whenever I look at the Portuguese Bible she gave me the night before we left Brazil, it doesn’t bother me that I can’t read it. Instead, I pick it up, hold it close to my heart and say a prayer for Claudia and the people of Brazil.

Perspective really does make a world of difference.

~Rachel Ethun

In May 2007, Rachel traveled to Santarem, Brazil, with the Lee University Symphonic Band. The group played several concerts in the city and traveled to two remote villages on the Amazon River. Through the universal language of music, the ensemble ministered to the people of Brazil, proclaiming the gospel to those who had never heard it while encouraging those who already follow Christ.

Lee University has six touring ensembles that minister in churches both nationally and internationally.

Do Your Part

We are a generation of passion.

We don't have much, yet the Holy Spirit empowers us to bring God's light into a dark world. Many of us will never be foreign missionaries. Even so, we all recognize that we have the same responsibility: to reach the lost with God's love.

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