Tonight I huddled around the laptop with my two daughters beside me. We stared into it's glow, browsing through World Vision's website, ready to choose a child to sponsor. We first searched through pictures of children from Africa. South Africa to be specific. But no one profile seemed to be the right fit. We were looking for a girl, somewhere between the ages of 5 and 7 who we could support monthly and love daily. After flipping though several candidates, the thought occurred to me that we should pray.
Dear Jesus, please lead us to the right girl who you want us to sponsor. Make it obvious. Amen.
My daughters were not feeling any sort of connection with the images we had seen, so I broadened our search to the entire continent of Africa. Girl. Five years old. Search. Again we looked at several profiles. Most of the girls wore short hair cuts shaved closely to their heads. "Is that a boy?" My girls would ask. Sometimes their shirts looked dirty, sometimes their shirts looked clean.
And through my American eyes, I found myself viewing the profiles almost as if I were judging a contest. That one has the cutest smile. That one has the chubbiest cheeks. That one likes art.
But my six year old daughter looked through Jesus' eyes.
"STOP!" She exclaimed. A little girl stared back at us. Her big eyes had dark circles under them. She was nearly bald. She looked very thin.
"That's the one!" My daughter declared.
"How do you know?" I asked, kind of surprised.
"Because she looks like she needs help the most. I want to help her." She voiced with her child like faith.
Suddenly my American faith didn't feel so heroic. I felt small.
I marveled at my daughter's compassion.
And I am happy to say that we did not hesitate in choosing that little girl!
1 week ago