How can I help fight poverty? What in the world can I do? The problems are just so big, and I’m just so small. I want to be used by you, God, but I just don’t know what to do.

I’ve thought and prayed these things many times. When viewing this world with its huge statistics of dread that loom over us (one BILLION people living in poverty), have you ever just felt stuck? Paralyzed? Anaesthetized? Confused? Helpless? Hopeless?

I’ve felt all those things. Usually when I’m looking at two things:

• The enormous earth, jam-packed with dreadful statistics, and
• Me

They both seem like depressing prospects.

Thank God this is not about me or you. Thank God for His grace. When the Lord called out looking for someone to be his messenger, “Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?” (Isaiah 6:8, NIV), He didn’t say “Whom shall I send who has a doctorate degree? Who will go for us who’s a super-swell, smart, sophisticated, experienced guy?”

No, God doesn’t put the same prerequisites on his servants that we put on ourselves. He seems quite eager to use each one of us as his servants, just the way he made us.

I recently wrote a book about responding to poverty, Hope Lives, and between you and me, this is a bit crazy. Don’t tell anyone (especially my marketers), but I’m just a goofball from Colorado who loves donuts and reality television. But I’m a goofball who (quite audaciously) called out to God, “Here am I, send me!”

And you know what? God (quite audaciously, in my opinion), said “OK.” I’m tempted to think He might need a stricter HR department, but those are just the lies of the enemy. God wants to use each one of us (I mean you) to reach out and help His hurting world, no matter how insufficient we think we are.

We might not all be missionaries or nurses or have doctorate degrees in poverty, but God did plant a little seed, a little talent, in each of us that He wants to use and grow. There’s a guy who works here at Compassion whom God gave the talent of rapping. Yes, rapping. And he’s using it to speak out against poverty. There’s a woman who loves to write letters, and she’s using this gift to write letters of encouragement and hope to dozens of children in poverty.

Maybe you can’t write or rap, but what can you do to serve others? Bake? Fix cars? Persuade? Sew? Tap Dance?

No matter how small (or random) our talent seems, God can use it. He can multiply our offering that seems so measly and make it into something incredible, just like the little boy with the two bitty fish that God used to feed 5,000 (John 6). God gave me the gift of writing.

The small step of faith I took in this has now been multiplied by God, through Hope Lives church kits which guide churches through a five-week journey of exploring how God wants us to respond to poverty. Now how crazy is that?

I believe God is waiting for each one of us to look past the looming, seemingly impossible statistics, forget ourselves and our own insufficiencies, and simply say: “Here I am God, send me.” And I bet we’ll be flat-out flabbergasted by what he does.

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I just got this cute, cute picture of Pamela at her child development center, viewing herself on the blog from Wednesday’s post! Samuel says she was embarrassed at first but couldn’t help smiling once she saw it.

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Have you ever wondered how your sponsored child’s letter gets to you? The long journey it takes from Tanzania or Thailand to Connecticut or California? There’s a lot more to it than you might think!

Samuel Llanes, Guatemala’s Field Communication Specialist, gives us a peek at the journey of one letter from Guatemala to a sponsor in Australia. (Did you know that Compassion International has sponsors all over the world from Australia to France to South Korea?)

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Pamela, a little girl sponsored by a married couple in Australia, says, “I love writing letters to them! When I write my letter, I wish I was right there with my sponsors.”

She has received two letters in the two years she has been sponsored, and she keeps them safely at home. She knows who they are and what they do, and she prays for them before bedtime each night.

When Pamela receives a letter, it has gone through a long journey. First the letter is sent from Australia to the Compassion International field office in Guatemala. Each country Compassion works in has its own field office. The letter must then be translated into Spanish for Pamela to understand.

“Translating is such a blessing to me,” says Julia Zepeda, a pastor’s wife and translator who has been working for Compassion International Guatemala for eight years. “I have taken this as a ministry that helps children, and I know is worth it.”

The translators are given one week to complete all the translations once they’re given a group of letters. The average number of letters that must be translated a week in Guatemala is usually around 180 to 200! After translating, the letters are brought to the student centers where they are distributed to the children. Receiving a letter is a special moment for children — they know that someone out there cares about them and is praying about them.

Letter Day
“Letter day” happens every four months. Pamela, along with all the other children at her Guatemala City student center, writes a letter every four months, though her sponsors may not write her that often.

When Pamela writes her letters, she uses a notebook to write a first draft. She does not want to miss anything that her sponsors asked her in their letter. Pamela’s tutor reads her sponsors’ letter to her, and as it is read, Pamela answers all the questions they asked. If they have sent something special, like stickers, she makes sure to thank them. Then once she has decided what her letter will say, she writes out her final draft.

Letter Day is an exciting day. The student center celebrates all the children for their efforts in writing letters on Letter Day. They give prizes to celebrate every child — and sometimes they even have a clown and piñatas!

Once Pamela’s letter is written, she gets to take her letter from her sponsors home, which she gets very excited for.

On Its Way
Once Pamela’s letter and all the other letters are written, they are brought to the Guatemala field office and translated into English. The packages of translated letters are then labeled and sent to be processed at Compassion International’s Global Ministry Center in Colorado Springs, Colorado. The children’s letters are sent from Guatemala to Colorado once a week.

Each week, child letters arrive in large boxes in Colorado Springs from all over the world to be tracked and sent on their way.

First, the letters are sorted by where the sponsors are from. All the letters going to U.S. sponsors are grouped together, all the letters going to the United Kingdom are grouped together, and so on.

Each letter is then scanned into a database, using the barcode at the top of each child’s letter, so Compassion can track all of the letters that are sent.

Once all the letters have been recorded in the database, they are bound together according to the letter’s destination country, and shipped out every Tuesday.

So the letters that our sponsored children write to us have been through a long process, passing from one hand to another until they arrive in your mailbox in that envelope saying, “A Message From Your Sponsored Child.”

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Here are some numbers for you to chew on today.

The Barna Group did a survey asking “born-again” Christians and other Americans what they had done in the past 12 months to help those in poverty. Among the results were:

• 75 percent of born-again Christians gave material resources, not including money, directly to the poor.
• 74 percent of other Americans gave material resources, not including money, directly to the poor.
• 50 percent of born-again Christians donated time to personally serve needy people who live in the community.
• 45 percent of other Americans did the same.

Hmmm … That’s not a big difference. Regarding the statistics, David Kinnaman, president of the Barna Group said,

“Given the extensive comments in the Bible regarding the importance of taking care of the poor, we expected to see a larger distinction between the responses of born-again Christians and non-Christians.”

This isn’t a beauty pageant — we’re not competing with those around us for “Best Do-Gooder.” But one would expect the followers of Jesus — the most compassionate man who ever walked this earth — to be a bit more radical in their compassionate deeds, a bit more out of the ordinary.

I think America is a pretty compassionate country, thanks in part to its Judeo-Christian roots. So I have to ask myself: Is my compassion just a result of my do-gooder culture? Or is my compassion a radical outpouring of following Jesus, knowing him, and becoming like him?

What matters isn’t how I measure up to the average American around me, but whether I’m seeking Christ and following his example, “who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the very nature of a servant” (Philippians 2:6-7).

What do you think? Are you culturally compassionate? Is your compassion an outpouring of the Holy Spirit in your life as you follow Jesus?

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Tell me if you can relate to this: When I first started sponsoring my Compassion child, I clung so tightly to that one picture I had of him — my one lifeline into his world. OK, so I knew from his bio that he helps his mom wash dishes and loves art, but I would hold that little picture in my hands and examine every detail, trying to glean whatever information I could.

What type of shoes is he wearing? Is that a scrape on his knee? What’s that expression on his face — fear? Indifference?! The thought even crosses my mind…is he even happy I’m sponsoring him? I know there are other sponsors who feel the same way. We cling to those pictures, so excited to be a part of a child’s life, so when we see that these little ones look scared or stiff or even aloof, we can’t help but think “what’s going on here?!”

Photo day is a big day for children being registered at Compassion-assisted child development centers. In the morning, they put on their bestest outfit, hold their mom’s hand as they walk the dusty road to the project, and get ready to face the camera. This is probably the first picture that’s ever been taken of them. Many are shy and scared of the stranger taking their picture. Many aren’t used to so much individual attention being given to them. Many don’t quite know what this sponsorship thing is all about yet.

I recently saw this photo by Edwin Estioko, Communication Specialist in the Philippines. How refreshing! After the fear of that first picture, the child begins to loosen up. He interacts a bit with the smiling, accepting faces at the project; he makes a couple of new friends from his neighborhood. Look how relaxed and child-like this cutie is when he lets his guard down a bit!

Phew…So it’s not just me. It’s a new situation for these children, and their little cheeks will soon relax into chubby smiles. Imagine my delight when, after cherishing the first picture of my sponsored child who looked so tentative and unsure, I received this photo of a smiling, confident young man. And maybe, just maybe, he was thinking of me.

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I was feeling very bad for myself last week. My car broke down on the side of the road late one night. That same day I had picked up my car from the mechanic. And poor poor me, my husband had taken our other car to the shop that day — so he couldn’t come to my rescue as I froze on the side of the road late at night.

Ricot, my coworker in Haiti, was asking how I was, so I launched into my tale of woe. To Ricot. A Haitian. Who two weeks ago couldn’t go into work because hungry mobs were throwing rocks through the windows of his office. Who, as part of his daily job, visits children who live under scraps of aluminum and eat whatever few bits of food their parents can scrape together that day.

The silent tsunami. That’s what they’re calling it. Those living in extreme poverty often spend more than 50 percent of their income on food. When food prices rise 83 percent in three years, as the World Bank estimates they have, it is like a unstoppable wave towering over and crashing down on these precious creations of God (for that is what they are). Those who ate three meals a day, now eat two. Those who ate two, well, it’s hard even to think of it.

And here I am (in my best Valley-Girl voice), “Yeah, my car broke down, and like it’s really hard, ’cause like, my other car is in the shop, and like if I want to go to the mall, I’m going to have to call a friend, and like I just ate 4,000 calories at Carrabba’s last night on like fried zucchini sticks and lasagna, and I’m like so full, and yeah, my life’s pretty hard.”

Ricot, in turn, doesn’t say: “Let me get this straight, I’m living in a country where 8 out of 10 of my countrymen live on around 90 cents — 90 cents! — a day and are eating mud cakes and you’re complaining about how your two cars — two cars! — are giving you trouble?!!!”

No, he didn’t say that. First of all, I don’t think Haitians say, “Let me get this straight” — that’s a little uptight for an islander. Instead he said, “It’s really funny!” (That is me, with two broken cars is really funny.) “I laugh a little bit, but I am so sorry.”

There you go. Grace from a Haitian. I’ve got a lot to learn around here.

The global food crisis is a really complicated issue, involving things such as globalization, trade law, land use, and so on — a lot of stuff that, honestly, is a bit opaque to me. And what in the world can I do about it?

I can learn. I can remember that these aren’t just numbers I’m reading about, but precious children of God. And I can pray.

• Pray for the world leaders to make wise, sound choices that will honor God’s will on this earth.
• Pray for the children and families who are right now experiencing the immediate affects of this crisis.
• Pray for the honest collaboration of governments, organizations, and people to reach out with that cup of water (or rice) that Jesus says his followers will offer to those who are hungry.

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I can’t get this photo out of my head. In my job each day, I look at tons of photos from the field, but some stick with me.

Edwin Estioko, our Communication Specialist living in the Philippines, took this picture of the Camilo family. A family of eight who share this little home together. What you’re seeing is their whole home. There’s not a sitting room hiding just at the edge of this photo. That’s it. Those little children sleep lined up by each other like sardines each night.

When I was a little kid I had a nickname: Heater Legs. At night, my legs would reach roughly 375 degrees and, allegedly, flail wildly all night. My sisters would fight over who had to sleep next to Heater Legs on vacation, ‘cause it wasn’t gonna be a fun night.

I wonder if one of these cute little kids is a Heater Legs. Or a Snorer. Or a Bed Hog … umm, I guess that would be a Ground Hog in this case. And yet despite this sleeping situation, here they lie smiling. Some days this family only eats bananas. Some days they don’t eat at all. And yet when Edwin asked them to show him how they sleep, they rushed to their places, laughing and pushing each other playfully. They don’t mind it because they keep each other warm.

It reminds me of something Paul Henri, our communications specialist in Burkina Faso, said to me. Paul Henri just recently started working for Compassion; he goes out to the projects to get those great stories about how children are affected by Compassion’s ministry. And this is what he had to say about the kids he gets to meet: “Something great that I have learned from children I interview is their happiness despite poverty. They seem not to be affected by poverty. When I talk to them, I usually see a large smile on their faces. This makes me remember Jesus, who was sleeping in the stern of the boat while a storm was raging.”

These children in the Philippines and Paul Henri in Burkina Faso sure give me perspective. It’s hard to keep up my attitude of grumbling when I remember those little faces lined up on the floor. Faces that reflect joy despite the storm they’re in.

It’s not that we don’t have real problems here, too. We might be facing unemployment or divorce or infertility or cancer. Our problems are real and hard. But what I’m learning from the field is that I can’t wait for life to be perfect to live in Christ’s joy. I sometimes think that if only this one thing happened, I’d be happy. But I can’t wait to have joy and peace until my storms have passed.

Oh, for the day I can become like a child — to live each day with a kid’s playful smile on my face. To have Jesus’ peace and joy today, despite my worries, just like those cute little kids in the Philippines.

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Embarrassing Fact: Each time I’m about to take a trip, I start humming “Leaving on a Jet Plane” all day long for at least a week before I go.

I’ve been planning a trip to Haiti for several months, and this small Caribbean country has gotten to me. I’ve studied up on the language — Bonswa! I’ve tried Haitian recipes and read stories of its people. I’ve even packed and repacked my suitcase, so excited am I to meet this culture face to face.

Well, all my bags are packed, but I’m not going anywhere. I was supposed to leave on April 12th, and I was hoping to pack you in my suitcase to experience Haiti with me through this blog, but the situation is too unstable to travel right now.

The Haitians are calling it Clorox and Battery Acid — a famine that leaves their mouths white and dry from hunger, like powdery Clorox, and leaves their intestines feeling like they are being slowly eaten by battery acid. Unlike many famines, though, there’s plenty of food on the store shelves in Haiti. The people just can’t afford it.

Because of inflated food prices over the past three months, the 80 percent of Haitians who live in extreme poverty are getting desperate. In January, it cost $2 for a bag of flour. Now it costs $3. It might not seem like a lot to us, but when you live on $1 a day, this 33 percent increase hurts. Thousands of Haitians have taken to the streets in the past week protesting, some holding signs saying “We’re Hungry.” Most are peaceful, but some are getting violent, burning tires and breaking car windows.

The good news is that no Compassion project activities have been affected, although each family is affected by the rising prices as they struggle to feed all their little mouths.

Would you join me in praying for Haiti?

• Pray that the Haitian government can effectively address the situation.
• Pray for the survival of those who are starving.
• Pray for the safety and the health of all the Compassion-assisted children, their families, and Compassion staff.

The trip I was going to attend was called “It Works,” a 5-year interval trip, on which we follow-up on the stories of sponsored children to find out if, indeed, sponsorship works. I hope to still travel to this needy country that has wheedled its way into my heart. I hope to hear the story of Yvette, a former sponsored child who is now a doctor, and of Jean Robert who five years ago was studying accounting through Compassion’s Leadership Development Program, and, of course, I hope to still see the faces of the precious children, who in a glance, despite poverty and beyond reason, remind us of what joy is.

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