I understand that in the United States, we are truly blessed.

Many feel that we are the chosen people of God. Others believe that we are on the brink of destruction because we’ve turned against Him.

I have recently returned from an area of the world that has stolen my heart. I have spoken about this before, but this time I have a different focus.

In America, we enjoy a level of freedom that is unparalleled anywhere on the planet. For the most part, we can say what we want, do what we want, and try what we want—within reason.

We may not agree with who should be president, but we need to support and pray for him and his family. Unless, of course, we don’t believe that prayer changes things. I believe it does, so I will pray.

We also need to pray for those who support the president for the wrong reasons. They need our prayers more than anyone.

Of course, not everyone enjoys the freedoms we do. And in some parts of the world, the poor and needy have no recourse. When the food runs out, or the water dries up, or disease takes over—they are on their own.

But everyday they get out of bed and try. The streets are bustling as its citizens search for food, gather water or earn a meager living somehow. This may mean collecting plastic containers to melt down for the market, or sell boxes of tissues or cigarettes at intersections, hoping to earn enough to buy a little food for the day.

And where is God in this picture? Interestingly, the devotion to spiritual things in such cultures is rather devout, and we pale in comparison. But the question remains—does it change our hearts?

It’s important for us to focus on what is truly, eternally important. That may mean moving in a direction we are not used to, and for comments such as this, I have fallen under recent criticism.

For example, we need to pray not only for people in our own country, but also for those suffering persecution in countries around the world that don’t follow our path.

We need to be involved. That isn’t easy, and it isn’t cheap. The material costs are high, and the personal costs are impossible to measure. But our involvement is essential. It cannot be replaced by sending food or money, or anything else.

I’m not saying that you have to go where I go, and do what I do—that is not my point. There will come a time for me when I can no longer go anywhere, but I am still to be involved and engaged as long as the Lord will allow me.

One question I often ask myself when trying to make a decision I consider important or critical is: ‘In the grand scheme of things—in the eternal scheme of things, does this decision really matter—does it?’ If not, maybe it isn’t as important as I thought.

Where is God in this desperate world? He’s in me. What am I doing with Him?

If you are offended by any of this, please understand, I am speaking chiefly to myself.