Never Alone

Being in any Haitian church on a Sunday requires a lot of patience from those of us who like short and to-the-point services. I always try to avoid the first hour or so, when the Sunday school part takes place. Sunday school is the time during which memorization of Bible verses is done, verses that so many of the Haitian Christians have readily available at any occasion that calls for it.

In my youth, memorization was a part of our Sunday night routine. It was a time when my siblings and I had to memorize Psalms that had to be recited in school, the next morning during the first hour of class. Each student had to stand up at their desk and spout out the stanza, that our teacher had selected from our hymn book for that week. We were graded by how good we did it. It was quite an experience, I must say, because we went to a poor inner city school where many of the kids used God’s name more to curse than in any other way. Up until the moment that it was my turn, I would be nervous, anxiously waiting.  Once I was done, I would, in a more relaxed way, enjoy, the occasional hilarious, butchering of the lyrics by kids that had no clue of their meaning.

Anyways, in later years, I did not spend much time trying to learn Bible verses by heart. Early on in Haiti, I was once amazed to listen to a ten-year old blind boy, who, according to the leader of the church, had memorized the entire New Testament and all of the Psalms. The boy was teaching the other children the verses in one of our feeding centers. Although I often wished that I had that ability, I never put any effort in it.

On a Friday just recently, I woke up early with a strange urge to read Psalm 23; for those of you less familiar with that, it is the well known “the Lord is my Shepherd” Psalm. Not only did I read it, but it felt like I had to memorize it. And although I did not quite understand where this feeling came from, I did it. I even studied some websites explaining the use of phrases like “the valley of the shadow of death,” which are not exactly terms that we, in modern times, use a lot. The consensus was that it meant something like a very bad place or time in our lives. When I was done, I knew it by heart.

At seven thirty that morning, after breakfast, I continued to work on the project I was doing for a couple of friends at their house. Three hours later, I fell off of a ladder, fracturing one of my vertebrae. In that split second when visions of being paralyzed in a wheelchair flashed before me, I realized that I was powerless to change the outcome and waited for the impact with the ground. Then I understood!

“Even when I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me.”

Even when I write this I am still recovering, and it looks like I will be alright, but I wanted you to be witness of the strange and wonderful promise in these words. I am never alone.