Starfish

Let me tell you a story that has been on my mind the past couple of weeks.  When you read it, please be thinking about how poverty around the world seems like such an unsolvable problem.  Enjoy!

One warm summer night, while everyone slept, a great storm thundered over a seaside village. The next day, a little girl awoke to bright sunshine. Her face beamed with a smile of great joy. She couldn’t wait to get to the beach.  Soon she was walking along her favorite shoreline. She liked the feel of the sun on her face and the warm sand beneath her bare feet.  She walked until she came across a starfish wriggling in the dry sand. Washed ashore by the storm, it was stuck. Soon it would die.  The little girl looked up at the hot sun, then down at the struggling starfish, and then out to the blue sea.  “How dare you leave him behind!” she scolded the retreating tide.  If only there were a grown-up around, she thought. A grown-up would know what to do.  “I guess the only one who can save you is me,” she said to the starfish.

She had never picked up a living starfish before, and she wasn’t terribly sure how to do it.  Using two fingers, she gently pinched one of its five points and held the starfish up to her face. “I’m going
to send you home,” she said. The starfish wiggled its points in and out, as if in happy reply.
Slowly she brought her arm back across her body. Then she swung it forward quickly, letting the starfish go with a wide, open hand.  Spinning gently, the starfish sailed through the air and landed in the water with a soft “plop.”  The little girl smiled and continued walking down the beach.  But after just a few steps, she found another starfish wriggling in the sand.  No sooner had she tossed this one back to the sea than she came across another starfish.
And then another one.
And then another one.
And then another one still.
She tossed each one back to the sea.
She reached the top of a high sand dune and came to a sudden stop. What she saw below startled and
amazed her. Stretching out in front of her were hundreds upon hundreds, thousands upon thousands of starfish washed up on the beach. They were all dying in the hot sun.  She looked up and down the beach, and wished that now, more than ever, there were a grown up around. A grown up would surely know what to do.  Suddenly, she exploded into action. One by one, she began to toss starfish furiously back to the sea.  She was so busy tossing starfish that she never noticed that a villager had stopped to watch her. Soon he was joined by another person. And then another one. And then another one still. Soon a whole crowd had gathered to watch the little girl toss starfish back into the sea.
Some people in the crowd began to point and giggle. Soon they were all pointing at the little girl and
laughing. “That little girl’s crazy,” said one.
“I know,” said another, “doesn’t she know that every summer thousands of starfish get washed up on the beach and die? It’s just the way things are.”
“There are so many starfish. She couldn’t possibly make a difference,” said a third.
The crowd of people grew larger and larger, until nearly the whole village had gathered to watch the little girl, and laugh at her folly.  The little girl was still too busy tossing starfish to notice them.
Finally, an older man, considered wise by all the town, decided he had seen enough. He walked over to the little girl. She had just tossed back another starfish, and was smiling with great joy. She was reaching down for another starfish when the older man’s shadow fell over her.
“Little girl,” he said, “there are hundreds of thousands of starfish washed up on the beach, you can’t
possibly hope to make a difference. Why don’t you give up and go play on the beach with the other
children?”  The little girl’s smile vanished. She gazed up at the old man, and then saw the crowd of people for the first time. She suddenly realized that they had all been laughing at her. Now they had fallen silent, awaiting her answer to the older man’s question.  She was hot. She was tired, and close to tears. She began to think that maybe he was right — maybe they were all right. She had been tossing back starfish for what seemed like hours. And a carpet of starfish still covered the beach. How could she have possibly thought she could make a difference? Her arms fell limp at her sides, and she dropped the starfish she was holding in her hand back to the hot sand. She began to walk away.  “That’s right. Go on and play. You cannot possibly hope to make a difference,” the older man said to the retreating girl. The crowd smiled and nodded their heads.

Then suddenly the little girl stopped, and turned around. She walked back to the starfish she had dropped.  Reaching down, she it picked up and -- swinging her arm as hard as she possibly could -- she let the starfish  go with a wide, open hand.  The crowd of people watched as the starfish soared and spun gently through the air, and then fell far into  the sea with a soft “plop.”  The little girl turned back to the older man, and with a smile of great joy, said:
“I made a difference to that one!”
And then, from the back of the silent crowd of people, a little boy came forward. He walked over to the little girl, picked up a starfish, and sent it soaring gently back to the sea. As it, too, landed with a soft “plop,” the little boy said, “And I made a difference to that one!”
The little boy’s mother and father then joined their son. “I made a difference to that one!” said the mother, smiling. “And I made a difference to that one!” said the father, laughing.  One by one, every member of the crowd joined in tossing starfish back to the sea, calling “I made a difference to that one” each time. Finally, even the older man reached down, picked up a starfish and tossed it gently to the sea. As he heard it land with a soft “plop,” he looked over at the little girl and, catching her eye, said in a voice that everyone could hear, “And even I made a difference to that one!”  Soon, more people who had been walking along the beach stopped to join in. And more people. And more
people still. Soon hundreds — perhaps thousands — of people of all ages, sizes and colors were tossing starfish back to the sea and calling out:
“I made a difference to that one!”
“I made a difference to that one!”
“I made a difference to that one!”
As the little girl gazed upon the beach, she saw nothing but people tossing starfish for as far as her eyes could see.  Soon the voices began to quiet down, and the little girl wondered if people were getting too tired to continue. But what she saw startled and amazed her.  All the starfish were gone. They had all been tossed back to the sea!  “Look,” said the little girl, “we made a difference to all of them!”  Many years later, another little girl was walking down that same beach. She reached the top of a sand dune, and came to a sudden stop. What she saw below startled and amazed her. For as far as her eyes could see, there were people tossing starfish back to the sea.  Curious, she approached an older man. “Could you tell me please, sir, why you are all tossing starfish back into the sea?” Many summer’s ago, the older man had once been that little boy who had been the very first person in the crowd to step forward to help the little girl save the starfish.  “Little girl,” he replied, “don’t you know that each year, when a summer storm washes thousands of starfish onto the beach, the entire town comes out to toss them all back to the sea?”
“Do you think that I could make a difference, too?”
“Of course you can,” he said, “Come join us!”

At the Atlanta conference I went to last week, the seminar leader asked us all a question.
"How big is your God?"
He wanted us to think about our prayer life, if we prayed to have a good day, safe trip home, stuff like that.  As he asked these questions, I thought about the kinds of prayers I pray.  Do I ask God to do big things in my life that go beyond normal circumstances and my own ability to make happen?  Rarely.  I feel our faith and how we pray is directly coorelated to how big our view of God is.  This story makes me want to pray boldly for the people of Jacksonville.  I am only one person.  And our after school program is only 10 kids in a city of over 800,000 people.  I want to be as persistent as the little girl in the story.  I would also pray that God would raise up more and more people, hopefully even in the Brentwood neighborhood, to live completely for Christ, unashamed of the gospel and living for God's kingdom.  Matthew 9:37 says, "The harvest is plenty but the workers are few."  I pray that you would have greater understanding of how holy and big God is so that your faith would increase and you'd grow others as well.  Love a neighbor as yourself.  Take a chance on someone you feel has been neglected or ignored in a while.  You might be the only friendly voice they hear all day.  Blessings!
Andrew