Rozo

When you read this blog post, we will have just finished celebrating the 223rd commemoration of Haitian Flag Day. This year, the air felt different.

In Haiti, we have a popular saying: “Nou se wozo, menm si nou pliye, nou pap kase” — loosely translated: We are reeds; though we bend, we do not break. The saying compares the Haitian people to a pliable reed that rises again even after facing adversities.

Flag Day, in my humble opinion, is one of the rare occasions where the Haitian community is celebrated, valued, or even seen.

Thus, seeing the decline in Haitian Flag Day posts — that once overwhelming expression of pride and celebration online — made me sad. These are people known for being cast down, but never destroyed, but someone behaved like the latter.

And something about the joy of a resilient people dissipating from my timeline tightened the valves of my heart. Though hungry, hopeless, or spat on, Haitians are known to unify quickly under the rhythm of the drums and find the resolve to celebrate one more time.

So if you had asked me then how my day went, the answer would have been — or perhaps should have been — not so good.

Still, even amid all those thoughts, my heart kept arriving at the same conclusion: though I may not understand everything at the moment, one truth remained in all things: God is good.

Do I always see His hand at work? No. Can I often predict His next move? No. Can I decipher His plan? No. Does His promise always seem to align with the rhetoric we know? No.

In fact, the bondage that still seems to follow one of the freest peoples feels deeply unfair.

Nevertheless, this truth remains: 

God is good.

And it is from that truth that I speak as well. 

I am fully acquainted with the emotions of feeling overlooked and undervalued, both as an individual and as part of this nation, so I often present my case before the throne.

Why? Why those people? Why this side of the island? Why the oppression? Why the constant bickering? Why the stripping away? Why such prolonged hollow depth?

In part, the answer is plain, but I still participate in the casting down of my yoke at His feet anyway. My heart often asks: When does it stop, Lord?

And worse, why does this feeling of insignificance seem to follow me on a more personal level because of my allegiance, as though the choice was ever mine?

And perhaps this is why the question reaches beyond nationality.

Maybe you are not of Haitian descent, but have become familiar with sinking feelings? Maybe you have had to ask God the hard why?

Let me guess His answer: 

Do you trust Me?

Here you are, feeling as though you have been thrown into a cold, damp room while the walls slowly close in around you. Every step forward seems to bring five steps back, and somehow, no matter how hard you try, the outcomes remain beyond your control.

Moments that, if you are honest enough to admit it, nearly cripple you. Days when your hope meter feels broken, and you sit exhausted, gasping for air.

Moments when you are on your last lap of strength, ready to throw in the towel, content with having fought a seemingly good fight.

In those moments, His answer can almost feel like a mind game.

And your honest reply: Lord, I trust You, but help me trust that You will carry me through.

You are not alone.

Understand that every Christian is either facing that moment, walking toward it, or has just overcome it.

Nonetheless, all can attest to this truth: God is good.

In His simple question lies the only answer capable of fueling us through the ebbs and flows of life: Trust Me.

So whenever you read this blog post, let it encourage you to do just that: 

Trust Him.

The chain of events surrounding your life may feel inherited from generations past, and its burden may feel deeply unsettling, but today the choice is yours.

Not necessarily to fight it off alone— if it were that easy, we would not still be having that conversation— but to trust the One who can strengthen you and who died so that you may overcome.

Stand up, Reed. 

Remember: Though you may be bending today, you can not break.

xoxo

Chris