Although I’m not always a cynical contrarian, it is often my default viewpoint, and this can be a stumbling block for a social media marketer — cynical contrarians don’t tend to mesh well with marketing objectives. Maybe this is a good thing for you.

In my opinion, most marketing is about numbers. Getting more of something. And by that narrow, cynical definition the One Act video is pure marketing.

But, in my opinion the One Act video transcends the castor oil taste manipulative marketing often leaves me with. And I think that’s because the “one act” this video refers to happened to change my life. I am not a sponsored child, never was, but the act of sponsoring a child took me down a path I never would’ve imagined.

Five years ago I went to a free concert at a local church. At that time I was four months into my new life as a Christian sponge in the tub of Living Water. That night, the Holy Spirit dropped a baby into the tub with me.

In the middle of the concert, the musician stopped to share a story from a Compassion trip to Haiti. He talked about a woman who came up to him on the street and tried to give him her baby, to give her baby a better life. She was willing to give her baby to a stranger so the baby could escape the hopelessness of extreme poverty.

It was a moving and powerful story — much more so than these clipped sentences of mine suggest — and I wanted to quit my job and go work in Haiti. I wanted to immerse myself in doing Christ’s work, in serving others. I was anxious to learn if there was an opportunity for me to act on. And then the artist asked me to sponsor a child. Boring.

I was disappointed. I didn’t want to sponsor a child. I already sponsored a child with another organization and that was enough. I wanted to change the world. I wanted to hear, “Well done, good and faithful servant.” Sending more money wasn’t good enough for me.

For the rest of the show I dwelled on the missed opportunity to serve Christ in Haiti, but afterward, after the crush at the Compassion table dwindled, I asked someone if there was anyway I could go to Haiti because I didn’t want to “just” sponsor a child.

The person told me that Compassion organizes tours for sponsors to visit their children, which is something that the organization I was already sponsoring a child with, did not do. For whatever reason, the idea of visiting my sponsored child was enough to get me to act. I sponsored Lerionga.

And because of that one act, I went to Kenya 18 months later and met Lerionga.

Because of that one act, I heard about a job opening at Compassion while I was in Kenya. I got that job.

Because of that one act, I met my wife. She’s also a Compassion employee.

Because of that one act, I’m going to be a father. We’re expecting in September.

Because of that one act, I have hope that the darkness of my strain of emotional poverty ends with me.

Compassion International exists as a Christian child advocacy ministry that is releasing Chris, a child of Christ, from his spiritual and emotional poverty, enabling him to become responsible, fulfilled Christian adult.

When the darkness of emotional and spiritual poverty has swallowed you up, the devil has taken control. But in the middle of this desperation, a child can intervene. Act now, and sponsor a child. See what God does with you.

My Account l Sponsor a Child l Help Babies and Moms l Crisis Updates

Yesterday, I spent four hours with the boy I sponsor. It was our second time together, and I enjoyed seeing him again, seeing how he has grown and hearing him speak a few words of English. Three years ago he didn’t know any English.

I was delighted to meet the director of his child development center and to finally see photos of his mother, father and younger sister. I also saw pictures of the house they built with one of the family gifts I sent.

I enjoyed telling Lerionga that I’m going to be a father soon and recounting in greater detail the things I’ve shared in my letters. But all of our conversation lasted about 10 minutes, and then there was silence.

I am extremely uncomfortable with silence when I think it’s not supposed to be there.

In advance of my time with Lerionga, I imagined this meeting would be different from our first one. I imagined that conversation would be easier, that there wouldn’t be silence. I imagined it would be an “unbelievable encounter” like this. But it wasn’t.

My day with Lerionga was a great day. It was a special day, and in many ways for me it was a selfish day.

It was a selfish day because I wanted us to be “best buds,” but two days together, lots of letters and some financial gifts do not best buds make, even after four and a half years of sponsorship.

I first sponsored Lerionga because I wanted to change the world for the better, make a difference for Christ. I wanted to hear, “Well done, good and faithful servant.”

And in all honesty, I’d like to hear some of that before I get to Heaven. (But now that I’ve said this, it doesn’t count if you tell me.) ☺

Being drawn to something and arriving at the destination are not the same thing. They’re separated by the size of the dream, and dreams aren’t realized with the snap of the fingers.

Dreams are made with sweat and discomfort, effort and uncertainty and moments of success and failure. They’re kneaded together with sacrifice and generosity and held together with drive, perseverance and surrender.

Relationships are like that too. And so is sponsorship.

Is your sponsorship about your child or is it about you? How about other relationships in your life? Do you look outward, for others to change, or do you turn inward, where you can change?

My sponsorship is about me. And it’s about Lerionga. I need to do better about remembering that.

My sponsorship is about me. And it’s about Jesus. I need to do better about remembering that too.

Being a sponsor is hard. But so is living in abject poverty.

Being a sponsor is hard. But only because I’m fallen and I over-think things.

Don’t over-think this. Sponsor a child or sponsor another child if you’re already a sponsor. And then don’t even think about canceling the sponsorship; Jesus didn’t cancel His.

My Account l Sponsor a Child l Help Babies and Moms l Crisis Updates

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.

I tend to feel emotionally disconnected a lot. It’s one of the themes in my writing. I’m not entirely devoid of emotion, but I do have to make an effort to connect. Jesus is constantly guiding me from my head to my heart.

So on Wednesday, as I’m enjoying the coincidental coolness of meeting Irene, via a story on our intranet, I received an e-mail notification from OurCompassion. Someone had written on my wall. I ignored it. I was “meeting” Irene.

The coolness I’m talking about is that Irene is part of the Shankoe Methodist Child Development Center. That’s where my boy, Lerionga, is. And that simple coincidence excited me.

I actually got a bit choked up. Only temporarily though because I’ve gots lots of importance stuff to do. Can’t afford the luxury of joy.

“The first thing Irene does before getting ready to go to the center is pray for the day’s activities: Compassion, her teachers, mother, the child development workers and her sponsor.”

The first thing I do in the morning is fight negativity. My neighbor wakes me up most weekdays at 5 a.m. with his idling Harley. I have to endure five minutes of mechanical hog grunting and snorting before he drives off.

“Just a few years ago, Irene’s family of six used to share a shelter with their livestock. Her mother watched helplessly as her children suffered from the cold. As poverty becomes unbearable, many parents consider marrying off their daughters to get some livestock for dowry.”

I gave a $300 family gift to Lerionga and he told me his family bought two cows and a goat.

“Irene’s new house is large enough for her entire family of three brothers, two sisters and their mother. The family gift Irene received from her sponsor helped them construct a new and spacious house roofed with iron sheets and filled with good chairs, tables and cushions inside.”

Yeah! Lerionga told me that his family built a new house with another family gift I gave. He lives with his mother, father, younger brother and younger sister.

Then, when I finally logged into OurCompassion I saw this, courtesy of my new friend, Jake Malloy:

“My family visited the Shankoe site in Dec. to visit Liaram. Here’s a video, maybe you’ll see Lerionga.

http://www.viddler.com/explore/jakemalloy/videos/10/“

This is the connection, the joined together thinking, we’re talking about. OurCompassion isn’t just a social network. It’s not about re-creating Facebook. Our Compassion is personal. It’s about bringing us closer to the children we sponsor.

I met Lerionga 2 1/2 years ago in Nairobi. He was one month shy of his 8th birthday. Since then he has asked me when I will come back. I don’t have an answer for him. But I do have lots of questions.

I want to know what his house looks like. I want to see the countryside where he lives. I want to know more about his center.

But like you, not all the questions I write in my letters get answered. Letters cross in the mail, take a long time to arrive, seem overly simplistic at times, suffer from poor translation, etc. I really only have my imagination, and some memories, to bridge the distance.

But not anymore!

Thanks to Irene, Jake and OurCompassion, my four-year sponsorship of Lerionga got a little more personal.

Even though I’ve seen many videos like the one Jake shared with me, and Lerionga wasn’t actually in this one, the fact that this video showed me places where Lerionga has been flooded me with emotion.

This time I got a bunch choked up, and my important stuff couldn’t do anything about it.

My Account l Sponsor a Child l Help Babies and Moms l Crisis Updates

The price for rice, beans, corn and other food staples throughout the world has risen exponentially in recent months, creating extreme hardship and suffering for families living on $1 or $2 a day.

Imagine if you had to spend 80 percent of what you earned on groceries. Can you imagine that?

I can’t. And even though I’ve traveled to Rwanda, Kenya and China and seen extreme poverty, I still have a hard time picturing a life where I would live on $2 a day.

80 percent of my income on groceries? If I was in that boat, I’d be selling it. And if I’m in that situation, I can’t afford … I can’t afford anything.

The global food crisis is affecting everyone in some way. But how it affects me is totally different than how it affects my sponsored child, Lerionga. It’s much more intimate for him.

I’m sure you’re well aware of the record high price of gas in the U.S. and the ridiculous price tag for a gallon of milk and a loaf of bread. I’m usually oblivious to grocery prices, but $4.50 for a loaf of bread that used to be $2.50 got my attention.

My loaf of bread is more than two days salary for many families.

Have you noticed this?

I’m feeling the pinch of the global food crisis, but for the billions of people in extreme poverty my pinch is a bear hug crushing the life out of them. There is no margin.

So in addition to what you’ve already done and the caring and generosity you’ve displayed already, we’re asking for more.

My Account l Sponsor a Child l Help Babies and Moms l Crisis Updates