My dad has used this phrase with me often, "Stacy, you can't save the world". I know what he means. And in his "I'm still your dad (even though I've lived under another roof for almost 33 years) way", I get that he is the one left behind when I board my "evangelical self "on a plane to another country. He loves me, and I am thankful that he's still on the other end of the phone, waiting in anticipation to know that I have safely landed in his homeland.
But when I go on my trips, and when I return, there are nothing but "save the world moments" on my mind. I want to fix all that I can when I'm there. And while I know that I can't save even one of them, I give my whole heart when I'm with them: holding their hands, kissing their cheeks, running and playing like I'm their 7 year old best friend, and praying right into their faces in my own heart-language, asking Jesus to see them and rescue their hearts, and to be their Savior.
And it doesn't stop there. Once I return, I can't stop seeing their faces in my every day. I see them as I pass huge houses on my morning walk, and learn that no one lives in one of them because of a divorce. The house is empty; and it's huge (I can only imagine what a Shuar Indian would say if they saw that big, empty house!). And I see people watering their lawns, and sink's that run for need of hot water, and water bottles left half empty, and I remember reading that one child dies every minute as a result of illnesses associated with drinking dirty water, most of them before their fifth birthday. In fact, I learn through World Vision that there are more than 783 million people around the world who have no access to safe water. I know that there are hundreds of thousands of children who are orphaned due to the AIDS devastation in Africa, living on a bowl of porridge a day (which is provided by some of the only adults living around them in villages where children are raising children). And on, and on, and on...I read the statistics, and I compare it to the abundance we have in the U.S., and it bothers me. It bothers me a lot.
I know that I can't save the world, but I can pray that those of us who know the Savior will see all of these who need the compassion of our Shepherd, and we will pray. In fact, I hope that we are all praying for the laborers, because He told us to. Jesus didn't make a distinction between "those who are called to go overseas, and those who stay at home" in Matthew 9. He told us all to pray, and I don't read it as a suggestion.
So when you drink clean water today, would you pray for those who are still waiting for someone to dig a well for them? And when you take your children to the doctor, would you pray for the mother's who can't take theirs to one? Pray when you drive your air-conditioned cars, and pray when you pull up the covers on your bed tonight. Pray, because the harvest is plentiful, and God's house is so big, and He wants to fill it. I want to live in that house with all the people I've prayed my whole life to share it with. And I can't wait to see their faces; faces of those I've known in my heart, sitting beside me at His thankful table, with glasses of clean water filled from the river of life; a river that never runs dry.
