Sometimes I substitute “perspective” for the word “wisdom.” I know they’re not exactly the same thing, but I think perspective is one way we get to see a facet of what wisdom looks like, sort of like the stream of blue in a rainbow that comes from a prism.

“The beginning of wisdom is this: get wisdom. Though it cost all you have, get understanding.” — Proverbs 4:7, NIV

Perspective is in low supply here in the States. I don’t mean this in a derogatory way. It’s just a fact. We live sheltered. We don’t live without heartache. We don’t live without pain. We just live with limited perspective.

I think sometimes we also struggle with a bit of a god-complex. We know the world needs changing, and we assume that we are the ones to do it.

We are used to taking responsibility.

But is the responsibility ours to take?

To be sure, we play a part. My reaction to you matters. My decision to reuse bags or add to the dumps of the world matters.

My choice to love the compulsive liar who needs to feel unconditional acceptance matters. My commitment to be faithful – or not – matters.

Recently I read a great post by Shaun Groves about our decisions to live with “just God and enough,” and I keep up with the 58: campaign that encourages us to embrace Fast Living as demonstrated in Isaiah 58.

I hear these messages and they resonate with my soul and with every fiber of my being, and I applaud and stand behind and join with them.

But I still struggle for perspective.

Maybe I’m the only one who struggles here. Maybe I’m a stereotype of my idealistic generation. Maybe I’m a byproduct of this hybrid Type A / High Achiever personality.

I find my natural perspective pretty easily reinforced.

But when I break it down through the prism of wisdom that I think has been given by the Holy Spirit — brought into focus by some international travel and friendships forged in a church that is living day-to-day in the reality of a world very different from my own — I end up suspecting that I have a lot more to learn from the world than I have to give it.

I’m still going to love that person who offers me a very attractive alternative attitude.

I’m still going to do my best to make environmentally conscious decisions.

Not long ago I emptied my savings and retirement accounts to continue my sponsorships with Compassion, and more recently I have taken to selling a few things out of my apartment to help make up the difference where monthly funds fall short.

It’s not that God can’t provide for these kids from somewhere or someone else. It’s just that this is a small area where I can be faithful.

I’m not changing the world (blow to my ego that it is), but I am doing one thing that can be done and trusting Jesus with the rest.

You might actually change the world. That might be your calling.

For the rest of us, maybe wisdom is calling us to be faithful today. Faithful in a small thing. Tomorrow, it will ask us to be faithful again.

I’m thankful for this ounce of perspective. Maybe one day, with its help, I will have a little of what God calls “wisdom.”

“Wisdom is a shelter, as money is a shelter, but the advantage of knowledge is this: that wisdom preserves those who have it.” — Ecclesiastes 7:12, NIV

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Paper scraps, bits of string, crumbs and stray Cheerios — as a stay-at-home mom who homeschools two active girls, I spend a fair amount of time sweeping up random stuff that happens to fall to the floor.

On one particular day, I found myself making yet another trip to the broom closet. I will admit, I was frustrated. Certainly, I was lacking cheerfulness and grace.

With an exasperated sigh, I grabbed the broom and went to work corralling another pile of debris that had accumulated beneath our dining-room table.

Later that same day, we received a letter from Precious in Ghana, our first sponsored child. I tore into the envelope and eagerly pulled out the letter.

With the help of her center coordinator, Precious sent greetings in the name of Jesus Christ and told us she was doing very well in school and at home. She shared that she had recently been promoted to Kindergarten 2 and that her school had re-opened for another term.

The next sentence jolted me to my very core.

Precious wrote that she had been sweeping and, when she sweeps, it brings her joy and happiness.

Those words went straight to my heart. Tears instantly came to my eyes. One sentence from a little girl an ocean away immediately and forever changed my perspective.

In our first letter from Precious, we had learned that she lives with her family in a one-room home made of clay.

Yet, despite her living conditions and the fact that her floor is made of dirt, she not only finds joy in sweeping — but she also took the time to share that fact with me.

I don’t doubt for a minute that the timing of the delivery of her message was divine intervention.

After reading the rest of her letter, I went straight to the broom closet with a permanent marker in hand. Along the top of the head of the broom, I wrote Precious.

I wanted to be reminded of her every time I swept.

Ever since, anytime I pick up the broom, I cannot help but smile and think of our sweet girl in Ghana.

Whether I am sweeping for the first or 15th time that day, I no longer feel frustrated or annoyed. Instead, I take that time to thank God for putting Precious in our lives and I pray for all aspects of her life.

I am eternally grateful for the change in attitude that I received from that one simple sentence. Thanks to Precious, now I, too, find joy and happiness in sweeping.

As you have gotten to know your sponsored children, have they changed your perspective on anything?

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I reached into the closet and pulled out a pair of slacks to wear to work. I slipped each leg in, zipped and buttoned up, and then, instinctively, stuck my hands in the pockets. I was surprised when I felt something in the front right pocket. I knew instantly it was cash. And I could tell it was more than one bill.

Was it $20?

$40?

More?

I pulled three folded bills out of my pocket. I filed through each one.

All three of them singles.

Three bucks.

I have to admit, there was a moment of disappointment. I mean, even though I was excited that I found money in my pocket, wouldn’t it have been nice if it was more?

Then I’m reminded that over 1 billion people on this planet will work all day today and not get paid what I just found in my pocket.

Even the father of the girl I sponsor won’t make $3 today, after putting in eight hours of hard, sweaty construction work. That is, if he can find work in Manila today.

I can’t imagine misplacing a full day’s pay and not tearing up the house to find it. I can’t imagine digging into my pocket and finding an entire day’s wages. But that’s exactly what I did, in the eyes of a billion people.

Three bucks. It’s amazing how important that becomes, with a little perspective.

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Oh, I’ve tried to clean it. But it’s a stubborn stain. I think it might be there for good. And that’s frustrating.

No, I’m not mad at Morgan. Three-year-olds spill things. That’s part of being a kid. But I do hate that every time I walk into the living room I see that stain. Somehow, it changes the whole room. It makes the whole house seem dirty … unkempt.

But then I’m reminded of the trip I took to the Philippines two years ago, to see the little girl I sponsor. Her house — made of scraps of wood and tin — sits at the bottom of a garbage-strewn ravine.

There’s sewage water trickling down the slope just a few feet from her front door. The entire house could fit in my living room.

And, I should point out, has dirt floors. No carpeting.

She, like many of the millions of children who live in extreme poverty around the world, has never had the luxury of carpeting in her house. Seems silly to consider carpeting a luxury, but it is.

As I looked around my sponsored child’s home, the only food I saw was half a bag of rice and two potatoes.

She explained to me that it was the only food that her family of four had for the remainder of the week.

Her father works construction for less than two dollars a day and her mother stays home to care for her baby brother. There’s not enough food to go around. And there’s certainly not enough to spill.

All of a sudden that stain on my carpet doesn’t seem so bad after all.

Maybe it can remind me of the families that don’t have carpet to stain. Don’t have food to spill.

Maybe it’s a reminder of just how blessed my family has been. And maybe it’s to serve notice too, that God expects more from me. He doesn’t want me fretting over carpet stains. He wants me worried about the poor. He wants me to make sure they have enough to eat.

Wouldn’t it be nice if my sponsored child’s family had enough food to spill?

So there’s this stain on the carpet in my living room. And I’m so glad it’s there.

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Today, I would like to introduce you to my fellow contact center employee, Becky. I spoke with her recently and our conversation was such a source of encouragement to me, I wanted to share it with you.

Becky is going through a difficult time right now. Her husband has survived cancer twice, but the doctors have found another spot on his lung. Scared that the cancer has returned, she described her feelings to me.

“I remember walking around the office and thinking ‘Does anyone know that my world has collapsed today? Does anyone even care?’”

As always, God gave her hope in the midst of her sorrow. As our conversation continued, she explained how this experience has helped her show grace to the sponsors she speaks with each day.

“I never know what the person on the other side of the phone is going through. I try to remember how I felt during that time and be sensitive to the person’s struggles that I am speaking with — even if I don’t know what they are.”

I was so inspired by Becky’s strength and hope leaving work that day.

Later that week, I brought up this topic in a meeting and everyone present agreed — when we speak with an upset caller, it is rarely due to the reason the person called about, but usually because of a struggle in that person’s life.
Because of this, one of the representatives on my team prays before taking every call. Many go above and beyond; I know one co-worker who even looked up the right bus route for a sponsor who was lost.

How many times do I speak or act without thinking of the other person I’m interacting with? How many rash and hurtful decisions have I made? Not only do I, working in the contact center, need to be sensitive to the struggles you are going through, but also as a sponsor I must be sensitive to my sponsored children’s struggles.

I don’t want to walk on eggshells all the time, but I also want to be considerate and compassionate to those in my life.

Do you have suggestions for being intentionally considerate of your sponsored child or for those you do life with?

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Many had never traveled outside of the United States, let alone experienced extreme poverty first-hand. As a result, their perspectives changed from “I answer questions on the phone” to “I make a difference in the life of a child.”

Haley Birdyshaw

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Nathan Creitz, author of ChurchEthos: “a blog that encourages thinking Christianly about the habits and customs of the Church and about our reputation with the unchurched,” says:

This video is worth watching for two reasons:

1. To see God’s love at work through His people and to see the powerful story of Jimmy and Mark.
2. To see how NOT to use such a moment to advance an agenda.

What do you think? Do you agree?

Let us know after you read Nathan’s entire blog post at ChurchEthos to get the context for his opinion.

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The reason why is I know Jimmy. Jimmy stayed at our house for two weeks, so he went from being a formerly sponsored child, an African, and someone with a different culture and accent, to being a friend. To a human.

 
As much as we don’t want them to, our differences — culturally, geographically, economically — can separate us. “Others” can seem so very other. So unlike us. So “unrelatable.”

Yes, we have compassion for them. But it’s hard to really relate to them. Understand them. View them the same as we view ourselves, our neighbors, our family.
 


But Jimmy is my husband’s age. The two of them sitting on our couch talking about girls made Jimmy so utterly real to me. He’s someone who despite all our differences is so like us.
 
Someone who simply had a sponsor who loved him, who told Jimmy that Jesus loves him, and set his life on an entirely new path. 
 


So when I watch this video, I don’t just see some African who some Canadian “saved.” What I see is myself in another situation, another time, another circumstance. I see that this could have been me. And I see that this can be my sponsored child.

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With Jimmy from Kenya (a.k.a. Jimmy Wambua) as a house guest, we were treated to the first reactions to life in America from the perspective of someone who had grown up in poverty.

After the first couple of days, I asked him how it was going and what struck him most about life in America. It was the cheese.

“In America, you are so particular about what you want. You take me to Subway and they ask, ‘What kind of bread do you want?’ ‘What type of dressing do you want?’ ‘What type of cheese do you want?’ In my country cheese is cheese. It’s this or it’s nothing.”

The variety in general was a bit overwhelming to Jimmy.

“When I asked Mike for tea, he opened the cabinet and there was so much. Tropical tea, dessert tea, tea cocktail. Even in cars you have variety. You have a car for different kinds of weather and different activities.”

At every turn, we seemed to be asking him to make choices. And let’s not even talk about our trip to Walmart.

He was also quite struck by our home and our neighborhood. We live in a fairly typical middle-class American neighborhood and home.

Before he came, I had felt a bit self-conscious because the other hosts of the students were older with nicer homes. I secretly thought he’d be disappointed to stay with us. I know this is a silly worry considering he was coming from a one-room home without indoor plumbing, but I was thinking about the Joneses.

His perspective was different than mine.

“This is the home of a politician. These are the couches of a politician … . This is what I’ll call stinking rich. You live in posh environments, but you don’t feel they are posh.”

Jimmy stayed in our basement, which has an attached bathroom. He said,

“When you first showed me my room, I thought, ‘This must be the main part of the house, the best part of the house.’ Then I saw it was just the basement. In my country, I could work for years and still not have something as nice as your basement.”

I asked Jimmy if it frustrated him or made him angry to see people with so much. I always wonder that when visitors come — are they secretly judging us? Jimmy was gracious.

“Someone without my background who is struggling might be angry. But my feeling is biased because of Compassion. I understand why God blesses Americans — what you give. I believe that spirit of giving has gotten into American culture. You’ve been able to be content with what you have and give to others instead of keeping it for yourselves. Because of your generosity, God has blessed. God rewards you for listening to his call.”

I hope I can live up to Jimmy’s generous attitude toward us.

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In the midst of turbulent economic times, political uncertainty and a global food crisis, 29 of our sponsors proceeded with their decision to come to India to experience this great ministry among children.

It is one thing to hear marvelous stories about sponsors and how far they would go to support a child, but it is definitely a red letter day to meet them in person. For most of the sponsors, the sponsor tour we recently hosted was their first time in India, and they surely were thrilled by the sights and sounds around them.

Churches and projects in Bangalore, Yelagiri and Chennai welcomed the visitors into their community, and the sponsors had the opportunity to witness the harsh realities of life for our children, and the hope that Compassion offers through the child development centers in our various programs.

The home visits enabled the sponsors to have a feel for the poverty surrounding the communities, as well as the traditions and superstitions that some of the communities are bound by.

The traditional welcome with garlands, sandalwood and rosewater, personal testimonies of children and parents, and the cultural events by children at the centers left each sponsor humbled.

Amidst everything, the one thing the sponsors would not give up were those personal moments of interaction with the children. The sponsors connected with the children through songs, skits and crafts. They learned, listened, laughed with the children, and cried every time they had to leave a center.

The “fun day” planned for each sponsor to interact with his or her own sponsored child was assuredly the defining moment.

Surrounded by the Bay of Bengal on one side and luscious green pastures on the other, VGP Golden Beach was ideal for fun in the sun. Every sponsor wished this day would never end.

Bidding farewell to their precious little children by giving gifts they brought all the way from the United States continues to amaze me. Hugs, handshakes, loads of tears, and treasured memories made the day worthwhile for these faithful sponsors.

Another sponsor tour has ended, and I am grateful to God for the way he led us in putting it all together. As I look back, it gives me even greater satisfaction that those 29 sponsors who explored and experienced the work of Compassion in person left India with more than just a bagful of memories! Compassion is indeed blessed with such wonderful and committed sponsors.

Please continue to pray for these sponsors that God would bless their efforts as they serve as advocates for India. Please pray also for the many unsponsored children in our ministry.

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