There is a word for “white person” in almost every culture. In Kenya, I’d be a mzungu. In Mexico, I’m considered a gringo. If I’m in India–people would just assume I’m British. The word for white person in Kreyol is “blan”. I took blan to a new level…blan squared.

Ok, so I stand out a little bit.

It’s not enough to apply my SPF 45 sunscreen once an hour; the adorable Haitian kids have an obsession with rubbing my arm hairs and then smelling their hands. For some reason they can’t get enough of the combined scents of sweat and sunscreen. And, to top it off, the kids all think it’s hilarious.

Now that I’ve survived the Haitian sun, here are some tips on how to beat the heat:

• Wear a turtleneck everywhere you go. Sure, the average high temperature in Haiti in November is 92 degrees, but I heard the beatnik craze is about to sweep through the country in a big way.
• Carry an umbrella. I’m kind of a pessimist and I briefly considered joining the Boy Scouts in second grade, so I like to carry around an umbrella at all times. If someone stares at you strangely while you’re staying shady, just reply, “Looks like rain!”
• 

  Of course I wear my hat at night... I don't want to get a moonburn!

  Get a great hat. Thankfully, my wife bought a great hat for me in preparation for the trip that contained UPF 50+. I don’t even know what that means, but it kept me from coming back lobster-red. Plus, the Indiana Jones look gave me a boost of confidence just in case we came across any maniacal, evil genius in search of an ancient relic.

• Wear two turtlenecks. If you’re a blan like me, you can get a pretty brutal sunburn through one turtleneck. Two turtlenecks will make for a big sweatfest, but I don’t want to take any unnecessary risks.
• Pray for a solar eclipse. The last total solar eclipse in the U.S. was in 1979 and the next one is scheduled for 2017. There’s a chance we’ve overlooked the next one and could have a surprise eclipse. It could happen.
• Say no to sandals. They’re a death wish. Not only do you have to fend off attacks on your ankles from tiny little devil ants, but you could end up with feet looking like candy cane stripes. My solution? Ugg boots.

Now, those tips may not be super-practical, but they’ll keep you safe from harmful UV rays.

Despite my uberblanness, the people of Chambrun welcomed me with open arms. I will not forget Jestin, Zilannu, Mackendie, and all the other people in the village who manage to get by on an average of $100 US per year.

They have a gentle and steady courage that I can only hope to someday attain. I want to extend a personal thank you to all my friends in Haiti who didn’t look away when the sun reflected off my blazing white skin into their eyes.

How in the world were we going to get the truck un-stuck?

The truck stuck in a ditch. (Click to see a larger version of the panorama)

What we saw amazed us. First, all the kids from the tiny village of Chambrun came out to greet us and we quickly became friends with them, despite a language barrier. About forty people from Chambrun emerged from all over to help.

They cleared dirt with shovels. They got dirt on their hands and knees trying to dig out the back end of the truck. They found wood to wedge under the tractionless left front tire. They pushed and pushed. And pushed.  This truck wasn’t going anywhere.

The sun quickly dipped below the cactus-dotted horizon and it soon became dark. We used headlights from Pastor Pierre’s SUV to illuminate the problem.

For four hours, everyone worked together to get the truck moving again. Eventually, after a dozen attempts (and the help of a backhoe), all the pushing paid off. The whole community celebrated with shouts and dancing as the truck finally lurched free from the clutches of immobility.

The whole community came out to help!

What struck me about the whole situation that unfolded was how quickly everyone chipped in and rallied together. They knew the contents of this truck would provide practical help and a little bit of justice for the whole community, not just a select few, and everyone stayed until the job was done.

It reminded me of the first church described in Acts 2, where the general statement of unity probably read something like “we’re all in for each other, whatever it takes”.

This image of people coming together for the sake of a greater purpose makes me want to somehow capture this moment and bring it back to the U.S., where we may not even lift one finger to help our next door neighbor, who we don’t even know.

We may have been stuck in a rut for four hours, but I saw what true community looks like.  And it was awesome!

This is one of those stories.

To read all of the Weekend of Service articles, click here.

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Over the weekend, 3,000 people gathered to worship through serving others in need, substituting skirts for shovels and trading polo shirts for work gloves. The sun greeted each day as if God himself was smiling down on us, a divine seal of approval.

Everyone started the morning in Grace’s north parking lot, huddled together to keep warm. I saw families, entire small groups, and even people who had only been to Grace once or twice, cold, but eager to serve. The worship band kicked off the day with a rousing pair of songs that engaged our hearts and prepared us to go out as one body. Dave Rod’ commissioned us, then, as they say, it was on.

The Grace worship band in action.

I had the privilege of visiting close to a dozen project sites on Saturday and Sunday, and what I saw inspired me. I saw people sorting clothes for orphans. I watched a group launch themselves out into Indianapolis to pick up pizzas that would otherwise be discarded. A team of eighty people packaged 23,000 meals (by lunch) that will feed 760 kids in Haiti for a month. While visiting Third Phase, I saw two hundred Saturday volunteers buzzing around and working on all kinds of projects, from chopping wood to cleaning the pond. I watched all over at various project sites as people painted, cleaned, and served without inhibitions, not seeking an ounce of recognition, instead opting to humbly get their hands dirty in Jesus’ name. I honestly hope some of the volunteers will follow up with the organizations where they served and establish ongoing relationships with people in need.

Painting at Trinity Church in Indianapolis

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I noticed something interesting as each day unfolded; each project location slowly transformed from simply a place to get a job done into holy ground. I watched volunteers take seriously their charge to serve one of seventy organizations we partnered with, and, as they did, they began to share the same heartbeat for the people they served. Each mundane task had become extraordinary, and, I believe, God showed up in little and big ways at every location where people were serving.

This weekend, mundane things became beautiful; here, a donated bike sits in front of a mattress at Third Phase.

The scope and impact of these two days will have ripple effects in eternity. Each one of the thirteen thousand grocery bags of food picked up on front porches will feed families in need through the holiday season (by the way, the estimated amount of food collected was 257,000 pounds) . Every stroke of paint and classroom cleaned provides a small taste of justice to the down and out. Each prayer and petition lifted up to heaven was heard, and God responded in spades. Tiny seeds of justice were planted in the hearts of those who served.

Although the weekend itself isn’t an end to a means, what I saw gave me hope. These folks are highly skilled and well-educated, and their time is incredibly valuable. This large group of people— suburbanites, nonetheless—all showed up and made a big difference, and I hope it won’t stop after just one weekend.

If serving like this becomes a habit, we will no longer have to worry about our neighbors going hungry; if this kind of lifestyle catches on, watch out: we will see more and more of God’s kingdom here on earth, as it is in heaven.

As individuals continue to process the impact this weekend had on their lives, my prayer is that they stay engaged in serving others. How will you keep the Weekend of Service going?