My first medical mission trip was to Haiti in 2000. The poverty was staggering. As we flew in to Port-au-Prince, I remember the overwhelming thought that the city looked like a war zone from above, but it wasn’t. The blue water of the Caribbean turned a dirty brown as it flowed into the harbor. After landing, we were met by throngs of people at the airport wanting to carry our bags for money. We made our way through this gauntlet to the buses that took us to our hotel. The streets of the city were scattered with trash. Raw sewage flowed in the ditches. I noticed that all the electric wires over the streets had numerous wires spliced into them. Walking along the streets were women with huge loads of charcoal, eggs and all sorts of other items on their heads. Outside the entrance to the hotel stood armed guards. Graffiti covered the walls but once inside everything changed. It was like a garden oasis in the midst of squalor. There was color in contrast to all the browns and greys of the streets. The green of large plants with brilliant flowers in bloom was almost shocking. The blue of the pool in the center of the courtyard was peaceful and calm compared to the constant motion outside. The people of the city were locked out of this little piece of respite that most weren’t even aware existed.

Everyday we went out to set up medical brigades in schools and churches through the city and surrounding villages. We were accompanied by several Haitian pastors and young men who helped with interpreting and general crowd control. We became quite fond of many of them. One of the pastors was diabetic and he asked many questions trying to educate himself on the disease. He had a glucose meter someone had given him at his home and asked if we could make sure he was using it correctly. After clinic was completed for the day, one of our nurses and I went with him to his home. We piled into his dented but functional little car for the short trip. As we walked from the car, children played makeshift games of football (soccer). One boy had a basketball and had rigged up a hoop of sorts to play. I called to him, “Michael Jordan?” “No,” he said, “Iverson.” I was surprised by his knowledge of American sports.

The pastor led us down narrow stairs into his home. It was more like an apartment connected to numerous others that terraced down the hillside. He was proud to show us his place. It was clean and neat. He even had a refrigerator and electricity although we knew the power was intermittent at best. Even in our hotel the power would randomly go off and on.

After we completed our one-on-one diabetic coaching, he drove us back to our hotel. His niece accompanied us. We invited them both to join us for dinner since the hour was late and we knew as a diabetic, he needed to eat. At first they were reluctant but conceded. When we entered the front of the hotel, we were promptly stopped because of our guests. We had to do quite a bit of convincing to the guards to let them in. Upon walking in to the courtyard, we could see the awe on their faces. As we sat for our meal together, they were noticeably uncomfortable. They didn’t have any idea how to navigate a buffet. We had to encourage them to take what they wanted from the wide selection of food. They were strangers to our world and felt out-of-place being here. When they left, I felt guilty that I was privileged to stay.

Someday we will all be invited to a Great Banquet by our king, Jesus. The ones originally invited will shirk the meal and will make excuses for not coming. Then the Lord will invite the people from the streets to join in. They will celebrate with great feasting on that day. The ones who felt left out on earth will never be needy again in Heaven.

When the massive earthquake hit Haiti in 2010, this pastor who broke bread with me back in 2000, was the first person on my mind. I sent prayers heavenward for him, not knowing if he at that moment was with the Lord. I still don’t know what happened to him but my hope is to meet him again someday at the Lord’s Great Banquet. No one will feel out-of-place but everyone will be welcome on that day. On this Thanksgiving, remember our brothers and sisters throughout the world who don’t have the blessing of food in plenty as we do. Share a meal with them if you can physically or through donations to a food pantry. Someday we will all be sitting together at the same table with the Lord.