A few weeks ago I got a private message from a woman I don’t know and have never met. She told me that she’s been trying to reach me. She just came back from a mission trip to Burkina Faso, West Africa. While she was there in the village, a young girl came up to her and showed her pictures of a couple who sponsors her through Compassion International. That couple was my husband and me. It being obvious that the missionary was American, without words the young girl was asking if the woman knew me.
The full-time missionary serving there, who this woman was staying with, knew us from our church back home in North Carolina. He spoke up, and they got these pictures of my Compassion child.
Like I said, this is the second time our Compassion child has tried to find me by carrying our picture around her village.
What makes this even more of a God-story is that when the woman finally connected with me on Facebook, she realized that she happened upon my blog before she ever left for the trip. She saw I had written about my trip to Burkina Faso.
On the first day of each month I have a reminder on my calendar to write our Compassion child. Even though I’ve met her personally, and I have this proof that she thinks about me, some months I still don’t write her. I don’t really know the reason. I could say that it’s because I’m so busy, but that’s just an excuse.
I don’t write because of my self-centeredness. Back here at home it’s easy to close my eyes and shut my ears. If I don’t want to be bothered my the “least of these” all I have to do is cut them out of my life, even if temporarily. I do this far too often. Unfortunately, they can’t cut themselves out of their own life circumstances – out of their poverty, their sickness, their fear, their lack of water and oppression.
Then I get reminders like this one. Our Compassion child carrying our picture around with her hoping someone knows us – or maybe hoping that we’re there too. Even though there are 3,000 physical miles between us, there is zero spiritual miles. The love of God is not bound by space. The Holy Spirit does not live in the barriers of continents. With a few words, “Jesus, be with her,” He is there.
I don’t know if I’ll ever meet our Compassion child again. I know even meeting her once was such a special opportunity. And at the same time the thought of not brings tears to my eyes. But whether or not I do, and whether or not you get to meet yours, I will remember that through the blood of Jesus 3,000 miles equals zero. I have direct access to my Creator who in turn has direct access to my Compassion child.
My letters make a difference. My prayers make a difference.
Have you considered sponsoring a child from Compassion International? I know that we feel uncertain sometimes that our money is going to the right place and for the right causes. I went to one of the Compassion International schools in Burkina Faso, and I can honestly tell you I was completely blown-away by the professionalism, cleanliness, and care these children receive. Please consider sponsoring.