in case you need more information to rock your world...

Posted by Doug Nichols, founder of ACTION International
http://dougnichols.blogspot.com on November 30, 2010


1. 28 million in slavery worldwide; many are children and victims of human trafficking! 400,000 children are in slavery in Haiti! [“Finding Slavery in My Own Backyard”, by David Batstone. “Missions Frontiers”, September-October 2007 29:5, p.12]

2. 3.2 million untrained or undertrained pastors throughout the world. Pray for missionary mentors and trainers to assist these needy pastors [http://topic.us/].

3. 100 million Christians are living in persecution throughout the world (Persecuted Church) [http://www.persecution.com/].

4. There are 145 million orphans worldwide. If one missionary (or one church) took responsibility for 1000 orphans, there would, therefore, be a need for 145,000 missionaries (or individual churches) [http://viva.org/; http://www.compassion.com/; http:// www.actioncic.org /]!

5. There are 160 million street children, especially in Africa, Asia, Europe, and Latin America. Thousands of missionaries and Christian workers are needed to take the Gospel and compassionate care to these needy children [http://www.actioninternational.org/; http://www.actioncic.org/].

6. 200 million people worldwide are on the move (referred to as the Diaspora) in search of employment and a better education, because of persecution and natural disasters, and so forth. Many are open to kindness and hospitality which opens the door for the Gospel [http://www.fin-online.org/].

7. There are three (3) billion people worldwide with no nearby Christian or church to share the Gospel with them. They can only be reached by someone going to them (missionary) with the Gospel. If one missionary went to 5000 of these, there would be the need of 600,000 additional missionaries[http://www.actioninternational.org/]!

same story, different day...

It would be a terrible lie for me to say that even one day goes by without hearing or seeing a heartbreaking story.  I knew that when I said “Here I am, send me.” I knew what I was signing up for, and I agreed knowing full well how difficult of a struggle it would be.  However, a part of me expected to fix it…all of it, all of the pain, all of the hurt, all of the brokenness, all of it…unrealistically optimistic, I know that, at least my BRAIN knows that but my heart seems to think otherwise.   I’ll admit it, I’m a chronic “fixer” and my head spins and spins until I can find some sort of a solution to satisfy it.   I live with that everyday, no matter where I am, and I’m pretty good at keeping my emotions and actions in check.  But for some reason, I hit a breaking point today…

Ate Ara (another staff member at Safe) and I decided to go shopping in Makati (the business center of the Philippines aka a predominantly wealthy area) for a dress to wear to Safe’s Christmas party tomorrow night.  After coming out of the store/mall that we went to, we had to walk through a VERY wealthy area filled with foreigners and bars and “coffee shops.” Now in all fairness to my ate, she had warned me about the area and how she had previously confirmed that it was a great area for prostitution.  But as we walked through outdoor cafes with lovely music and fountains and beautifully lit trees (a perfect picturesque area) I noticed several interactions.  As an older white man flirtatiously told a young Filipina how maganda (beautiful) she was with a horrible American accent and another older white man walked by holding onto a young Filipina, I noticed my clinched fists and heart pounding as I urged Ate Ara to walk faster and get me out of there as I repeated aloud “I can not break down now….I will be angry later, later, later, LATER!!!” And right before I snapped we escaped and I took a few deep breaths…but only a few before two little boys were holding onto my arm begging for money.   We kept walking until the boys left and walked back to where they had started following us.  As we turned the corner…it hit me…like a huge crashing wave.

And I lost it…right there on the corner of the streets of Makati, I stood sobbing (and not just tears running down my face but the entire works, like the "to the point of hyperventilation and curled into the fetal position until I could barely catch my breath" sobbing).  My lovely ate patiently stood there handing me tissues and patting my back.  I quickly regained enough composure to keep walking.  And in case you're wondering what Filipinos did (since you know they are all watching the "puti" (white person)) as I walked and continued to wipe the tears from my eyes, they all asked “Why are you crying?”…gotta love their compassion/curiosity/wanting an excuse to speak English to the Americana!  But something about hearing that made me smile.  

Oh the injustices of the poor…and how incredibly angry I become when I see foreigners who aren’t doing anything to stop it and how angry I get at myself for seeming to be just like “one of them” because of how tiny and insignificant I feel in this huge sea of brokenness…but thanks to an amazing loving father who for some reason chose me, a little small town girl from NC, to love the unloved and to be broken for the broken.  Yes, I see pain and heartache everyday but I am blessed beyond measure for the ones that I am able and called to love. 

“But you are not like that, for you are a chosen people. You are royal priests, a holy nation, God's very own possession. As a result, you can show others the goodness of God, for he called you out of the darkness into his wonderful light.” 1 Peter 2:9

aja!

Time for an update on Jassel, the little girl I talked about in a previous blog: http://daphnecheryl.blogspot.com/2010/11/you-look-like-aswang.html

Jassel has been waiting for 3 years for surgery on her heart.  She was born with a special heart.  Her heart is completely opposite anatomically and the ventricles do not pump properly.  Because of poor circulation, her blood is not as oxygenated as it should be, leaving her to appear blue (aka “blue babies”).  Jassel’s heart formed special veins and arteries in order to bring the blood to and from the rest of her body.

While waiting for surgery, she has had to have multiple blood transfusions to replace her very thick blood with normal thin blood.  The blood that is used must be replaced in the blood bank, therefore, requiring all, who are able, to donate blood as frequently as possible. 

Thankfully, an angiogram was FINALLY performed yesterday (Friday) on Jassel after she was admitted on Thursday.  She was given a blood transfusion today (Saturday).  Therefore, I went with Ate Red (Safe’s National Director) to the Heart Center to donate and replace the blood that was used.  I was able to give and the process was amazingly faster than the last time (even though drug and blood testing was added to the list of pre-donation procedures).  And afterwards came my favorite part again…going to see Jassel.

As we sat and talked, her mother told us how strong she was during the procedure.  Jassel could see the concern and fear in her mother’s eyes and asked the doctors if her mother could come in with her during the procedure (here’s the tear-jerker) so that Jassel could make sure that her mother was okay and hold her hand through it to let her know that she was going to be fine.  Jassel had been through so much in the past 2 days but still held an incredible amount of strength in her tiny body.

We were able to talk to the doctor who gave us an idea of the future plans for surgery, as up to this point there hasn’t been a clear plan and so many “it depends” and “we’ll sees” have put off surgery for far too long.  The doctors are hopefully going to meet next week to review the angiogram results and set-up the next step.  The doctor also informed us that Jassel would be staying in the hospital at least until tomorrow (Sunday) and possibly longer depending on how she is doing.

After the doctor left, Jassel was sad. It was the first time I didn’t see a smile on her face.  Her mother finally told us that she didn’t want to miss the Christmas Party at church tomorrow. As she told us, Jassel began crying.  This precious, tiny girl who has so much courage and is so strong everyday with needles going in and out of her and doctors and hospitals, etc., etc., etc. was so upset that she wouldn’t be at a party.  Ahhh! I was broken….into a million pieces!!! With her keeping her brave face on 24/7 sometimes I forget how fragile she is and that something like a Christmas party could be so important to a little 9 year old. 

It’s times like these that make me frustrated that something hasn’t been done already….3 YEARS she’s waited for surgery but “it’s not bad enough yet.” She is missing out on so many things that most 9 year olds do just because the system isn’t ready to deal with her case yet.  Her not living her childhood the way that she should and could be able to…says that it’s past bad enough.  Hopefully, things will begin to move forward now though and Jassel will be able to run around like the other little girls her age soon. But until then...she'll keep fighting and she'll stay strong...with the help of a SUPER strong God :)

Aja! She's a brave little fighter :)

As you can imagine, the multiple hospitalizations, procedures, and surgery that Jassel has and will be going through are expensive.  Therefore, if you would like to donate specifically to Jassel, please send a check made out to RTP Community Church to P.O. Box 11236, Durham NC 27703 

(Please put Daphne Meeks-Jassel in the memo line).  

Feeling a little Daddy-sick :(

So I’m sure there are several factors that have led to my current sadness: 1. I’m writing Christmas cards, 2. this week/day has been pretty busy and somewhat crazy, 3. Christmas is everywhere!!!! 4. with Christmas comes hunting season (except in Manila because even though guns are everywhere, something tells me they aren’t used for deer) and 5. this is officially my first Christmas away from home…

However, I’m usually calm under pressure, optimistic despite the circumstances, and not homesick…EVER!  And I wouldn’t even say I was homesick now…sorry Edenites, no offense….but I do NOT miss “home” not in the slightest (now my second “home”…RTPCC whadduppp???...yeah, I can’t lie….I miss ya’ll a lotttt!!!!).  But tonight, I REALLY, REALLY miss my daddy…

Most of the conversations that I’ve had one-on-one with the girls at Safe over the past few weeks have been about how much they miss their fathers and how they just want to hear their voice and to make them proud.  The connection the girls are so longing for with their fathers puzzles me.  Despite how incredibly horrible their fathers were to them whether it was beating them, raping them, or selling them, the girls want nothing more than to be able to see their fathers in hope of somehow gaining approval.  They lose sleep at night crying and praying that they will be able to reconcile things with their fathers and have some form of a relationship with them again. 

Now I’ll admit, I’ve been slapped in the face several times over the past month and a half with the vast differences between the way I was raised and the opportunities I was blessed with and the girls at Safe.  But this difference slaps me over and over and over again...I have an amazing and loving and compassionate and Godly father who has sacrificed so much to give me everything that I could ever dream of wanting and more.  When I think about my favorite hobbies, my mind always goes to the things that my daddy taught me and the things we would always do together: camping, canoeing, hiking, fishing, and hunting.  The great thing about my daddy though is that he didn’t just drag me along to do the things he wanted to do. I would stay close by him and listen to his stories and soon his passions became my passions.  I found myself begging to go places with him and getting upset when he went without me.  Until, eventually, I had earned enough trust and proved my commitment enough for him to let me join him.  But I never came along without a step-by-step instruction lesson (“this is where you wanna shoot” (pointing to the mounted deer head), “here is a kill shot, it’ll break his neck and here will bust his jugular,” and my all-time favorite and most valuable one “before you shoot, take a deep breath, let half of it out, hold it and pull the trigger”).

I’ll never forget my first deer…we (just me and daddy) were sitting in the stand and had been for quite awhile when all of a sudden daddy taps my knee and points off into the distance.  We sit and wait for the deer to get closer as I slowly stand up and get ready.  I aim, then I aim, then I aim…until I look to my daddy to get the thumbs-up.  I take a deep breath, let half of it out, and pull the trigger.  Down he went, right where I shot him.  I was shaking with excitement as my daddy says “You’ve got deer fever now don’t ya?”  I was excited but my daddy was even more excited.  We went down to check out the deer…I got him right in the neck, exactly where daddy said to shoot and I broke his neck AND busted his jugular! “Good job Daffy-Roo” (SN: ONLY Daddy is allowed to call me that, DO NOT get any ideas…) with a high-five as he smiled from ear-to-ear. I have never ever seen my dad that proud…EVER (and I graduated from UNC-CH this past May…it still stands, ever). 

I loved that day! I loved seeing my daddy proud of me!  And I can’t help but think that God is the exact same way with us.  He doesn’t want us to do things just because He likes them. He wants His passions to be our passions. He wants us to be so close to His heart that our heart begins to sync up with His.  And then when they do, He wants us to be bold enough to ask for our desires and to trust that He’ll respond.  And then, when He begins to take us along, He gives us step-by-step instructions. And then, in the heat of the action, He lets us know that He’s beside us and will help to remind us if we start to struggle.  And then, He’s gives that huge smile of approval and saying “Well done, my daughter, well done.”

So I miss you daddy…but I thank you for being a wonderful example of God’s heart and love for His daughters.  You took time to teach me and show me things that you didn’t have to and those memories are more valuable than anything money could ever buy.  I’m thankful that you’ve taught me that even when you, my earthly father, aren’t close by that there’s an amazing heavenly father waiting with open arms to wrap His arms around me just like you would! I love you daddy!!!

i vow to love...

I am often asked why I do what I do and when I decided to start doing it.  I’ve struggled with answering those questions because I never really had an “aha!” moment…my heart has been broken for so long that I don’t remember when it first happened but I do remember running across this photograph and story when I was really young. And to say I was broken, would be an understatement…this photograph led to “a wail that swallowed me.”

I remember being so hurt and moved with compassion to run and scoop this tiny frail girl up, hold her close, and find a way to nurse her back to life.  I remember knowing then that I was meant for greater things outside of my small town that I grew up in.  I remember wanting to put on war paint and go marching out to war against the injustices of the world.  I remember fighting back the urge to go on a mad manhunt to find people committing any kind of injustice and make them pay.  I remember crying myself to sleep at night thinking about how unfair life is.  I remember standing up against my parents and refusing to eat just for the sake of starving children.  I remember falling in love with the faces of children I had never even met.  And then I heard the story behind the photograph…

Kevin Carter, a South African photojournalist, had taken the photograph while in Sudan.  While photographing, the vulture hovering over the dying child flew away.  Carter also left the scene, leaving the emaciated girl who was moments away from death lying facedown in the dirt.  Afterwards, the photo appeared in The New York Times and Carter received the Pulitzer Prize for Feature Photography.  Merely 3 months after taking the photo, Carter committed suicide, leaving behind this letter: 

"I am depressed ... without phone ... money for rent ... money for child support ... money for debts ... money!!! ... I am haunted by the vivid memories of killings and corpses and anger and pain ... of starving or wounded children, of trigger-happy madmen, often police, of killer executioners...I have gone to join Ken if I am that lucky."

And that is when all hell broke loose within me…how in the world could someone who is within 10 feet of this tiny precious girl just leave her for the vultures to devour???? I was enraged, infuriated, pissed off beyond control!!!

One man, saw a dying child in need, had the chance to change the outcome, had the chance to be the hands and feet of Christ, and chose to do nothing…

Hmmm…stop. breathe. think. Well then, how different are we from Kevin Carter? Not a bit.  Because we've done the same heinous thing when we have the opportunity to share God’s love and instead, we walk away for fear of getting our hands a little dirty.  We turn our back on a dying world that’s destined for hell every single time we pass up the chance to love.  So I don’t have a right to be angry at Kevin Carter at all, because at some point in time, I’ve been (and still am, somedays) just like him…and if all of you are honest with yourself, so are you. 

So when does it stop? When do we quit ignoring injustice? When do we start loving like God loves? When do our hearts start breaking for the things that make His heart break? The answer: when you decide to do something, when you decide to not be like Kevin Carter, when you decide to seek God's heart with everything you have and all that you are....when our hearts are aligned with God's heart, that's when it stops...