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That One Question February 14, 2004   Sometimes I lose my courage. Last Wednesday was almost one of those days. I have been visiting a children’s home for the past 4 weeks, presenting the message of God’s love and salvation every week but with no concrete results. I would present an appeal but no ever responded. What was I doing wrong? Was my Portuguese so unintelligible? Were my lessons without His power? I have also been teaching them some American games such as Duck Duck Goose. Since I don’t even know the Portuguese word for “goose” we use, “Rato, Rato, Gato” (Rat, Rat, Cat). It really works out better because the cat ends up chasing the rat. Last week we did “Drop the Hankie” and they loved it. My kids, who have missed out on those American pastimes, are enjoying these also. The 13 children show the appreciation for my visits in sweet ways, a hug, a smile and word of thanks. But the greatest joy would be if my visits made any eternal difference. There just seemed to be no fruit. Deep down I knew that I would have to be more forthright in how I approached these children about a decision. But did I have the courage to do it? There are two young boys, Abel and Wiggles, for whom I have felt really burdened. They are so open to God now but what will happen when adolescence comes in a couple years? The time is now for the Word to get a firm place in their hearts. After I finished the Bible lesson on Wednesday once again no one responded. With a resolved heart I asked Jesus to open the way to talk to one or two kids, ANYONE. Wiggles was playing near my 4yo, Gwendolyn, so I took a breath and asked him if I could talk with him for a moment. As he walked beside me I asked him if he ever had accepted Jesus. He said he hadn't but that he would like to! With more hopefulness I got out my Evangecube and shared with him the wonderful story. He prayed to accept Christ right then. As I was finishing Abel came over to where we were sitting. I asked him the same question and he also wanted to accept Christ. So we talked and prayed together. It was as if they were just waiting for me to ask. What if I hadn’t asked the question? I wonder what makes me so afraid to ask the most important question in the world? Is it the fear of rejection? Or is it the fear of personal failure, not being able to explain clearly the plan of salvation? I know that the Evil one would like me to be afraid of both, especially when he knows that the fruit is there and all I have to do is ask that one question. The rest is really up to Jesus. Grace Ensz