He sees. He hears. He loves. He saves.

Hearing stories of Street Kids (both first hand and through friends who have been involved in such ministries) and spending time with Mark and Jenn at the orphanage and hearing some of these kids stories has been a real struggle of faith for me for the past year or so. Earlier this winter I blogged about being outside in the freezing weather waiting for a marshrootka and having my heart break thinking—and trying not to think—about the children who have no home to go to.

I cannot express the joy to you that I have felt as I have had the privilege of meeting recently adopted Chris Underwood and getting to know Kevin and John (Mark and Jenn’s Kiev boys). I am watching God build families and it is so utterly amazing that I cannot do it justice with words. Hopelessness traded for hope. God doing God things leaves me stunned. But as my eyes float around the orphanage to the other children, I can’t help but question my Father, “Daddy, what about them?”

The closer the proximity to a problem, the more the heart is affected by it, I know. And yet, something (or perhaps Someone) inside me drives me to involve myself more and more though something else argues that I could never do enough, never love them all. And somehow, kind of like in that starfish story, I know that I can love this one. And this one. And this one. And maybe it will matter to these. And I can trust the Father to send others to adopt, others to pray, others to love.

This week I reread a book called Vienna Prelude. It is a fiction novel about a young girl during WWII who helped get Jewish children to safety. There is a point in the novel where she too wonders about the mercy of God as she sees innocent people—His people—suffer. And often remember the phrase from a song “what God has done is rightly done” she thinks to herself “God has seen the desperate children and the evil darkness that would cover the earth. And He had provided some hope, a few small shimmering candles that illuminated a narrow path to safety. In that instant she felt like weeping with relief. None of this was up to her. She had only to make herself available and God would do what must be rightly done.”

Thank you, Mark and Jenn. Emily. Michelle. Child Rescue. Dennis. The Hall’s. Reach Orphans With Hope. Max. And all the other lights that God is using to pierce the darkness on the streets and in the orphanages in Ukraine.

Thank you, Alan, for your sermon this morning on the infinity of the God we serve. When I (sort of—because that’s as far as I ever get) begin to grasp how big He is, it becomes easier for me to let go, trust Him and step in faith. I cannot do everything, but I can do something. God, what do You want me to do?