A Year with Manmie

"My soul is consumed with longing

for Your laws at all times."

Ps 119:20, ESV

I woke up the day after giving my life to Christ feeling a bit unsure of where to begin or what to do next. The conversation between me and my sister was still vivid in my head but, as a little bitty baby Christian, I found myself wondering whether the heart transformation of which she spoke had really taken place.

Would I be able to control my tongue if provoked?
Would my face automatically glow, as did my sister's the night before?
Could I really prove to my family that I was a true believer in the power of Jesus?

Sufficiently troubled, I went to Manmie (my mother) and relayed my concerns to her.

"Manmie, everyone in the family seems to be a good Christian . . . everyone except me. My siblings use big spiritual words I don't even understand and they never get in trouble the way I do."

The words came out as pitifully as could be while I continued to wallow in Manmie's presence. As we talked, she graciously presented the Christian life as a very long journey, one that provides numerous opportunities for each Christ-follower to learn valuable lessons taught by Christ, the Leader and Master.

"Well . . . where is He?
How can I learn from Him when I can't even see Him?"

Patient and wise, Manmie suggested it was time for breakfast -- we would resume our conversation later. She went on an errand shortly after breakfast and, upon her return, she presented me with a beautiful present -- a distinguished red Bible in French (the official language of Haiti). I fell in love with it right away but a major problem surfaced upon opening it -- I did not know how to read.

To shed some light on my illiteracy, I must go back to the previous year when I was four years old. Being an extremely timid young boy, the thought of going to school and being away from home in the company of complete strangers simply terrified me. So, it was not surprising I cried for an hour straight after being dropped off on the first day of school. The principal lost no time in discussing with Manmie that, due to my young age, I could afford to wait another year before attempting school again. Delighted with the turn of events, I enjoyed staying home that year -- playing games and getting into mischief. Ironically, the same scenario took place when I turned five, which explains why I was still at home.

So, for the love of this red Bible, the topic of school was broached again . . . with a slight alteration.

"Could you do school with me at home, Manmie?
I mean, could you teach me how to read, please?"

Gratefully, she complied.

I was thus at home with Manmie for a whole year, learning and growing. In the course of that year, Manmie and I worked on the alphabet, prayed together, sang together, read the Bible together (well, I listened for the first six months while she read to me). Teaching me how to read became her priority once this red Bible came into my life. In poverty-stricken Haiti, books were precious commodities which made me cherish this first textbook as a highly prized possession.

Homeschooling taught me other things as well. I learned little choruses, verses, and colors. During family devotions held twice a day, I used to repeat every single word uttered by Manmie or Papi (my dad), and readily memorized hymns and large portions of Scripture.

My love for the Word of God characterized that first year following my conversion. I simply could not get enough of it. I remember begging Manmie to read to me even after she endured a long and exhausting day. My favorite book then was the book of Esther because its story tells of the beauty of Queen Esther, her love for her uncle Mordecai, her courage and her strong faith in God.

With all that exposure, it took a little over six months for me to begin reading the Bible on my own. It was around then that, almost out of the blue, Manmie revisited my earlier questions and concerns.

"Lou, do you know Jesus? Do you know where He is? Has he taught you anything since you've asked Him to come into your life?"

I looked at her beautiful, patient, and wise eyes, which locked with mine and, at that moment, I knew with absolute certainty that Jesus had used Manmie to teach me and guide me to find Him in His precious Word.

For the remainder of that year, I continued to grow in the knowledge of God and became more aware of Christ's influence on my life. And though I was still apprehensive concerning the approaching school year and the changes that were sure to come with it, I was beginning to see Jesus would give me the courage to follow Him wherever He leads.

What a fabulous year that was!
What a wonderful Leader Christ is!

As the journey continues, O divine Master, may this follower gladly and obediently do his part for the glory of God! Amen.

The Journey Begins . . .

"What's your name?"
"How do you do?"

My name is Louima Lilite -- pronounced lwee-mah lee-leet. Depending on the relationship shared with me, individuals refer to me as Louima, Dr. Lilite, Dr. L, etc. However, those who are close to me call me Lou. Since the content of this blog is an intimate story about me and my most loving Master, I will consistently refer to myself as Lou -- plain and simple -- in here.

The youngest son of Dessan & Tulia Lilite, I was born in La Pointe, Haiti, on 13 October 1974. My family moved to a small community in Port-au-Prince (the capital city) shortly before my fourth birthday where I lived until the end of secondary school (roughly like high school). I then moved to the United States for college where I met my precious wife. Together, we have weathered many storms, welcomed two beautiful daughters into our lives, and witnessed the powerful hand of God in our lives. I certainly would not be where I am today had it not been for the precious faith God has deposited into my heart.

By faith, I have enjoyed traveling through Haiti, the Dominican Republic, the United States, Canada, Germany, England, and Israel in my short time on earth. Those travels have afforded me ample opportunities to introduce myself to others, to sing, to play the piano, to teach, to serve people, and to speak on numerous faith-related topics.

Intrigued by my name and puzzled by this faith, people from all walks of life would often ask to hear a bit of my background. I would hesitantly comply with unrelated bits and pieces of my story -- frankly thinking it uninteresting and routine -- because I do not wish to draw attention to myself. However, the typical response seems to suggest hearts that have been touched and inspired to look at the Master. In fact, several individuals have been spurring me on for years to write the story of my journey of faith. I have since learned each human life is a captivating story authored by the Man of glory and, as such, each story must be told and retold, echoed and re-echoed, until the Father of mercy receives the glory due His holy name.

This blog, hence, was created to chronicle my story of faith. Each entry endeavors to reach back into my past, excerpt a strong memory, interact with it through the eyes of Heaven, and encourage all readers to equally fix their eyes on Christ and follow His lead as He writes their own stories.

So, without further ado, sit back, sip your tea, coffee, or any other favorite beverage, and see where this journey of faith -- my own journey -- truly begins . . .

*******

"I am the light of the world.

Whoever follows Me will never walk in darkness,

but will have the light of life."

John 8:12, NIV

As far as I can recollect, my faith journey began in a cramped family room on a Friday night in 1979. The humid air in our modest abode was stifling and conducive to my impatience and annoyance with anyone who crossed my path. I must have proven myself quite convincing because all but one family member steered clear from my company.

That Friday night in Port-au-Prince, Haiti, my 6-year old sister met my usual malevolence with the unexpected news of a change in her life that has kept me intrigued and hooked ever since. Though my 5-year old brain could not fully grasp the true meaning of her words, it quickly became evident that my heart could not deny the stark contrast between her newly calm, pleasant demeanor and the constant bickering that defined our previous interactions.

She was beaming.
She was joyful.
She no longer wanted to fight with me.
She felt no need to put me in my place.
She was at peace.

"What happened to you?"

I blurted out those words with a mix of frustration and puzzlement. Her reply further intrigued me.

"I gave my heart away."

She was in love?

One may wonder . . . How can anyone be talking about finding true love at six years of age? What on earth could my sister have been entertaining in her heart?

All I can remember that night is that, despite the mugginess that lingered in the room, my sister talked about love in a way that made me want to taste it more than all the candy I craved. Her words were so simple, so ordinary, so clear that they led me to desire that love.

She said, "I gave my heart away to Jesus. He loves me. He lives in me. He gives me joy and peace. He guides my heart. That's why I am not fighting with you right now. Don't you want the same? Don't you want to follow Him?"

YES!

Of course, I wanted love . . . and all those nice things she said. I wanted to be a nice and kind little boy whom others liked and admired. I wanted to be loved and to love others. I realized then and there that I wanted Jesus. So, she prayed with me that night and simply went to my parents and shared the news with them.

I became a follower that night, no longer satisfied to lead a loveless life. I embarked upon a lifelong quest to walk in the light of Jesus, to become more and more like Christ -- my Savior and my God.

This is my true story, my life, my journey.

This is a follower's journey.

Precious Savior, I thank You for being my Leader on this journey. May I seek You first and foremost above all else and may I follow You all of my days with joy and gratitude! Amen.