Be Still

This column was originally published on the blog of Andy Olsen, NWHCM media director. Opinions stated on blogs and other third-party websites are provided as a service and do not necessarily reflect the views of Northwest Haiti Christian Mission.

Wednesday, January 20

Saint-Louis du Nord, Haiti – If you were looking for someone who is angry at God, surely you would find them here.

In this country where a magnitude 6.1 aftershock woke thousands from their sleep this morning and sent terrified crowds into the streets, just a week after the initial earthquake razed their capital city.

In this country where so many still have not heard about loved ones they fear are dead. In Port-au-Prince, where I watched men open a crypt and remove old bones with their bare hands, refilling the hole with a cheap casket and wedging it closed with broken rocks.

Men broke open a stranger's vault and removed the remains in the Port-au-Prince cemetary before placing another casket inside on Friday, January 15. Andy Olsen photos / NWHCM staff

But if you are looking for fists raised to God, you’ll have to look hard. In the streets of Haiti, there are more often hands lifted in prayer, in praise, and in thanks.

Even in the midst of great sadness — and there is plenty to go around here — Haitians have a remarkable ability to remember God’s goodness.

To be sure, I do not intend to idealize Haitians, because every culture is enveloped in its fair share of evil. But it is nonetheless remarkable to watch so many people singing and praying as they are surrounded by death.

Less than 18 months ago, some of the worst flooding in recent history nearly destroyed Gonaives, Haiti’s third-largest city. Like many foreigners here, I have wrestled with God over the past week about how He could allow such tragedy in a country that was already besieged by it.

In Haiti, there are abundant attempts to answers to that question. Some blame foreign governments, some blame Haiti’s practice of voodoo, some blame sin, and some do blame God himself. I reject all of these as too simplistic.

I believe we all have the right to ask tough questions of God, but we are not always entitled to answers. I choose to accept that I am incapable of comprehending the mind of God.

Yesterday, I was struck by the words of Psalm 46:10 – “Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth.”

Most of us have been anything but still over this past week. We’ve rushed to help in the ways we could, and tensions have run high at times. We’ve been glued to news reports, the same as many of our families in the United States.

But there have been moments of stillness when God unexpectedly broke through, like the rainbow I saw arcing over a mountain peak as I drove to Port-au-Prince the day after the quake, a reminder of God’s promise to Noah that he is still watching over the earth.

In those moments, I have heard eternity calling, a quiet assurance that all I’ve witnessed does not invalidate who I know God to be.

Those same moments help me see that God still smiles on me, even in seasons when I despair that I am not doing enough to make a difference.

I was shooting one day in Port-au-Prince when a stranger called out to me, “What is your name?” It’s a common question foreigners in Haiti might hear a dozen times a day.

“Andy,” I told him, and walked away.

A few minutes later I passed by him again, emotionally and physically exhausted.

“Hey,” he said and smiled. “You know, your name means ‘warrior.’”

He’s was right, I’ve checked. I walked away, wondering if I’d seen an angel.