After completing my sophomore year at La Sierra University, I worked as a counselor at Pine Springs Ranch during my summer break. My role entailed caring for a group of six to eight children each week. Every week, a new set of kids arrived to enjoy a fun-filled experience. Activities such as horseback riding, go-carts, zip-lining, arts and crafts, gymnastics, and various sports were available for all to enjoy throughout their stay.
On the last evening of every week, the media team would put together a video, showing all the fun and adventures the children had experienced. Everyone looked forward to watching the final product, which captured the joy and energy of the week.
Yet, as I sat there with the other counselors, I felt mixed emotions. Amid the excitement, I felt a deep sense of anger. As I watched the video, my thoughts traveled thousands of miles away to the children in my homeland, Egypt. I couldn’t help but feel jealous and frustrated for the kids in my country who would never have the chance to enjoy even a fraction of the experiences these children had. It just didn’t seem fair. Why can’t all children experience such happiness?
Fast forward to my year as a student missionary in Kenya, where I encountered an even more profound sense of injustice. I served as the high school Math and Bible teacher at the Adventist Academy in Nairobi. Eager to experience the diversity of life in Kenya, I spent my school breaks volunteering at various places—from orphanages to the largest prison in Nairobi. There, I encountered a level of suffering and unfairness I hadn’t known existed.
One particular memory stands out. During a walk near an orphanage, I met a group of children who wanted to show me where they lived. With excitement, they took me to a mud hut that was nearly empty. I was shocked. I couldn’t believe that this was their home. How could anyone survive in such conditions?
I also volunteered for a week at an orphanage in a village outside Nairobi. Curious about the children’s stories, I asked the director to share some with me. I heard heartbreaking stories—like that of a girl abandoned at birth and left in a game park, only to be discovered later by child protective services. Another boy’s mother had tricked the orphanage manager into hiring her, only to escape, leaving her son behind. And countless others who were abandoned simply because their families could not afford to care for them. As I looked into the innocent eyes of these children, I couldn’t help but ask, “Why?” It didn’t make sense. These children didn’t choose their circumstances. They didn’t choose to be abandoned by their parents. They didn’t choose to be born into poverty.
Over the following years, I’ve witnessed many injustices. A cousin passing away unexpectedly at 18—unfair. A friend struggling with infertility for years—unfair. A father losing two friends in the span of two days—unfair. A friend diagnosed with cancer in his prime years—unfair. A friend losing a brother, and another falling into a coma—unfair. An aunt losing both her husband and brother in the same week—unfair. And the list goes on.
So here I am, Jesus, bearing witness to the brokenness of this world more and more each year. As I prepare to celebrate Your first Advent, I long for Your second Advent. I yearn for the day when You will reign in full control. I eagerly anticipate the coming of Your kingdom—the kingdom of justice, goodness, peace, equality, and healing.
But until then, may You guide me to be an agent of Your kingdom here and now. Empower me to bring healing to a hurting world. Enable me to be a source of relief and comfort. Help me bring hope to a world that has lost hope.
Germeen Fargo is the wife of Bassam and mother of five beautiful girls. She holds master’s degrees in leadership and ministry and is currently focused on raising her children at home.