One of the most moving moments in my life was sitting in a little church on a small island off the coast of Haiti.  Amongst the poorest children in the world, I experienced the presence of God like I had never experienced before.  I remember sitting in that poor little church crammed full of children who sang as if they were on their way to Heaven.   Rhythmic, harmonic, unpolished but full of life; it was the most beautiful music I had ever heard.  Poverty surrounded this church.  I remember seeing skinny little babies with eyes crusted over from tears of hunger.  I remember seeing children with bloated bellies from hunger.  It was not a world I recognized.  But the church was the light.  It was the hope in the community and truly the life.   We sat in that church for 3 hours listening to children sing their praises to the God of their Hope. 

After that experience, I literally became unsatisfied with every worship service I ever went to again.  I don’t blame anyone but myself.  Once back in America, I admit that I became irritated with the lack of passion in my own church for the God of Hope.  I went into judgment mode, which is truly not my job.  Now, 14 years and a couple of churches later, God used that moment to lead me to where I am at today.

For the last five years I have served at this poor little church in Vancouver.  It’s not like that Haitian church, but the people worship their God of Hope.  They know why they desperately need hope.  They need hope that they won’t go back on drugs, that they won’t get evicted from their house, that they can get their kids back, that they can escape from their painful childhood.  They desperately need hope.  Today I watched them dance, sing and enjoy the presence of a living God.   In all their desperation, they turn to the God of Hope.   It gave me a glimpse of Heaven once again.