1 Samuel 10:9 As Saul turned to leave Samuel, God changed Saul's heart, and all these signs were fulfilled that day.
This is an interesting passage. God is using the prophet Samuel to speak some hard truths into Saul's life. To sum it up (and oversimplify) God wants Saul to do some things that Saul doesn't want to do. Samuel is being used by God to lay out this new plan for Saul's immediate future. Interestingly enough though, Saul isn't picking up what Samuel is putting down. There isn't even an argument. Its simple. After hearing this powerful message from God's anointed prophet, we are left with the impression that Saul says kindly, "No thanks."
Yet the story here is not about Saul's unwillingness to make a course correction in his life. No. The big idea is that God leans into Saul's heart, and changes it. Like flipping a light switch. God's response is immediate and powerful. Its as though God says, "Well I gave you a chance to make the right decision on your own. But I'm not going to wait around for you to get you head straight. So, I'll just change your mind for you and point you in the right direction." Wow. This really blows up some of the Free Will vs. Predestination theological discussions I had in college. Without giving those from each camp the opportunity to drag me behind the shed and rough me up, I want to share a story from my recent trip to Haiti.
For several months our partners in Haiti (heartlineministries.org) have been negotiating with gang leaders in Cite Soleil. We are asking for their permission to sponsor 50 children from their areas to attend school. This should be a very straightforward proposition. In an area ravaged by poverty, violence and ignorance, who wouldn’t want to give children an opportunity to rise above these circumstances? And yet, it’s not that simple. Our request becomes a power play where the local gang members want complete control over the money.
It is at this time that our team enters the picture. A small group of us had come down to Heartline to help finish up an office for the Mid-wife center and to oversee the purchase of the new property. In the midst of this work, John (the founder of Heartline Ministries) suggests we go with him into Cite Soleil to meet with the gang leaders to see if we could persuade them to accept our offer. “Great”, we say. Sounds like a plan.
When we drive into Cite Soleil it becomes immediately clear that there is a spiritual darkness present. Everything feels heavier. The air feels thicker. We park the truck and climb out. As the only white folks for miles—we draw quite a crowd. Young men begin filing into the street to check us out. Not one of them is older than 25. Each looks us up and down, all the while puffing up their chests. It is clear that we are not entirely welcomed here.
After a few minutes the “Leader” shows up and directs us to a building across the street. We will be meeting on the second floor of a very basic concrete block building. There is some confusion though. The door is locked and no one can find the key. A young man picks up a rock and begins bashing the lock. Under normal circumstances this would not feel strange. But standing in the middle of the street in 120 degree heat feeling fully exposed, the sound of the rock rebounding off the metal door sets my nerves on edge.
Finally the door is opened and the six of us are ushered up to a 10 by 10 foot room. Some time ago the room was used as a pregnancy clinic. Hanging on the wall are posters of women holding babies, breastfeeding and advertisements for condoms. It feels a little surreal. There are small benches lining the walls that we sit on. Once seated, about ten Haitian young men file in. We are packed in shoulder to shoulder. It’s cramped, hot and sticky. The heat index in the room easily must have hit 130 degrees. To add to our physical discomfort, one of the young men walks across the room, pulls a latex glove out of a box and begins methodically pulling it on and off his left hand. The strange sound of latex snapping through his fingers adds a “special” level of tension to the proceedings.
After opening with a prayer the negotiations begin. John lays out again the vision for sponsoring 50 children from the area to attend school. It’s a solid and basic presentation. We are inviting the gang leaders to select the children, then we will provide school uniforms, books and supplies, register with the school and feed the children one meal a day. That’s it. The leaders take this all in without interrupting. When John is finished they explain how important this project is to them, how much they respect John, and how we need to move in small steps to begin to trust one another. Everything is sounding great. It looks like we will be able to lock this thing down in a matter of minutes. There are smiles all around the room. Then they present their counter-proposal.
With straight faces they explain that they will not allow us to sponsor kids. Instead, they are requiring Heartline to foot the bill for an entire school that will take place in the very building that we are meeting in. The paper they hand us has an itemized list of the materials and labor needed to get this school up and running. John is bewildered. The idea of starting a school has never been mentioned before. None of us are quite sure what to make of it. John asks them where they plan on getting administrators and teachers. “We will be the Principal, teacher and administrators.”, says the leader pointing around at the ten 20 year olds packed into the room. This is clearly an absurd idea and to John’s credit he doesn’t laugh out loud. It becomes obvious though, that these men want money. The proposal of a school is a “Magoffin” to get Heartline to hand them over control of the money. They even go so far as to say that they will name the school after John. It’s all very strange.
John takes a moment to absorb it all. He then explains that it is not our intention to launch a school. We are only interested in sponsoring 50 children. We will not be providing money for them to open a school. This does not go over well. The smiles that were present just minutes ago have all been replaced with stern looks of displeasure. The mood in the room turns a distinctly negative corner. John is at a loss as to what more to say. The gang leaders are unwilling to move from their position, and we are unwilling to move from ours. Things are not looking good.
As if tensions weren’t high enough, men have begun gathering outside the building. Word has spread that “white folks” are in the area; and that usually means money is passing hands. The men outside are taking it as a personal affront that they have not been included in the discussions. They begin yelling, hollering and banging on the door. From inside the concrete oven that we are meeting in, it sounds like a riot is forming. This is not putting anyone at ease.
Our hosts begin slowly filing outside to try and mediate the situation. Within moments the six of us are left alone in our little cement cell. I lean over to John and ask, “Should we get out of here?” I don’t remember his exact reply, but it was something like, “Now is not a good time. We might get shot if we step out now.” The reality of the situation floods over me. We are not in the safest of situations. There is a very real possibility that things could turn dramatically south for the six of us.
I begin thinking through all the possibilities. My mind is now a little engine of options.
“If they break through, maybe we could fight our way out of the building. But wait, that still leaves us deep within Cite Soleil – not an option.” “If they break through, maybe they will want to hold us hostage. That’s not encouraging.” “If the leaders calm things down, then they can come in and escort us out. But they’re already frustrated with us. They don’t look like they are willing to do us any favors. Again, not an option.”
Finally, my mind settles on the only real option left – pray for God’s favor and intervention. It was abundantly clear that the only way we were going to make it out of our ten by ten foot hot box was if God’s Spirit intervened in a very real and specific way. Looking around the room at the other five guys, I could tell we had all reached the same conclusion. The fervent prayers being lifted up to God in that room felt almost tangible.
In the middle of the screaming and yelling taking place outside, one of the men asked if any of us would like a soda. It was clear that the offer met two goals for the gang leaders. One, it was their way of demonstrating that everything was under control (which it didn’t at all appear to be), and two, they wanted to see if we were cool headed enough to sit and drink a Coke in front of them. Several of our team initially turned down the offer until John half-jokingly leaned over and said, “If you don’t drink a soda, they might kill you.” John has a peculiar sense of humor some times. Needless to say, we each sucked down our Cokes quite greedily after his comment.
Several long minutes later, one of the young men that had been beating on the door came rushing into our room dripping in sweat and looking crazed. I was prepared for the worst. Yet, other than looking like a mad man, he went around nervously shaking all our hands then sat himself down on one of the benches. Soon after, the rest of the original group eased their way back into the room. It was at this point that a new representative began detailing again how they were only going to allow us to give them money for a school that they could run. The discussion was going nowhere. Back and forth we would go. Over and over John would explain that we were not interested in giving them any money and certainly were not planning on starting a school. Each of our refusals was met with increased tension and growing animosity. I was beginning to get more and more concerned with our ability to extricate ourselves from the situation. The eyes of the men in the room were turning colder and colder. Nothing was moving forward and we had nothing to bargain with. Leaning over to John I whispered, “I think its time we move in whatever direction gets everyone out of here in one piece.” He replied softly, “I agree.” The problem was that neither John nor anyone else knew how to do that.
Sitting there in that oppressive heat and tension I kept praying for God’s Spirit to move, for Him to give John the wisdom and words that would enable us to leave peacefully. Then in happened. John lifted his head up and said, “I think we are done here.” It was as though a wind gently blew through the faces, minds and hearts of these young hardened gang leaders. Their reply to John after two long hours of high tension, posturing and disagreement was, “Well, OK. We would be happy to do everything you are asking of us.” Wow. It was such an amazing and instantaneous change that it was apparent that God had entered in.
Like Saul with Samuel, God gave these young Haitian men the opportunity to make the right choice and get their heads around God’s direction. When it was obvious that they wouldn’t, He moved supernaturally to change their hearts. The vision that God had birthed in John was going to be fulfilled one way or another. Though from our human eyes it appeared that everything was falling apart, God’s plan was never truly in doubt. How amazing and humbling it is to know that the very hearts of men are within God’s control.
