Trey H. Little

Sermon Text:  Psalm 62: 1-2

November 14, 2010

Albany, Texas

“He Alone Is My Rock”

Turn with me to Psalm 62:1-2—incidentally, while we were in Haiti we had a Scripture verse(s) for every day.  They were printed on a card so we could carry them around with us and reference the promises of God throughout the day—needless to say there were many times when we needed to be reminded.  Like Thursday night—it was about 8:45 at night—we had just finished our last surgery—we were hungry and wanted to go grab something to eat—we thought we were done.  Until the shout from the ER came down the hall—a man who had had a motorcycle accident had just been brought in—no one other hospital would see him—the tip of his nose was practically ripped off—he had a huge cut above his eye—he needed medical attention.  But we were tired—we were hungry—we weren’t even really there to do this kind of thing.  But Dr. Rathjen said he would do it and I assisted.  After we had finished stitching him up—we began to clean up—and there, lying on the floor of the room, was a white card—our verse for that day—Proverbs 19:21:  “Many are the plans in a man’s heart, but it is the Lord’s purpose that prevails.”

Psalm 62: 1-2 was our text for Wednesday.

Listen now to the word of God. 

            What would it be like?  Would I see the immense devastation, pain, hurt, brokenness and chaos that I saw in January?  What about the hurricane—will I be caught in the aftermath of flooding and mudslides?  What about Cholera—how prevalent is it—will I be exposed to it—will I catch it?  What will I see?  What will I do? 

            That was my train of thought as I rushed out of town a week ago.  Those were the questions that stirred my soul as I drove to Dallas in preparation to travel back to Haiti on Saturday morning.  I joined nine others, Doctors and Nurses, and our team of ten arrived in Haiti early Saturday afternoon.  It didn’t take long for me to realize that some things were still chaotic—particularly in regards to customs in the airport.  After several hours of sitting and waiting for our luggage and supplies to be cleared—we ended up only able to take personal items—none of the medical supplies we had brought were released. 

But during the “waiting game” I was able to watch the life going on around me—vendors on the road across from the airport—selling cold drinks and single cigarettes.  Two men sitting at a make shift table playing a game of cards.  A baggage handler wearing a red Texas Rangers baseball cap.  Children begging for anything—whatever they could get—they just wanted something to hold on to.  But what really brought me back to the reality of where I was—was the Scripture reference (Psalm 94:17) I saw on the side of one of the “tap, taps” (equivalent to our taxis—called “tap, taps” because when you want them to stop you just “tap, tap” on the side. 

Psalm 94:17 says:  “Unless the Lord had given me help, I would soon have dwelt in the silence of death.”

That put it into perspective for me—in the midst of piles of rocks there was still a longing and need for the Rock.  Even though eight months had passed—the scars were still very fresh and the wounds (both figuratively and physically) had not yet completely healed.  Everything was not “better.”  Everyone had not “moved on.”  And there we were—smack dab in the middle of it—trying to figure out exactly how we might give hope.

Then it dawned on me—right there in the blowing dust and echoing of car horns—we are not much different.  We may have running—CLEAN—water; we may get to decide when and if we want to sleep in a tent; we may have the luxury of events like yesterday’s Bazaar where we can gather and eat fresh, delicious food until our bellies are full.  But—when it comes to what is below the surface—we are not much different—unless the Lord had given us help we too soon would have dwelt in the silence of death.

You see, within each of us, regardless of our nationality—there resides a soul.  A soul that longs for rest, security, hope, help, stability and life—and He alone is the One who can give us that!

What condition is your soul in this morning?  Is your soul restless?  If so, turn to the Lord—because in God and God alone we will truly know the rest that is restful.  The rest that is energizing.  The rest that is life giving.  The rest that can be present in the midst of chaos.  The rest that filled my soul this past week in Haiti.

When I returned from my trip in January I told you about 6 year-old little Johnnie.  Johnnie had been left out alone for several days after the earthquake until a missionary who was working for a local orphanage found him and brought him to the hospital.  His femur was badly broken on his left leg and thankfully our team was able to successfully repair his leg.

Well, you are not going to believe who I was reunited with this past week—Little Johnnie.  The same orphanage that had come to his aid in January also brought him back to the hospital to have the plate and pins that were put into his leg then, removed.  But for me—it was the most surreal moment—as broken as my heart was in January for Little Johnnie it was filled with joy when I saw him again.  I learned he had a twin brother and older bother who both were killed in the earthquake.  But also, I learned that in June he was reconnected with his real parents.  I was able to pray with them and Johnnie.  We were able to visit together.  

That is a God thing!  He alone could orchestrate something as farfetched as that.

He alone could bring together ten people, many of whom had never met one another, and place them in a hospital in Haiti and use each of them for His glory.  He alone could fill our hearts with such a joy to serve that it didn’t matter if we ate pop tarts or drank coffee out of a soup can or took cold showers or didn’t have all the comforts of home at our finger tips.  He alone could use those we thought WE were going to bless—to bless us.  He alone could touch the hearts of others to contribute transportation to and from Haiti; medical supplies, toys, blankets, and beautifully sweet “Get Well Soon” cards that would bring smiles to all who received them.  He is able to do alone what we could never do alone—but I am convinced He desires for us to join Him.

Renena was a little girl we met in January.  She had her left leg amputated from the knee down.  But what struck me about her was the fact that even in the midst of the loss of her leg she never lost her smile.

Well, we were able to be reunited with her on this trip.  In fact, we were able to go to her house.  We took her and her family various items that had been collected—sleeping mats and covers, toys, sidewalk chalk—wow, what a hit that was.  But what I learned in visiting with her father was that her leg was crushed when the building above her crumbled down while she was sitting outside doing her school lessons.  What I also learned is that she is still scared to sleep inside.  Amazingly enough, for less than $12,000 U.S. dollars her block house can be rebuilt and would still probably be less square footage than most of our living rooms.  But you know what—nothing is bigger than her smile—and nothing meant more to me than to see it again with my own eyes.

Friends, I am humbled and thankful for the opportunity given to me to go serve.  But at the end of the day—I am once again convicted of the reality that we are not much different.  Within all of us there exists a longing to be fed when we are hungry; to be comforted when we are fearful; to have a drink when we are thirsty; to be healed when we are sick; to be loved when we feel unlovable; to be washed clean when we are dirty; to be heard when the world seems to be deaf to our cries; and to be given rest when we are just worn out from trying to do it all alone. 

And so I still wonder:  What will it be like in Albany tomorrow?  Will I see the immense devastation, pain, hurt, brokenness and chaos?  What will I see?  What will I do?  What will you see?  What will you do?

Yet—in the midst of the unknown there remains within us a Known—no matter the lack of answers—God is still God and no matter what—“He alone is our rock and our salvation; he is our fortress”—and we will be taken care of.  And so with that—we go!

AMEN.