Thinking about Sin

I have been attending Baptist churches since the day I was born. I have heard so many sermons that I can’t remember them all. Many of the sermons included some kind of formulation against living a sinful life. There have been attempts to define sin. There have been those who have graded sins and those that have rightly tried to level the playing field by recognizing that no sin is better or worse than another. The place that I become uncomfortable is when someone starts trying to list sins. They always have some verse from the Bible to back up whatever wrong-doing they are against today and they are convinced that God is on their side against that very thing. There are also those who reject any idea that sin is relative. They say things like, “If something is a ‘sin’ then it is a sin for all” or “Right is right and wrong is wrong.”

As a quick side note, I do find it interesting that ALL of the major world religions have some things in common that are considered “sin”. Even many non-religious people will say that something like “murder” is a sin. There seems to be something universal about one person taking the life of another that is particularly reprehensible. In broad terms, I think sin is something that interferes with our ability to be connected with God and others. Many or most Christians would say that any “sin” automatically alienates us from God. The problem is that so many people seem to have different lists of what is on that list and what is not. People have picked and chosen rules from the Levitical code of laws that suit them while rejecting others as culturally irrelevant. The problem is that different groups pick different sins.

For several years, I have been reflecting on the fact that Jesus summed up all of the law in two commandments that he called the greatest commandments. In Matthew 22: 36-40 Jesus quotes portions of Deuteronomy 6:5 and Leviticus 19:18 and says, “'YOU SHALL LOVE THE LORD YOUR GOD WITH ALL YOUR HEART, AND WITH ALL YOUR SOUL, AND WITH ALL YOUR MIND.' "This is the great and foremost commandment.”The second is like it, 'YOU SHALL LOVE YOUR NEIGHBOR AS YOURSELF.' "On these two commandments depend the whole Law and the Prophets." The entirety of my thoughts on this passage have been shared in lectures and workshops and will have their place some day. However, I will offer a summary.

The two most important things that a person can do are get their own relationship right with God and love others. Getting the relationship right with God is not about a one-time decision to accept Jesus’ gift of grace nor is it simply developing a list of things not to do so that God will be happy with you. Getting the relationship right with God is about acknowledging our own brokenness and failures, past and present, and acknowledging our own giftedness and potential. One helps us discover how to be involved in the world and the other helps us maintain humility with others. The part about loving others as yourself means that first we acknowledge the humanity of each person. We cannot simply see others as the divisive labels that we put on each other like Democrat, Republican, Christian, Jew, Black, White, Straight, Gay, Lost, or Saved, etc. Just because we know something about someone, does not mean that we know everything about someone. Each person is individual and each person is a…person with a story and feelings, and so on. If we are to love the other as ourselves, then we must want to hear the others’ story as much as we want others to hear ours. We must seek to understand others as much as we want to be understood. Beyond that, if we are to love others as we love ourselves, then we must help the other when they struggle with their brokenness and failures – not ridicule and attack. We must seek to help others discover the fullness of their potential and all that God created them to be.

Sin, for me, then becomes anything we do or think that denies our own brokenness and supposes superiority; it is the failure to acknowledge our own frailties and struggles. However, it is also whatever we do or think that keeps us from seeing the giftedness we have been given by God. When we treat ourselves like we don’t matter, we deny the God in whose image we are created. Likewise, sin against another is when take advantage of the vulnerability of the other or attack the frailty of the other. Sin against the other is denying the image of God that is in us all.

This can be stated in a positive in that we should seek to know ourselves fully, as God knows us. We should seek to see others as God sees them and to seek to embody the grace and love of God towards others. Too many times, sin is reduced to a list things we should not do, however, sin comes into full view for us when we set our hearts on offering love and grace to others; to treat them as fellow humans on the journey of life; and help them become all that they were created to be. How can we seek to harm another, take advantage of another, use another, or hate another when we are seeking to help them become all that God created them to be? And the same would be true of activities that affect us in our own relationship with God.

This reflection is why most sermons and lessons on “sin” seem so watered down and meaningless. When our purpose in life is more about relationships - with God and others – a simple list of do’s and don’ts seems so superficial.

Conversations With My Soul

There are thoughts which are prayers. There are
moments when, whatever the posture of the
body, the soul is on its knees....Victor Hugo

For years I have pondered the fact that there are some experiences – religious and not blatantly religious – that seem to speak to me in ways that cannot be communicated with words. I have written about this in at least one previous post. Recently, I had the experience of being a part of a musical a church. I took only a small role, but thoroughly enjoyed the experience. The music was good, the musicians were gifted, and the choir phenomenal, but it was not the music itself that moved me. In one of our final rehearsals, dancers from the Ballet Magnificat were added to the musical and it was like a two-dimensional image all of a sudden sprang into 3D. I have never been one to appreciate dance in this way, but I was moved to tears as I watched the graceful movements of the dancers and the way they interacted with the actors on stage.

I have a similar experience each time I have seen the musical, Les Miserables. I first saw the musical in London in 1987 and have seen it several times since. I have the 3 CD “Complete Recording” of the musical and listened to it dozens and dozens of times. Each time I see the stage performance of hear the music, I feel I experience something brand new and comfortably familiar all at the same time. Though I know what is going to happen in each second of the show, I never fail to cry at certain times. I can offer analysis of the many things I love and appreciate about the musical, but the moment that I do that, I begin to move away from the experience I have when watching or hearing it. (I am looking forward to seeing Les Miz again tomorrow night.)

It is the reflection on analysis vs. experience that has led me to new insights into my emotional/spiritual experiences. I am a bit of a jaded person. I am often suspicious of others and their possible motives. I fear being taken advantage of. I have spent years trying to work out an understanding of God that makes sense to me (while acknowledging that there is a God out there that exists beyond my ability to comprehend.) I have cautiously sought to let down my guard and connect in new friendships. An all of this occurs in a (mostly) reflective, rational, and meticulous way. When I am in this rational, intellectualized place, I am often comfortable, but emotionally “safe”.

Then there are those moments when hearing a gifted musician, seeing a beautiful painting, singing an old familiar hymn, or watching a magnificent play or movie can bypass all that intellectual horse hockey and speak straight to my soul. In those moments, I can find myself moved to tears before I even realize what is happening. There are times when this has been unsettling, but for the most part I have come to accept that even in “secular” setting, these moments are moments of spiritual awareness. In these moments I feel closest to God and to others. In those moments I feel more connected with myself. I sometimes eventually can gain some understanding of what is so moving about a particular experience, it is often the case that these experiences continue to defy explanations that are logical, rational, or verbal for that matter. I thank God for these moments and I pray that in some way, I can be a conduit for others to have these experiences with God.

One Year After the Nashville Floods

As I remember the events of one year ago today, it is greatly disturbing to see the images that are coming out of Alabama and a little frightening to hear of more possibilities for flooding in the Nashville area. Though my family is definitely on a path of recovery from the storms, I am reminded how much our lives can change in the blink of an eye. I could have never dreamed the journey that my family has made in the last year and hurt for those who are now dealing with all kinds of losses. I know so many who are still recovering from the storms of last year, those who are affected in some way by the storms of this year and even as I am writing this a friend of my daughter is in the hospital with a fractured skull. Illness, disaster, accidents, injury and death are all terrible things that often occur without notice and forever change our lives. Some wounds heal and some do not. Physical injuries often leave scars, but too often we do not attend to the scars left on our hearts and souls by such things. Too many times in the last year people (with good intentions) have asked if we are back to normal yet. I am sure others in traumatic circumstances have been asked similar questions. My family is on a path of economic recovery. We are in a new place to live, but the members of my family still have struggles related to the things we have been through. I do not know when we will be back to “normal” though.

Whenever I talk about these things, however, I feel compelled as the Psalmist did to also affirm that in the midst of these challenges, there is a goodness of God and a kindness of others that has been wonderful. Being able to affirm these things does not change our circumstances or magically fix all that is wrong, but it is a reminder that we are not alone. I have been inspired to try to give to others as much as I can – to be that presence for them. At the Pastoral Counseling Centers of Tennessee, where I work, our slogan is “Seeking to Embody the Healing Presence of God”. I believe that we do that in our work, but so many have been that kind of presence for me through the years and specifically during the last year. How wonderful it would be if each person thought of their purpose in life as to seek to embody the healing presence of God. There would probably be a lot less division and hatefulness, a lot less war and strife, and less poverty and disease.

Yes, it has been one year since the rains in Nashville took our house. We continue to bear the scars on our minds and souls. We continue to struggle in other ways too, but in the midst of the struggles, there is a peace and a joy that can only come from being grounded in the ever present love of God. Thanks be to God for those who have sought to embody God’s presence for me and my family. May God use me to embody that presence for others in the years to come.

Does Anybody Ever Win Those Things?

This year our family won a trip to the Pro Bowl in Hawaii. It was an all-expenses paid trip for four. Except for my being sick with a sinus infection most of the days we were there, it was a very nice trip. I won the trip in contest on Chunky Soup’s Facebook page. This was just one of many that I may enter on a weekly basis. This was the biggest trip I have ever won, but it is the third big trip I have won. Over the past several months I have been telling friends about winning the trip. I have been getting one of several responses from people. I appreciate those who say, “Your family deserves that after the year you all had.” Some people say to me, “You are so lucky. You win everything.” Others will say, “You won a sweepstakes? I didn’t think anyone ever won those things.”

To those that say our family deserves it, I can only say that it was nice to win and get away for a few days. I don’t think people that say this about us deserving it mean that there is some cosmic balancing of the scales that happens and I certainly don’t believe that. Life is a roller coaster of wonderful things that happen and not so wonderful things. Those that expect life to always be wonderful or who think that life going well is a sign of God’s blessing seem to spend a great deal of time dismayed by the frustrations of normal regular life in an imperfect world that is not ruled by the goodness of God. When we expect that “bad” things will happen to us, then we seem to take them more in stride when they occur; not that they are “easy” to bear or “no big deal”. We always need the grace of God and often need the support of others to help us through difficult times. We should also be grateful, I think, when we have those moments of blessing.

I was reflecting the other day about those statements about my luck or about the “win-ability” of contests. First of all, I have to say that for every contest I have ever won (and there have been several) there were dozens, if not hundreds, that I did not win. I have never won life-changing money. I have never won the Publisher’s Clearing House money. I have never won the Powerball or Mega Millions. I have never won a car. The three trips I have won are the biggest prizes I have ever won. The fact that I have played or entered thousands of times and won a handful of prizes doesn’t necessarily make me that lucky. The fact that I have played or entered thousands of times and won a handful of prizes doesn’t make me unlucky either. Many times I can say that I have cut the odds simply by entering a contest. (You can’t win if you don’t play.) However, it remains true that “Sometimes you win, sometimes you don’t”.

That is where I started thinking about those who don’t believe that anyone ever wins a contest. How often do people don’t take a risk because they don’t believe that you can win. For years, I never risked trying to make friends because I didn’t believe that I would ever be able to find someone that really connected with. When I did venture out to lunch with others, sometimes I felt a good connection and other times I did not. I know of people who don’t really risk falling in love because they are so afraid of being hurt or rejected. If you can’t really “win”, then why play the game? It is sad. When it comes to contests, if you don’t play, you can’t win. If you do play, sometimes you lose, but sometimes you win great trips. (Other times you just win the latest CD by some band you never heard of.) The same is true in friendship and love. If you never venture out and make yourself vulnerable in some way, then you will never find a good connection. When you do venture out, sometimes you make great friends and sometimes you just get to know another person a little better.

Life without risk is definitely safer and each person must figure out how much he or she is willing to risk, but without some risk, there is a lot less chance for reward.

The House That Built Me

My oldest daughter, Rachel, had the assignment in her U.T. English class to write a paper about a song. She had many options, but one was to write about a song that had an impact on her in some way. The following is her paper, just as she wrote it, about Miranda Lambert's "The House That Built Me."


You Can’t Go Home Again

During the first weekend of May 2010 a flood washed away my city and my house. Nashville “Music City,” Tennessee is the home of country music and was my home for thirteen years. I was never a fan of Nashville’s famous country music. I was drawn more to the rock, blues, and the singer/songwriters of Nashville, because they were more original than the country music that used the same guitar rifts to sing about growing up in the back woods, drinking beer and driving pick-up trucks. After the flood, I gained a new appreciation for country music with the song “The House that Built Me.” Miranda Lambert’s song would become the theme song for all of Nashville as the city was rebuilt, for my family as we packed up our home of thirteen years, and for me as I moved to Knoxville.

“The House that Built Me” was released in February of 2010 and became widely popular around the time of the flood. It was said in all of the media coverage of the flood that Nashville was a big city with a small town feel, a town where six hundred thousand people could call home. In “The House that Built Me” Lambert sings of specific memories associated with certain parts of the house, such as learning to play guitar in her “little back bedroom.” For many Nashvillians, like myself there were a lot of places in Nashville that had sentimental value similar to a little back bedroom. During the flood many of the places that made Nashville what it is were damaged. The Titan’s stadium, Predator’s rink, and the Grand ‘Ole Opry House were all flooded, and all these places held fond memories for many people. Lambert’s song is about returning to a childhood home in hopes that the her current “brokenness inside [her] might start healing.” For Nashvillians, we had to return to the devastated parts of the town in order to heal the city that built us.

I was raised in was a very old, small house built on top of a steep hill. My parents, especially my dad, were never happy with the look of the house so he renovated the basement, bathrooms, and kitchen. He built the house “nail by nail and board by board,” in the same way Lambert’s family built their home. Personally, I knew the house was small but I always liked it because it was home. Then on May 2, 2010 a mudslide pushed my house off its foundation and a tree fell through my sister’s bedroom and the kitchen. From that day on we would only return to the house to move our belongings, search for our cat that ran away in the wake of all the commotion of the slide, or to simply sit on the front steps wondering how it would all work out. We “thought if [we] could touch [the] place or feel it [the] brokenness inside [us] might start healing” and our questions might be answered.

A few days after the flood water’s receded and we moved in with my grandmother, my dad built a playlist with music either about floods or songs to help our family cope. In this playlist was Lambert’s “The House that Built Me,” which quickly became the song that my family related to the most because some of her memories were identical to our memories at 525 Holt Valley Road. Lambert’s mother and my mother both “cut out pictures of houses for years from Better Homes and Gardens magazine.” Lambert had her favorite dog buried under a “live oak,” while we had our favorite cat under a pear tree. It was the house my sister learned to play the piano and the house we I spent hours doing homework. It was the house with the kitchen where we had thirteen years worth of family dinners. For my parents and sister, the song reminded them of all the memories that we had shared at 525 Holt Valley and it made them sad that they had lost the place that held all of the memories. As for me, I was leaving for college in a few months so the song had a different meaning for me.

Since I was already moving out of my childhood house before the flood hit, Lambert’s song became a reminder of my roots. Lambert returned to the house to “take nothing but a memory from the house that built [her].” The song reminded me that even if I could not physically return to my childhood home, I could remember all of the things that built me. I was built by a family full of love for one another, for animals, for music, for sweet tea, and barbeque. I was built by a city full of friendly faces, country music and southern accents. For me, “The House that Built Me” is not a reminder of the home we lost, but a reminder of the how “I [can] find myself” so that I never feel “like I’m someone else.”

Country music may not always have the most original lyrically or musically, but in reference to the flood it was appropriate to have a country song be the song that embodied Nashville as it was rebuilt. The fact that “The House that Built Me” was country became moot once I was able to appreciate it significance to my life and to the lives around me. The song connected with my family because of the eerie similarities between Lambert’s house and our house. The idea that “a memory from the house that built me” could heal the “brokenness inside me” is the part of the song I carry with me, because even though I can’t return home I will always have the memories.

(Oh, and she got a 98 on this one.)

Breaking the Law

Breaking the Law

Luke 13:10-17

St. Paul’s Episcopal Church

Franklin, Tennessee

August 22, 2010

Chris O’Rear, M.Div., M.M.F.T.

For the most part, I am a rule-keeper. I obey the laws. At least I try to obey the laws. I am, for the most part, aware of the big ones and I do try to obey them. I am sure that I don’t know every law. I just saw this one the other day from Article XI, Section l5 of the Tennessee Constitution that says “No person shall in time of peace be required to perform any service to the public on any day set apart by his religion as a day of rest.” Since I read this, I have been trying to figure out if I ever asked my kids to do any public service on a Sunday. And… maybe sometimes I do drive too fast too. I didn’t say I was perfect, but I do try to obey the laws and, I guess I don’t just mean the state or federal laws. I also try to observe those more unspoken cultural rules too. I don’t like to do things that draw a great deal of attention to myself…Okay, maybe the tattoo and the motorcycle that have are kind of a gray area on this one, but I’m really not WAY out there. I try not to put non-recyclables in the recycling bins. I never liked my kids to cry on the plane or make a scene in a restaurant. I don’t necessarily like to wear really flashy clothing. In fact, my wife gives me a hard time because she says I dress now like I did when we met 27 years ago. I don’t really know if that is true, but I do like to stick with a “classic” style.

I am a person who likes to keep the rules, I feel like things go better in general when people keep the rules. It annoys me (and sometimes angers me) when people blatantly and flagrantly just disregard the rules and the norms and put others at risk or cause others harm. Rules are there for a reason. They are there to help protect us and to make life easier or better. I was recently in Haiti where there seem to be very few traffic laws. I have to say, I am very glad someone else was driving us around because I would have gone crazy trying to deal with that traffic. Most of the roads are not paved and there were big pot holes everywhere, so cars and motorcycles go speeding down the road weaving back and forth across the road dodging the potholes and narrowly avoiding head-on collisions regularly. Where we were, there were few traffic signs or signals and when they did exist, they were blatantly ignored. Every intersection was a fight for survival and threat to life and limb. In short, it was sheer chaos. So, when we try to play loose and free with the rules and the laws it really does seem to threaten the stability of society. Things are better when we obey the laws.

This is exactly the feeling and the mentality of the leader of the synagogue described in our gospel reading this morning. While teaching in the synagogue, Jesus took a moment to heal a woman who had been crippled by an illness for years. The leader of the synagogue does not seem to be angered because Jesus healed the woman, but because he healed her on the Sabbath. Of course, this person - the head of the Synagogue - was responsible for the order in the synagogue. This person prepared for worship in the synagogue. This is the person that was responsible for what was to happen in the Synagogue and Jesus had just threatened one of the most important rules for the Jewish people – the rule of the Sabbath. We can assume that that this man feared that if Jesus, and others, began disregarding the rules of the Sabbath, then the structures of faith and society could be called into question and foundation of society itself could be threatened. Maybe you think that is a bit absurd, but I am not so sure that this man wasn’t acting from thoughts pretty much like this.

The difficulty with this thinking in the story is a bit easier for us to see because we have years of perspective and the teaching of Jesus, but Jesus has to spell it out for this man. He had become too focused on the wrong laws. Earlier in Luke, Jesus had a confrontation with other religious leaders and had said to them that they focused on many details of the law, but they had neglected “Justice and the Love of God” (Luke 11:42). He told them that they should have practiced more of THESE things. This is probably why Jesus calls this man, the leader of the Synagogue, and those like him, “Hypocrites”. They focused on many many laws, but they missed the point of the law. Jesus noted that these people would allow a man to free an animal on the Sabbath because of concern for the animal, but they gave him a hard time for freeing this woman – this child of God – from her debilitating illness on the Sabbath. Wasn’t this woman more important than an ox or a donkey?

Jesus seems to call us to focus on a different law – or at least to not lose sight of why we have the law. The law of God is to help us in our relationship with God and our relationship with others. The law of God is to help us in practicing Justice and embodying the love of God for others. We should be focused on the law that helps us in these things. But doing so can be difficult.

As we see in the life of Jesus, following these laws of love and justice do not always fit with the laws of the land or the cultural expectations. When we follow THIS law, others may look at us oddly. This is like a couple of years ago, when my mother and her husband decided to take in a man who had a mild mental illness and was dying of cancer and let him live with them because his family had forsaken him. My brother and sister and I thought my mom had lost her mind. Many others looked at her oddly and questioned why she and her husband would do such a thing, but my mother and her husband kept Joe at her house and cared for him for almost a year, until he died of his illness.

When we follow this example of Jesus, others may not understand, like the father I heard of recently who could not comprehend why his daughter who had just finished college would “give up on a real career” to go and use her skills to serve people in Africa.

Sometimes when we follow this law of God’s, people may even respond to us with hatred. As has been the case for the Thompsons, a missionary family I met in Haiti, who have been yelled at and threatened for teaching about the love of Jesus to people in Gonaives.

This law of God may lead a student to forego a spring break on a sunny beach to go and serve on a mission. Many couples now are now choosing to give up on traditional ideas of a honeymoon to provide acts of love and service to those in places of need. My friends, Jason and Elizabeth, recently celebrated their 25^th anniversary by joining with a group from the Global Orphan Project to work with orphans in Haiti.

We may be called to stand with people who are rejected, hated, or unloved. Following this law of God’s may have us join with people and causes that we would never have imagined. Our friends may question our sanity and others may find us an inspiration, but we cannot ignore that we are called to a greater law and bigger cause. What will you do for the cause of justice and God’s love? Are you up to the challenge or would you prefer the safety of what is proper and the way it has always been done?

I pray you will seek the higher law. Amen.

Haiti 2010

I have just returned from a trip to Haiti with 6 of the recent high school graduates from our church and two other adults. Our group met with 15 others from Lincoln, Nebraska and went to take supplies to three orphan villages as part of the work of the Global Orphan Project. The Nebraska team was made up primarily of educators and others associated with a school in Lincoln that has adopted one of the orphan villages that we visited. Though our trip was brief, only 5 days, we were able to see and do quite a bit in those 5 days.

We arrived in Port-au-Prince on Thursday, July 22, and traveled from there to the Kaliko Beach Club in Cote des Arcadins. Friday we traveled up the coast to Gonaives, an area that even Haitians call the armpit of Haiti. While in Gonaives, we visited three orphan villages, delivered some clothes and supplies, and interacted with the children there. On Sunday evening we returned to Kaliko and then on Monday morning we returned for a bus tour of Port-au-prince before boarding the plane home. What I saw and what we did has changed me. A friend recently shared with me the song, “I Saw What I Saw”, by Sara Groves and her lyrics about her trip to Rowanda have captured my feelings in reflecting on Haiti.

I saw what I saw and I can’t forget it.

I heard what I heard and I can’t go back.

I know what I know and there’s no denying.

Something on the road cut me to the soul.

Your pain has changed me.

Your dreams inspire.

Your face a memory.

Your hope a fire.

Your courage asks me what I’m afraid of and what I know of love (and God).

While in Haiti we saw devastating poverty and we heard stories of miraculous hope. Pastor Benoit, a pastor who was raised Haiti, told us of his life growing up the son of a voodoo priest and priestess. He described his life in voodoo, a religion still followed by about 65% of people in Haiti, as a life filled with fear and hatred. He said there was no peace for him in voodoo. He described hearing of peace and hope in a relationship with Jesus through a radio broadcast. He came to know that peace and hope and now has a church, a school, an orphanage, and a senior adult home in Haiti that by next year will be fully funded by his concrete block business. He is an advocate for Haitian financial independence, but a huge advocate for physical visits by people from the U.S. who can share their love and their skills with the Haitian people.

Pastor Benoit also recounted the story of Haitian independence from France and how the people made a pact with the devil with a promise to dedicate the country to Satan if they won their independence. I am not usually a very devil/spiritual-warfare kind of person, but I could not help but think that if there were ever a place controlled by evil, this would be it. This is a place where the government conspires to keep the people illiterate and poor. This is place with little infrastructure and little hope. Haiti is a place of “dog eat dog” mentality and people struggle for advantage and survival. I could not help but thinking of Alice Cooper’s song, “Nothing’s Free”, in which he imagines the attitude of the devil who has enticed someone with a deception that only turns out to be prison of another sort and in the end, says, “But you’re free. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Though we were not in Haiti for a long period of time, I am grateful for those like Pastor Benoit, the Thompsons (a missionary family) and others who are making a long-term commitment there. I do not think that our time there was a waste, however. We went to demonstrate the love of God to some of the most vulnerable in this society. We brought supplies to help with their health and education. We made an investment in the future of Haiti. There are thousands of orphans in Haiti. Some who have lost their parents to disease, accidents, and natural disasters and some who have been voluntarily given up by parents who can no longer care for their children. Many of these are not in orphanages. Those that are in these orphanages, have varying levels of supplies and care. Just in the three orphanages we visited, we saw a huge disparity in resources. In one village (Mapou), there are four rooms approximately 10x8 where children sleep 20 to a room. There they have only 4 bunk beds and the children sleep two to a mattress. The others sleep on mats on the floor. In another village, Fayeton, the children have four dormitories where each child has their own bed. In each of these villages we played with the children and did crafts with them on very hot days. Our people had their water bottles when we were hot, but these children never had a drink while we were there. We saw children with toothaches and infections that were not adequately treated. There cooking conditions were questionable and their surroundings filthy.

While we were there, our group leader (Bob Sparrow) challenged us to reflect on James 1:27 which says, “Religion that is pure and undefiled before God the Father, is this: to care for orphans and widows, in their distress, and to keep oneself unstained by the world” (NRSV). Our religious practice is not meaningful – or does not exist – if we do not care for those most vulnerable in our world. One of my personal mantras is the last line sung in the musical, Les Miserable, “To love another person is to see the face of God.” As I experienced the need for compassion and love in the children the past 5 days, my heart has been broken and felt the love of God for these little ones. I could not help but think that I was truly seeing the face of God. I do not know how a person can visit a place of such devastation and poverty without being changed forever. I will be challenged in the months and years to come to figure out how to integrate this awareness into the things of my life here and I look forward to a time when I may be able to return to Haiti.