It was day two of ministry here in Santiago, Dominican Republic and my team was making it's way through a neighborhood. We had visited an older, Catholic family, a hesitant Haitian woman, and an 18 year old girl who needed healing. With under an hour until break a woman beckoned for us to enter her home.
We crowded around the dining room table while another woman took her spot on the bed. There was a small infant being passed around and a younger girl braiding Brook's hair.
Peace.
I felt an overwhelming peace and sense of safety here with the women. A sense of sisterhood and protection.
We started with small talk - name, age, how long they had lived here. We later delved into deeper conversation.
The woman on the bed began to explain that life has been hard here in The Dominican.
Unrest has existed between both Haitian and Dominican people groups since around the 1600s, growing all the more present. There are roots of tension and tragedy, events like the Parsley Massacre being more well-known. Many Haitian families have also found refuge in their neighboring country (The Dominican Republic), meaning the people are heavily intertwined, community to community. You can find thriving relationships and fellowships across the country but the deeply embedded hurt is hard to miss.
My teammate Jamie asked the woman if she believed Jesus was in any of these personal incidents she had experienced.
Her answer was simply no. It felt as if Jesus had stood up and walked away from her community of people.
I had the opportunity to share part of my story. I told her about how in most of it I never really saw Jesus. I didn't think He was in those moments. Even though our experiences were drastically different, we found common ground. We both had a loss of hope. We both could not see Jesus.
Her demeanor changed. The way she spoke shifted. I could tell she had many thoughts running through her mind as JJ translated to her native language, Creole.
Our conversation ended and our team had to meet the rest of the squad at the bus, but we asked if we could come back to continue talking and hopefully pray for them. They eagerly responded with a yes, as we had all made a special connection with them.
We came back and had more conversation, simply getting to know the women and also the younger girls who squeezed in to hear upon our return.
We began praying for the first woman, who had invited us in first, and simply wanted a covering of blessing for her and her family. Ready to leave JJ shared a word of departure, but then quickly turned to the mother of the smaller baby and asked if she wanted prayer.
She came off the bed and into our presence, a stillness on her face.
Nicole asked her if there was anything specific she needed prayer for and her answer was both nonchalant and ground-shaking. She wanted God to come into her heart. She wanted to know Him.
It is actually mind-blowing that sharing a simple story and telling someone that Jesus IS in their story, changes everything.
An hour of conversation can restore hope.
People realize their citizenship of heaven through language barriers.
Women become daughters in a matter of seconds.
God is with the Haitian people. God is with the Dominican People. God is with us. He is here.
There is a place and time for hope.
While her situation didn't change, she saw a light and grasped.
She clings to that hope. Let's reach out with her.
