confusion about when I'm weak

This past summer, after my first preview of Haiti, after that week alongside the eighty gleaming kids in Maranatha’s preschool my mind had a course set. On the plane home I knew undoubtedly my next year would be spent striving to provide smiles to those children. As is human though, the high wore off, the memories dulled, the daily distractions ascended lying a fog between me and that once pounding desire to pour love into the nation of Haiti.

A single warped thought, stirred up over and over by one simple question had made the adventure to Haiti, I had been so sure of, seem futile. Curiously, innocently, friends would ask “what can be done to benefit Haiti?” As the self-absorbed human I find myself all too often to be I interpreted “What can I, James Colaw, do to benefit Haiti.” In a very scripted manner I would answer “The youth need to be poured into.” The answer seemed liberal enough to cover the bases but in reality it was nothing more than a diplomatic response, a pleasing answer to facade the fact I had no solution to offer. Due to my translation of the question it was rightful that I had no sufficient genuine retort. I have no fix for the brokenness in Haiti, the brokenness that is in all the world. Even with unlimited resources I could not change the hearts of men who opt to prey on the marginalized as to fatten themselves. Where once a passion had burned, fear stomped out the fire, leaving my desires for Haiti cold and withered.

Still the plans were set, funds raised and tickets purchased. I wrestled on my flight returning to Haiti, not knowing if I was even doing God’s will, feeling sure only failure lie ahead of me. I could not change Haiti. Knowingly God guided my mind, carrying my finger to tap my bible app and delivering my eyes to rest on 2nd Corinthians 12:10:

“For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong.”

I won’t embellish it, upon reading the verse my fears weren’t instantly erased. If memory serves me well I cocked my head, confused a bit…this is not the verse I am looking for? Where was the battle cry declaring “I can do all things…”? God bore with me though, patient through my arrogance, forgiving of my confusion in regards to who knew best. As I skimmed the verse wondering why this might have sprung to mind in my moment of such uncertainty I honed in on “then I am strong.” “I” that must be a typo, I was positive it should say “He.” Sarcastically, haughtily, certainly much in the spirit of those early Christians in the Church of Corinth I thought “Guess what Paul when I’m weak, I ain’t strong I’m weak, ergo the utilization of the word weak. And yeah HE is strong through my weaknesses but God’s strength doesn’t…” It clicked. Thank you Lord for being a God who forgets the sin not the sinner, who even in the heat of my pride and idiocy loves me. As I demanded it doesn’t God stopped me in my tracks, He said my strength does.

“The Lord is my strength” I have no power to change anything for the good. All good is rooted in God, we’re just fortunate enough that He works through us to brighten our world. When we admit that we are weak, when we are willing to suffer for Christ, when we quit leaning into ourselves and trust Him to work through us, then we are strong! When we submit ourselves as servants of God not only does He empower us to do amazing things, He promises to use us to change this world for the better, to use us to bring His kingdom.

I praise God for strengthening me to surrender to Him. I praise him for the past nine months in Haiti. I’m grateful He used me to encourage the most servant hearted nine-year-old girl you’ll ever meet. That He strengthened me to help show a gangsters son a more fulfilling future. That He gave me a heart to love on the two-year-old who all too easily could be and all too often had been written off as a lost cause. God blessed me with countless shared smiles between incredible children and wonderful friends. He granted me witness into how present His love is in Haiti. He encouraged me with insight in how he’s working there through foreign missionaries and especially through incredible Haitians, who despite affluent hardships and great scarcity still pour themselves out into others. He blessed me through all of your support, prayer and encouragement. 

Above all though I thank God for taking me, in all of my egotism, and helping me to be weak over and over. For helping me, no matter how I fought, to lean into him. I thank God for extracting some of my self-absorption, making room for Himself, so He could give me true strength, the strength to truly bring light into this world. As a new adventure nears, working to empower people trapped in poverty, in the city of Santa Barbara I pray that God continues to make ME weaker so I will be strong in Him. 

Again to all of you who have supported me in in numerous ways, I give an immense thanks. God used you in my life and the lives of so many in Haiti. I cannot convey my gratefulness enough to you all, but I hope God reminds and assures you of the impact you all have made! Thanks!

confusion about who I'm banking on

Her mama stretches out, fighting herself. Hesitation, a swallow, she commences. The tea bag kisses the infection. The precious two year old lets out one whimper, shakes her head trying to bury her face deeper in my shoulder. Mama's poker face has left, her expression screams self-doubt, so much it is legible: "maybe I should have checked the temperature again?", "what if Neosporin was enough?", "should I have just left it alone?" Head shakes and resolve pursues as eyes look back to the wound. The heat escapes the pouch pressed to the toddlers split elbow, grip eases and her head leaves the burrow of my arm. Instantly teary eyes look to mama steadfast, even at two she understands. "Mama loves me, that WAS for my good!" As the tea bag is secluded back into the mug and the child's hand races from my back a fascinated smile escapes me. The hand that two seconds ago gripped me with force enough to put gorilla glue to shame now reached out in request of my fellow interns arms. Before Hope had even wiped the tea from her fingertips her baby wanted back in the sanctuary of her embrace.

The pre-schoolers comprehension of love humbles. Any given day one of them will match such an act of trust. They may stare Hope in the eyes as they trod through the painful cleaning of a wound, choke down bitter medicine, receive reproach but it only takes a moment to rebound, wrapping their arms around the neck of their sister, their professor, their friend, their blon mama. Easily my head can fall after witnessing their utter assurance of love. While it is a sight beautiful and encouraging to intake, I’m left embarrassed. Not for a second do I question the faith these children put in my fellow intern, yet somehow the moment my God throws me a curve ball my knees give. How much greater is God’s love than any man’s, how much more deserving is He of my trust? And yet, how easily do I fail to give to Him, The Greatest Being ever, what these children thoughtlessly give to another human. 

The last five weeks I’ve felt trapped in a maze, strewn with hideous Jack in the boxes, as one trial after another reared their vile faces. The Tlucek’s (my host family in Haiti as well as the administrators of our preschool) left to visit the states for five weeks, placing their responsibilities, trustingly, in the Laps of Hope, Madame Sue and myself. Very quickly our eyes took in a better view of all the responsibilities Mr. and Mrs. Tlucek juggle.

During this time I lead devos most evenings, sharing the words of Oswald Chambers and some of my own thoughts. Night after night, one consistent theme wove its way into every devotion “Faith”. As I quoted Chambers archery metaphor my third night leading devotions I know God Chuckled. “God does not heed, He goes on stretching till His purpose is in sight, then He lets fly.” my voice stops, almost as if I knew God had something to say. “You might want to hold those words close there for a bit son.” Unfortunately, I didn’t open my ears to his warning. And as an onslaught of difficulties arose soon I felt tiny, insignificant and incapable. 

When Chikungunya struck our home, when the Haitian staff neglected their responsibilities, when the teenagers refused to comply with anything, never did the wonder cross my mind “What is God cooking up here?” I didn’t imagine to cast my worries and shortcomings on my Lord, I only expended energy in failed attempts to resolve issues alone. Before long, in ignorance and in exhaustion I bitterly questioned God in regards to his current whereabouts. ThatThat instant he answered, and the next, and the next! Sadly though he would spend the course of all five weeks answering that same question, while I refused  to surrender my attention God shouted “I’M HERE!”

Every trial we face God stands there, right arm perpendicular to himself, fist gripping the wooden arc, left shoulder cocked back leaving two fingers, like talons, suspending the string beside his eyes. He aims in line with His will, stretching us till he is sure we will reach his mark. We hurt, God knows this, just as a mother knows cleaning a wound will hurt, medicine will pry gags and discipline will bring tears. Just like a good mother though God has a purpose. He works from a perfect vantage point able to see all things. He sees the bullseye and knows it is where we belong.

I began to type “The blessing of knowing God’s plan would be immense.” But my fingers faltered. My human nature desires so greatly to know God’s plan, because frankly my human nature desires to be God. However I am not, instead I am greatly blessed to be His follower, I need not know the direction my Lord leads me, only to trust that His will surpasses all else, His design is perfect. 

Romans 8:28 assures “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him…” Unquestionably The Most Powerful Being in all existence, The Choreographer of Time and Space works all towards His glory. Fortunately for us this same being loves us as his Children. When we accept that love, the gift of adoption into the family of Christ, suddenly all God does bringing Himself glory we can consider a gift. As He brings His kingdom we always can stand confidently knowing our place beside him is secured through His Son. 

In a stage of life bearing pain, change and uncertainty I pray I will rejoice in all trials. I pray my mind will not wander from the Gods promise to work all things for the good of those who love him. I pray when moments come that should leave me feeling spent, alone, unable, worthless and hopeless my arms will reach out in request of Christ’s embrace. That in these moments in His always welcoming arms I will celebrate due to my assurance in His good will and His unfailing love.

confusion about true north

Child sounds wrong, it doesn't fit correctly. Children don’t gleam like her, nor do they seem to rise above in the same way. Celestial seems a fitting description. She rests out of reach from human corruption, the many trials fail to damper her glowing grin, she illuminates hope amidst great darkness. Regardless of how small she may be the light she lets off radiates a powerful heavenly beauty. Child won’t do, Zetwal suits her better.

Her tiny foot glides over the radio flyer sticker, leaving all her toes dangling eight inches up on one side of the trike. A moment of hesitation and she jumps down with determination. Two foot nothing and hardly twenty pounds this gleaming Zetwal hits the ground running, legs kicking uncoordinated, drooped tongue tops a gaping smile to form a more dazzling picture than the constellations. Her glistening eyes are suspended ahead on a girl rocking strenuously atop a trike, urging it to progress. That wobbly sprint doesn’t break until that bright Zetwal all but collides into the other toddler. Suddenly the face of the girl mounted upon the trike turns, thrill replaces frustration as she gains momentum! Behind her dashes that shooting Zetwal, head between outstretched arms, calves pumping, hands on her friends back. My Zetwal, the tiny, seemingly helpless, two year old girl propels a child nearly twice her weight forward with more pride than she can contain.

Your heart could melt when she asks you to pick one flower after another for her to pass to every child on the play set. It would tug at you even more to see how she was nearly left in tears simply because she couldn’t find a flour for both her big sisters. Never could I have had the strength to give like this radiant Zetwal had I received as little as she, her giving doesn’t cease, not even when it comes with a cost. 

I remember restraining myself from leaping to her defense one day when a child stole her swing. Recalling her face as she weighed her options and reacted still leaves me in disbelief. I can see Christ turning his cheek to receive the back swing from another Roman soldier when I picture my Zetwal’s tiny fingers untwine that Hibiscus from her hair and outstretch her hand to the child sitting in her swing. A pride bubbles from in me and breaks free as a giant grin simply at envisioning this girl’s smile somehow grow even grander and luminescent when that flower transferred from her hand to the other toddlers. 

In her two years of life, two years more trying than anything I experienced in my nineteen, she has grasped an understanding of God’s unconditional love far better than I. I struggle to love even those the most deserving in my life. I get caught up in the routine, the small trial of the moment and miss opportunities to serve those in greater need. I become angry, I fail to offer forgiveness, fail to follow the example of my Savior. I pray that I can be more like this toddler, whose life offers more true direction than even the North Zetwal. I pray that everyday I will learn to love as sacrificially and unconditionally as Astride, my gleaming star.

confusion about "numero uno"

“Yahtsen! Yahtsen! Yahtsen!” Though only twenty-some lips belt the battle cry it rings a power you’d believe was harnessed from AT&T stadium opening night of the cowboys season. Daily the chant echoes and never does its strength decrease an ounce. In fact every time that boy tackles another obstacle the shouts increase in energy, “YAHTSEN! YAHTSEN! YAHTSEN!”

No one who comes across him can deny he has more charm in him than every disney fairy-god-mother combined. His outgoing, lovable spunk though does not erase his developmental needs. Very young his progression was arrested with the strike of a crippling sickness, leaving him far behind the average when pre-school began this year. At age five he couldn’t color in the lines, he couldn’t pedal a trike, he couldn’t form comprehensible words, cut straight or even run.

But how far behind he began only increases the grandness of his strides. He speaks ceaselessly, trikes along with everyone else and colors as neat as you can expect any five-year-old boy to. I believe with out a doubt that this repetitive anthem deserves as much credit to his growth as any individual. Twenty-some children holler in unison to form one of the most empowering incentives I’ve witnessed ever. Daily I see twenty plus kids demand all attention be given to one boy, I see twenty plus faces, not one even a decade old that realize fully lifting up others far outweighs bringing glory and happiness to oneself!

It clenches my breath and heaves it away to view how these children strive to help one boy see progress. Tears surface as the most athletic boy in class gives up 1st place in order to race alongside and encourage Yahtsen. I couldn’t help but look to the sky knowingly, gratefully as one boy tossed aside the good trike and taught Yahtsen to pedal on his own (a task four professors had been trying to accomplish for five months.) I glimpse a miracle daily in every small favor done for this awesome kid, when the children help him find his place in line, offer a high five after him scoring the goal or placing their hand in a seat reserving it especially for him! After you couldn’t even tell which party receives the greatest blessing Yahtsen, the child rooting him on or me standing sideline, smiling ear-to-ear out of something between disbelief and being totally impressed.

"I’m too proud to ask, too broke to eat, too weak to bow, to strong to bleed”

The opening verse of “Too Proud” by Enter The Worship Circle remain debated in the Tlucek home. Until recently I’ve stood on the fence in regards to them, but in the past two weeks I’ve spotted new meaning in the words. Alone I’m too strong by earthy definitions to bleed for others, alone my heart beats to sustain me, to better myself. Alone everything I do, I do in the name of bringing myself glory. 

The lyricist pours out a confession I need to echo. I’m too proud, too broken, too weak and too caught up in an earthly delusion of what strength looks like to live a life truly worthy of living. I‘m desperate for God to heal me so I will choose to pour out onto others, so my pride and  selfishness will not hinder me from sacrificing anything of my own for the least of these.

“Can you undo me...enough to heal me”

This verse I also reverberate, that God might undo me, make me like my students, self-effacing, not even concerned with my own glory but entirely enthusiastic about bettering those whose paths intersect mine!

confusion about thriving amidst suffering

The second hand sandals on her feet couldn’t begin to protect from the harsh Haitian conditions, even if the strap on them wasn’t broken. You couldn't guess the original color of her shirt through all the dust and excessive wear. Her pants cut off at her shins, not as a fashion statement, but because her waist is so thin she needs pants five sizes short just so they stay up. With her limbs so slim it seems impossible she can even walk, the fact that she has the ability to carry her sister at the same time simply must be described as a miracle. Neck down she can be described as dismal.

Looking her in the eyes though that adjective seems laughable. While she might not always tote the childish gleam you wish every kid had, she certainly radiates. Whenever you look at her, you witness and unmistakable joy. It’s confusing, while you can’t miss her joy its source is all but unrecognizable. Her mother dropped off the grid nearly a month ago, her family just scrapes by, she’s only nine and as long as she can remember she has been the primary care giver of her two sisters and  yet she has this delight you can’t quite explain. Then you see her siblings smile and suddenly it makes sense! Her bliss exists simply in knowing she got her sisters through another day, that she has preserved their smiles over one more night.

The last couple weeks here have been hard. The work load has been heavy, exhaustion has had me in its grip and one thing after another discouraged me till it felt like I’d just burst. This Thursday though, reading 1 Peter 4, my purpose was revived. Repeatedly the Bible tells us to suffer like Christ. When we look at Christ’s greatest suffering on the cross we see that it was done for our sake, Christ suffered out of love for men. Without a doubt Jesus has no regrets, certainly every time someone puts their faith in God Jesus has immense appreciation for his suffering on the cross.

Life comes with a lot of suffering, sometimes we get called to it, sometimes we choose it unnecessarily, sometimes it simply falls in our laps. It’s easy to allow these trial to bind us, to retreat from honest pursuits in fear of persecution, to ignore your own decisions that have lead you to pain or to just wallow in misfortune. Easily this young Haitian girl could mope, drop her head in defeat and let her destitute situation rule her. Unknowingly though she has opted for something more. Everyday waking up and resolving to strive for her sisters betterment she gains a win over her tribulation. In spite of the rest she has joy because she suffers like Christ, in order to uplift others! Don’t grant trials the power to bog you down or make you stagnant, instead grow through them so your suffering is not in vain and love others because in that there is always joy! Suffer like Jesus, always loving others!

confusion about nature vs. nurture vs. nurture

His eyes burst with uncontainable hope! A hope that only radiates from those with infinite immagination, infinite potential. His eyes say seven, his history argues. His dimples flash with unmatchable joy! A joy that only springs from those that have incomparable gratitude for every gift. His dimples say seven, his history argues. His laughter rings with unbridled energy! An energy that only projects from those who adore the moment and never stress the next. His laughter says seven, his history argues.

Undeniably he is a child, undeniably only by a miracle he has retained his youth. Those eyes that encompass so much hope, have witnessed more depravity than what most men could endure. Those dimples that embody such joy have too many times felt the sting of uncontrolled emotion. And those lips that continually emit such bliss in laughter, do so entirely in contrast to what his circumstances should elicit.

Growing up under the “care” of a notorious gangster in Port-Au-Prince this boy has been exposed to nearly nothing besides a dog eat dog mentality. To him abuse doesn’t seem a rarity but a custom. His mother, fathers girlfriends, uncountable siblings, himself merely exist as outlets to the rage of a pathetic man and a cruel society. At home others have been portrayed as little more than resources one would use to better themselves. People are painted into clients whose addictions should be utilized for profit, peons whose poverty should be manipulated to get dirty work done, women whose vulnerability should be exploited for an instants lust. Wherever you turn this child’s world offers a depiction of life as nothing more than a rat race, a desperate scramble to make what one can for oneself regardless of others. In his world it would seem all that has value is in bringing pleasure to oneself.

The resonating voice of man though, has not drowned out his love. His eyes still hope, his smile still beams his laugh still resounds. At preschool I’ve watched him sprint his hardest simply so he might push a kid on a trike. I’ve caught him walk away from breakfast to carry a toddler to the bathroom. I’ve seen him abandon toys to pick up his friends. I’ve spotted his eyes light up as a bible story hits home and inspires new thinking. I’ve heard him surrender pride to say sorry, to right his wrongs.

No human influence could preserve this boys youth the way it has been preserved. No human display could persuade this child to reject all he has witnessed in life, to believe everything advertised to him as treasure is garbage compared to life’s potential. And yet frequently this kid tosses aside earthly comforts in order to bless those around him. If I said the world hasn’t taken it toll on him, it would be a lie, his innocence has taken blows, there are struggles and there are hurts, he understands more than any boy should. But God has protected his youth, built in him an empathy that acts, that loves. I own that I don’t have the power to protect his hope, joy, energy or love so I pray that as he sheds his youth God will continue to build his faith and his heart for others. God will continue giving him the strength to toss aside the ways of his earthly father and embrace those of his Heavenly Father.

This profile is only the surface of one story, one story of one child of eighty in preschool here. Eighty kids, exposed to depravity that seems to have this nation trapped, inescapably. These kids need lots of uplifting, lots of prayer, all of this nation does. I’m asking everyone for prayer and I’d like to challenge you to check out Maranatha’s sponsorship program. The sponsorship program is incredible theres no overhead because there is no staff state side, all your money goes to to buying kids food, curriculum, toys and paying their Haitian teachers. Check it out http://mcmhaiti.org/getinvolved.php Thanks!

confusion about 90210

“Nah, thats stupid!” fired from my lips to shoot down the suggestion! How did this idiot plopped in front of me think it was a good idea for me to put off college and go live overseas? Fortunately for me that “idiot” with the suggestion had a pretty clear visual on my narcissism and and an unwavering intent to kill. The suggestion was very alien in an otherwise routine argument my sophomore year, but the suggestion itself isn’t what robbed me of sleep that night. My own refusal of the thought, that projected so effortlessly, suddenly left me faltering. The instant of my refusal I considered God’s will as much as I consider the veins of the black top, NADA! Face submerged in my pillow, my american dream mutated into a hideous face reflecting my own self absorption. Then things got real topsy turvy, I popped out of bed walked to my parents room and genuinely apologized to that “idiot” and actually considered my dad’s suggestion.

About three years later I’m entering my fifth month in Port-Au-Prince, Haiti. I will swear by it, that suggestion, made so many nights ago, has now morphed into the most lucrative decision I’ve ever made. While I intended, in coming, to benefit this nation God intended to benefit me. In my pride induced blindness I was deluded, believing I was setting aside my best interest as to do God a favor. I realized then that I had forgotten Gods command to live sacrificially (Luke 9:23), but still I overlooked the fact that his plan for us in contrast to our own is like beverly hills compared to skid row (Isaiah 55:9)!

Living in Haiti I have been ceaselessly barraged by scenes displaying hope, man’s potential and overarching all, God’s power and will. I’ve witnessed a three year old transform from the neglected shell of a child into a happy rambunctious light who brings joy to all who see her. I’ve seen the young son of a notorious gangster rebuke his fathers ways, a child who has hardly witnessed any way besides violence and crime swear he would lead a different life. In a society that preaches “take what you can” and demands a self-serving attitude I’ve watched a boy toss aside a treasure to carry a friend.

  Surpassing all the rest though I’ve walked aside a young christian, a Haitian man, with faith comparable to the saints. A faith that disregards the worldly voices and earthly threats, that enables a heart to love the “untouchable” and says stay when everyone else routes an escape. When I first said no to a gap year spent serving all I envisioned was losing my worldly comforts, this man I don’t believe even glimpses at whats worldly, when God calls he goes. He doesn't follow in the mindset of his peers, while they all seek an out from Haiti, a chance to make something for themselves, he desires nothing more than to stay and make something for those here. To his generation his investments pry mockery, pouring into others, those who have nothing to offer, spending all his time on assets with no fiscal reaping. His joy though, stands taller than any others I know, because he finds value in eternity. He recognizes that the life God has designated for him here, even in a 3rd world county, trumps Beverly Hills, Upper East side Manhattan, Paris, everywhere on this earth.

I strive for a faith like this, faith that retains joy even in the worst situation. I hope that physical comforts will be blurred out whenever and wherever God calls. I wish that I will only find value in eternal investments. I pray that all God continues to reveal to me in Haiti I will retain and that life will never so much as recess from the adventure it has been these past months!