“But you do see, for you note mischief and vexation, that you may take it into your hands; to you the helpless commits himself; you have been the helper of the fatherless.” Psalm 10:14
“Father of the fatherless and protector of widows is God in his holy habitation.” Psalm 68:5
"Give justice to the weak and the fatherless; maintain the right of the afflicted and the destitute.” Psalm 82:3
Since first going to Haiti, I have become convinced that, as Christians, we often ignore God’s commands about the oppressed, the hungry and the orphans.
We forget about them – we forget to even pray for them, much less go and visit them. It’s a big thing to try and save people in other countries or to get on a plane and go help them. I think we think it’s someone else’s job. I think I always thought that it was someone else’s job. I think we get this wacked out view of people that go to serve in really needy dirty crazy places like they somehow have this secret coded message that they get in the mail from God that tells them they’re picked out to go and do this amazing work.
I think we miss out on the reality that, as God’s people, we are set apart to be the most loving, the most concerned about the world’s oppressed and it’s refugees, it’s hurting, it’s starving, and it’s people that are dying from disease and oppression. We are set apart to be people that know about these situations, and that do something about it. He has called us all to do things about it in different ways – because He’s given us different gifts.
I thought about all of this while I was in Haiti on my last trip. We went to Mother Theresa’s orphanage for a day. Mother Theresa’s is a hospital downstairs and an orphanage upstairs with kids with special needs. It smells like pee and there are rows and rows of babies with TB and AIDS and other diseases. They’re so tiny you feel like you could break them just picking them up. They have blood on their mouths, or rashes on their body. Some of them have ringworm. Some of them seem like they might die any minute. Some of them never even cry.
There was a little boy there that had AIDS, and this rash all over his body – even on his tongue. He kept crying out and writhing and screaming. His hand was tied to the bed by a cloth so that he wouldn’t rip his IV out, so he couldn’t even get comfortable. I sat down and rubbed his body underneath the blanket, and I was so ashamed because I part of me didn’t want to touch him because I was afraid of getting blood or discharge on me and getting sick, but another part of me was just so overwhelmed with the sight of him, and was just grossed out and didn’t want to be near him.
When he opened his eyes they were all bloodshot, and he looked right at me. He loved it that I was rubbing him and touching him, and totally responded to it
I thought about Jesus, and realized that if he were there, this is the kind of little boy he would have sought out – this ten year old with aids. Jesus would have found him, and touched him, and healed him. He didn’t come for the people that look healthy and full of life. He came for people like him.
I went and sat down next to my friend Haitian friend Michelle and just cried and cried and cried into his shoulder, and was so humbled at how bad I am at loving the unlovely. I was crying for his pain, but also because I was uncomfortable, and it hurt me to see someone that way.
I realized then, that I think that there are two main reasons that we often run from places like Mother Theresa’s, the first being because we’re afraid of what they will do to us. We’re afraid we won’t be able to handle it, or that we’ll lie awake at night with visions of stick figure babies with aids haunting us. I think we’re worried that we won’t be good at it, or we’ll freak out.
I think that we forget that God commands us to be like Him. And He was someone who took care of the fatherless, the oppressed, the sojourner and the diseased.
A second reason that I think we don’t do things is because we don’t think it will really make a difference. I want you to know that you all proved anyone who would think that wrong. I took the supplies you gave me down to Haiti, and handed out toys and soap and clothes and shoes. If toys or shoes and clothes aren’t needed at the orphanage, they’re handed out in the community. We gave my friend Junior new flip flops and a shirt. He’s about 11, and was wearing the same outfit every day, so we dug through and found him new clothes, and he was all embarrassed, but it made a huge difference to him just to have a new outfit. He was wearing it the next day.
Money that you sent I handed directly to the schoolmaster or to the house manager at the orphanage. The house manager used the money I gave her to get baking supplies so she could get more variety and nutrition in the children’s diet. Your effort made a difference. You made a difference. You didn’t just send some stuff off to a random country where some kid might get it. I took things down that you bought and handed them to children or put them away to be played with later. I touched the kids that you gave to. I sat and played with them. I know that you made a difference. You were like Jesus.
I want to give you another opportunity to be involved in Haiti. These are pamphlets to support a child that goes to the Three Angels Christian Academy, which is a school that 3A provides for over 300 children in the community. For $27 a month, you can give a child an education and a meal every day. Sometimes this is the only meal they get.
I do a lot with the school while I’m in Haiti. I write profiles on the children for their sponsors, I take updated pictures for them and sometimes I write articles on different aspects of the school. I was rushing around one day when I was there a few weeks ago, and this little girl ran up and grabbed my hand. She was probably 9. I took a picture of her and me, because they love pictures, and then I was about to let go of her hand and leave to do something else when I realized that that’s what anyone would do. That’s not what Jesus would do. And we’re called to be different, like Him. We’re called to care more than just anyone. So I took the little girl upstairs with me and I found her crackers and some candy and gave it to her, and she sat down on my lap for the rest of her recess. I asked her if she was going to eat the food I gave her, and she told me no. I asked if she was saving it for later, and she nodded yes. I realized, then, that it was probably the only food she was getting after school, and if it wasn’t the only food, it was probably a good amount of the food she was getting. I couldn’t believe that I had almost just kept walking.
I want to leave you with some words from a missionary in Kenya who works in a clinic wrote about a refugee camp about 10 miles from her home in a village called kimpkaren, and then I’d like to show you pictures of the kids.
“After arrangements had been made with the police for transporting our patient, we started back down the hill. A little girl, maybe six years old, was carrying water on her head as she climbed the hill. Her name, Upendo (which means love in Kiswahili), struck me. She represents all that we have been called to do as followers of Christ.
Overwhelmed by the devastation of this land, I remembered these instructions that say: “Open your mouth for the speechless, in the cause of all who are appointed to die. Open your mouth, judge righteously, and plead the cause of the poor and the needy” (Proverbs 31:8-9).
I am convinced, although uncomfortable, there are times we need to know.
So, I am opening my mouth on behalf of those without a voice. God has shown us what is good and what is required. We are to do justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with Him. May God lead our hearts to love more fully and to follow Him wherever He leads.”
I feel like part of the way He has gifted me is to be someone that tells what I have seen, and to bring back knowledge of the oppressed and the needy, and to open your eyes. He has impressed upon me that I need to be faithful to tell what I have seen. So that is what I want to do tonight. I want to make known what I have seen so you, as a people set apart to care, to love and to make a difference using your gifts. I want to tell you what I have seen so you can know what you can do.
Shanley Knox
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