Chapel (Part II)

"My brother . . . writes poetry . . . and he can lead."

As the above words came out of my sister's mouth and 78 other pairs of eyes began staring at me, my 11-year old heart began pounding heavily out of fear. My mind was terrified to think of all the things that could go amiss and the myriad of ways that I could be teased and ridiculed. Leading would mean saying farewell to any chance at gaining anonymity or staying in the background. Singing or reading my poems (such an intimate part of my identity) would expose my heart that much more to any potential harassment that could come from even more bullies. Being in the limelight as a leader/singer/poet simply was not my idea of a good time.

I was afraid of not having a willing heart.
I was afraid of not having what it takes to make a start.
I was afraid of not having the 'chops' of a successful leader in my cart.

At that moment, the counsel of God's Word reached my mind:

"I sought the Lord, and He answered me;

He delivered me from all my fears."

Psalm 34:4, NIV

So, I quieted the raucous noise of fear in my heart in order to listen. It was clear that God was talking to me and tugging at my heart as I felt something I had not sensed before -- a deeper awareness that, despite the inadequacies I possessed, God would enable me to accomplish all that was meant for me to do. I still had no idea how He was going to guide me through this leadership venture but I knew without a doubt that I needed to surrender my will to His.

Obediently, I took out my notebook and a pencil and started asking for ideas and suggestions from my classmates. I was shy at first but the longer I went at it the more confidence I gained.

In the days and weeks that followed, I was humbled (well, more like embarrassed) on multiple occasions as I went through the process of learning the ropes of leadership by trial and error. Yet, I was also encouraged by the response given by several of my classmates. Those who were more artistically inclined found that I had a lot in common with them; and so, we gradually became friends. The bullies in the back started treating me differently as if looking at me through new eyes.

All of that brought a wave of confidence. Still, every once in a while, I had nightmares of making a fool of myself. How would I ever be able to live it down?

When that Friday morning finally came, I was a mess. My stomach was in knots, my hands were sweating, and my heartbeat was going 90 miles a minute. I was certain that I would mispronounce words and embarrass myself before the whole school. I was afraid that any one of the components of our program could go terribly wrong and I would be the one to receive all the blame.

Yet, the chapel presentation went without a hitch. All the participants did what they were supposed to do and even went beyond the call of duty. Afterwards, I saw faces and shook hands that I never knew existed at that school. Everyone was so happy and impressed.

And I was grateful.

And I was assigned more leadership duties.

And I learned that this could only have happened because,

"I can do all things through Him who gives me strength."

Philippians 4:13, NIV

Christ, my saving God, my great Deliverer, is the One who destroyed my sworn enemy. My fear, this cruel taskmaster, this tantalizing terror that once paralyzed me and restricted me to the back of the classroom and anonymity was buried under the sea of His loving mercy on my behalf. He provided a way for me to get out of the garbage dump of psychological paralysis and brought me to a place where I could experience absolute safety from every cause and kind of anxiety.

He is my Leader.
I am His follower.
We are journeying together.

Father, direct the eyes of this follower to see You fully. Guide me to look past my failures and help me to lean on Your strength in my weaknesses. Stir my heart with a renewed passion for You so I may offer my all to You every day, every hour, every moment -- for only You can make a way through the desert, the desolate places of my heart. I offer my parched, broken, and contrite heart to You. Be my sole vision as I seek to lead others, O Ruler of all!

Chapel (Part I)

At College Evangelique Maranatha, chapel services were held every Friday morning and all students were required to attend. The first time I went, I was quite apprehensive about what I would find there since I was equally concerned with content versus context as I was with people's actions and attitudes. As a result, I arrived early, chose a convenient corner in the back of the room, and retreated there for safety . . . and analysis.

Once the session began, I found that I liked it very much. The content comprised singing, scripture reading, praying, and a special presentation, all of which was delivered in a context that was relevant for the students present.

"So far, so good!"

Then, the school principal explained how each grade, starting from the highest down to the lowest, would take turns planning and leading chapel for the remaining Fridays of the school year. "It is to be an outlet that will help students develop leadership and performance abilities," said the principal.

"Well, as long as I get to stay in the background . . ."

Realizing that my grade's turn to lead would not be happening for seven weeks, I paid it no mind. I was hopeful that the smart kids in the front of the classroom would spearhead this effort and no one would ask me to do anything. However, as the trimester progressed and we were approaching week # 5, I began to get slightly worried.

Naturally wired as a planner, I could not help noticing that, thus far, no one in the class had talked about taking charge of planning, assessing the gifts represented in the classroom, or even suggesting ideas for our chapel presentation. 

On the 5th Monday of the trimester, one of the teachers walked into the classroom and asked us how things were coming along for our chapel service. I was anxious to find out but feigned indifference for fear of attracting attention. It was then that something happened which has since altered the course of my life.

A clear voice from the front broke the silence in answer to the teacher's question; it was that of my lovely sister -- the one who inspired me to give my life to Christ on that muggy Friday evening back in 1979.

(She and I had been in the same grade since 5th grade because the primary school bumped me up a grade on three different occasions.)  

My sister looked in my direction and then humbly offered, "My brother and I can sing a duet.  He writes poetry, too. And he can lead because he does that at home every time we 'play' church."

(My sister, my cousin, and I used to fill our evenings with 'playing' church -- reenacting all the elements of a church service, all the while dwelling on humorous moments we had observed in that context through the years.)

Once my sister spoke, my first thought was:

"So much for staying in the background!"

With that statement, my sister once again became the catalyst for a new direction in my life. Eyes, too many pairs of eyes, converged to the back where I was sitting. I could not be sure what my classmates were thinking. Some might have been puzzled or shocked or doubtful. However, a change occurred within me as they were looking; I had no choice but to embrace the new calling God had reserved for me:

I became a leader for my class.
I became a leader for life.

Father, just like You selected Saul to be the first human king of Israel, thank You for reaching Your sovereign hand even into the decline of my ways and directing me to be a leader in my own circle. I give You honor that Your grace does not depend on my worthiness or faithfulness but solely on Your will and purpose. Help me to follow You as I seek to guide others to You and Your holy ways. In Christ alone, I pray. Amen!

The Language of My Heart

I am a lover of words.

I have always ascribed importance to words.

My heart has always been an eager recipient of words.

The above statements aptly reflect, and perhaps interpret, the reason I have been so deeply affected by the words said to me from the time I was a little boy. 

Words of exhortation from Papi.

Words of encouragement from Manmie.

Words of empowerment from my older siblings.

And, unfortunately, words of derision, ridicule, and scorn from too many -- family, friends, foes, folks of all types and from all walks of life.

For the longest time, Haitian Creole -- the language of the street -- left a sour taste in my mouth because the majority of harsh words and belittling comments thrown at me were uttered in that language. So, I resolved to look down upon that language, sadly not realizing the fault was not in Creole itself.

French, the other language available to me in primary school, was more my cup of tea. It requires a certain finesse that suited my sensitivity and sensibility; so, it readily fed my ego. As a result, it was not at all surprising that I spent much more time on polishing my grammar, enhancing my vocabulary, improving my pronunciation, refining my enunciation and style than I ever did on seeking to reach people's hearts.

At 11, in the midst of dealing with bullies in the back of the classroom on the one hand and carrying guilt about my premature involvement with Aspipa on the other, God paved a way for me to connect the dots between my love for words, the importance I give them, and the necessity for words to reach hearts -- including my very own.

I began learning English.

My English teacher in secondary school was my older brother, my elder by ten years. He walked into the classroom and said, "Good morning." I remember thinking how differently these words fell and landed upon my entire being. It was as if the English language had been looking for me all these years and we finally met. I sensed a burning desire within my breast to learn how to speak it fluently.

So, I eagerly began the process.

In the midst of learning it, it felt more like I was taking a shot in the dark. I did not always sense that progress was cropping up until one fine day it all began to make sense and I could converse with native English speakers relatively well. I studied it some more and my understanding deepened until I became fluent through consistent practice.

In time, I grew to love English so much that I found that it had become the language of my heart. I soon felt that I could think more easily, more completely, more passionately, more thoroughly, and more urgently in English than in any other language.

It was then that God's revelation blew me away. 

"Son," said He, "I have given Myself to you; My Word ought to be the language of your heart. It is unto My Word that you should ascribe importance, passion, commitment, reverence, and respect. It is My Word that you should love and use to reach the hearts of others. It is My Word that should move your own heart. Desire Me, love Me, listen to Me, seek after Me, follow Me, obey Me, wait for Me, and feel Me."

I was speechless.

I, the lover of words, had no appropriate word on my tongue in answer to the Word, Himself.
Why?
The writer of Hebrews explains it in the following terms:

"For the Word of God is living and active.

Sharper than any double-edged sword,

it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow;

it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart."

Hebrews 4:12, NIV

Gratefully, my heart has received His language.

He has been teaching me to speak it fluently ever since.
I speak it each time I feel tempted, convicted, and laid bare before God's eyes.
I speak it by saturating my mind with the saving truth that revvs up the engine of my heart.

So, whether I use Haitian Creole, French, English, Spanish, Italian, German, Russian, or even the few short phrases I manage to croak out in Cantonese, I pray that I will exude the heart of God's message to the world. May His Word, the true language of my heart, reach the hearts of all who listen to me and may they hear the true Speaker through this lowly messenger!

Father, thank You for Your precious Word filled with words of life, words of hope, words of conviction, words of redemption, words of passion, words of love. Help me to daily and gradually take in bite-size portions of the Holy Scriptures through the patient practice of scripture reading, meditating, studying, and memorizing. Help me to hide Your Word within me that it might truly become the language of my heart throughout this journey. In Your precious name, I pray. Amen!

Aspipa

"The man of integrity walks securely,

but he who takes crooked paths will be found out."

Proverbs 10:9, NIV

Less than a week after I began my secondary school education, I turned 11 years old on October 13, 1985. That morning, I went to the local church (Eglise Baptiste de Bolosse) with great happiness in my heart. My happiness was based upon the fact that, in a short year, I would turn 12 and I would become eligible to rightfully join the group Aspipa.

Aspipa!

That single word gave me goosebumps. As a small boy, I regularly dreamt of the day when I, too, could follow in the steps of my older siblings and become a part of that privileged society. Aspipa is a Creole acrostic that stands for Asosyasyon (Association) Pitit (Children) Pastè (Pastors) -- Pastors' Kids Association.

What was so neat about Aspipa?
What could be so exciting about a bunch of pastors' kids meeting weekly on a Friday evening?

For one thing, the group was exclusive. In order to participate, one had to be the offspring of an ordained minister and be at least 12 years old. For another, everything that was discussed in the group stayed in the group. For someone who was often shoved aside and whose curiosity was mounting every year, I anticipated the day of my eligibility with uncommon impatience. I just had to be alive one more year before I could be included in that special group.

So, it came as a complete surprise to me when, on the afternoon of my 11th birthday, the president of Aspipa came to talk to me.

I remember the conversation as if it happened yesterday. I was just sitting at home with a captivating novel in hand when he said,

"I would like you to come and join Aspipa this coming Friday. This year, we will focus on giving a lot of concerts in churches around Port-au-Prince and I have a great song picked specifically for your lovely singing voice."

"What?!?!"

Though I became speechless, he could see by the confused expression on my face that I did not quite believe him.

So, he said,

"Believe me. You have a truly unique gift and I would love for you to join us this year. Please?"

At the time, I was thinking about all the reasons that should lead me to say no:

I was not yet 12.
I needed the approval of my parents.
My joining seemed unfair to those who had rightfully joined the group.

However, how could I possibly wait a whole other year when this offer is within arm's reach? Since projects may vary, I wonder if Aspipa would even be giving concerts the following year. Would it not be "foolish" of me to let this opportunity pass me by? Who needs to know the truth, anyway? How could it hurt?

Without flinching, I pounced upon this rare opportunity saying,
"Yes, I'll be there."
And he left.

I kept this offer a secret out of fear that my older siblings might stop me. When Friday came, I told my parents and my siblings that the president of Aspipa invited me to attend that evening's meeting. I went to the meeting and was asked to try singing the solo, which went so well that my name was added to the roster of soloists for the upcoming concerts. So, based on my voice alone, I was accepted into the group -- no questions asked.

Since no one asked, I felt under no obligation to tell them that I was not eligible based on Aspipa's requirements. Yet, on the inside, I felt like I had waved integrity and truth goodbye. I counseled myself countless times saying that it was no big deal, but deep down I knew the truth which says,

"The integrity of the upright guides them,

but the unfaithful are destroyed by their duplicity."

Proverbs 11:3, NIV

Despite the fact that my premature involvement with Aspipa was almost right (after all, it wasn't even my idea), deep down I knew the right thing would have been to address my ineligibility from the start. Deep down I knew that the integrity of a person in big or small matters will always be a big deal because it matters to God Most High.

• Although the solo gave me a sense of success (especially on concert nights), I failed to truly enjoy it knowing the truth I was hiding or suppressing from others in the group. 
• Although the group afforded me a sense of status (now that I was in the "know"), this elevated position failed to bring me the satisfaction I had craved prior to joining the group.
• Although Aspipa provided me with a great outlet for singing, I forfeited all the benefits that could have been mine had I simply recognized the foolishness of instant gratification.

It wasn't until much later that Aspipa's president caught wind of the truth and confronted me with it. I wish I could have been the one to come clean and confess it to him. I wish I could have had the courage to forgo the satisfaction of the moment. Yet, I learned once more that, with each mistake, there is a whole lot more grace available from God's pool of love.

Thank You, dear Master, for bringing me to Your grace. It is Your amazing, boundless grace that lightens the load of my guilt even now. It is the beauty of Your acceptance that allowed Aspipa to be used as a refining instrument in molding my heart and preparing it for Your truth and love. As I follow You, order my steps that I may walk in true humility and integrity every single day of my remaining time on this earth. May my journey of love bring me securely into Your sturdy arms!

In the Back

Each need has a purpose.

Hunger can be satisfied by daily bread. 

Thirst can be quenched by earthly potions.

Fatigue can be relieved by sleep and relaxation.

For me, it did not take long upon entering secondary school to realize that I had a deep-seated void within my soul and heart. I was empty and needed fullness. Far from being satisfied, all my wanting and waiting led my mind to a single recurring question:

"How, dear Lord, could I possibly learn anything from this misery?"

I felt miserable because, as a classic introvert, I had a strong need to be "left alone." It wasn't that I really wanted to be a loner, but I needed time in solitude, privacy, and thought to adjust to my new environment. There were so many new names and faces to learn and recognize, new habits to form, and old habits to break.  I needed time to test the waters and see if I could find at least one good friend with similar interests and leanings -- one I could trust and to whom I could talk freely.

Yet, that was not to happen. I was not given time to observe and think. I was in the spotlight -- and not the coveted kind, either. Try as I may, I could not remain unnoticed. The bullies in the back of the classroom had found their new toy, their new "rag doll," in me. 

I was teased, and pushed, and mocked, and harassed, and embarrassed, and shoved, and threatened all on my very first day in secondary school. While teachers taught in the front of the classroom, the bullies in the back were busy teaching me all the things that I should hate about myself and life, in general. In a flash, I pictured the remaining seven years of my formal education at that school and the thought of those interminable years weighed heavily on my shoulders.

"Is this to be a repeat of primary school?," I asked in my heart. 

"Will a guy ever get a break in this wretched life on earth?" 

"Can't I just skip secondary school?"

"Do I even need school?"

As it turns out, I really did need school. 

I needed to attend secondary school and I needed to enroll in the divine school of life. 

It was in God's classroom that my question changed its tune. I became aware of the fact that, perhaps, obstacles and problems surface so that I might ask,

"What, dear Lord, will You have me learn from this misery?"

In time, I learned to occupy my time well in the back of the classroom. It was there that the void within me was filled as Christ entered my mind and united my heart with His very own. It was there that He taught me to listen to the heart and not merely the mouth. As the Word says,

"For out of the overflow of the heart, the mouth speaks."

Matthew 12:34, NIV

With purpose and discernment, the ultimate Lover directed me to pay attention to those bullies. I learned to see the hurt they were hiding behind their mask of machismo. I learned to discern the true motive behind their snide remarks and belittling expressions. I learned to invest in the stock of God's love which is the greatest unifier, bringing me to treat my bullies with kindness and understanding despite our differences and my initial predisposition to hate them back.

So, yes, there were bullies in the back.

And, yes, there were great trials in the back.

However, I learned that trials and bullies are great teachers. I ought to know because I had to learn from the best, the toughest of them.

Father, I know that in all things You work for the good of those who love You, who have been called according to Your purpose. Your ways are often circuitous and curvy; help me to rely on the truth that You are always in control, guiding me ever so securely to Your love. Thank You for leading me and help me to follow gratefully! In Christ alone, I pray. Amen!