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Michelle DeRusha

Every Day Faith. Faith Every Day.

Compassion International

We are Called to Serve, Not Solve

September 27, 2013 By Michelle

I heard the crying as soon as the engine died. It was hard to ignore, our respective vehicles only feet apart, our windows rolled down to let in the hot wind. Her SUV was pulled to the curb across the street outside the school, my mini-van on the opposite side. As soon as she turned the key, the quiet of the neighborhood settled around us. Glancing up from the book in my lap, I lowered my glasses. She was crying all right, sobs muffled as she held her head in her hands.

I read the same paragraph four times straight, all the while praying the woman would get control of herself.

I didn’t want to approach her. I didn’t want to ask if she was okay. I didn’t want to deal with the awkwardness, the discomfort. I didn’t want to walk straight into a stranger’s pain. I wanted to sit in my car with my book in my lap and ignore the sounds of distress. I wanted to push the button on the side of my door and roll up the automatic window so I didn’t have to hear or see or acknowledge.

She didn’t stop crying.

I put my book face-down on the passenger seat, clicked open the lock, swung open the door. I walked five steps across the street, my eyes on the pavement as I approached her window. “I don’t want to intrude on your privacy,” I said to the woman in the car, lifting my eyes to meet hers. “But you seem upset, and, well, can I do anything to help?”

Mascara was smudged like charcoal on both of her cheeks. Her eyes were red-rimmed, bloodshot and raw. “No, no, I’m okay, I’m okay,” she gulped, staring down at her lap. “I’m okay,” she said again, glancing up at me standing outside her window.

“Okay,” I said. I lifted my hand to touch her arm, but I stopped just short, resting it on the door frame of her car instead. “Okay,” I repeated. “I just wanted to make sure. Let me know if I can do anything though.” I stood there for a half-second, my hand on her car, grappling for something, anything else to say. But there was nothing.

I walked back to my car and slid into the front seat. I picked up my book again, but I didn’t read another word.

I didn’t do anything to help the woman in the car. I didn’t ease or pain or assuage her suffering. I didn’t solve her problems. The only thing I’d done was heed the nudge I’d felt deep inside me, the nudge I’d wanted to ignore.

I think sometimes we forget that poverty – whether poverty of spirit or poverty of circumstances — isn’t our problem to solve. Jesus didn’t command us to go out and solve the world’s problems. He didn’t instruct us to go out and singlehandedly obliterate suffering. He simply commanded we go out.

Go out and show compassion.

Go out and offer help to one person in need.

Go out and love our neighbor.

It’s easy to succumb to apathy in the face of the world’s problems. Pain is everywhere. Poverty is rampant. Everyone is suffering, everyone is carrying a burden. It’s easy to conclude, Why bother? What’s the point? What can I do, one person amid millions of suffering and burdened, millions of hopeless and sick. 

But the point isn’t really what one person can or can’t do. It’s whether one person will or won’t serve.  Jesus asks us, commands us, to serve. Not to solve, but simply to serve. We won’t always make a noticeable difference. The story won’t always have a happy ending. But he asks us to hear the call and to heed it nonetheless.

“Poverty is not necessarily an issue to solve; it is an opportunity to serve. As we go through each day, our heart’s cry should be, Lord, where would you have me give, serve, and invest myself to bring hope to the poor?” — Orphan Justice author, Johnny Carr

 

If you’re hesitating to answer the call to sponsor a child in need because you’re discouraged by the enormity of global poverty, remember this: sponsoring a child isn’t an opportunity to solve a problem necessarily, it’s an opportunity to serve. If you are hearing the call to do something today, even just one little tiny something, listen and heed.

 

Filed Under: Compassion, poverty, serving Tagged With: Compassion International, serving, What Jesus says about the poor

She Bought Him Shoes

September 20, 2013 By Michelle

I knew it wouldn’t be an extravagant gift. After all, I’d only sent $20. And even in Bolivia, $20 doesn’t go very far. But still, I had envisioned something  fun.

A soccer ball to kick around in the dusty lot — the lot where he stands serious, arms by his side in the photograph that hangs on our fridge.

A box of 64 Crayolas, vibrant points row upon row, and a stack of crisp, unblemished coloring books.

A set of shiny Matchbox cars, primary colors popping bright against the dirt.

A brand-new, hard-cover book, Thomas the Tank Engine or Elmo in Spanish.

I’d pictured something that would light a smile on that somber face. A gift that would spark joy in those piercing brown eyes.

“Thank you very much for the birthday money,” his mother wrote in Spanish on Compassion letterhead a few weeks later. “I used it to buy Pedro a new pair of shoes.”

She bought him shoes for his fifth birthday.

I held her letter in my hand, reading her short note once, then twice, swallowing shame as I imagined my own children’s reaction to a single birthday gift, a gift of shoes. It would be unthinkable, of course. My children ask for iPods and scooters, Minecraft and Mario Bros. Shoes aren’t given as birthday gifts in our house. Shoes are a given.

I looked again at Pedro’s photograph on our refrigerator. Orange tee-shirt tucked into rumpled beige pants. Plastic pink crocks on his feet.

Plastic pink crocks on his feet.

Pedro’s mother’s bought him shoes for his fifth birthday. A soccer ball would have been fun. Sixty-four crayons and a stack of new coloring books would have been nice. But Pedro needed shoes.

 

September is Blog Month at Compassion International, and this week we were asked to write a response to this picture. I knew right away I would write about Pedro’s birthday shoes. For millions of kids around the world, shoes and other basic necessities like food, shelter, clothing and education are not a given, but a gift. Please consider giving that gift to a needy child. Sponsor a Compassion child or send a donation today. 

Filed Under: Compassion, Pedro Tagged With: Compassion International

Will We Merely Satisfy … or Will We Sacrifice?

September 13, 2013 By Michelle

{A quick note: Jillie won the random drawing of Ally Vesterfelt’s new book Packing Light! Jillie, please send me your mailing address!}

I’m reading Francis Chan again. Man, that Francis Chan. I love him, but I kind of don’t love him, too, you know? Because Francis Chan always gets me good where it hurts.

Chapter Four in Crazy Love is called “Profile of the Lukewarm,” and I knew when I saw that title, it was going to be bad. Real bad. I knew when Francis asked me, “Would you describe yourself as totally in love with Jesus Christ? Or do the words halfhearted, lukewarm and partially committed fit better?”  – I knew, it was going to get ugly. And I knew, when Francis asked me to take the lukewarm test, that I was going to fail.

So here’s the long and the short of it. Francis lists 16 descriptors of what he calls “the lukewarm people” —

The lukewarm people give money to charity and to the church…as long as it doesn’t impinge on their standard of living.

The lukewarm people are moved by stories about people who do radical things for Christ, yet they do not act. They assume such action is for “extreme” Christians, not average ones. 

The lukewarm people will serve God and others, but there are limits to how far they will go and how much time, money and energy they are willing to give.

The lukewarm people ask, “How much do I have to give?” rather than, “How much can I give?” 

I know. Does it make you cringe? If you’re like me, you’re probably mad at Francis Chan for going there. I get all defensive, like Who does he think he is, Mr. Fancy Pants Francis Chan, making those kind of statements? I get mad, because I know he’s right.

Truth be told, of the 16 lukewarm descriptors, I hit 15 dead-on.

I am lukewarm. More like barely warm. Probably more like tundra.

When I looked hard at some of those descriptions, I saw a number of themes, but one in particular stood out: sacrifice.

I don’t sacrifice. I merely satisfy the bare minimum requirements of what I think defines a good Christian.

Man that hurts. But I know it’s true. When it comes to giving my time, my resources and my money, I aim for good-enough — enough to reassure myself that I am giving, that I am serving, that I am doing my Christian duty. Enough to convince myself that I am living as Jesus taught. Loving my neighbor. Caring for the poor. Supporting the orphan and the widow.

Enough to consider myself good-enough.

But as Francis Chan loves to point out, good-enough isn’t Jesus’ way, and it’s not what expects from us either.

“Take up your cross and follow me” is not a lukewarm command.

“Sell everything and give to the poor” is not a lukewarm command.

“Do not merely listen to the word…do what it says” is not a lukewarm command.

Jesus demands not merely satisfying, not halfway, good-enough, almost-there.

Jesus demands sacrifice. Good-enough is not enough.

So September is Blogger Month at Compassion International. Each week we blog on a particular topic — my topic this week was “sacrifice” — with the goal of inspiring and encouraging our readers to sponsor a child in need through Compassion. I’m not usually Preacher Miss Preachy around here, but Francis Chan got me fired up about sacrifice this week, and I do hope it inspires you to take that step, to make that sacrifice in order to love one of God’s children who so desperately needs help. If you’ve been feeling a bit lukewarm, like maybe you’ve been living a good-enough kind of faith, maybe this is your nudge. Please consider sponsoring a Compassion child today.

Sponsor a Child in Jesus Name with Compassion
Save Children

Filed Under: Compassion, giving, sacrifice Tagged With: Compassion International, Crazy Love, Francis Chan, sacrifice

Memo from a Mosquito

April 24, 2013 By Michelle

I’ve noticed it’s been pretty rainy in Nebraska. That’s good. I like rain. Rain makes puddles and puddles are perfect for my larvae. I’m planning a big crop of larvae this year in Nebraska. I’m eager to annoy the heck out of you Cornhuskers.

In the meantime, though, I’m spending my time overseas where it’s warm and humid and there are plenty of supple young bodies ripe for the feast.

I know, I know, please don’t mention the malaria. Everyone always blames mosquitos for malaria, and it’s true, we are major carriers of the disease. But don’t complain to me about it when YOU can do something. All it takes is a simple net, you know, and I can’t get at my victims as easily. But I don’t know why I’m telling you this. You have the power to curtail my options, big-time. I shouldn’t even breathe a word of this.

: :

Okay, Michelle here. I squashed the mosquito. But I wanted to let you know that tomorrow is World Malaria Day, and Compassion International is making a worldwide effort to raise awareness about this preventable and treatable disease.

The fact is, every 30 seconds someone dies from malaria – and most of these victims are under the age of five.

By the time you finish reading this, malaria will have taken the lives of two more kids. More than 665,000 children will die this year from this preventable disease.

You read that right: preventable. A simple mosquito net is all it takes to dramatically reduce the spread of malaria in Africa, Asia and South America.

Ten dollars.

One net.

Save a life.

Join me? Make a donation to Compassion’s Malaria Prevention Campaign. 

Filed Under: Compassion Tagged With: Compassion International, malaria prevention

Hear It on Sunday, Use It on Monday: A Day to Save a Life

January 28, 2013 By Michelle

“Mommy…” I hear the warning tone of his voice across the sunroom. “It’s Sunday, you know…you’re not supposed to be on the computer on the Sabbath day, right?” It’s true. It’s Sunday, and one of my Sabbath “rules” is no technology. And there I am, sitting at my desk in the corner of the sunroom with my laptop open as Noah walks up behind me.

I’m writing a letter to Pedro, the Bolivian boy we sponsor through Compassion. I haven’t written to him since August, but the sermon I just heard in church, about putting faith into action, has prompted me to come home, sit down at my desk and write the letter I’ve been procrastinating for months.

Truth be told, writing to the children we sponsor isn’t my favorite activity. Often it feels like a chore, mostly because I don’t know what to say. What do I have in common with a five-year-old boy I’ve never met, a boy who speaks Spanish and lives in dire poverty? I’m not even sure I could pinpoint Bolivia on a map.

So yes, technically Noah is right. I am breaking my own Sabbath rules. Not only am I on my computer, I’m also doing what I would consider a task, a chore. I am working.

Yet like I explained to Noah, I also know it’s the right thing to do. I care about Pedro. I pray for him, worry about him, think about his family. His picture sits on my desk, right above my computer, so I can look at his huge brown eyes every day. So while writing to Pedro is a chore in some ways, it’s also a good deed, an act of worship, an activity that honors God and feeds my love and compassion for this boy I’ve never met.

“I have a question for you,” Jesus said to the Pharisees, who accused him of breaking the Sabbath by healing a man’s deformed hand. “Does the law permit good deeds on the Sabbath, or is it a day for doing evil? Is this a day to save a life or destroy it?” (Luke 6:9)

Sometimes, like the Pharisees, we miss seeing the forest through the trees when we focus too closely on the legalistic side of Sabbath and other spiritual practices. Those of us who are rule-followers, like me, are especially guilty of this. I’ve always been a “good girl.” I’ve always followed the rules. I like rules. They keep me honest and on track. But they can also keep me from seeing and understanding the big picture.

I’m glad I broke the Sabbath last Sunday. Because even though it was work, it was good work. And that letter to Pedro? In some small way, it may help save his life.

Has rule-following ever inhibited you from seeing the big picture in your faith?

With Jen:

 And Laura:

And with Jen at Rich Faith Rising:

USE this for BLOG

 

Welcome to the “Hear It on Sunday, Use It on Monday” community, a place where we share what we are hearing from God and his Word.

If you’re here for the first time, click here for more information. Please include the Hear It, Use It button (grab the code below) or a link in your post, so your readers know where to find the community if they want to join in — thank you!

Please also try to visit and leave some friendly encouragement in the comment box of at least one other Hear It, Use It participant. And if you want to tweet about the community, please use the #HearItUseIt hashtag.

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Filed Under: Compassion, Gospels, New Testament, Sabbath, Use It on Monday Tagged With: Compassion International, Gospel of Luke, Hear It on Sunday Use It on Monday, Sabbath, what Jesus says about the Sabbath

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For as long as I can remember, I’ve been a Triple Type A, “make it happen” (my dad’s favorite mantra) striver and achiever (I’m a 3 on the Enneagram, which tells you everything you need to know), but these days my striving looks more like sitting in silence on a park bench, my dog at my feet, as I slowly learn to let go of the false selves that have formed my identity for decades and lean toward uncovering who God created me to be.

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