These are my dancing shoes. They don’t look much like your child’s dancing shoes, do they? Your child’s dancing shoes are all mirror-shiny patent with taps sparking their soles. Or satiny ballet slippers tied on with long sleek ribbons.
But these shoes make me dance, all the same. Where I live, we have this shallow, shallow stream. And we have to walk across it to leave our village. We call it Fever Creek because lots of kids get Schistosomiasis from walking through that stream. Now that I have a pair of shoes, I might not catch Schistosomiasis after all.
These battered old shoes that you would root out of your child’s closet and toss in the trash? They might keep me healthy. Or at least healthier than I would be without them.
My big brother got a sponsor. I don’t understand it all, but I know this:
He eats every day.
He goes to school.
He sees a doctor every year.
He has heard the Gospel and invited Jesus into his life.
My big brother has hope.
Will you be my future? Please sponsor me. Just go to Compassion International and choose a child. Any child. Because they all have stories like mine.
When they had finished breakfast, Jesus said to Simon Peter, “Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these?” He said to him, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” He said to him, “Feed my lambs.”
John 21:15 (ESV)