First of all, sorry I’ve been a little MIA lately. A lot has been happening, though — new job, new season, and a lot of changes ahead as the fall approaches quickly. I’ll be back full force around here within the week, and I can’t wait to share some stories I’ve been sifting through for you this month.
In the meantime, I want to share something really sweet that I’ve been working on.
This has been a refining, challenging year in my life. Back in April, I was standing at kind of a crossroads — I anticipated that I’d be losing my job, and I was tired and discouraged from carrying a promise that I wondered, at this point, if it might have been a mistake. Maybe I heard God wrong. Maybe I was fighting a fight that I wasn’t supposed to.
I certainly felt like I was fighting one I didn’t sign up for.
And then I got a phone call. It was this girl I knew from church — she’s been working as the director of an organization called Haiti Transformed since the 2010 earthquake, and she asked me if I would help her tell their story.
Honored that she would think of me, I began to meet with her to learn more about her friends in Haiti. I sat across the table from her one afternoon, fighting back tears as she shared stories of restoration, hope and newness of life.
There’s a Kreyol phrase they use in Haiti, she told me, that means “Life is Growing.” Lavi ap Grandi. And right in the middle of a season that feels like a trek through a desert wasteland, I thought, “This is so like you, God — to invite me in to tell your stories, the ones where dry bones come to life and spring comes after the longest winter. The ones that are possible because Jesus already paid the price of death, and now life is our reward, forever.”
Telling these stories has been healing my tender, tired heart. My circumstances haven’t really changed, but I can tell you undoubtedly that a stone has rolled away and some piece of my heart that wasn’t alive before has come fully alive because of what God is doing in Haiti.
Sometimes when we’re waiting for our own resurrection, we get to ride on the coat tails of someone else’s, and it’s enough to keep us going. I love that about the Kingdom of God. I love that the victories of our brothers and sisters become our victories, too.
And sometimes when you work long hours on something you believe in, acquaintances turn quickly into deep friends — and that feels like a timely gift from God, too.
I hope you’ll read these stories, in a collection we’re calling Beyond the Rubble. I hope they’ll ignite the same hope of glory in you that they have in me. I hope that the same life in these stories brings to life the dry, barren, dead places in your own hearts and lives.
I hope you’ll link arms with the rest of us who are choosing to believe wholeheartedly that life with Jesus exists abundantly beyond the rubble of our lives.
Photos: Kathryn Krueger