Just before Christmas, I gave myself a present--a daughter. It's actually my third. There's Maria in the Dominican Republic, Lalitha in India, and now Night in Uganda. These girls, aged 11, 9, and 7, are my Compassion daughters.
I received my first letter from Night recently and was taken back by her excited, "Thanks very much for loving me!"
I thought, gee, we just started this thing. I've never even written yet. She doesn't know what I look like....in fact, she doesn't know anything about me. And me, well, besides what she looks like, all I know about her are a few facts--her favorite color is blue and she wants to be a teacher someday. How could she presume that I love her already?
Ah, but young Night already knows that love is a verb. She's not interested in words of love--they don't fill her stomach. And she's not interested in platitudes about love--they don't put clothes on her body or give her an education or even teach her about God. Because even God did more than talk about love--He came down here and demonstrated the greatest act of love we could have never imagined. And all along His way to the cross, He helped, He healed, He fed.
He loved.
Compassion Sunday is coming soon to a church near you (or go to www.compassion.com). Don't walk past that table of faces without stopping to look. And don't just look with your eyes, look with Jesus' eyes.
Then I know you won't go home empty-handed.
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