Jesus is traveling with a crowd, teaching as He walks. A blind man sitting by the road hears the passing commotion and asks what is going on. When he learns that Jesus of Nazareth is near, he calls out, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!”

Several times the man calls out, even louder after some in the crowd tell him to be quiet. “Son of David, have mercy on me!”

Jesus stopped and ordered the man to be brought to him. When he came near, Jesus asked him, “What do you want me to do for you?”

- Luke 18:40-41 (NIV)

I am that blind man calling out to God.

Encourage me. Strengthen me. Provide for me. Comfort me. Save me. Give me. Help me.

That’s what I want.

What do you think these kids want? What are they crying out for?

Fifty kids in Haiti. All at the same center. All need God’s love. All need God’s mercy.

How about you? What are you calling out to God for?

All the while we cry out, God is calling out to us. Follow me. Be like me. Share my love.

Is it possible that my needs and your needs complement these kids’ needs? That we offer one another an opportunity to give God what He wants?

We talk about letter writing a lot. And as a result, we get lots of questions.

Lately, questions like these have been coming up more frequently:

• Why, in this technologically advanced age, are we still relying on handwritten “snail mail” as our main form of sponsor-child communication?
• If my child has access to a computer, why can’t I e-mail him directly?
• Why doesn’t Compassion have a Facebook page or Web site for every child development center?
• We have the technology for so many things. Why doesn’t Compassion use it?

And I thought the questions deserve some attention. So, here you go. (more…)

Do you talk with God? Or do you talk at Him or to Him?

How much of your prayer life, your conversations with God, is about you? You talking. What you want or need. What you think should happen.

When you’re listening, are you interested in what’s on God’s mind? Or are you really just listening for God to talk about the subjects you choose?

I mostly talk at God. That’s a 99-percent most. God usually can’t get a word in edgewise in “our” conversations. I’m talking. And I’m talking about what I need and what I want, as if they are somehow different, and as if I know better than God what I need.

“Hey God. I’m not interested in that subject. Why do you keep bringing it up?”

But once a year, at the beginning of December, I make an extra effort to get over myself. I ask God, “What do you have planned for us next year?”

It’s like asking your father, “Hey, Dad! What are we going to do this weekend?”

2010 in One Word

So, even though I’m not your father, you should do this: (more…)

In all the time and through all the experiences you’ve had with Compassion, have you ever questioned whether the child you sponsor really needs your help?

Have you ever seen a photo of a Compassion-assisted child and thought, “That kid doesn’t look poor. Does he really need Compassion?”

If so, you’re not alone. Those thoughts even enter my mind – The Poverty of ME.

I have a preconceived notion of what abject poverty in the developing world should look like, and it doesn’t involve a DVD player, television or refrigerator.

My preconception doesn’t mean the child isn’t in need. It just means that the child doesn’t seem to be in the type of need that I feel as rewarded in fighting, when compared to other children’s needs.

To me, this is the same thing I face when I look at all the other needs in the world I’m not helping with — the homeless in America, the persecuted church in China, etc.

I can’t help with everything, so I have to make judgment calls based on something, and sometimes that something happens to be appearances.

So in light of this,

Would your child’s easy access to e-mail, Facebook, Twitter, etc. affect the level of poverty you perceive your sponsored child enduring?

Hey! Look what I’ve done. I made poverty history. Woo hoo!

All I did was visit compassion.com to sponsor a child and then this happened.

Back in May I published this photo and asked you to give it a caption — Photo Caption Wanted. I also included a little context from the photographer.

“Along the wall outside the Compassion project, many children watched and waited while the other children played and sang. With hundreds and thousands of children needing the hope that Compassion brings, our hearts broke to see the ones that could not be helped. Hundreds more are waiting for their chance to be sponsored, to be given hope, to be shown the love of Christ.” — scfish7

Then recently, I received the following e-mail.

“I read the blog about the children who are registered who are able to sing and enjoy meals while the unregistered ones just stare at them, wishing they were one of them. I have a hard time imagining what this is like.

“Is it like there is a ‘Century Fence,’ so to speak, that separates these two groups, where the unregistered look in and feel sad as they watch the sponsored eat hot meals and be carefree?

“Does this make them feel more unloved?

“Is it appropriate to send a picture or have one on this Web site so I can see what you are talking about? I have a hard time understanding this and maybe a picture would help.”

What are your thoughts? What do the children on the outside looking in feel?

Social media is my job. I manage this blog. I send out the tweets for @compassion. I create the photo sets in Flickr, upload videos to YouTube, update our Facebook status, etc.

I have a good job. I like it a lot. I don’t want to do anything else. My fellow webbies are great peeps. Lots of fun. And I love seeing and being a part of the conversations you have with one another. But amid all that I can still be a bit jaded at times.

Since this blog is a place of honesty and transparency, I have to admit that I have been known to say “Who cares?” to a tweet or two. Not any I send, of course.

I also admit to not putting much effort into managing “my personal brand” in those spaces, and that includes our newly launched OurCompassion.

However, on Wednesday, I learned what OurCompassion is really about. (more…)

The first time I ever saw this picture of Jesus laughing, I was transfixed.

There’s life in it.

And even now, I still respond to His expressive joy. I laugh. He laughs. He knows how I feel!

This idea that Jesus knows us isn’t just a concept; it’s actually for real (Whoa!), which isn’t quite how I feel when I see a “typical” portrait of Jesus, the kind that defines the image I carry with me when I imagine or speak with Christ.

But now, after two years @compassion (Happy anniversary to me today.), I see Jesus a lot differently. And I see poverty differently.

This is poverty transformed. Do you see the similarities?