Haiti in Retrospect, pt. 3

My last Haiti reflection was on the liberty of allowing others to say "I can." Stepping back and helping only where our help is asked for provides opportunity for empowerment and is a sign of respect. I realized on my trip that this concept of empowerment is essentially my job as a counselor. My calling and all of my training can be boiled down to helping people reclaim ownership of their own lives. "I can" is more than optimism, positive psychology, or a nifty catch phrase; it is the foundation upon which we build our lives. Beginning in toddlerhood, psychologists affirm that a sense of self-efficacy is an integral aspect to a human being's mental health and wellness. Affirming "I can contribute something" is part of being human as God designed.

There's a flip side to this statement, however, that is equally true, and equally part of being human. "I have limits. I can't do everything." We have all experienced this. There is no one on this earth who hasn't tasted the bitterness of failure of frustration. Self-actualization, or the process of becoming all you can be, is what God intended for each person, but it blurs into idolatrous humanism if not for that honest and humble assertion, "I can't do this...alone."

This is where the diverse body of Christ comes in. 

On this trip, everyone had their role to play. We had a medical team treating children and adults. We had pharmaceutical specialists helping children get the medicine the doctors prescribed. (Not to mention the gracious donors who helped cover our flights, housing, and the medical supplies we brought with us!) We had translators who spoke French, Creole, and ASL. Those that were not gifted in these areas were still needed to escort the blind or young children to the next station.One team member was especially gifted in caring for the young or severely disabled children who were unable to join the rest of their classmates. I had no gifts to offer the medical team, but my job was to support and aid my friend Minda, and her very presence was undoubtedly empowering and impactful for the people we were serving. I was surprised to meet a young woman who is an aspiring counselor, and hopefully I was able to encourage her on her journey; so I felt used on the trip even if for that encounter alone.

I saw the same interdependence among the children we were serving. I saw the deaf leading the blind, the hearing passing on explanation and instruction to the deaf; the blind teaching Creole to us clueless Americans. Each student at this school had their own hopes, dreams, and aspirations, and these were made actual potentialities only by the interdependent community which allowed them to learn and grow.

Being friends with someone in a wheelchair has taught me more about the Body of Christ than anyone else. It is a deceptive illusion for me to imagine that I am more independent than she; that I somehow don't need people in my life as much as she does. I need her perspective on the world. I need the grace of giving; I need the patience she has cultivated; I need the joy developed only when the clutter of Things and the tyranny of "Me, Now" is removed; I need the spiritual wealth that can be found only among the poor in this world. I need the people around me to be unashamed of using their gifts, whether its loving children or speaking Creole, whether its teaching or leading worship or washing dishes. I can't do it by myself. I'm missing out on something absolutely precious if I try.

I find it beautiful to remember that this interdependence is not our compensation for being broken individuals, but this need was woven into creation by God himself. The one thing that God said was "not good" was for his new man, image-bearer, to be alone. Adam needed Eve, and Adam was perfect! My limitations won't disappear when I get to heaven--and praise God for that! Serving each other isn't something we do while we wait for heaven to come make everything right. It does bring us closer to heaven on earth, though. I can't do this life alone. I need you, too.