A trail of ants defy gravity as they scale down the tarred and dirt-stained wall; yellow and tan chips of paint crumbling to the floor below. Beneath them, two mice dart across the floor as if attached to a child's toy race track, electrified by the pursuit and keenly aware of the commotion around them. The lizards above watch motionless on the scene below, much like a wise elder shepherding their flock and newborn sheep.

As the wind outside rustles the coconut leaves and sounds of early-morning church rolls through the window, a rooster sings his morning praise and welcomes the rising sun. The sunlight gently opens the metal blinds and breaks down a wall of iron and steel with peace and humility. The shadows begin to stretch along the walls and race their way to each corner and nook of the room.


As the light washes over my feet, up along my legs, and engulfs me in my entirety, I am renewed for the day ahead. And I am reminded of the pressing need for hope surrounding this place.

Much like the sunlight peering through the metal bars over my window, situations of immense pain and suffering require a gentle prodding of light to break through the scars that form over our hearts. With situations like the earthquake in Haiti, those scars are more evident on the outside. From the pain caused from loosing your entire family, to the anger and bitterness towards a less-than-perfect system to aid in your recovery - Haiti is a country with scars that are clearly visible. Raw and exposed to the world around them.

But each of us wears our own scars; and unlike clothing, scars are not something you can choose to take on and off depending on your mood. And many times, those scars are invisible to the world around us.

As I talk with the people of Haiti and those who have been here for a much longer time than my short trip - the need for peace, gentleness, and humility in dealing with these scars becomes so evident. Yet our human nature is to handle situations in such a different manner.

We often forget that God works on a different time frame than our earthly clocks. Whenever a disaster strikes, we all desperately want to provide hope and comfort to those affected; God included. But God doesn't hand out temporary or transitional relief - he offers eternal and lasting hope - throughout the entire process. And that kind of hope operates on God's time.

Sometimes our urgency for bringing relief to those in need results in rushing, forcing or dictating our solution for help, We see the scars over people's hearts and much like the metal blinds over a window, we feel as if we must forcefully tear them down to get to the root of the problem.

But God has a different way.

He brings in a ray of light - and patiently, gently, and humbly, breaks down the scars over the window. He doesn't use force, but rather offers a peaceful alternative. He doesn't act out of urgency, but rather out of necessity. Let us remember to reflect on the patience of God's ways and not force our help on others, or God.