As I sit in this airport on the way home, I can’t help but ask the question: If the simple life in America means we live with less—what does it mean for them?

Living with less where we have been for a week means something different then living with less elsewhere. For example, the little girl and her brother in this picture wanted nothing more than to get through the day, and maybe eat.

They practiced their broken English, and held on to me, asking me if I would come and see their family. Food wasn’t the only problem in this devastated part of the world. Disease was rampant and taking loved ones by the dozen.

I’m not trying to break your heart. I’m trying to show you two young children who, in the midst of extreme poverty, need to know about Jesus. The best way for them to know is for someone to tell them.

Someone to step out of their comfort zone and take the Gospel to where it has never been. We call it the Great Commission and shroud it in the cloak of sacrifice, as if we are giving up everything to be obedient to it.

They call it food, and clothing, and eternal life. For people who have nothing to call their own—nothing at all, they call it love.

These kids were typical of the children we saw that day. They were thankful for food and clothing, shelter and a place to sleep. But those things weren’t a given. More than anything, they were thankful that we came and held their hands and talked to their parents. They couldn’t believe that we would come just to visit and offer the meager medical care we had.

This week I was privileged once again to spend time with young professionals willing to show up and get totally out of their comfort zones, use up precious vacation time, and risk it all because it’s worth it. It meant that some of them got sick. That happens all the time and it doesn’t stop these young women and men with whom I am blessed to work. They don’t accompany me on the front lines to support me–we work alongside each other to make it happen.

There are always compromising situations and we encounter displaced people who have experienced terror that no one should ever see. That’s why we’re there. Don’t look at us as suffering for God. Look at those who have lost loved ones to bombings and torture and rape as suffering for God. I am not worthy to be compared to what they have endured.

What a humbling experience to have a poor child end your visit with them by offering you some of their food or a cup of hot tea in the midst of their hunger.

Pray for them, and then go. Go with us or with someone else who is going, but go if you’re able. God doesn’t call some to make a difference. He calls everyone to make a difference. You’ll know what that looks like if you seek His will. Do it.