The History of Mountain Faith Mission in Saut d’Eau

This is being written from the memory of a girl who was 13 years old in 1947.

I begin by bringing in a history of a Haitian man who came to see my father, Rev. Lee R. Carroll, when we lived about 4 miles from Cap Haitien, Haiti. Daddy was working under Rev. G.T. Bustin to fix up buildings on a property that Bro. Bustin had bought to start doing missionary work. This man’s name that visited was “Butler.”

Carroll picture

Pastor Carroll and his wife, Molly

Butler seemed to be a very pious, soft spoken man and he named a missionary that he had been working with. He brought a French poodle and wanted to sell it for $4.00. Mama and Daddy had never bought a dog, but knowing that Paul and I had little else, gave in and bought “Mickey” for us.

Daddy wanted to make sure that this man was sincere, (although he acted like he was) but just to make sure, Daddy sent a letter to this missionary and the missionary did not even wait to write a letter (and telegrams were not popular in those days as they cost money). Instead, he sent a telegram to Daddy with these two words on it: “Butler Volere” which means “Butler theif.” So Daddy dismissed him and later he was seen following police, handcuffed, walking on the road toward town. This happened in 1945.

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Mountain Faith Mission Children’s Home

I remember as the plane was descending into Port-au-Prince, I gasped at the sight that I saw. It was 2007, and although I had grown up hearing about Haiti, I wasn’t fully prepared for the reality. It was unlike any place I had ever visited before, almost like a scene out of a movie. It was only what I would see on television, and surely that wasn’t reality. But then I found myself in the middle of a country that I would soon fall in love with.

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Never Ceasing in Balumette

Sitting on a grassy hill about a mile and a half hike and dugout canoe ride across the Artibonite River is a concrete and block building.  It has a roof now, which has not always been the case.  This tiny building, by American standards, is where the church of Balumette meets for services.  If only we could see through the eyes and hear through the ears of the walls.  If we could feel the love for Christ in the tears which have fallen on the concrete floor.

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A Path to Humbleness

Have you ever felt the Holy Spirit run through your body?  I mean down to the bone.  I have.  On top of a hill in a four-walled building with a concrete floor, a metal roof, and no air I felt the Holy Spirit so strong my tears were not worthy.  In a room full of people so grateful I’m here, but why?  Why did I come here?  What was it all for?  These questions invade my brain as I try to make sense of what is taking place. [Read more…]

Speechless in Balumette

Written By Cody Hawkins, Missionary to Haiti Oct 2013

My heart is in my throat.  It hurts.  I am rendered speechless, and the tears come fast and free like they have been trying to get out for years.  Why am I crying?  One minute I was delivering my sermon, making point after point, sharing what God had given me.  I paused for a breath and looked among the crowd, and the tears came.

WorshipInBalumetteDid what I see break my heart?  Yes and no.  What I saw gave me mixed feelings of sadness, love, joy and an overpowering sensation of wonder and awe.  How could I not cry?  I was in the presence of God.  I could feel Him.  There was a weight of glory all around us.  It saturated our very beings.  It was terrifying and beautiful all at the same time.  What did I see?  And what brought about this wonderful feeling?

People.  Just people.  Old men and women, their bodies bent over by the years, sitting upon hard wooden pews with no backs.  Young children, their eyes bright and clear, smiling up at this white American whom they could not understand.  All of us crammed like sardines inside a little block building hotter than a furnace in a place called Balumette.  Breathing the same air, feeling the same oppressive heat and worshiping the same God.

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