Original Lives

In the book of Numbers, in Chapter 27, I want to preach and develop this theme in honor of our mothers. It is a theme that has to do with a group of women, the daughters of Zelophehad, a member of the tribe of Manasseh in Israel.

The book of Numbers is a book that recounts the history of the Jewish people during their pilgrimage in the wilderness, when Israel was becoming established and institutionalized, establishing the laws and institutions that would govern that nation upon entering the Promised Land. And this passage gives us an illustration of how that nation underwent this process of institutionalization, and it is a very curious account. In fact, I came across it two or three days ago because I have been reading the book of Numbers during my devotional time, and immediately I thought, wow! What a fitting and appropriate passage to preach on Mother’s Day, because it shows us the power that women can often have to sweeten life, bring justice to the world, and even change the course of history. Numbers Chapter 27 says:

“Then came the daughters of Zelophehad, the son of Hepher, the son of Gilead, the son of Machir, the son of Manasseh, from the family of Manasseh, the son of Joseph. Their names were Mahlah, Noah, Hoglah, Milcah, and Tirzah. And they presented themselves before Moses, before Eleazar the priest, before the leaders, and before the entire congregation at the entrance to the tabernacle of meeting, and said, ‘Our father died in the wilderness, and he was not among the company of those who gathered together against the Lord in Korah’s group, but he died in his own sin and had no sons. Why should our father’s name be removed from among his family because he had no son? Give us an inheritance among our father’s brothers....’”

There is the key to this passage: “...give us an inheritance among our father’s brothers. And Moses brought their case before the Lord, and the Lord answered Moses, saying, ‘The daughters of Zelophehad speak rightly. You shall give them possession of an inheritance among their father’s brothers, and you shall transfer their father’s inheritance to them. And you shall speak to the children of Israel, saying: If a man dies without sons, then you shall transfer his inheritance to his daughter. If he has no daughter, then you shall give his inheritance to his brothers. And if he has no brothers, then you shall give his inheritance to his father’s brothers. And if his father has no brothers, then you shall give his inheritance to the nearest relative in his family, and it shall belong to him. And this shall be a statute of justice for the children of Israel, as the Lord commanded Moses....’”

May the Lord bless His Word. Amen. And as I have told you, I have been making my way through the book of Numbers in my personal devotions each day, and I came across this curious passage. It had never really struck me before. I am sure I have read it, because I have read all these books several times throughout my life, but this time it hit me somewhat differently, and I read it more carefully. I do not know whether I am more sensitive to these issues nowadays or whatever the reason may be, but reading it greatly intrigued me. I had never before heard anyone preach about this passage, but later, while researching it, I realized that there is already a whole body of literature written about these five women, and it is a subject of preaching—especially among people who are deeply involved in women’s rights, sometimes on the left wing of the church, and in feminism. This passage has had a great impact because it reveals something very interesting.

It shows five women who dared to question the status quo. They dared to... Someone said amen over there; it seems they liked what I said. Wow! They dared to question the way things were. They dared to question what many called the establishment in the 1960s—the way things were. And they dared to be creative and think of an alternative to the reality in which they lived. And to understand how radical these women’s action was, we must understand the historical context of the nation of Israel, the context in which they lived and carried out their heroic action.

This was at the very beginning of the nation of Israel. We are talking about more than three thousand years ago, when this event took place. Women had absolutely no legal status. Even centuries later in the history of Israel, in the Middle East, and in many countries around the world—and even today in many countries around the world, in the Arab Middle Eastern world, in many African countries, throughout Muslim cultures, and in Asia—women have few rights and are abused, oppressed, and violated, and they have no recourse they can use.

At the time this story took place, women had no legal status, as I said. They were less than... they were animals, we might say, the property of men. And one of the ways this was manifested was that they could not inherit. Men were the only ones who inherited. Israel had a system of inheritance regarding land in which every family could receive a portion of land. It was an agricultural society, so land was extremely important and was a sign of belonging and survival in the nation of Israel.

And God gave each tribe a large portion of land, and each family could receive a piece of land on which to have its home and crops, and so forth. But women could not inherit land; indeed, they could not inherit at all. What happened if a man, a father, died? The inheritance went to his sons, and women’s legal existence was so negligible that if there was no son to inherit because the father had only had daughters, the inheritance simply passed over the daughters and went to some other distant relative. Yet even though the natural thing would have been to think, well, it is bad enough that only the men inherit, but if there is no man to inherit, then for that inheritance to be squandered and given to a nephew or a brother or whoever else was absolutely scandalous, absolutely unjust.

And these women did something very daring and heroic. Their father had no sons, and I can just imagine that the inheritance was about to be given to one of their father’s brothers, and I imagine that was the last straw for these women. And I picture them sitting by the light of a lamp, perhaps one night, and they began to talk and grow upset over the situation, and one of them said, ‘Sisters, we cannot leave things this way. We have to talk to someone. We have to question this; this is an injustice.’ Perhaps one of the more timid ones said to her, ‘Yes, but that is how it has always been done, and this has already been decided. It was decided a long time ago, and you know very well that we women have no rights at all. If we go there, they will throw us out and insult us, and we cannot do it. That is the way things are, and that is how they will remain. You know about the injustices of the world.’

But perhaps this young woman kept insisting and insisting, and another became a little more courageous, and finally, perhaps through a sustained dialogue, or perhaps over the course of several days, these women ultimately came to the conclusion, ‘You know what? Let us present ourselves before the government of Israel. Let us bring our case before Moses and the council of Israel. And the worst thing that can happen is that they simply tell us to go away, tell us no, and slam the door in our faces. But at least we will be able to say that we tried and made an effort, and perhaps they will at least listen and realize that what they are doing is unjust.’

How important it is, brothers and sisters—and here is the essence of what I want to share with you—how important it is to question things when your conscience and your understanding of God’s law, of what is moral, right, and proper, trouble you, and you believe there is an injustice in the world, that something is not being done properly, or that someone is being oppressed. Brother, sister, do not silence that voice. Do not cast it aside simply by saying, well, that is the way the world is, that is the way people are, those are the laws, that is the way mankind is. Listen to that voice, entrust your cause to the Lord, and try to do something about it.

And many times it may be something in your family; it may be something at the school where you work; it may be something at your workplace, where someone is being oppressed or mistreated, or where a boss is behaving improperly and oppressively. Someone may be abusing someone else in some improper way, and no one dares to question it because, oh, that is just how people are, and this and that. How often do we participate in things that could be changed if someone dared to say, that is not right.

And I believe that this word, brothers and sisters, is a call to all of us, among the other things it teaches us, isn’t it? It is a call to listen to the voice of our conscience and not to do things simply because they have been done that way since time immemorial, or to refrain from doing things simply because something has never been done before. And if you are like me, there are many such things that we can examine in our lives; it may even be in our marriage, brothers and sisters.

How many families have I heard about over the years in which a young woman or a little girl, for example, was being physically or sexually abused, or a boy was being oppressed, and a mother never dared to question it. Or a family always kept silent; things were never discussed, justice was never done, a solution to the problem was never sought. Something unjust was never questioned.

Brothers and sisters, I want to tell you: you are a daughter, you are a son of God; no one should ever violate your conscience. No one should violate you. Do not submit to any situation that is oppressive and destructive to your life. Seek a solution in the name of the Lord. Amen.

These women remind us of that in a very special way. And some passages of Scripture came to mind in which there is a call to appeal first of all to God. When we are in situations of difficulty and oppression, when we see something unjust, when we see something we want to question, and when we know that our conscience is from God and no one else seems to share our idea, brother, instead of silencing your voice, instead of allowing yourself to be carried along by the impulse of the crowd, listen to that voice, because you may be the one whose action can change the course of history.

There are seemingly insignificant people who have changed the course of history. In recent years, one of the most graphic images in all of modern history emerged when a man stood in front of a battle tank in Tiananmen Square some years ago and stopped a column of tanks which, before the international cameras, did not dare run him over as they otherwise would have done. And that photograph served as an emblem of the struggle for civil rights in China and has remained an image of mankind’s struggle against injustice and oppression, of David against Goliath.

And one person can bring change. Martin Luther, in the 16th century, changed the course of history: one man, a Catholic monk, who questioned the injustices and corruption of the church and nailed his declarations to the door of a cathedral in his hometown. And today we are sitting in these pews because that man dared to question an entire institution and risk his life for it. And history is made by ordinary, seemingly insignificant men and women like you and me, who dared to believe in the power of an ideal, an idea, an intuition born in their hearts, and who had the courage to say, hey, perhaps my little idea, my little intuition, is more powerful, more just, and more appropriate than that of all the people questioning it. That requires incredible courage.

And so, on a smaller scale, every day we live in environments where there are things we can change if we dare to question, if we dare to believe in the power of our perceptions—that God has given us wisdom to see things and improve the world. Sometimes a thought, a spark of thought that passes through your consciousness, can change the course of a life, a family, a community, a city block, or a nation if you pause for just a moment to consider it and do not simply let it flee from your mind because things have never been done that way. It is so important to listen to ideas.

This very morning, when the idea came to me to invite the mothers to come up here to the front, it was a fleeting thought that passed through my mind, which I believe came from the Holy Spirit. But I could have said, well, it is too awkward. I looked up, looked at the sisters who were in the balcony, and looked over here, and I almost—what a great loss that would have been, because I had never done it before. But God blessed that moment because one dares to reflect on things and then takes the plunge in the name of Jesus.

And I took a detour, I made a turn, but what I was going to say is that when we have those intuitions, when we look at something and say, this is not right, this could be done better, there could be some change in this situation, should I dare to say, this is not right, and question the status quo, question authority?

Notice that I always speak about submitting to the authorities; that is biblical. But you know what? There are also times when the authorities must be questioned—with respect, with humility, but also with firmness and integrity, brother. No church, no pastor, no president, no leader is so free from error that they can say, I cannot benefit from someone’s advice, someone’s questioning, or someone’s opinion. At the very least, an opinion can be heard and can slightly alter the course of a leader or an institution. And that is one of the things we see here.

But what I mean, after dwelling on this for so long, is that when we feel something in our heart and we know that we have a great institution or a great machine before us that is preventing us from carrying out what we feel in our heart, one of the first things we have to do is entrust our cause to the Lord, who is just.

When you have the Lord on your side, things become equalized. You remember a series from years and years ago called “The Equalizer.” How many of you watched that series? Confess it; raise your hand right now. Confess. It was the story of a detective-type man, highly skilled in certain martial arts and so on, whom people appealed to in cases of injustice, when they were being oppressed by criminals or by some corrupt official, and he equalized things; the person who had once been a victim now had a very powerful defender. He was the equalizer. He brought things to a level where the playing field was more even. And God is the great equalizer; He is the great equalizer of the causes of humankind.

That is why we can dare to be creative. And in a moment I want to broaden the scope of what I am saying a little more, but I want to say that it is important that, if we are going to question the world, if we are going to question the things around us, if we are going to live original lives—and there I already have the title of my sermon, Original Lives—if we are going to live original lives, we have to entrust our cause to the Lord; we have to seek wisdom from the Lord; we have to seek discernment from the Lord about how to frame our petitions and our questions, knowing when to speak, how to phrase things, whether or not to persist, whether to go beyond a first attempt or approach and keep bothering people until we see what we want. For all of that, the intervention of the Holy Spirit is needed in one’s life; the authority, discernment, wisdom, and prudence of the Holy Spirit are needed. But first we have to go and entrust our cause to the Lord.

Psalm 37 says, “Delight yourself in the Lord, and He will grant you the desires of your heart.” Verse 4 says, “Commit your way to the Lord and trust in Him, and He will act; He will display your righteousness like the light, and your right like the noonday....” Glory to the Lord.

You see, there is nothing like entrusting your cause to the Lord first, going and questioning and inquiring, but doing so with the humility of knowing that the power is not yours; the power belongs to God, and you are moving in God’s power and wisdom and in accordance with His law.

Many people take up causes, but their spirit is not right. There is a spirit of rebellion; there is a spirit of self-sufficiency; there is a spirit that glorifies questioning authority merely for the sake of questioning it; there is a spirit of criticism; there is a spirit that glorifies man and glorifies man’s sense of justice.

This passage has been used in ways that I believe are improper to justify things that are not from God. I believe that the person of God, the man or woman of God, questions authority with fear and trembling, questions authority after having carefully reflected, questions authority after having thought and committed themselves to the Lord, entrusting their cause to the Lord; and then they stand with great humility and great dependence on God and launch their cause like a projectile, directly toward its destination. And that projectile has the power to break down barriers; it has the power to do things that a man—or a woman—normally cannot do using only his or her own strength.

And we have to know, brothers and sisters, that when we are going to take risks in life, when we are going to do strange and different things, we first have to entrust our cause to the Lord, and then we dare.

I remember—this comes to mind now—years ago, before I got married; imagine how many years ago that was. We will have been married almost 25 years next year. I was working for the Department of Social Services in the city of Lawrence. I took a year off from graduate school while I was at Harvard, but through a marvelous divine intervention I ended up spending that year working for the Department of Social Services. Incidentally, God already knew that I was going to be a pastor, and He trained me by placing 20 Hispanic and American families in Lawrence in my care so that I could work with them and shepherd them for almost a year, since they were my caseload as a social worker.

The fact is that there was a Puerto Rican family, charismatic Catholics deeply devoted to the Lord. I met that family one day as a social worker attending a parents’ meeting. And that man impressed me, first because he was a man at a parents’ meeting—sometimes we brothers are conspicuous by our absence—but this man was there, a gentleman in his mid-to-late forties, and he was with his wife. I was impressed by the way he spoke up for his daughters before the school authorities. I liked his character and what I saw in him, and for one reason or another I saw him once more during another intervention. After that, as I continued attending this parents’ meeting, I never saw him again, and that troubled me; it intrigued me. What had happened? Why did we no longer see him?

One day, in fact, I was with my mother, shopping at the Demulas supermarket over there in Lawrence. How many of you know Demulas over there in Lawrence? Has anyone been there? I think many people travel over there to shop at Demulas. The fact is that Toña and I were at Demulas, and I was pushing a cart—a shopping cart—and as I passed by one of the shelves, down one of the supermarket aisles, I saw only this man’s back. I was walking past and saw his back, and I recognized him. What struck me was that I sensed a burden on his back. I did not know why, because I did not know him that well, and I kept going, but something told me, “Go and find him.” So I went, found him, and greeted him.

And then this man, who knew that I was a social worker, began to tell me about his situation. During the time since I had last seen him, I learned that they had come from Puerto Rico because their daughter, at the age of 15 or 16—when this often happens—had developed schizophrenia. She was a young girl who had been perfectly normal, very beautiful, but at 14 or 15 she lost her mind and became schizophrenic. In Puerto Rico, they did not have the specific care she needed, and they learned that here in the United States she could receive much better care. And that family—look at this family’s devotion—relocated with all their other children; they had about four daughters, and they came to the city of Lawrence so that their daughter could receive the specific attention needed for her specific case.

There they connected with the Department of Mental Health, and it is a somewhat long story, but it perfectly illustrates what we are talking about here. The Department of Social Services provided them with care; Social Services and Mental Health visited the home constantly to care for the girl, and these parents participated in everything with great integrity and involvement. One day—because the social workers and Mental Health had told them, “Tell us everything that happens in your life, how things are developing, and anything abnormal you see”—they told them about an incident at home in which the girl had taken a razor and done something with it that seemed as though it could be harmful to her physical health. They told Mental Health and the social worker about it, and the fact was that they said, “All right, there’s no problem.”

One day, while they were sitting at home eating, the police arrived, an ambulance arrived, they tore their daughter away from the home and put her in a mental institution. And these parents nearly lost their minds. They placed her over here while they lived in Lawrence and had no transportation; they put her in a mental hospital on the outskirts, near Boston, in Hall Town, I believe it was. The fact is that the authorities told them flatly, “We have to keep this girl and protect her,” and in fact they accused the parents of attempted sexual abuse and other things. On one occasion, the parents said, “Well, we came from Puerto Rico to have her treated here, but what if we now want to go back to Puerto Rico?” The doctors there replied bluntly, “You may leave, but this girl is not leaving here, and forget about her, because the state now has custody of her.” And right there in front of them, he said, “Well, I am going to prove to you that the God I serve is more powerful than you are, and I am going to have my daughter back.”

The fact is that when I heard this from the man—all of this was being told to me in the supermarket aisle—a burden for this girl fell upon my life, and I still become emotional when I talk about it. The Lord placed a burden for that girl in my life, and for weeks and weeks I prayed for her; I did nothing but think about her. Finally, after calling psychiatrists and trying to find out what could be done for her and all of that, I went to visit her. The girl was already relieving herself on her own body; she had deteriorated incredibly. She did not want to speak with her parents because, in her confused mind, she blamed them for what was happening. She thought they had abandoned her and so on, and she had deteriorated completely—physically, emotionally, and mentally.

And after trying, I said, “Lord, I am going to take up this cause in the name of Jesus, and we are going to do what we can.” The fact is that I contacted a lawyer. He never called me, but one day, through one of those twists of fate, the man called me and said, “Roberto, I have studied the case.....” Incidentally, the court had already granted the Department of Mental Health absolute custody of the girl. Apparently, there was nothing that could be done. The judge had granted full custody to the Department of Mental Health.

The fact is that this lawyer, after I spoke with him, told me, “I think we have a case here. Let’s see what can be done.” I called the Department of Mental Health and made an appointment; they did not know that I was on the family’s side. Because they knew I was a social worker, they thought I was on their side, because unfortunately these agencies often cover for one another. I made an appointment with the court, sought help from a church there in Lawrence, and prepared my case. The lawyer did not show up that day, but the judge did, by some miracle. They were not expecting any of this, because they thought it was still the same family and that the purpose was simply to reopen the case; they did not know what was happening.

God threw the authorities into confusion. The doctor, the representative, did not show up. No one from the hospital showed up except for a very low-ranking employee. The judge showed up; I was there, along with her parents. And I presented the case to the judge, described the situation, and said, “Judge, as a social worker, I commit myself to helping the family, and such-and-such church is willing to support them. These are honorable, hardworking people.” When the judge asked who from the hospital was there and was told that no one was there except for a very low-ranking employee, he became furious with the hospital. He said, “What has been done is a great injustice.” Right then and there, he ordered that we take the girl with us. The most I had expected was that they would say, “We are going to review the case,” and this and that. That day we walked out of the hospital with that girl, out of her prison, and took her home. The family could not believe it. No one could believe it.

When the Department of Social Services—my department—and the Department of Mental Health learned what had happened, they became furious with me. And eventually I contacted a psychiatrist in Lawrence who told me, “If you want to file a lawsuit against the Departments of Mental Health and Social Services, you can, because this has been a great injustice. They have done terrible psychological harm to that girl.”

It is a long story, but let me tell you just how it ends, because this is very illustrative. The hand of God—the blessing—was upon this case. I lost contact with that family because as soon as they could, as soon as they resolved their legal situation, they were so terrified that they returned to Puerto Rico. I lost contact with them; I never heard from them again. And this had remained in my heart: “Lord, I dared to do something that did not seem right; I questioned Mental Health, I questioned the psychiatrists, I questioned Social Services. Did I do the right thing?” I wondered about that and could not answer because I did not know where the family was.

Many months had already passed—many months since all of that. By then I had married Meche; her family is from Puerto Rico. We went to Puerto Rico to visit Meche’s family, and, as I say, a year or a year and a half had already passed—I do not remember how long it had been, but it had been many months. And in my heart I was always thinking about that family. The fact is that, for some reason, Meche’s family went from Mayahues to Guainabo. It is a long stretch of road—an hour and a half, two hours; it is a long road.

I traveled alone from Mayahues to Guaynabo—there are many details, but what happened is interesting. I was on a lonely road, surrounded by country lanes, driving my car along a road with about three lanes, and as I passed by, I saw someone from behind—again, three young women crossing the road and heading down a little country path. And when I saw them from behind, I said, “They look like the daughters of that family,” and I said to myself, how could that be possible, here in the middle of the open countryside in Puerto Rico, on a road? I drove about a mile, but it stayed in my heart: “Lord, I asked you to resolve this question I had.” I turned around, went down the path, caught up with them, and it was them.

I was able to get to their house, and I sat down with the family. As for the girl, she was much better. The family was grateful—a family reunited with their daughter, blessed once again—because God had placed something in my heart. There was a cause that needed to be resolved; there was something that needed to be questioned. No one wanted to take up the cause of a humble family.

But, brothers and sisters, perhaps the sermon... that is simply all there is to it, in that illustration. We have to dare to question things. I thank the Lord; perhaps God had me work in the Department of Social Services that year solely so that I could bring justice to that family. And because my heart is so deeply moved by it, sometimes I do not tell that story in public because of the things I experienced, the emotions... but we have to dare, brothers and sisters.

We must dare to live original lives, and we must dare to fight for justice for others. And we must entrust our cause to the Lord. If you are going through a difficult situation... one of the things about this passage is that it is so rich in so many ways, but one of the things I see here is how God changed his mind. It is horrifying to say that, but a man can change God’s mind, and there is room for that terrible, scandalous idea. A woman, a man, in a given situation—if you are in a situation of oppression or need; woman, mothers often face difficult situations, difficult cases involving a child, some situation—look, you are not alone. God is with you. You can come before your Heavenly Father; you can entrust your cause to the Lord, and he will display your righteousness like the noonday sun. No matter who is against you, no matter how difficult your situation may be, present your cause to the Lord and do not hesitate to question a situation. Do not allow yourself to be molded by the circumstances and injustices of life, by life’s difficulties, by the oppression of men, simply because no one has questioned it, because it has never been done before. Perhaps you are the person God has placed there so that things may change, so that there may be a change in life, so that justice may come. God can use you in your home, in your neighborhood, but it all depends on your feeling, “Lord, I want to do something.”

Allow me one final illustration. Just last night—thank you, Samuel—there is a family two or three houses away from mine. It is terrible: Americans bound by the devil. A very... I do not like to use the word “lower-class” family, but they do not work; they are in a situation... and that family often has fights. They fight, and you can hear them two or three houses away. Just last night the police came because of some trouble they had over there, and I have sometimes heard their voices from my house. Now, in the summer, we open the windows, so some of those things can be heard more clearly. And, Lord, I have felt it in my heart; I have been hearing them for three, four, five, six months. I hear people bound by the devil. The devil has made them bitter and sets them fighting like roosters in a cockfighting pit, simply so that they will slash one another with their spurs. The devil delights in destroying lives, and people often see only what is ugly and harmful; they see the terrible things in a soul but do not see the treasure hidden underneath. They do not see potential children of God. They do not see that the person doing harm may simply be someone who is demonized, driven by the devil to destroy himself until he dies so that the devil can take his soul. And no one dares to intervene. What we often do instead is despise them and resent them, rather than say, “Lord, perhaps I can do something. Perhaps I can bring change. Perhaps I can intervene. Perhaps you can use me to change a situation.”

And a few days ago—about two, three, or four weeks ago—I said to him, “Lord, if you give me some way to meet that family...” You see, sometimes a person is afraid to knock on a door and say, “Look, I am a pastor. Is there anything I can do to help you?” God has sometimes used me when I have done that. But in this case I did not dare because it seemed so difficult, and I said to him, “Father, open a way for me. If you open the way, I will intervene,” because I felt compassion. One day I heard her in the distance speaking to her little boy, and I heard tenderness in her, and I heard a devil-tormented human being trying to do the best she could.

Last night I was sitting in my office, and Meche said to me, “Be quiet, there is someone here in the house,” and I heard an unfamiliar voice speaking on the telephone. They had had that tremendous altercation. The police, the firefighters, an ambulance—everyone had arrived there. After they left, these people—the woman and her sister—came up and asked if they could use the telephone in my house. They have no telephone; they have nothing. Those people are in a terrible state. And when Meche told me who they were, she did not know that I had been praying. I came out of my office because I knew that God was saying to me, “Well, you asked me, so I am going to put her right in front of you. What are you going to do now?”

And we listened to them and spoke with them. They are open to the Gospel. I want to bring them to church. One of them, in fact, for some strange reason, speaks Spanish. She is as white as milk, but she speaks Spanish, and I believe her mother is half Portuguese. She is married to, or living with, a young Salvadoran man whom we have seen there from time to time, and they have a little boy. And there is sensitivity in her soul; there is something special in that young woman.

The point is that these are lives, brothers and sisters, and I have felt a commitment from God. I have to do something now, because God took me seriously, and there that family was. I said to her, “Father, if I can do something...” We prayed for them, and one said to the other, “You see, that is why I like evangelicals. Look how they pray; they are talking with God.” I told her, “You can talk with God yourself in your own home. God can change your life. God can give you wisdom to raise your child. God can change your financial situation. He can turn your life around, and that is why you have come here. God brought you here.”

They stared at me wide-eyed, listening. Brothers and sisters, God wants to make each one of us an agent of change in the world. And it does not matter whether you are a woman, a child, or a young person; God can use you if you dare to believe, “With God, I can change the world. I can make a difference in my neighborhood, wherever it may be,” and entrust your cause to the Lord. God can do it. What is lacking is people who dare to believe in the name of Jesus: “I can be that agent who makes a difference in the world. With God at my side, I can face Goliath. I can change the world. I can make a difference.”

And so, brothers and sisters, God is calling us this morning. Mothers, you have made a difference in the history of the world. Women, you have dared to do things. I see women who perhaps do not even know how to read or write, but God has used you, woman, and you have changed the history of the world. And God can continue to use you; it only requires that you dare to believe in the intuitions God places in your heart.

Sometimes God plants seeds of greatness in our spirit, and we say, “Impossible. Who, me? No,” and we kill that seed. We do not let it blossom because we think, “God cannot use me.” God can use you. God wants to use you. The smaller you are, the more God is glorified by using you and doing great things in your life. Believe it in the name of Jesus; entrust your cause to the Lord, whatever it may be.

If you entrust your cause to the Lord and dare to come before the throne of God, God himself will do something in your life. And you say, “I will go, and if I perish, I perish,” as Esther said, “but I will present my cause.” And perhaps the king will extend his scepter and say to you, “What do you want? I will give you up to half the kingdom,” because you dared to do it.

Live an original life. Dare to do something different. Do not resign yourself to whatever situation you may be living through. If it is oppressive, if it is destructive to your well-being, if it destroys someone, you have to do something in the name of Jesus. Entrust your cause to the Lord, and he will act; he will listen and display your righteousness like the noonday sun.

Let us stand in the name of Jesus. Thank you, Lord. We worship you. We bless you, Lord. Thank you, Jesus. Father, thank you because you are a God of mercy, a just God who, incredibly, bends down, Father, to hear the cause of mere human beings. Your Word says, “I waited patiently for Jehovah, and he bent down to me and heard my cry. He brought me up out of the pit of despair, out of the miry clay. He set my feet upon a rock, made my steps firm, and then put a new song in my mouth. Many will see this and fear and trust in Jehovah.”

We believe that this morning, Father, in the name of Jesus. Isabel, in the name of Jesus, we pray for your daughter now. In the name of Jesus Christ, we entrust your cause to the Lord. Father, we ask you to surround that young woman there in El Salvador with your grace and protection. Hear this mother’s cry, and we ask that warrior angels, Lord, warrior angels surround that daughter with their wings, Father, in the name of Jesus, and that family as well, and that no harm befall her, for the glory of your name, Father, because you are the God who protects the weak, the victims, and those who suffer violence. Your Word says, “He has mercy on those who suffer violence.” We believe that this morning, Lord, in the name of Jesus.

Help us to be agents of change in the world, Father. Help us to be lights; help us to be the salt of the earth, Father. Give us eyes to see, ears to hear, and a heart to feel. Give us an original mind, Father. Give us great boldness, knowing that if we are aligned with you, no one can stop us, because you are powerful enough to break down any wall of injustice or oppression, Lord.

Thank you because you have made us free, Father. We do not have to accommodate ourselves to destructive or difficult situations in our existence, because you are the God who moves the stone, as you did before the tomb, and sits upon it, Lord, and gives victory to your children. Your Word says, “Yet in all these things we are more than conquerors.” That is why we praise you, Father; we glorify you. We are more than conquerors, and that is why we dare to enter the battle in the name of Jesus.

And the people of God say: Amen. Glory to the name of the Lord. Glory to God. Amen.