The
Setting: The i-Team made its
annual pilgrimage to the Northwest Haiti Christian Mission in the beautiful
region of mountainous northwest
The
Witch Doctor: Clégène Derival Casimir was born in 1944,
tumultuous times throughout the world.
But little did he know that he’d be in the western hemisphere’s poorest
country, one ravaged by colonialism and subsequent tyrannical rule. Many of his fellow countrymen would grow up
to not only embrace, but also worse yet, be in bondage to Voodoo practice. After all, it was the way of many of his African
ancestors whose demonic ways was one of the few things they could bring on the
seemingly lifeless boats sailing out of the Gold Coast and
In a spiritual sense though, Clégène is
absolutely no different than any of us.
He, like us, was born with a free will, the will to either accept the
Gospel of Jesus Christ on faith, or deny it.
In spite of his strong Christian heritage, consisting of both mother and
father adhering strongly to their Christian faith and raising their children in
the fear and admonition of the Lord, he chose to reject Christ and live a
self-indulgent life. Before he was
finally married 10 years ago by the Baptist pastor of his parents’ home church
in
Is it any surprise that Clégène fell into
Voodoo not only as a way of life, but as a means to support his families along
his journey to certain death? What faith
he had, from his Christian heritage, ebbed and flowed like the tidal waters
rolling in and out from the Straits of Tortuga at his coastal
New
Year’s Day 2008, A
Turning Point:
Clégène arrived in mid-morning and sat on
the bench with about 15 Haitians waiting to give their medical histories. As usual, I greeted them in Creole and got
them smiling and laughing in amazement at my simple, yet sincere attempt to
connect. I prayed for them all in French
and cut straight to asking them if they were all believing
Christians. Almost in unison, they all
chimed in “yes”, with the sole exception of Clégène. His honesty moved me as he responded that he
was not yet a believer. So our eyes and
smiles connected as though each of our radars were “locked on”. I asked him, “Why not?” He retorted, “Because I’m not ready, you see
I have a problem of how I’m going to support my family.”
By this point, there were three noteworthy
discernments the Holy Spirit had given me, by just the way Clégène talked and
looked at me. First, I sensed he had
probably lived the life of a con, but knowing nothing of his background at this
point. Second, there was a spiritual
hunger in his eyes. Third, he was being
prompted by the Lord of Lords to speak to me boldly and honestly. As our discussion in French continued, his
truthfulness revealed not only his Voodoo practice, but also an amazing
knowledge of scripture as I shared Bible verses pertaining to the Gospel. Humanly, I was stumped. So I urgently asked Mary and Susanne (dear
sisters in Christ from my home church) who were running the eye chart exams
behind us, to put the whole matter to intentional prayer. Soon, I followed Clégène to the clinic where
he would see the ophthalmologists. Not
knowing what to do, this is where God took my mouth over completely.
A totally blind, old man sat next to Clégène
and I determined by our conversation in Creole that he was a Christian. Taking his left hand and placing it on
Clégène’s right thigh, I boldly asked this blind saint to pray for this Haitian
man sitting at his left, to pray that he would accept Jesus today. In the same breath, and on my knees, I turned
to Clégène and looking straight into his eyes asked permission to pray for
him. Without hesitation, he agreed. The French prayer words descended from the
high Heavens as I laid my hands upon him. Praying that he would accept the Gospel of
Christ right then and there, I shared both my love and God’s love for him. Head bowed and reciting John 3:16, I
broke uncontrollably into tears. My
prayer ended saying these words, “These are not my tears, but the tears of
Jesus who is in me, and who died for you and cried for you upon the cross,
amen.” As I looked up, still weeping, he
opened his eyes, tears falling down his right cheek. (Three days later I learned that God had
pierced his heart at this moment; I suppose much like Christ’s eyes penetrated
Peter’s spirit after his third denial.)
Halleluiah! But for the moment,
he was steadfast in his refusal to pray the prayer and accept Christ. He wanted to know two things: how much longer
I would be in
We talked at length about faith and we
read Matthew chapter six from Pastor (and dear friend) Ferdinand’s French Bible. After glorious reading and discussion of
God’s word and how it applied to Clégène’s circumstances, we were ready to
pray. From the dining area, we moved to
the beautiful mission prayer tower made of stone stained glass. Within the mighty tower, Joyce and Gene from
upstate
The team was assembled; we contacted
Clégène and organized our plans for what was supposed to be a half hour’s trip
through the large mission town of Saint Louis du Nord, across the river and up
the coastal road to the
The warfare
began with a vengeance as we approached the river on the edge of town. Because of the abundant rain for the prior 36
hours, the river was so high and wide that not even the largest of transport
trucks were crossing, much less ½ ton tap-taps like ours. Furthermore, the Haitian translator felt too
sick to continue as it was inevitable that the only way to Bonneau would
involve traversing the swollen and swift river by foot. Two down!
So we rolled up our pant legs, prayed, and went linked arm in arm and by
the Spirit. Reaching the east bank, we
were quite a spectacle, the recipients of ample snickering and staring by the
abundant Haitian bystanders. Within
minutes, the remaining six of us were elbow-to-elbow and fused at the hips to
at least ten or twelve additional Haitians who were as determined as us to
press on eastward via tap-tap to their respective destinies. Arguably, you’ve not experienced
We proceeded along the coastal road
through flooded tidal creek bottoms, by numerous hamlets, at one point through
the crashing ocean waves, before ascending the picturesque green hills
overlooking the magnificent Haitian coast.
The rain and cloud covered mountains behind loomed as a dark backdrop to
the stark scenery. Thirty minutes and
untold stops later, we arrived in Bonneau.
We were immediately greeted by an elder of the
Then we passed the house of one of Clégène’s
sons. Its entrance was riddled with
telltale evidence of Voodoo worship, namely a shrine made of a wooden cross and
covered with various idols and satanic signs.
Sensing the presence of evil spirits, I fervently prayed as we approached
Clégène’s compound minutes later. His
property was equally well marked by evidence of Satan worship. But now, the oppressive feelings I had,
dissipated as I looked up to see Clégène coming out to greet our party with an
air of confidence and peacefulness. At
this time, I believe the Holy Spirit was assuring me of his sovereign control
over what could have become an explosive situation. We greeted and he led our entourage into his
living room where we sat in simple straight-backed chairs. Those of his family who lived there had icy
countenances amongst their faces; it was clear that they were perturbed and
uneasy with our presence. Clégène had
shared over the phone that morning that he informed his wife and two priestess
(in Satan worship) daughters of his decision for Christ. His wife was gone for the
day on a business trip, but praise the Lord, was ready to return and
accept Christ. His daughters, on the
other hand, not only did not like it, but also appeared ready to reject
their very own father in his new belief.
At this point our Haitian Pastors and
Clégène did most of the talking. He affirmed his
decision for Christ and renounced Satan and the Voodoo worship while the
pastors praised the Lord and encouraged their new brother in Christ. Clégène then dialogued on the recent events
bringing him to his point of salvation.
He shared his Christian testimony, which I’m convinced was as much for
his family to here than for us. He began with the story of how one of his
Christian nieces called him recently form Port au
Prince. She had shared about a dream in
which she saw him going to another Voodoo Doctor for some kind of help. But in the dream, the second Doctor had no
power to do any thing for Clégène, absolutely nothing. (Dreams in Haitian culture are most often
interpreted as the truth.) So she
pleaded with him to give up the Satan worship which he had turned to for the
fifth time in his life after having rejected any faith he may have had or
thought he had since being a young teenager.
His niece’s dream was truly a “wake up” call.
Then he shared the story of the prayer and
tears the day we met. He recognized that
the Holy Spirit was changing his heart.
Finally, he confirmed his faith and expressed his desire to destroy all
the symbols and idols of Voodoo worship in and around his home. Our entourage lifted him up in prayer. Then I broke my silence, and boldly
proclaimed the Gospel to his speechless family members gathered in front of us. I shared my vision that they would all come
to faith and gave them an opportunity to respond the invitation, but they all
held firm in their rejection of Christ.
So we proceeded to the back room of the
house, in to what I’ll call Satan’s den.
There we encountered a table used for an altar with a pile of voodoo
stuff lying in the earthen pit beneath the altar. In it were numerous bottles used for blood
and urine, remnants of animal sacrifices, figurine-like objects symbolic of
victims, other idols, and to my utter dismay, a human skull!
Voodoo
in Flames: I was almost petrified, but
intent on fervent prayer as the saints, with Clégène’s diligent assistance,
began a systematic dismantling and removal of all the Voodoo. It was placed in baskets and hauled to what
became a large pile in
front of the house and under a large tree enshrined with Voodoo
itself. From the house we moved to the
steep forested hillside behind where Clégène presented us two ancient trees
riddled with Voodoo nails and signs of innumerable demonic ceremonies. Their barks were severely charred by the
evidence of animal sacrifice by fire.
With a machete and claw hammer, the pastors hacked and pried the Voodoo
nails from the gargantuan wooden and living shrines. More bottles, aerosol cans, and all remnants of evil stuff were
transported up the hill to the heap of rubbish.
As the final nails were removed from the large tree in front, fuel was
poured upon the pile and set fire. As we
watched a
towering inferno, the saints in our midst began chanting and praising the Lord
of Lords. All believers joined and
clapped our hands to the beat of the praise.
All Satan could muster in defense of his stuff, now engulfed in flames,
was a vengeful mockery and taunting of the saints led by Clégène’s own
daughters and grandchildren. I watched
Clégène stand proudly, I believe, but with Christ-like humility as his very own
blood and flesh blasphemed the Lord and attempted to ridicule him in his
genuine saving faith. Soon, there was
nothing but a pile of worthless, harmless ashes, charred bones and broken bottles. Years of Satan worship were prayerfully
behind him for eternity. Whereas I was
somewhat fearful for Clégène’s safety if we left without him, he bid us
farewell with a peace of mind that he would be safe for a couple of days.
New
Life in Christ: “…..He who began a good work in you will
carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.” Philippians 1:6
Let us all pray that Clégène’s profession
is real and that the Holy Spirit will enable him to lead his entire
family to saving faith in Jesus Christ.
This story is dedicated to my beloved wife, Kelli,
who supported me in prayer while making my second journey to northwest
As
a humble servant in Christ,
Andy
Gibbs
Member
of the 2007/2008 i-Team
andy.gibbs@vosslighting.com