At this moment, I am standing in the midst of grief. It’s ever before me, and all that I can see -like cheap sunglasses that make my eyes see the world in a different color. I’ve tried to distract myself, but nothing will do. Whenever I tell people about my three years of as a missionary in Haiti, the common response is “Wow, how was that?” I’ve never known how to answer that question, really. Haiti changed me to such an extent that I will never be the same. Haiti has made me a better man, a compassionate husband, (and some day) a loving father. I owe Haiti my life.
My grief is before me, and I wonder how long it will linger. I have lost a friend, Clinton Rabb, an American, charismatic “missionere” who could get any homebody excited about going to serve overseas. His passion was contagious, and although I did not know him all that well, I felt a strange connection to him and his world view. My grief is before me because a people that I love now suffer immensely. I suppose some think it’s silly to think and feel so deeply for individuals whom I don’t know, but not me. “Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn.”
It will be the attempt of some to diagnose the suffering in Haiti. For all I know some may be right and some may be wrong. But for Pat Robertson and anyone else who think they can speak for God, remember that your words mean something. And although your television shows require that you attempt to offer new and exciting insights to keep good ratings, do not so frivolously concoct an explanation of the cosmos and of God. Such knowledge is above your pay grade.
I do not know why Haiti is suffering is this way, but in solidarity with my brothers and sisters in Haiti my grief is before me. And my grief will remain until it is time to heal.