When I was asked to go to Haiti, I knew it was an answer to prayer.
I wish it was the movie-style answer to prayer. You know the ones where the clouds part, the sun shines through and the music plays dramatically while your hair whips around in a super model fashion.
This was the answer to prayer in true Jonah style. Remember the guy God asked to go to Nineveh, the worst place in the world, and Jonah ran completely in the opposite direction. In other words, my response was “No way God.”
I wish I had a better story about going to Haiti. Who goes to Haiti anyway? People like Mother Teresa, that’s who. That is definitely not me. Pick someone else God, I’m busy. Me in Haiti, really? I don’t even have the clothes for it. I’m sure about now God was rolling His eyes.
When I think of Haiti, I think of extreme corruption, devastating poverty, horrific conditions and trash lining every street. I have watched enough CNN to know this was not going to be a vacation. This is the poorest country in the world, up close and personally. Sure, sign me up.
But then, there was the prayer. I knew this was God’s answer. A certain prayer kept coming to my head for the last months, maybe even years. God is so creative when He answers our prayers. Sometimes I wish He wasn’t so good at it.
“Pierce my heart God.”
I have no idea why I prayed that. It kept coming up for me. That feeling of your heart slowly being iced over by apathy, a sense of lost wandering in my faith, a deep ache for something more. Not knowing what I needed, but deeply knowing that God needed to do something, for fear my heart might not beat true ever again.
That prayer kept coming up for me. In worship. At church. Driving in the car. Reading my Bible. Journaling. A deep ache for God to shake me up, change me, anything, but leave me as I am. Knowing certainly the only way to find reconciliation would be a shattering of my heart. My heart hung in my chest like a vacant ornament. It was there, but I could barely feel it. Help. God. Please.
So He did.
He asked. I prayed. I got the answer. I didn’t like it. Feeling a lot like Jonah, but even more like a wimp in J. Crew clothes, I agreed to go to Haiti. God was faithful. He did pierce my heart on that trip. But that was only the beginning of a heart that would begin to bloom from it’s breaking.