Around 5 p.m. is my absolute favorite time of day. That’s when we’ve just finished teaching our English-as-a-Second-Language class for young adults, and I head outside to play with the kids who are crowding around the porch, waiting for class to end.
I catch my breath as I gaze at the beauty of the mountains that surround me. The air is cool, which in Haiti is a big deal. Haitian kiddos are playing football, singing songs and tossing Frisbees, and I join the action.
My Creole only takes me so far. I know names and faces and can ask how they are doing: “Como ou ye?” But beyond that, my communication is limited to big smiles, tickles, giggles and laughter.
Everyone is outside. We are one community, living together as one body. Older sisters and brothers tightly grasp their phones as they halfway engage in the setting and halfway listen to their favorite rap song. Little sisters fight and throw rocks. There’s always someone who is not wearing pants.
Out of nowhere, I feel a “bonk” on my head. I look up to catch the gaze of Dave, who looks equally worried and embarrassed to have hit the Blanc in the head with a Frisbee. In a moment of whimsy, I decide to really play up the moment.Dropping to the ground in complete melodrama, I play dead. Laughter erupts from around me, and I hear feet flooding towards my pretend-limp body. I smile and stand back up and toss the disk back.
It’s in that moment I realize the gospel knows no bounds. The gospel doesn’t need me to know fluent Creole for me to share God’s unending love with his people. Sure, as I study the language and engage with the people of Haiti, I will learn more Creole. But the point is not what I can do, but what Almighty God already is doing. He is living inside of me, and his love is overflowing. My God is more powerful than language barriers.