From the moment she walked in, I knew she was different.  She is fair-skinned with an angular face that showcases her sharply-defined cheekbones.  Her eyes are dark and alert.  She seats her tall, regal, 14-year-old frame in the chair in front of me and introduces herself with confidence.  After the niceties, I ask her my first question, “Hadid, tell me something about yourself that I don’t already know.”  All the girls have a formal application on file, that provides basic data.  She looks at me, and immediately takes control of the conversation, (this girl did not come to play, she came to plead her case). “First, let me tell you why I need a scholarship,” she says. “My father died when I was only 4 years old, leaving my mother who was not educated to fend for me.  She was unable to support me, so one of my uncles took me in, and decided to care for me.”  “Does your uncle work? “I ask.  “Yes, he does.  He works in a hotel, but he does general labor and his wages are not enough to support his four children and five other relatives, myself included.  Please give me this opportunity, please madam (a respectful term in Kenya)” she pleads, “I promise I will work hard.”

A number of things strike me.  First, her body language:   Hadid is leaning forward, as she implores me to give her this opportunity.  She is the most intense of any of the students I have interviewed so far.  Her demeanor is desperate, and I find myself wondering about the rest of her untold story.  Secondly, the whole time she has been speaking to me, her eyes are locked on mine as if begging me to see her soul.  Lastly, I ask the obvious. “Hadid, what will your uncle say, when he learns that you are applying for a Christian-based scholarship and mentoring program?  Are you aware that we use the Christian Bible as the basis for all our mentoring classes?”  “I don’t mind, and I know he won’t mind.  As long as you don’t try to convert me, he won’t mind.”  “Are you sure?”  I ask.  “I am very sure,” she responds with the air of one who will not take no for an answer.

As I look at Hadid, I can almost sense that her destiny hangs on this moment.  I listen deeply, and it is almost as if the Holy Spirit is saying to me, “Leave the Muslim-Christian issue to me, just love her, I will do the rest.”  Hadid wants to become a pilot one day.  That’s her plan, but I find myself wondering what God’s plan for her might be.  With her kind of intensity, I get the feeling she will be piloting more than one kind of plane.

Believers are presented with moments like this on a regular basis, and what we do with such moments, matters as much for the person whose fate hangs on our decision, as it does for us.  As I prayed for Hadid, and for the life and cultural circumstances that surround her; circumstances that I might never be privileged to know about, I found my attention going to the parable of The Good Samaritan in Luke 10.  In verse 35b, the Samaritan says, “Take care of him; and when I come back, I will repay you whatever more you spend.”  Jesus, ultimately says to the lawyer in this story and to us today, “Go and do Likewise (Luke 10: 37b).” Through Jesus, we have the privilege and the opportunities to bless or ignore the plight of another.  What will you choose to do?  The “Hadids” of our world continue to wait for our choices with bated breath.  Every choice has eternal consequences.

*Name changed to protect child's identity