Joseph Mayala is the Compassion Tanzania Country Director. He shares about his best day in ministry, a day the Lord spoke to him.

“I have given you a gift of praying that God’s purpose will be realized…”

When I visited the boy I sponsor in India, Sarath, he didn’t talk so much. We instead communicated with the toss of a Frisbee. But at the end of the visit as he walked me back to the bus, this little boy who had said little else, said over and over, “Please pray for me. Please pray for me. Please pray for me.”

Wouldn’t it be nice if I could tell you that faithfully every morning now I have kneeled to lift up Sarath and his two teenage sisters and unemployed mother? Too many mornings (and nights for that matter), I’m rushing and distracted and have forgotten the one plea Sarath made of me. Not “send more money.” Not “send more gifts.” Pray for me.

“Pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests. With this in mind, be alert and always keep on praying for all the saints.” – Ephesians 6:18, emphasis added (NIV).

How seriously do we take prayer? I know I certainly don’t take it seriously enough. It’s the Sunday school answer to the issues we hear of plaguing the children we minister to.

How quickly and easily does the phrase, “I’ll pray for that” run off our tongues? But do we see prayer for what it is — crying out to the omnipotent God for His incomparable power to work in the lives of these children?

For we don’t just throw money at a problem. Our weapon against poverty isn’t cash. Our weapons “have divine power to demolish strongholds” (2 Corinthians 10:4, NIV).

As Eric Alexander says, “The great business of the church is prayer. And the greatest need of a needy world is a praying church.”

“In all our thinking about Christian service, prayer needs to become fundamental instead of supplemental … Prayer is the work; it is the essence of the task to which we are called, and apart from it, all other work, and I mean Christian work, is a sheer waste of time and energy divorced from the basic work of prayer. Everything else is insignificant.” – Eric Alexander

Oh my soul, when will I take prayer as seriously as I ought?

My husband and I just wrote a small group study that is all about learning about the issues in this world and responding to them in prayer. But I still fall so short in this ministry of prayer to the children we sponsor.

So tell me — what do you do to be alert and stay alert as Ephesians 6 says?

How do you keep on praying for all the saints?

What stories do you have of the power of God through prayer in your sponsored children’s lives, or your own life?

As a stay-at-home mom of three girls, ages (almost) 6 and under, my To-Do lists are never ending. Yes, you read right — list(S). When I don’t get them done, which is quite frequently, I feel lazy, discouraged, and just plain ole’ not good enough.

Thankfully, I am aware that Satan is just trying to deceive me again. So I turn to the One who can get me through those feelings — God.

Sometimes those lists gets smaller, my energy goes up, and I’m not so discouraged if everything seems to not get done in time.

And sometimes it doesn’t. Boy does Satan love what happens next — I doubt myself and God. Did He hear me? Am I not good enough in the eyes of my heavenly Father? Maybe I ticked Him off (by snapping at my kids, the dogs, and my husband) and he’s giving me the silent treatment. Hmm … Perhaps I didn’t pray the right way?

Then I really start to wonder: If Satan is trying to deceive me, then you can bet he’s trying to deceive those who are truly suffering: those without food, medical attention, water, clothing, the list goes on and on.

Just a little background as to why I think this.

I have always felt that my sponsored children’s faith was stronger than mine. They have so much hope. They seem to always be positive and thankful. I figure that Satan would try to deceive those who have a stronger faith.

Why?

Because whenever something goes “wrong” for me, I start to complain:

My daughters and I had ear infections awhile back and our doctor is an hour and a half away. I complained.

Or, my husband had to work late and I had made dinner to be ready for him when he got home. I complained.

Or, “Mr. Fast and Furious” speeds past me, but I am the one who gets pulled over by the policeman for going 5 miles over the limit. I complain.

I know I should be giving thanks to God that we have a doctor, my husband has a job, I have food to prepare, I have my own mode of transportation, and that He will hold other people responsible for their actions.

It seems like even though my sponsored children are living without basic necessities, they’re so thankful for what they DO have. They know what it truly means to be without — they see God working in big ways, because they have so little.

Whereas, since I have more and live with so many more opportunities, I don’t see (or it’s harder for me to see) how God is working.

So, I pray for those who know what it is like to suffer. I pray for my sponsored children.

One of my favorite verses is Isaiah 54:17 – “No weapon formed against you shall prosper.” I pray that my sponsored children will be protected from any weapon — sickness, hunger, thirst, violence, loneliness, discouragement, fatigue and deceit. That those weapons would crumble into dust as my Savior protects them.

After praying for THEM, my lists don’t seem all that important. In fact, my focus has, more often than not, turned toward another piece of paper, one that will contain the words to build up my sponsored children’s self-esteem and to help them battle Satan’s lies. I write my sponsored children and assure them of God’s infinite love, of how special they are, and how proud I am of them.

Interestingly enough, I find that as I write those words, God speaks to my heart as well: God loves you, He hears you, and you are His beloved.

In 2009, I pray that my sponsored child . . .

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.

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.