“How Do You Decide Who To Help?”

This question has been asked many times, and it is difficult to answer. Sometimes there is clear direction from the Holy Spirit, an urgent sense that a response is what God wants. Other times it isn’t so clear. Tonight I’m troubled because I received three “distress calls” today on my cell phone, with nothing resolved for any of the callers. Two calls were about children-at-risk, all boys between the ages of 5 and 8. The last call was from a woman who said she met me years ago, and who needs to “be heard by someone who loves Jesus". When she said that, I felt good that she thought of me! That’s really all I ever want to be! But returning to the original question, I’m asking the Lord to make His will clear in regards to these boys. At the children’s home we’re building a boys’ bungalow because we need to (1) move our boys further away from the girls, and (2) create more space for the girls, who are all in one cabin. Right now we have space for new children only in the nursery. So should that be my answer? That “no room in the inn” response has always been hard for me. And now the situation is different because we have Honduran leadership, and they decide which children will come into the home. I can certainly participate in the discussion, but I no longer singlehandedly take children to the children’s home. It is no longer my prerogative to say to someone on the phone, “Absolutely! I’ll pick up the child tomorrow!”
I’m posting the photo of Aaron Josue because when I accepted him from Social Services, I did so despite some loving pressure not to. He was pathetic. Everyone was in agreement that he was going to die. Should you say ‘no’ because the person “is going to die anyway”? Mother Teresa was attracted to people who fit the opposite profile; she wanted to help them die with dignity. With my U. S. upbringing, I heard those words (“When he dies . . .”) as a sort of challenge: “You’ll see!” I thought. "God is greater than your prognostication!” When all is said and done, though, life and death are in God’s hands, and my desire to prove Social Services wrong just gets mixed up in His mysterious ways.
So yes, I’m glad I took AJ home that day. I love that little guy, and I’m so thankful for his new wheelchair (Thanks, Dr. Jack!). Was it God’s will? I think so, but Paul says we can only “see through a glass darkly” right now, so maybe there is no way to be absolutely certain. Does the Lord want me to get mixed up with those three little boys? My heart longs to respond somehow, but a look at my day tomorrow makes it clear that if I do respond, it won’t be immediately. I’ve passed on the information to our leadership team for prayer and discussion. That and prayer will have to do for now.
If this all sounds muddled, well, it is. It’s a holy muddle. I believe that Jesus wants all of us to get involved in holy muddles because that’s where His light shines brightest. May He help us know when and where and how to become His hands and feet.