In the Open Market: 110910

110910:

Today I started early.  4 am.  Wide awake.  Ready to go.

I went over to Adrien’s a little early, tried to work on his laptop to no avail, and ran a speed test on his internet.

.06 Mbps.

From there we met with the MH missionaries and left Ti  three different ministries in a unified mission to Cayes.

I learned alot.

But as we left, hours later, I’m stuck with a question.  

Is my mission to spend most of my day at the market, or most of my day traveling to and from the city for supplies?

How much time is consumed in just living?

Literally, I think I’m going to begin praying for provision to hire the trips to the markets.   I spend most of my time lost in translation right now anyway, learning silly things, like “what is this food, how much is it, how much is it here as opposed to Cayes,  how many goudes is 3 Haitian Dollars, divide by 5?  Did I ever mention I hate math?  

It’s fun, but it’s incredibly distracting to just carrying out my mission.  Tililene grew up here, she knows the market, and all the ladies there, and she knows exactly to the goude what something should cost and how much of it she needs to prepare the mea.  Me, I spend hours learning how to buy food, and literally minutes in discipleship with Benson. 

I toil for food and drink for the flesh, while dozens stand around me, hungry and thirsty in the spirit.  

Adrien showed me an Artesian well today, 300 feet deep, and my new source for water.   It’s about 5 miles away from the village, but the water is clear and cool, and I appreciate the man for showing me the location.  I would define it as grace, and mercy.  

I too know where there is a life giving well.  I know of water that can quench a man’s thirst for all eternity...and shouldn’t I be just as filled with grace?

Should I spend my time learning who bakes the best bread, or should I just be out, giving bibles?

Some are thinking, why not do both??

You’d have to see the market at Cayes.   Pure, absolute, anarchy, mixed in with unbelievable chaos.  It’s loud,  filled with shouts, honking horns, motorcycles clipping your elbows, sewage and runoff, and people in a hurry.   It’s where you’d go for rice, and you’re not just Sunday driving.  You’re constantly planning your route, your best way in and your quickest way out.  I’m left wondering how the apostles did it.  The bible says they preached in the markets.  

So where is my place?  So far I find the greatest peace on the mountain, and in the small villages, just in conversation.  It’s usually relaxed, it’s quiet (well, as quiet as Haiti gets) and it’s not pressured.  It’s in the getting to know eachother that I find peace, and the opportunity for ministry.

I don't know how that could happen at the market.  I know I need to be able to go, when and where I need to go.