In an urban slum we met a beautiful young mother, widowed by AIDS, who had sold herself into prostitution because in a area with 98% unemployment, there was no other way for her to feed her children.

Day after day I sunk more deeply into despair.  But then came the opportunity to visit children sponsored by the organization we were traveling with.  Surely there, I thought, we would find hope.  But because of a mix-up in communication, our African host took us to visit children who needed sponsorship but had not yet received it.  They were all orphans from one extended family who were living with their grandfather, a frail, sickly man who could not support them.

It was 2 o’clock in the afternoon.  They had not yet eaten that day and there was no meal awaiting them.  Because we had not planned to be there, we had no food to offer them.

It was one of the most disturbing experiences of my life.  In that moment, I hated who I was: a privileged American seeing the need and doing nothing.  Of course that was not my intention.  But my good intentions meant nothing.  To those children I was just one more person turning away from their pain. 

I decided that day that even if I spent the rest of my life addressing this issue and I helped only one person, at least one life would be different.  And I would know that my heart was alive, that I was connected with what’s real in this world, and that I was moving closer to the heart of God.

When I got home I began studying AIDS and global poverty, prayed earnestly for guidance, and talked about what I’d seen to anyone who would listen.  Proverbs 31:8-9 says, “Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves, for the rights of all who are destitute.   Speak up and judge fairly, defend the rights of the poor and needy.”  In Africa I had seen the destitute, the poor, the needy.  The unequivocal call of scripture was for me to speak up on their behalf.  As I spoke one-on-one and in groups at my church, people listened and responded.  Many offered money.  Others offered their leadership expertise and eventually established a ministry in Africa that now serves thousands of widows, orphans, and people infected with HIV/AIDS.  I don’t direct this ministry.  I have neither the gifts nor the capacity to do that.  God called and empowered me to do one simple thing: speak up.  Then he called and empowered other people to do what they were uniquely equipped to do.  

My unapologetic reason for writing this article is to call you to action.  Elsewhere I have written about what I call “dangerous women,” women willing to engage with the needs of the world, women willing to be healers of wounds and righter of wrongs.  Oh how our world needs a loving, fighting tribe of dangerous women—and men! 

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