The voodoo drums were pulsating their rhythmic cadence with a frenzied pitch echoing through the valley and wafting their way through the windows of our home in Haiti. The mystical mutterings of the voodoo priests invoking the spirits to protect the crops of the people or any number of other requests remained a mystery. The only thing I could hear was the beat of the drums. Should I be afraid? What impact would this religious ritual have on me and my family? The sound of the drums would rise and fall like the ebb and flow of the sea. Loud and then soft. Soft and then loud. No pillow over your ears in the dark of the night could silence the sound of these drums. Believe me I tried.
Living in this new country with our new found friends was both a joy and an adventure. They had so welcomed us and had now become our family. Haiti had become our home. Why were we there? Mom and dad had been assigned as missionaries and we were obviously a willing part of the package. Poised atop a hillside overlooking the city of Port-au-prince, not too far from the Canape Verde Hospital, on this night I learned the real difference between religious ritual and meaningful relationship. Between light and darkness. It seemed that on this particular evening the drums sounded even louder than before. Or at least that was the way it appeared to me. In the theater of my mind I could only imagine what was going on as these worshipers with a fervor known only to them invoked the spirits.
That was it. I had to know. I threw the covers off, marched like a teenager on a mission into mom and dad’s bedroom across the hall. I said two words that, as far as I was concerned, was really the understatement of the year. ”I’m scared.” I think my heart was beating in my chest as loudly, if not louder, than those drums. How could they possibly sleep with all this going on? It was beyond me. What about all those spirits that were floating around? Would one of them find their way up the hill and through one of our windows? Dad and mom realized that I, with my most inquisitive mind, needed some answers. Dad slowly sat up on the side of the bed and patiently posed this question, “Diane, what do you hear?” Now what kind of question was that? I was in their room in the middle of the night because I was hearing the sound of the voodoo drums. I know he had to hear it, too. He continued his discourse with mother in her quiet gentle way lending her support to this most important “teaching moment.” I responded, “Dad, I can’t sleep because those voodoo drums are keeping me awake. It’s just plain scary.”
Dad was such a wise man and I will always be grateful for this moment because it was then he taught me a powerful truth that to this day I live by it. He posed yet another question, “Is that the only thing you are hearing? Listen closely.” Next door at the Bourdon Church of God on the campus of our mission compound there was an all night prayer meeting going on. You could hear the people praying. Yes. There it was like a light bulb being turned on in a darkened room filled with scary images being dispelled by the light. Prayer. It was an all pervading force that drove back the fear that I felt. It brought a calm and a courage into my spirit. Their prayers filled the atmosphere and invaded the valley impacting not only me but I believe an entire nation. Suddenly, the sound of faith began to grow louder than the sound of those fear invoking drums. Those precious ones gathered in that little church on a hillside in Haiti were a mighty force in God’s plan to teach me a life-changing truth. Dad said, “When God’s people pray it moves heaven and invades the powers of darkness with the light of His power which is far greater.” He continued, “Diane, you never have to fear because it is impossible for anyone to curse what God has blessed.” Oh, good. No little evil spirits were going to get through our windows.
To be sure we need not fear the future because God is already there. That’s what a relationship with Him is all about. Not religion. Not ritual. But Relationship. Thank God for the light. Thank you, dad and mom, for teaching me the difference. What’s that I hear? It’s the drumbeat of heaven – prayer.
