February 21
Dean of the Caribbean
The LORD won’t leave his people nor give up his children.
Psalm 94:14 (NCV)
It was late last night as I sat at my large, wooden desk. The den was dark with just the small table lamp on. The room was dark, but it felt much darker.
I paid no attention to the bills and busy paperwork covering my desk, instead I stared at my Dell monitor. The timed satellite images played in a loop—over and over. The green islands of Cuba, Jamaica and Hispaniola stood out like green jewels floating on a sea of blue. But there was something else. I stared at the tight, swirling red and orange clouds filling so much of the screen. It was Hurricane Dean, and he circled and danced and bobbed on the warm Caribbean waters like a young boy with raging hormones. His colorful cloud bands groping for Haiti like some monstrous octopus.
This got my attention.
My heart lives in Haiti. Port-Au-Prince to be exact. It's true. My heart travels the globe and it found a home in this tiny niche. There in the north of Port-Au-Prince lives a precious, young girl. Her name is Ruth. She is only six-years old, the youngest of eight brothers and sisters and orphaned when mom and dad died from AIDS. Her brother watches over her, but he has no job. There is only the church and school, caring people and us, and … God. She is our Compassion child and I pray for her every day, and tonight my heart is close to breaking. The weather report says the storm will become a level-5 hurricane … like Katrina … and their shelter is minimal. Not much at all—not here. In spite of this, God tells me not to worry (Philippians 4:6,7). He tells me to pray, and I do—for Ruth, for Haiti and even for Jamaica … next on Dean’s dance card. I pray ... and I wait for His peace—the peace He has promised. Yes, promised.
My God has given you and me such great promises.
By morning time, He had replaced my concern with peace ... and a new joy. The strong winds passed on, and my new day dawned with fresh light ... and the hope that a precious, little girl in Haiti knows just how big her God is….
Father, remember Your children. Give them Your peace. Amen.
Dean of the Caribbean
The LORD won’t leave his people nor give up his children.
Psalm 94:14 (NCV)
It was late last night as I sat at my large, wooden desk. The den was dark with just the small table lamp on. The room was dark, but it felt much darker.
I paid no attention to the bills and busy paperwork covering my desk, instead I stared at my Dell monitor. The timed satellite images played in a loop—over and over. The green islands of Cuba, Jamaica and Hispaniola stood out like green jewels floating on a sea of blue. But there was something else. I stared at the tight, swirling red and orange clouds filling so much of the screen. It was Hurricane Dean, and he circled and danced and bobbed on the warm Caribbean waters like a young boy with raging hormones. His colorful cloud bands groping for Haiti like some monstrous octopus.
This got my attention.
My heart lives in Haiti. Port-Au-Prince to be exact. It's true. My heart travels the globe and it found a home in this tiny niche. There in the north of Port-Au-Prince lives a precious, young girl. Her name is Ruth. She is only six-years old, the youngest of eight brothers and sisters and orphaned when mom and dad died from AIDS. Her brother watches over her, but he has no job. There is only the church and school, caring people and us, and … God. She is our Compassion child and I pray for her every day, and tonight my heart is close to breaking. The weather report says the storm will become a level-5 hurricane … like Katrina … and their shelter is minimal. Not much at all—not here. In spite of this, God tells me not to worry (Philippians 4:6,7). He tells me to pray, and I do—for Ruth, for Haiti and even for Jamaica … next on Dean’s dance card. I pray ... and I wait for His peace—the peace He has promised. Yes, promised.
My God has given you and me such great promises.
By morning time, He had replaced my concern with peace ... and a new joy. The strong winds passed on, and my new day dawned with fresh light ... and the hope that a precious, little girl in Haiti knows just how big her God is….
Father, remember Your children. Give them Your peace. Amen.
posted by Craig Soderquist at 6:30 AM
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