Don't Miss the View

Note from Haiti, Part Two.

We were wrapping up dinner after a long day of traveling when my boss mentioned taking motorcycles up the mountain the next day. I was really only curious as to who would be driving, but I figured it couldn’t be that hard to drive myself. I didn’t ask any questions and quickly headed up to bed. The next morning after shoveling down granola bars and coffee we grabbed our bags, filled them with water filters and were ready for the day. Then I saw it…a group of 12 Haitian men all sitting on (really old looking) motorcycles.

My fight or flight instincts were raging and I was internally ready to run away as fast as possible. I did my best to outwardly look calm. After all I was there for missionary work, so I could not let myself appear afraid.

Before we even walk over to the bikes the men surrounded the group of us young gals, grabbing our arms trying to lead us to their bikes. Again, red flags are flying all around me and I’m about ready to bolt. Before I can think too hard about it, I’m sitting on the back of an old bike with my driver (who by the way speaks zero English and I speak zero Creole) ready to leave. I’m handed a surgical mask to keep the dust and exhaust fumes out of my nose and our biker gang weaves through the crowded market streets until we reach the foot of the mountain.

I don’t think I can adequately explain to you the conditions on this mountain road. Actually, take that back, there was no road involved. It was straight up mountain rocks and boulders that, by some miracle, these janky motorcycles were driving over. TWO HOURS up a mountain on a motorcycle. I fell off twice on the way up and once on the way down. It was quite miserable.

I was not a pleasant passenger. My driver kept instructing me to scoot forward on the bike seat. I’m obviously thinking “um, heck no! I would like to keep as much distance between us as possible, I don’t know you, I don’t trust you, I’ll stay back here.”  Not only that, but the closer I scooted on the bike seat, the less control I had over my position on the bike—my feet couldn’t be firmly planted and I couldn’t hang on to bike properly. I later found out that the reason he wanted me to scoot forward was so the bike weight would be at the front end and we could get up the steep mountain easier.

This is such a picture of how I treat the Lord. I just don’t trust Him that much. He’s asking me to just scoot forward and hold on for the ride, but I fight to do that. I like being in control. But, not letting God (or my Haitian motorcycle driver) have control makes it much harder. The Lord is constantly trying to tell me, “I know you aren’t in control, but if you just hold on to Me and trust Me, it’s going to be a lot easier to get through this painful ride. Trying to control this yourself is making it harder for both of us.”

Still, I spent the majority of the trip internally screaming every curse word I could think of. A few times we would have to quickly jump off the bikes and push them up some of the rougher terrain and multiple times I fought to just keep walking rather than get back on the bike. I’m fine, I’m in shape, and I run (sometimes). I can make it up the mountain without the bike. Every time I saw someone in front of me jump off the bike, I instantly jumped off with them. We were all in pain and the few seconds of relief were worth it, even if it meant it would take longer to get to the top. How many times in my walk with the Lord I look at what everyone else is doing and gauge how I’m doing based on them?

“Oh look, other people are walking, that means it’s okay for me to walk. Oh, other people aren’t riding the bike, I think I’ll jump off for a few minutes too.”

When in reality God is saying, “Get back on the bike—stop looking at everyone else and look at Me. You are making this process take so. much. longer. because you keep trying to do it yourself.” Yes, I could easily walk up that mountain by foot. But, it would take three times as long and I would be exhausted by the time I got there. Sometimes trusting the Lord is painful and uncontrollable, but it teaches me to rely on His strength and not my own.

We FINALLY made it to the top. I could have kissed the ground. Unfortunately, that relief was met with instant horror when I realized we were going to have to ride back down.

We had a couple hours to spend up on the mountain. We met with families and visited some schools. My stomach was in knots the whole time praying silently there was another way down.

Looking back, I realized I let the fear of the pain keep me from experiencing the joy of being on top of the mountain. I know what the ride to the top feels like, and I know eventually I have to go back down so instead of enjoying the top, I fear that I won’t get to stay there forever. How many times in my life have I put up walls because I was afraid of getting hurt again? How many people have I pushed away in fear of getting rejected again? How many times have I let my previous hurt keep me from just enjoying life?

This is what being on the mountaintop looked like: there were schools full of children hearing the Gospel and responding. There were families getting clean water for the first time. I was so close to missing the beauty of it all because I was afraid of the pain that would inevitably come again soon.

And then, the time came to descend the mountain and I almost started crying. I’m not even being slightly dramatic. We were hitting boulders so hard the wind would get knocked out of me. I swear one time I actually blacked out for a second from pain. I wanted to close my eyes the whole way down. It was even worse than the way up. But then I opened my eyes and looked at the view and at that moment I heard the Lord say,

“Meghan I know it’s painful right now, but if you keep closing your eyes and wishing for it to be over, you’re going to miss the beauty of this view you may never see again.”

He wasn’t just talking about motorcycles and mountains; He was talking about the last year of my life. How many times have I prayed for this season to be over? How many times have I just wished the pain would go away? How many times have I just stuck my head down and tried to make it through the next task without stopping to listen to the Lord and enjoying it?

The view on the way down was something my words and pictures don’t do justice. I didn’t notice it on the way up because I was so concerned about getting to the top as quickly and painlessly as possible. I can’t help but wonder: how much beauty have I missed because I was concerned about getting to my destination as quickly and painlessly as possible?

I don’t want to do that anymore. I want to just grab on, trust the Lord and enjoy the view from the ride. No, I don’t have control when I do that. And yes, it can be painful.

But, what a story I get to tell.

A couple days later we were on a boat, and I looked up at the mountain. The same treacherous mountain I never wanted to go near again. But, it was beautiful. I remembered the pain of getting to the top, and the pain coming back down, but I also remembered the view and thought, you know what? I’d do it again.

Always, Meghan XO