Message to Haitian youth: "I see you, I understand you"

Haitian youth,

I address you today with profound emotion. If I write to you at the end of this year, it is not out of obligation, but out of moral duty and civic responsibility. For among all the components of our society, you are the ones who, against all odds, have done everything to ensure Haiti's survival.

You are not those who govern the country today. You are not those who hold the nation's wealth. On the contrary, you are the children of hardship, from the most impoverished segments of our society. And God knows how difficult life has become for you, to the point that even the middle class has nearly collapsed.

I observe you. I see you through social media. You are the influencers, the commentators. You are in my church, in my community. You are Catholic, Protestant, Vodou practitioners, or sometimes have no religious beliefs at all…

But you are the living soul of the Haitian nation.

Youth of my country, you are the footballers who allowed us to breathe the pride of a spectacular qualification last November 18th, while the leaders plunged us into shame. You are our singers who represent Haiti throughout the world, our rappers, our brilliant artists. You are these talented and courageous women. Be proud of yourselves. Proud to continue believing in a new Haiti.

You are the young people in displaced persons camps, staying with a friend, a relative, or even a stranger; you were forced to flee your homes because of the violence. You are those who lost a mother, a father, a sister, a brother, a loved one—often the only hope of an entire family—this past year. You are the generations who have not known peace for more than twenty years.

You have been driven from your own land. You are those generations of the diaspora in Chile, Brazil, Mexico, the United States, and Canada. How many of you have been killed, raped, humiliated, and mistreated crossing border after border in search of a better life? I imagine, with a heavy heart, your tears, your suffering, and your trauma. Even today, many of you live with stress and uncertainty in the face of new immigration policies. But despite everything, you continue to believe in life. You are the pure expression of resilience, a strength worthy of 1804.

You have suffered so many disappointments. And yet, despite everything, you continue to dream. You are those courageous motorcyclists, those street vendors who ask for only one thing: the bare minimum, demanding nothing more from the State than the right to live with dignity.

You are also—and I say this with pain—the cannon fodder of an irresponsible political system. Used, manipulated, sacrificed by politicians concerned only with preserving their power and comfort. You are those armed, desperate young people, driven to violence by the negligence, incompetence, and lack of courage of our leaders.

I see you and I understand you!

Without ordering you to do anything, I tell you this: it is never too late to lay down your arms. For deep within you still lives a good Haitian, a son, a daughter of Toussaint Louverture, of Jean-Jacques Dessalines, of Henri Christophe, and of all those who proudly bequeathed us the land of Haiti. We all know it: Haitians are not wicked.

Some criticize you. But what would they say if they had inherited, like you, a country without the Champ de Mars, without the Place du Bicentenaire, without vacations in the provinces, without cinemas, without libraries—in short, without any leisure activities? A country where the future has become almost invisible.

Change comes from the people and their choices. The leaders of the past squandered your parents' potential. It is now up to you to make a difference. Today, you bear the historic responsibility of transforming everything and building a country where life is finally good, for everyone, without exception.

From the bottom of my heart, I want to tell you this:

I see you, I understand you, and above all, I have great hope in you!

Happy New Year 2026.

And above all: Stay strong, don't give up!

Pastor Julio Volcy

July 21, 2025 — Birthday of a Leader Serving the Haitian Community.

Port-au-Prince, Haiti, July 21, 2025.— This Monday, July 21, 2025, Haiti celebrates the birthday of one of its most committed sons: Dr. Julio Volcy, pastor, educator, social builder, and tireless advocate for Haitian youth.

Far from the political spotlight and empty rhetoric, Julio Volcy chose to celebrate life by giving it to others. And on this symbolic day, an entire country—from the pews of his church to the forgotten streets of the capital—pays tribute to him for his work, his loyalty, and his boundless heart.

Born in Montagne-Noire in modest circumstances, he could have resigned himself. He preferred to dream. He could have left Haiti for good. He chose to return, driven by a clear calling: to serve. Today, as he enters a new phase of his life, an entire generation of transformed young people, supported families, and reconciled communities bear witness to his impact.

July 21 is not just a birthday; it is an opportunity to highlight the living legacy of a man who, every day, builds a bridge between faith and action, between words and commitment. Through Rendez-Vous Christ Church, Haiti Teen Challenge, Hope Outreach International, the Love and Solidarity Fund, and so many other initiatives, he has proven that Christian leadership can be spiritual, social, and profoundly human.

Today, as the good wishes pour in, the messages of encouragement multiply, and the heartfelt thanks are expressed, we join all those celebrating the life of Dr. Julio Volcy.

Personal message from the editors-

Dr. Volcy, we thank you not only for what you do, but for who you are. On the occasion of your birthday, please accept our most sincere wishes for peace, health, and renewed courage.

Thank you for your steadfastness, your courage, and your vision. May this new year of life be marked by renewed strength, abundant peace, and an even greater impact.

You were not only born on July 21st, you have become a landmark. —

The editorial team.

From Brokenness to Purpose: A striking closing to the “Love Is Not Blind” series at RVC.

It was in an atmosphere of profound contemplation that the series of messages entitled "Love is not blind" concluded on Sunday, June 1st at Rendez-Vous Christ Church. For this final installment, Dr. Julio Volcy delivered a poignant and introspective sermon, entitled "From Brokenness to Purpose," centering on the universal experience of disappointment and reconstruction.

Facing an attentive audience, the pastor began his message with a word full of meaning and gentleness: "A broken dream doesn't mean your life is broken."

This simple statement served as the basis for a thoughtful reflection on the expectations each of us builds around our future—expectations often influenced by social norms or cultural projections. Diplomas, marriage, children, professional success: the model is well-known, but sometimes reality decides otherwise. And when this reality suddenly deviates, there's a great risk of believing all is lost.

Julio Volcy then recalled an essential truth: we never dream in a vacuum.

"Our dreams are developed with others, in relationships, with the unknown, the unpredictable," he affirmed.

It is in this interconnectedness, sometimes a source of pain, that the pastor also sees the opportunity to refocus on what is essential: our relationship with God. For him, even when a project collapses, it does not mean divine abandonment. On the contrary, it can mark the beginning of a process of redirection.

"God is not limited by our disappointed plans," he maintained. "He knows how to transform apparent failure into a spiritual springboard."

The preaching thus transformed into a vibrant call to active faith. Not a passive faith that waits for things to change, but a courageous faith that is willing to revisit one's history, learn from it, and rise again. For in the collapse of a dream, a new vocation can be born.

Julio Volcy did not seek to minimize the pain of inner grief that an unfulfilled dream represents. But he knew, with great delicacy, to instill hope: the hope that leads us to believe that the story is not over. That behind what seems like an end, an unexpected chapter can open, yet one inhabited by God.

Thus concluded this pastoral series, not with a definitive answer, but with an invitation to spiritual resilience. An invitation not to abandon one's existence to failure, but to discover, in the very brokenness, the beginning of a greater purpose.