Haiti: Beauty for Ashes

“…[H]e will give a crown of beauty for ashes, a joyous blessing instead of mourning, festive praise instead of despair.”

-Isaiah 61:3

Before coming to Haiti, I had heard pretty much nothing but negative talk about this country.  People called it a hopeless nation, a black hole that sucks up resources, a revolving door of missionaries, a country given to Satan, and a barren land.  Rumor said Haiti was ugly, brown, and unfertile.  I’d been told I would see a shift from green to brown the moment I crossed the Dominican-Haitian border, a result of demonic curses.  “No one knows quite what to do with Haiti,” was the resounding opinion.  “Don’t waste your time.”

To be honest, whenever I hear negative press about a country, everything inside of me wants to prove people wrong.  When people declare a hopeless nation, I want to declare hope.  When people declare barrenness, I want to declare life.  When people declare a curse, I want to declare Isaiah 61—beauty for ashes, blessing instead of mourning, praise instead of despair. 

The Lord had given me a vivid dream about Haiti way back in August, and I held it in my heart.  Despite hearing how dreadfully ugly Haiti was, my dream revealed gorgeous palm trees, sparkling water, and natural beauty.  I believed God saw Haiti like this—but I wondered what I would actually see when I got there.

Upon arriving in Haiti, I quickly realized that people see what they want to see.  Yes, it is true that parts of Haiti are incredibly polluted, poor, and destitute.  But beyond the rubbish piles and the poverty, there is beauty so intense that it honestly can’t be put into words. 

In Haiti, I saw green.  I saw lush vegetation.  I saw majestic trees.  I saw children laughing and faces smiling.  I saw the same sparkling clear water and palm trees I’d seen in my dream.  And most of all, I saw a nation bursting with endless potential and relentless hope.

Haiti is undoubtedly on the brink of change.  The earthquake of 2010 was not the confirmation of God’s hatred for this “ungodly nation”.  God loves Haiti.  He loves His Haitian sons and daughters.  And He has a plan of hope and prosperity for them. 

After visiting twenty-four countries during this trip (many of which blur together), I can honestly say there is something very different and very special about Haiti.  Something significant is happening in Haiti’s history right now—you can simply feel it in the air.  It seems like the people have hit a turning point, and the nation is on an historic upswing.  There is still abundant need and appalling poverty, but Haiti is rapidly moving forward.

Because of the unique nature of Haiti, our team’s ministry time here unfolded quite differently than we’d imagined.  Instead of witnessing healing miracles, overwhelming financial favor, or other demonstrations of the more in-your-face glory, we experienced God’s glory through relationship.  Most of our time was spent getting to know people on a much more intimate level than we normally can.  We shared our hearts with our new brothers and sisters, listened to their visions, and ministered to many individuals who are in the process of transforming Haiti.

 

I felt like God let us in on one of His greatest secrets—that He is going to surprise the world by what He is doing in this little island nation.  He is gradually pouring more and more fuel into the country, and soon He will throw a match on it; and Haiti will explode with His glory.  In Haiti, I felt like an undercover agent for God, secretly being handed fuel by my Father and shown what people to throw it on--knowing the explosion is coming really soon.  God connected my team to pivotal leaders in Haiti’s transformation, and I can’t explain how humbled I am that He let my little team be a part of their lives and this upcoming burst of glory. 

Our divine connections actually began before we even arrived in Haiti.  A friend of my mother, June, had lived in Haiti years prior and connected me through Facebook to several of her friends living in Port-au-Prince.  I started writing so many emails to strangers in Haiti that I was getting mixed up with who was who.  But one man’s emails really stood out to me, and I knew I needed to meet him when we arrived. His name is Pastor Bobby.

Bobby is the head pastor of Quisqueya Chapel, one of the three English-speaking churches in all of Haiti.  We attended his church on our first Sunday, and the moment he began to speak from the pulpit, I knew this man would shake the nation.  He declared the very words that were on our hearts.  He boldly proclaimed that Haiti was positioned perfectly for revival.  God loves to use the underdogs to blow people away with His power and glory.   God uses the weak things of the world to shame the wise. Haiti has been declared the “poorest country in the western Hemisphere”; and Bobby declared that label of poverty is precisely why God would choose Haiti for a powerful movement of the Holy Spirit.  He said that because of the devastating earthquake in 2010, the whole world is watching Haiti.  This tiny country had attracted the hearts of people all over the globe, and people would see when God brought it from tragedy to victory.  This was the first time I’d heard someone fearlessly declaring that the negative words spoken over Haiti were lies and curses--and that we needed to believe in something greater. 

Immediately, our hearts connected with Bobby and we knew we needed to spend more time together.  He quickly adopted my team as his little “League of Nations” and invited us to stay at his home for a couple nights.  There we shared ideas, food, and laughs with him and his beautiful wife.  Bobby was hungering for more and more of God and was desperate to see Him move powerfully in his life, his family, his church, and his nation.  He saw the same ticking time bomb that we did and believed God was getting ready to blow Haiti up with His glory.

Bobby knew God was on the move here in a radical way and wanted to involve us in what was happening.  We spent hours praying with Bobby and for Bobby, anointing his whole church with oil, prophesying over his family, and breaking strongholds and curses over Haiti.  Bobby had person after person lined up for us to meet.  Through his connections, we met many of the key players in Haiti’s future and were able to speak with and pray for several.

One of the many fireballs in his congregation was South Korean Helen.  We met her on a Sunday morning when Bobby brought her over to our group for prayer.  Helen was facing many trials that had all piled up into one big mess.  She had mistakenly been assumed as a woman of great wealth, and greed led to an attempted kidnapping.  Fortunately, she’d been removed from her home and able to hide out for a while; but she felt unsafe and needed a new place to live.  Helen was in search of a new base for her ministry as well.  In addition, she had been suffering from a relentless cough for months.  Looking overwhelmed and broken, she approached us for prayer.  We prayed that God would protect and provide.

Just two weeks later, we reunited with Helen in her brand new home.  God had provided a new place to live—beautiful, affordable, and fully-furnished.  Though monthly rent is a concept virtually unheard of in Haiti, Helen needed this option, and the woman renting the house said that was no problem.  Helen was also provided with a new house for her ministry base at the exact price she’d prayed for.  And lastly, her cough was healed.  Helen looked radiant—healthy, happy, and in awe of God’s speedy answer to prayer.

During our visit, Helen invited a colleague over to her house and asked us to pray for her.  We’ll call her Jasmine to protect her privacy.  We asked Jasmine what she wanted prayer for.   Poised and self-assured, she very matter-of-factly said she was bi-polar and would like to live a more normal life.  We began to dig a little deeper.  Eventually, Jasmine admitted that she had been abandoned by her mother and mistreated by her sister as a child.

 

Jasmine also divulged that she heard a voice who gave her instructions.  The voice told her there was no God.  It told her that if she kept smoking, she would go to hell.  We asked her who she thought the voice was.  She seemed unsure at first, then said she thought it was the devil.  We asked Jasmine if she believed the voice when it spoke and if she really wanted to follow its instructions.  She said she had no choice.  She needed a guide for her life, and the voice was the only one guiding her.  Jasmine said she couldn’t hear the voice of God, so she was forced to follow this one.

Jasmine explained that she had begun to feel a “negative energy” in her childhood home in Jamaica.  Her sister hated and cursed her, and whenever she wore her sister’s clothes, she felt pain all over her body.  When Jasmine told her mother about the pain, she immediately brought her to a psychiatric ward.  Jasmine was diagnosed with bi-polar disorder and put on medication.  Her mother couldn’t handle the situation and quickly sent Jasmine off to live with her father in Haiti. 

Jasmine had been dismissed as mentally ill, but I told her that she was not crazy.  I explained that we are all in a very real battle, and there are very real angels and demons around us.  I told Jasmine that the negative energy and the voice speaking to her is called Satan.  The positive energy is called the Holy Spirit.  The negative energy, Satan, produces lies, death, condemnation, etc.  The positive energy, the Holy Spirit, produces life, truth, freedom, peace, joy, etc.

We asked her if she wanted to hear the Holy Spirit instead of the voice.  We asked her if she wanted to forgive her family and find freedom.  We asked her if she wanted to stand in authority over the voice that was controlling her life.  She said yes on every account.

Natalie began by leading her in a prayer to forgive her family and renounce all pacts she’d made with Satan.  Several of us prayed for her, and we asked her to repeat, “I am a daughter of God.  Satan has no power over me, etc.”

As Jasmine repeated, she suddenly burst into tears and began to yell words from her heart, “I belong to God!  Satan, I’m not your play-toy anymore!  I hate you!!!”

In that crucial moment, she shifted from being trapped to taking authority over what was happening in her life.  I saw the deep pain from her battle and the true desire to defeat the enemy.  We stopped fighting for her and began fighting with her as she spoke words of truth over her own life.  This was breakthrough. 

Finally, after much prayer, we all went outside, joined hands and screamed “FREEDOM!” at the top of our lungs three times.  Jasmine radiated with victory.  She was no longer a prisoner.  This woman was free. 

Helen looked elated at the deliverance that had just taken place.  As she continues to reach out to those around her and take the time to find the Jasmines in her community, many more will walk in freedom.

*                      *                      *                      *

Though we could have easily spent our entire month in Port-au-Prince, we decided to head outside the city for part of our journey.  We spent some time in the region of Carrefour, just an hour outside of downtown Port-au-Prince.  One of Natalie’s friends connected us with a Haitian fireball named Karly.  An architect by trade but missionary by practice, Karly exhibited what a true servant of Christ is supposed to be.  Karly spent his days visiting the tent cities and homes in Carrefour to visit families and pray for people.  He was involved at a neighborhood orphanage and active with the youth in his church.  Karly’s home not only belonged to him, his wife, and adorable son but also to the countless neighborhood children who flocked to his property.  Every time we came to his home, local kids were in the front of the house playing soccer, gathered in his living room watching a movie, or sitting on his porch waiting for a hug.

 

Karly often worked with visiting mission teams and led them throughout his village to be involved in his day-to-day ministry.  Normally the teams stayed at “The Villa”, a fancy establishment across the street from Karly’s home.  However, we were placed in a more modest house next door and invited to eat at Karly’s house each night instead of The Villa.  This turned out to be a huge blessing and an opportunity to transform from acquaintances into family.  Each night, we enjoyed the delicious local food Karly’s wife cooked for us, as well as the fellowship of new friends.  As we joked around with Karly, he became like a big brother, and his four-year-old son became our team’s new favorite person.  The people who saw us interacting thought we’d been friends for a long time and were shocked to find out we’d just met.  

Karly whipped us into shape by hiking us around his mountainous community and bringing us into homes to pray for people.  Many were sick and in pain.  The need was great.  At the top of Carrefour stood a tent city, a makeshift community formed of tarp tents after the earthquake.  As we passed through, we were invited into some homes to pray.  Whenever we prayed, the women put cloth on their heads—a sign of reverence for God while receiving prayer.  If they didn’t have a handkerchief handy, they all scrambled to find something before prayer started—even an old T-shirt—to place on their heads.  Despite rumors that everybody in Haiti believes in voodoo, my team was moved by the Haitian humility and reverence for the Lord. 

Karly also brought us to a local orphanage which immediately melted my heart.  Most of the children living there were very young—around five or six years old.  They eagerly surrounded us, ready to play.  We organized a few rounds of “duck, duck, goose” and then a game of musical chairs.  The kids went wild with excitement and roared with laughter. 

Aleeza spent her time holding a tiny baby, just a few months old, who was the most malnourished person I’d ever laid eyes on.  I’d seen starving babies from places like Somolia on TV and in magazines, but I’d never seen a child so emaciated right in front of my eyes.  Her legs were like fragile little twigs, with withered skin sagging off of them.  She looked so delicate that I felt like I’d break her if I touched her.  Aleeza bravely picked this baby girl up and held her on her lap.  She prayed for God to heal the little baby though she looked lifeless.  Her face was blank, and I knew if she hadn’t been taken in by the orphanage, she would have died.

A few days later, we asked Karly to take us back to the orphanage for another visit.  In just a few days, the tiny baby girl had transformed into a different person.  She smiled when we picked her up.  Her face had life in it.  She showed emotion.  I could scarcely believe my eyes.  God was really healing this baby.  Slowly but very surely, He was nursing her back to health.

The other children were happy to be reunited, and I spent most of my time chasing around a few of the little boys, tickling them as soon as I caught them, and swinging them in the air.  I got tired much quicker than the six-year-olds did and sat on the couch for a moment to rest.  A quiet little boy approached me and crawled into my lap.  He examined my ponytail and ran his fingers through my brown and blond hair, carefully rearranging where it fell on my shoulders.  After he was pleased with his work, he cuddled into my chest, his arms wrapped around me. 

I’d been having so much fun playing that I’d kind of forgotten these kids were orphans.  Suddenly, I remembered why they were craving such love and attention.  It’s not normal for a little boy to be so starved for affection that he doesn’t care where it comes from.  That’s never the way God intended the world to be.  Though we were providing very temporary affection, I knew these kids needed so much more than we could provide in a just a few hours. 

This feeling of hopelessness is what many people let define Haiti, but this isn’t the end of the story.  Though there are still many orphans, God is raising up a generation of fathers for the fatherless.  Karly is already serving as a spiritual father to many, and he is training up many young Haitians to follow his example.

Karly had been dreaming of organizing a youth conference for the young adults in his church for a while and asked us to make it happen.  He wanted to disciple the youth and begin a ripple effect of God’s love.  As these youth go deeper with God, they will become the revival Haiti needs.  Karly invited several young adults to our house for a three-day conference.  My teammates and I taught on the father heart of God, our identity in Christ, and the authority we carry as God’s children.  The youth were open, eager to learn, and excited to pass on what they learned to others.  I believe God will raise them up to be amazing leaders in Haiti, and I’m blessed to have met them.

Though Carrefour was great, we still wanted to explore further outside the city and began to pray for open doors.  Through a friend of a friend of a friend, we got connected to a German woman named Martina living in Gonaives, an area about three hours north of Port-au-Prince.  Martina invited us to stay at the children’s home where she lived, Mission de Vie.  We’d found that most non-profits in Haiti charged lots of money for visitors, some orphanages charging as much as $90 per night to volunteer.  When we asked Martina how much it cost to stay with her, she seemed confused as to why we would even offer money.  Her orphanage was the first we’d seen that didn’t seem to depend on foreign teams for income.  And though Martina was from Germany, she was married to a Haitian, and there were no other foreigners at Mission de Vie.  Martina was gracefully and joyfully immersed in the culture.   I liked that.

Martina organized several meetings for us—praying for sponsorship program parents, orphanage staff, kids, and youth.  At the staff meeting, we threw our original plan out the window and decided to simply wash the feet of all of the staff members and pray for them one by one.  One woman’s stoic countenance cracked, and she began crying.  As we prophesied over people, Connie was overwhelmed by a sense from God and told one of the women, “I feel like you are called to be a mother.”  This didn’t seem a wild notion for a woman working at an orphanage, but the woman sneered.  Connie was a bit taken aback by her reaction and wasn’t sure what to think. 

Natalie pried further to see why she’d reacted like that.  Natalie asked the woman if there was anything she needed prayer for.  Reluctantly, the woman offered, “I don’t know why, but my husband and I can’t have children.  Before this meeting, I was crying out to God about this.  I told God that if your mission team didn’t say anything about me being a mother, I wouldn’t listen to anything you told me.”  We were a bit stunned. 

Shortly after, her husband heard what Connie had heard from the Lord, and he asked us to pray for both of them.  We went to their home later on and prayed for God to give them children.  The woman’s countenance had completely shifted from harsh and skeptical to soft and welcoming.  She hugged us goodbye, blessing us and telling us to come back to Haiti soon.

 

At the end of our visit, Martina dropped us off at another mission in Gonaives called Much Ministries.  We were greeted by an American couple known to locals as Papa Beaver and Mama Kathy, the heart of Much Ministries. Beaver and Kathy started going back and forth between Haiti and North America for ten years before making a permanent move to Haiti in 2011.  They now work in an extremely impoverished community called Jubilee.  There’s a garbage dump, several shacks, muddy roads, sewage streams, and salt flats.  You can choose to see the brown ugliness of it all, or you can choose to see the beauty.  Papa Beaver and Mama Kathy choose to see the beauty. 

Kathy’s vision entails taking things that others consider trash and making them into something beautiful.  She started collecting trash from the rubbish dump in Jubilee and teaching the local women how to turn it into beautiful jewelry.  Years ago, she told the Haitian women of Jubilee that one day foreigners would be fighting over what they had.  The Haitians laughed at Kathy.  Not too long after, they began to sell the jewelry and stunning art they’d rescued from the dumps and transformed into masterpieces.  Foreigners began coming to visit the project, and some literally fought over who got what--all wanting to buy the stunning art.  The Haitian women who had once laughed at Kathy stopped in awe.  Mama Kathy smiled; she’d seen the beauty in Jubilee all along. 

Kathy named their line of jewelry and products “Second Story Goods.”  She said their materials have been rescued from the trash, but now they are being used for something beautiful.  They are on their second story.  And this story is a good one.

People like Kathy and Beaver will change the nation of Haiti.  They already are.  Martina and Karly and Bobby and Helen as well—they are vital agents for the kingdom of God and are calling forth great change in a small but mighty nation.

I suppose the line of Kathy’s products sum up the heart of Haiti best.  Truly, this nation is on its second story.  The first story I heard about Haiti was poverty and strife.  But its second story will be transformation, prosperity, and hope.  I am so honored that God brought me to Haiti at such a significant time and connected me to such amazing people.  I am so humbled that He let me and my teammates sprinkle fuel onto this country, and I can’t wait to hear news of an explosion really soon. 

The Dominican Republic: Yo Soy Catalina

Yo soy Catalina.  My name used to be Caitlin, but no one here in the Dominican Republic can pronounce it.  “Caitlin” has become just a jumble of letters and sounds, something unrecognizable.  In Puerto Rico, I still had my name and some of my culture, but those days are over.  I’m Catalina again.  I’m a missionary in a foreign country again.  Having a holiday break in the states seems like a distant dream; now it’s back to reality.  In the Dominican Republic, I can’t depend on electricity or running water or internet.  I can’t go for a jog on my own in the neighborhoods where I stay.  I work with people who don’t speak my language or understand my culture.  People make constant comments about my hair, my skin, my body.  Caitlin is being squeezed out of me all over again.  Yo soy Catalina. 

As challenging as it’s been to jump back into life here after being in the states, I wouldn’t have it any other way.  As I sat in a poor farming village the other day, random dark-skinned children running their fingers through my hair and laughing, my heart felt at peace.  I’m in the right place.  Sure, I am challenged daily.  But I am blessed daily.  I love the islands.  I love the people here.  I love the kids, the prisoners, the lepers, and the senior citizens I’ve gotten to hang out with in the last few weeks.  I love the beautiful Caribbean ocean.  I love the simplicity of things here.  Though being Caitlin was a lot easier, I love being Catalina.

My team began our time in the Dominican Republic in the capital city of Santo Domingo.  After a short flight from Puerto Rico, we were greeted at the airport by Pastor Luis and Julio, his friend from the church.  While driving from the airport to the pastor’s home, I could already sense a stronger Caribbean flavor than what we’d experienced in Puerto Rico.  The main road from the airport into the city hugged the coast, providing us with breathtaking views of sparkling crystal-clear water.  Palm trees hid people in their shade and swayed with the rhythm of the gentle ocean breeze. 

On the way to Pastor Luis’s house, we pulled over at a man’s fruit stand where he treated each of us to a freshly cracked coconut.  We swigged the sweet milk straight from the coconut, then scooped out the remaining fruit.  Now we were in the real Caribbean.

As we continued driving, the roads became a bit more industrial, and we could sense a shift from laid-back Caribbean life to a chaotic favela community. Luis’s neighborhood is called La Canela, meaning “cinnamon” in Spanish.  And just like the spice, this neighborhood is a flavorful little barrio, bustling with people, commotion, and noise. Whether dogs barking, stereos blaring, children playing, street vendors announcing their products, or motorbikes whizzing by, noise rules La Canela at all hours.  The neighborhood is comprised of a series of steep up-and-down streets, weaving a wild labyrinth of roads filled with colorful homes. 

Upon entering Pastor Luis’s home, we were excitedly greeted by his beautiful and bubbly wife, Belkis. She had heard through the grapevine that Roberta loves a traditional Dominican food called la bandera which literally means “flag” in Spanish.  Belkis had a bowl on the kitchen table covered in a cloth and declared that she’d prepared la bandera for us.  She pulled the cloth away to reveal a literal bandera--a flag folded up in the bowl.  She burst into laughter at our look of surprise, pleased by our reaction to her clever joke.  Moments later, she whipped out the actual meal of la bandera and invited us to sit and enjoy.  We shared an amazing spread of rice, savory meat, and sautéed vegetables. 

Throughout the week, we spend much time at the kitchen table surrounded by good company and some of the best food of our entire Latin American journey.  Meals were a time to enjoy the local culture, share our hearts with Pastor Luis and his family, and gain corporate revelation about spiritual matters.  Luis and Belkis explained that normally when visitors come to their neighborhood, they offer them a place apart from their house where they stay on their own.  They are careful about who they let stay in their home.  We were all surprised, because we were under quite the opposite impression.  When we’d called Luis from Puerto Rico, he had offered us his home instantly, without asking a single question about us.  But while in his home, Luis explained that the Holy Spirit had moved inside him during our brief Skype call, and he immediately knew he needed to receive us.  Belkis nodded in agreement, explaining that when she prayed for us, the Holy Spirit told her we came with pure hearts.  We’d done nothing to cause such certain expectations and such a warm welcome.  God had done it all, and we undeservedly reaped the benefits of His work. 

Throughout the week, we worked within Pastor Luis’s church; but more importantly, we took the gospel outside of the building.  Preaching, sharing testimonies, and heading up a conference for church leaders were all good opportunities to share the love of God.  However, my heart really came alive when I got to do ministry outside the church walls.  Pastor Luis had hoped to light a fire for missions in his congregation, and we arranged several little outreaches that honestly began to spark something.  Many people from the church had been interested in evangelistic outreaches for a long time, but they’d never taken the initiative to organize them.  Our team got the ball rolling and initiated visits to houses within poorer areas of La Canela, a local prison, and a leper colony.  Everywhere we went, young people from the church ministered alongside us.  Once people saw how easy it was to jump in and how God worked so powerfully through these outreaches, they excitedly declared that they would continue the work after we left. 

Pedro, a young pastor from Luis’s church, accompanied us on every outreach; and the fire inside him transformed from a spark to a burning flame in just a few days.  He had a natural gift for preaching and evangelism but wasn’t yet operating in his full potential.  The Lord had given him a vision to preach in every prison in the Dominican Republic, but he’d never been to a jail yet.  So we went to a prison with him and encouraged him to preach.  Pedro wanted to share the gospel outside the church, but had no platform to do so.  So we went house to house within La Canela and prayed for needy families.  Pedro wanted to pray for the sick, so we went to a leper colony together.  He loved every moment.

During every outreach, we saw hearts touched and enjoyed our own breakthroughs with the Lord.  But I saw the greatest breakthrough in Pedro’s life, and I rejoice for what God is doing in him.  His eyes were opened up to countless ministry opportunities within his own community, and many doors were opened that he may not have attempted to open on his own.  By the end of our time together, Pedro felt empowered to continue with the ministry we began together.  Other members of the church were starting to catch that fire for missions as well; and I believe we witnessed the start of a powerful evangelism team who will share the gospel around Santo Domingo for years to come. 

To be honest, I sometimes worry about coming into a city for only a week or so, because I don’t know what will happen after we leave. I wonder if our efforts ever go to waste.  But God reminded me that He is faithful to complete the work He starts.  In Santo Domingo, He connected us to the right people to follow through with the work that was started during our time there.  I am confident that Pedro will revisit the houses within La Canela, the prison, and maybe even the leper colony.  I am excited to hear about what God does through his life and the life of others within his church.

One of our greatest moments together happened while visiting homes inside La Canela. While walking through the maze of small homes that comprise the neighborhood, we encountered an older couple who asked for prayer for different health issues.  The wife said she had pain in her back and knees, so we prayed for God to heal her.  After, we asked if she could do anything now that she couldn’t do before.  She began to bend over and twist.  Realizing that she hadn’t been able to do those movements just moments prior, she began to celebrate her healing and excitedly praise God. 

The woman was a Christian and wanted her husband to know Jesus as well.  We asked how we could pray for him, and he explained that he had a heart condition in addition to diabetes.  Earlier in the day, he had attempted walking from his bed to the front door but wasn’t able.  He’d become too dizzy and had to return to his bed.  We prayed for God to heal him too and afterwards asked him to try to walk.  This time, the man walked to the door and back without problems.  His dizziness was gone.

The man sat back down and explained that he had not yet accepted Jesus into his life. But he was happy that God had chosen to heal him nonetheless.  So were we.  The man went on to explain that during this very week God had begun to speak into his heart.  God was inviting him into His love.  Just one day prior to our visit, the man felt a real desire to go to church.  He said he had been too sick to get there, but declared that God had brought church to his house today.  His eyes radiated with true joy.  His body looked old, but his eyes were like those of a boy—excited, pure, and captivated by the love of His father.  The man said he wanted to pray with us; and inside his little home, he accepted Jesus into his life.  Because God had just touched his body, it appeared as if he would now be physically strong enough to go to church.  But no matter what, I rejoice that his heart was touched by God’s love, and no sickness can ever take that away from him.

After a week in Santo Domingo, we prepared to move on to our next city in the Dominican Republic.  We had originally planned to travel to Santiago, but after going in circles with our contacts there, we realized this was another closed door.  Pastor Luis went to bat for us and made several calls to pastor friends around the country.  We waited to see what came through.  We needed to leave on Wednesday, and on Tuesday night, we still had no idea where we were going.  All we knew was that we were going to the bus station in the morning and would get on a bus—to somewhere.  On Tuesday at midnight, plans were confirmed.  We made plans with just hours to spare!  A pastor from the city of La Romana invited us to work with his church and stay with a family from his congregation.  La Romana is a coastal city about two hours east of Santo Domingo.  With no other options, we hopped on a bus to La Romana and hoped for the best.

And the best is what we got!  We were met at the bus station and hosted by two of the most joyful people I’ve ever met.  Always-laughing Ramone welcomed us into his home, constantly calling us beautiful, giving us hugs, and sharing funny stories.  His gorgeous wife, Lucy, showered us with hospitality as well—working tirelessly to prepare amazing meals and serving us with a smile on her face.  The kindness of strangers blew me away once again.  I immediately felt at home and looked forward to hearing Ramone’s infectious laughter each day.

One evening, while eating dinner, Ramone told my teammates and I that he’d seen us in a vision two weeks before we arrived.  He had forgotten about the vision until that moment and then realized he’d seen the whole scene before.  He explained that he’d seen each one of us sitting around his table, talking.  We’d had no idea where we were going until midnight the night before, but Ramone had seen us weeks ago.  God had it planned all along.  Crazy.

We worked at Ramone and Lucy’s church, attending prayer meetings and preaching (apparently I’m a preacher now); but again the work outside the church walls is what really moved my heart.  We connected with several women from the church who accompanied us to a senior home, a prison, an orphanage, and a Haitian community outside the city.  One of the women, Maria Teresa, astonished me with her faith.  She lives in a poor community and visits homes in her neighborhood almost every morning, sharing the gospel and praying for people.  She regularly visits a local orphanage and a prison as well.  She has almost nothing, but everything she receives, she gives to others.  She waits for God to provide enough money for her to catch a bus to the prison and uses those coins on bus fare instead of her own needs.  She walks long distances to get other places.  She works tirelessly, day after day, loving people with radical abandon, yet receiving no glory.  She is a faceless, nameless woman who will probably never receive due honor here on earth. 

When I travel, I have strangers taking me into their homes and cooking me feasts.  When I’m in the U.S., I have people showering me with generosity, praising me for simply doing the work I love.  Yet, there are local people in these poor countries who never get praise, honor, or glory.  They work simply because their hearts are full of the love of Christ.  Maria Teresa is one of these women.  She is a hero, and the world will never know.

I had already fallen in love with her genuine heart, but when I heard more of her story, I was literally in awe.  Maria Teresa’s father had been her closest companion, the man she adored.  He was unjustly murdered, and three men were accused of the crime.  Instead of resorting to anger or bitterness, Maria Teresa chose to love.  God told her to go to the prison and pray for the men who had killed her father.  She started visiting the men who had been accused—to show them love.  The three alleged killers all claim innocence, but they are still awaiting trial, so there’s no proof either way.  Maria Teresa doesn’t care whether the men are guilty or innocent.  She loves these men, and they love her.  Over time, she’s become a mama to them.  They adore her and shower her with affection when she walks into the prison.  Maria Teresa is a walking story of forgiveness and God’s redemption.  Wow.

Normally, she goes to prison alone whenever she can save up enough to get there.  This time, my teammates and I arranged for a vehicle and went with Maria Teresa.  She was very glad to have company and thankful for transportation.  We arrived at the prison and were told to leave all our belongings at a dodgy kiosk outside the jail.  We waited in the scorching sun for about an hour and a half, our water bottles and sunglasses already confiscated.  Finally, we were led into the jail, where we underwent the most humiliating prison security inspection yet.  We might as well have been prisoners ourselves.  Each of us still reeling from the shock of that experience, we walked into the main meeting room where inmates were receiving visitors. 

Immediately, we were greeted by a smiling Angelio, one of the accused killers.  He didn’t look like he could hurt a fly.  He was probably a few years younger than me, and I could see all he wanted was someone to hug.  We sat down with him and chatted about his life.  He said he used to live a godless life—doing drugs and getting into trouble.  Open and honest about his past, he admitted he was far from perfect but declared that he had not killed Maria Teresa’s father.  He had been accused of committing the crime with two other men whom he’d never met prior to being thrown in prison.  When he met them in jail, he heard they’d been accused of the same crime and were his alleged partners in crime.

Angelio wanted his freedom back but said that he was thankful he’d met Jesus in prison.  He said God had actually shown him mercy by bringing him to jail.  All his friends from the streets had been killed.  His life was heading in the same direction, but God spared him.  Now Angelio knew God, cleaned up his life, and had hope in something greater.  But the thought of never leaving prison was more than he could bear.   He wanted to be free and start a clean life.  He wanted to have friends he could trust.  He wanted to see his mom.

We asked if we could pray for Angelio, and he knelt down in the middle of us, reaching out to hold me and Aleeza’s hands.  Tears poured down his cheeks as we prayed for him.  Afterwards, he stood back up and said, “I didn’t do it. I didn’t do it.”  He looked like a child, scared and longing for comfort.  Without knowing quite what to say, we sat with him and held his hands.  Roberta sat with her arm around him, and he drank in her presence like a young child does with his mother.  He broke my heart.

Visiting hours quickly faded, and we had to say goodbye.  Angelio left us with a smile, and I forced a smile back, knowing freedom was just steps away for me and maybe years away for him.  I believed in his innocence but knew the corrupt system could easily find a way to prove otherwise.  I wondered what Maria Teresa thought, but then I remembered that she doesn’t care.  All she wants is to love.  And she does.  She loves Angelio with all her heart.  And he knows it.

Yo soy Catalina.  I am a blessed woman.  I think my life is hard sometimes, and then I look at the world around me.  I am free.  I am loved.  I get to see what God is up to all around the world.  In the Dominican Republic, He’s up to a lot of good.  He’s using selfless people to reflect His incredible heart of grace, love, and forgiveness.  And lucky me—I get to see it.  I am humbled by my time in the DR and amazed by God’s goodness.  His love is beautiful beyond words.

Puerto Rico: Our Island Adventure Begins!

God…is…so…cool.

He does weird things, unexpected things—things that make no sense in the eyes of the world.  Walking with Him is such an adventure, because we never know what’s next.  But I suppose that’s the fun part—taking risks and watching Him provide beyond what we could ever imagine.

During my holiday break, I spent a good chunk of time preparing for the last leg of the Iris Latin America journey—the Caribbean.  After very suddenly being designated our new team leader, I had mixed feelings.  Such authority felt like both a huge privilege and a heap of unwanted pressure.  Though leading gave me an opportunity to plan the Caribbean trip the way I’d always envisioned it, it also meant accepting the burden of anything that went awry.   

As I wondered how things would pan out, God continually reminded me that this was a season to dream with Him, as a daughter dreaming with her Father.  My decade-long desire to minister in the islands was coming to fruition, and I needed to maintain a heart of thanks, not a heart of worry.  Serving in the Caribbean would not be a test of obedience but a test of belief—would I dare to dream with God and trust Him to bless the desires of my heart?

While praying, I felt God told me that our team would go to five countries (or territories) in the Caribbean.  My heart is to travel to the neediest islands, so the DR, Haiti, Cuba, and Jamaica seemed like no-brainers.  But God told me our first island would be Puerto Rico. I was confused as to why we’d waste any time in this affluent U.S. territory and had no desire to go.  In addition, whenever I attempted to land contacts in Puerto Rico, every door seemed to slam shut.  However, regardless of circumstances, I knew God had something significant for us in Puerto Rico.  Natalie had a vision of a closed door and an invisible hand opening it.  I didn’t know how or when, but I did believe God would open doors for us.  My teammates and I took a leap of faith and booked our tickets to Puerto Rico before establishing a single contact on the island. 

During the holiday break, I thanked God every day--for His plans for the Caribbean team and for the doors He had promised to open.  Time passed.  I sent a million emails.  I heard nothing in return…then more of nothing…and still nothing.

Just a week before our flights, I received an email from a pastor of Bethel Church in California.  He’d mysteriously lost a message I’d sent him weeks past and apologized profusely for getting back to me so late.  He figured it was too late at this point, but forwarded me the information of a pastor in Puerto Rico nonetheless.  I immediately emailed Edwin, the Puerto Rican pastor, and told him about our team.  I received a response fifteen minutes later.  After a couple emails and a few phone calls, we had a ride from the airport, a place to stay, and an amazing church to work with. 

Days later, I said goodbye to my family, my comfortable bed, my hot shower, and my home turf.  I boarded the plane to Puerto Rico and faced that moment I dread every time I return to the mission field—that painful moment of tension between excitement for the adventure ahead and the fear of territory completely unknown.  It’s the ache of turning my back on my loved ones and everything familiar, while trying to be strong enough to run into my destiny.  It’s that moment where I am exactly where I am supposed to be, yet loss and fear try to tell me otherwise—and where pieces of myself are painfully squeezed out of me, making room for new cultures, new friends, and new missions.

Upon landing, the blast of warm air in the San Juan airport eased my spinning mind.  The heat of the island made everything seem better.  My teammates and I happily reunited and were soon picked up by Edwin and his beautiful wife, Maggie.  They drove us to their home in the city of Arecibo, where they explained that we would be split between their home and their friend Barbie’s house.   Barbie explained that when her husband built their home, he purposefully added extra rooms to house guests in the future.  They wanted to provide a safe haven for missionaries and told us that their house was just as much ours as theirs.  Barbie’s daughter, Sally, agreed to escort us throughout the island for the following ten days—taking us to home groups, prayer meetings, church services, homeless outreaches, evangelism events on the beach and in the marketplace.  Sally was the best guide we could have asked for.  Full of love, generosity, solid faith, and lots of laughs, she quickly became like a sister on our team.

One morning, Sally took Natalie, Roberta, Alan, and I to a rehab center for men.  The men who live there were war veterans, former drug addicts, and homeless.  We gathered the men and sat in a circle as many of them looked at us with skepticism.  We explained that we were missionaries who had been traveling throughout Latin America for the past fourteen months and had recently begun our travels around the Caribbean.  Natalie shared some testimonies of how God had moved in rehab centers we’d visited in Colombia and Brazil.  I shared the story of our friend Godfrey who had been set free from addiction in Belize.  Alan and Roberta shared parts of their personal testimonies, and Roberta asked the men what their dreams were. 

One by one, the men shared the deepest dreams of their hearts with us and with each other.  One man dreamt of being a missionary.  Another dreamt of having his own home.  Yet another said he dreamt of preaching.  Still others remained quiet and ashamed.

We offered to pray for each individual, and a man named Renaldo hesitantly approached Alan and me.  He said that he’d done many bad things in his past, and terrible thoughts still haunted him.  He listed some of his past crimes and then silently made a gesture indicating that he had shot people, too ashamed to speak the words aloud.  I asked him if he’d forgiven himself, but it was clear he was not yet able to do so. 

As Alan and I prayed for Renaldo, I saw two pictures.  The first was a vision of his past.  He was hiding, about to do something destructive, but he was filled with fear.  The second picture was of his future.  He was dressed nicely, standing in front of a crowd with a microphone in his hands, speaking to children.  After we prayed, I asked Renaldo if anything in his childhood had caused him to fear.  He paused for a moment, sadness filling his eyes.  Slowly, he opened his mouth.  “When I was young,” he began, “My father did bad things to me.  He beat me; he grabbed me.  He did black magic.  There were frightening things happening.” 

I wanted to tell him about the good I saw coming in his future, but he beat me to it.  “You know, I had a dream that I was preaching in the future.  But I just don’t know if I could do that.”  I saw doubt written all over his face.  Some part of him wanted to believe his dream, but more of him felt he was too much of a failure.

I told Renaldo what I’d seen during prayer—that I had a glimpse of the fear that ruled his past.  I explained that the enemy was using fear to keep him from his destiny.  I told Renaldo that he was called to be a protector and had a destiny to protect children from feeling the same fear that he did.  I described my vision of him speaking to crowds, especially youth.  I assured him that his dream will one day become true—that his testimony will be a powerful example of how God can change someone’s life.  There was no reason to live in shame.  The rougher your past, the more your story can show what a powerful transformation God is able to make. 

As I confirmed Renaldo’s dream, rather than agreeing with the lie that he’ll never be good enough, his eyes lit up.  He looked like a child, eager and happy.  His countenance shifted from shame to hope.  He asked my permission to give me a hug, and I opened my arms to him.  He embraced me, then went to each one of my teammates, declaring that he needed a hug from each person.  When we said farewell, he was still smiling from ear to ear.

Everywhere we went, I had the privilege of watching God touch peoples’ hearts.  In every church, God gave us specific words for people, and many were moved to tears as they encountered the love of Christ.  Countless people approached us to tell us different things we’d said confirmed desires or promises in their hearts.  Person after person told us how deeply touched, encouraged, and moved they were. God blew us away by using even the littlest details to bring people hope. 

During one youth meeting, we prayed for those who felt called to the mission field.  Natalie gave a general word that she believed some people in the group were called to China, Indonesia, and Latin America.  She wasn’t sure who these words were for, but announced them regardless.

One guy stepped forward and said he was called to China, some Arabic countries, and Russia.  He explained that he knew a bit about China and the Arab world, but Russia was completely unknown territory for him.  When he realized Natalie was from Russia (and speaking about China), he was intrigued.  He also explained that the shirt she was wearing confirmed that the Lord was speaking.  His ministry was called Kingdom Come Ministries, and he’d had either a dream or a vision of a castle of many colors.  Funnily enough, Natalie happened to be wearing a shirt with a castle on it and very colorful letters that read, “Let your kingdom come.”  Lord, I thought, how very clever you are.  You can use a Russian girl’s T-shirt to confirm someone’s calling.  God is cool like that.

The longer we stayed in Puerto Rico, the more I realized God had not just brought us here to serve others but to receive blessings ourselves.  Though the heart of Iris Ministries is to go into the darkest places, God still has some pleasant surprises up His sleeve for His children.  He undoubtedly brought us to Puerto Rico, meaning “Rich Port”, and quickly showed us unexpected riches that matched the island’s name.

First of all, besides being provided with comfortable and beautiful accommodation, the churches where we served gave us financial blessings beyond my wildest dreams.  One church gave us each an envelope with an incredibly generous donation inside.  When I opened it, I gasped in shock.  It was enough to cover my flight from New York to Puerto Rico as well as half of my flight to the Dominican Republic! 

Secondly, starting our journey in Puerto Rico helped create a smooth transition coming from the mainland U.S.  The island is a U.S. territory and contains much evidence of mainland U.S. culture yet maintains its own Latino flavor as well.  It was nice to transition back to speaking Spanish in a place where most people are bilingual and could help remind me of the words I’d forgotten over Christmas break.  I appreciated easing back into Latin American life with some familiar comforts from the continental U.S.  As we travel next to the Dominican Republic, it will feel a little less like home, and by the time we get to Haiti, we’ll be in a different world.  The gradual transition from place to place makes the process a lot less jarring.  God knew our itinerary before we did and is very intentionally taking care of our hearts and needs.

Lastly, and most importantly, our time in Puerto Rico provided us with godly connections for our remaining time in the islands.  Though Puerto Rico itself didn’t quite fit in with my vision to go to the poorest places, the pastors in Puerto Rico had the connections we needed to get into those places.  While in Texas for Christmas, Natalie received a prophecy that we would meet a man of influence in Puerto Rico who would help us have a smooth journey throughout the rest of the islands.  Name-dropping would connect us and provide for us as we traveled; and our path would be smooth, restful, and easy.  Pastor Edwin and his brother Ephraim are incredibly well-connected throughout the Caribbean, and working with their church has already opened up doors for us in the Dominican Republic, Haiti, and Cuba.  Though I had originally thought it might well be impossible for Americans to enter Cuba, Ephraim has informed us otherwise.  He has gone there many times recently and knows all the ins-and-outs of traveling there legally as a U.S. Citizen.  He’s provided us with connections and information that is giving me hope and excitement to get into Cuba.  Things are panning out a hundred times smoother than I ever dreamed possible.

And as we planned for the next country, the Dominican Republic, God once again both closed doors and opened doors that I could never have opened on my own.  I had been in contact with someone from the Dominican Republic for almost two months, and spent lots of time exchanging emails, Skype calls, and messages.  However, I waited for a final confirmation for quite some time.  I was desperately trying to nail down the contact, to finalize our arrangements—knocking down the door with my own strength but getting nowhere.  Our new friends here in Puerto Rico gave us the name of a Dominican pastor and told us to call him.  After a four-minute Skype conversation, we once again had a ride from the airport, a place to stay, and ministry opportunities in Santo Domingo.  After months of communication and failing to plan anything productive, God provided everything we needed in just four minutes. 

Our time in Puerto Rico set us up very nicely for the rest of our journey.  God called us to Puerto Rico to bless others but also to bless us.  He showed me the futility of putting pressure upon myself to plan the itinerary.  God clearly designed our itinerary from the start.  All I needed to do was simply tell Him my dream, and now I get to enjoy the ride.