Mission coordinator learns from Dominican church leader's disappointment and faith.

(Author Irvin Heishman and his wife, Nancy, are Dominican Republic mission coordinators for the General Board.)

Sister Anastasia Buena is the daughter of Haitian immigrants who moved to the Dominican Republic to work in the sugar cane industry. Earning less than a dollar a day cutting sugar cane was a vast improvement over what her family ever could have hoped for in Haiti. Still, a daily struggle to survive, hunger, and shortages have been part and parcel of her life.

Somehow, within these profound limitations, she has flourished. As a dedicated Christian woman, she has a dignity reflecting her inner knowledge that she is a child of God. She has become a respected leader of Iglesia de Los Hermanos (Church of the Brethren) in the Dominican Republic, where she and her husband co-pastor of one of the largest and fastest growing congregations. The theological education program of the Church of the Brethren has allowed her to sharpen her leadership skills. She leads with gentleness and grace, but when she stands up to sing or pray, a sudden joyful power breaks forth from her that leaves no doubt about the source of her strength. This past year she was elected moderator of Iglesia de Los Hermanos, becoming the first person of Haitian ancestry to hold this position.

Moderators of the Dominican church are given the dream of a lifetime, to travel to the United States to share with American Brethren at Annual Conference. Sister Anastasia was thrilled about this possibility. But she comes from a different world. The US consulate was closed on the day she had an appointment for her visa interview. This scheduling error meant that the next day, employees at the consulate rushed through interviews for hundreds of people who mistakenly had been scheduled the day before. As she entered the consulate, I prayed that God would part the waters for her, as he did for the ancient Hebrews, and that Annual Conference would have the blessing of hearing from this great leader in its Dominican mission.

Maybe it was her dark skin, clearly Haitian. Maybe it was that she was obviously poor, and thus was considered likely to stay in the US for economic reasons. Maybe it had something to do with the war in Iraq. Possibly she was considered a security risk. Filled with a host of suspicions and pressures, the consulate employee barely looked at her, dashed through her interview, and chose not to read any of her carefully prepared documents including a letter of invitation from the General Board and documentation of why she would return home following her visit. Without giving her a fair chance, he denied her visa. A great opportunity for good suddenly vanished.

In moments like this, Sister Anastasia has a great advantage over me. She doesn't expect life to be fair. She has learned to flourish in Christ within the strict limitations and blows of injustice. Not that the disappointment doesn't hurt, of course. On the other hand, I do expect life to be fair, so I could barely stomach the way she was treated by my government. I fought in my mind against the notion that life can be so unfair for some, while I have every liberty and opportunity I could ever want. I have not figured out the strange ways of God who does not part the waters for some and yet enables them to flourish, "Hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed" (2 Cor. 4:8-9).

In the Dominican Republic, as I experience in this setting the harsh injustices of the world, I yearn to tap more profoundly into that fountain of sustaining faith that doesn't depend on justice or opportunity or fairness to thrive.