I would climb into his pickup truck with plans to visit a school or a church or some other project he was working on. But people would be loading sacks of beans or tennis shoes into the back of his truck.
"What are those for?"
"A stop on the way. " He would say.
There was no one he didn't care for. No one he closed his doors too.
I was lucky to live in his home and witness him at work. Even to try to join it. There were always buildings under construction. Missionaries visiting and he would give the grand tour and raise more funds for the ministry. We'd visit remote villages and islands. Farm land and the port to pick up supplies. There were orphans in his home and school kids playing in the yard. And man, he would preach on Sunday.
He started his first church, then his second. He rode his bicycle to visit them all. He was a modern Paul. And I've never met anyone who shone the light of Christ into this world like he did.
On this day 19 years ago, he left this world. Meningitis took him and my heart was broken. He was still so young and had so many plans. But he was not afraid of death. He did dangerous things all the time. Not careless, but he lived in a way that made you know there were things more important than a long life.
His beautiful island, Haïti, is suffering. He is not there to help her. His light has passed to those he served.... including me.
It is a great privilege and responsibility to walk with someone who's light shone so brightly and to know it has been passed to you.
I see Haiti in the news and I think of him and the work undone. I think of the needs and I look at my two hands and I have a hard time explaining to myself why I haven't done more to help.
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