I think the past few weeks will turn out to be some of the most memorable of my life. Merryn and I spent January in Peru, the Dominican Republic and Haiti, and the sights, sounds and smells will not be forgotten quickly.

I find it hard to describe Haiti. Words fail me. It’s the most impoverished nation in the western hemisphere with 70% unemployment and 80% of people living below the poverty line. The capital city Port-au-Prince is the size of Sydney yet has few sealed roads. Only four-wheel drives can negotiate the rubble and pot holes, and wrecks of small cars line the streets. Electricity is irregular, as is the water supply. The landscape is baron, dusty, grey. Ninety-seven percent of the trees have gone. And the houses... Most Haitians build their homes over years, buying a brick or two when they have the money. Imagine your street made completely of incomplete, unpainted besser-brick and concrete shanty homes. That gives you an idea of Haiti.

There are few public schools, and not enough teachers, so those few children who get to school attend one of three shifts—in the morning, afternoon and evening. Only 2% of Haitian children finish high school, the rest leave to help the family earn a living. I’ve visited seven developing countries now, and in Haiti I came across something I haven’t seen anywhere else—children without dreams. Even kids in Bangladesh dream of becoming doctors or engineers or singers. Some of the Haitian kids I met desperately wanted a different life, but had no idea what that might look like.

I could go on with the sorry side of Haiti’s story. But there’s another side. A paradoxical side. Amidst the destruction and destitution, Haiti has riches that we in the developed world know little of. In the midst of their hardship and pain, Haiti is undergoing a spiritual revival.

I was in Haiti visiting Compassion Australia projects where children are fed, clothed, given healthcare and education. These programs are run by local churches, and all the churches I visited had no less than 1000 members each. The Haitian Christians ‘pray-in’ every single meal and are thankful for whatever God provides, even if it’s one potato shared amongst the whole family. Even the most conservative churches run deliverance services and see Haitians released from demonic spirits and spells. The faith of the Haitians is passionate, persevering and powerful. As one pastor told me, ‘in Haiti everyday is a battle—a physical and spiritual battle. You simply cannot win that battle without Jesus.’

On the plane flight home from Haiti I flicked through one of the magazines in the seat pocket in front of me. It was one of those Sky Mall brochures, full of things to purchase with your credit card. Oh, the things you could buy! ‘Gravity-defying shoes’ with a spring-loaded heel to give you bounce. A mini microwave for your desk, saving you that laborious walk to the kitchen when your coffee goes cold. There was a luxury mattress in there for your dog, and a portable foot spa in there for you. You could even buy a full-size 80’s-style arcade game, and a mini Automatic Teller Machine that doled out money to your kids.

I read the brochure, and I winced.

Because while we buy luxury beds for our pooches, Haitian children sleep on cold cement floors. And while we fill our empty lives with trinkets, Haitian Christians are meeting God in profound ways. It was then that I realised the developing world needs our generosity and we need the developing world’s faith. We have what they want, and they have what we need.

It seems to me that a great exchange needs to take place: We give up the consumer toys for the sake of the poor, so that we might catch the faith that makes them so rich.