"Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world." —James 1:27, NIV

Perhaps you've heard this parable. An elderly gentleman stooped along the shore, carefully and intentionally throwing one object after another into the sea. A curious passerby moved in for a closer look.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm throwing these starfish back to the sea … before they die."

"What's the point?" the younger man looked around at the hundreds of starfish washed up from a storm. "There are so many, you're not going to make a difference."

Without hesitation, the old man threw another helpless creature to safety. "I will for this one." And so he made his way down the beach, one starfish at a time.

I hate to admit it, but most of my life I've been the cynical onlooker. There's so much poverty and suffering in this world. What can I do to make a difference? I'm only one person—there's really no point in trying. Right?

That was before my recent visit to a Haitian orphanage … before suffering became a name and a face. I accompanied Hopegivers International, one of many global relief ministries that are making a difference for the oppressed and lonely people of this world, on a short-term mission trip. In addition to donations, the success of ministries like Hopegivers is largely made possible through workers in the field, namely indigenous people, who are willing to offer aid and to share the gospel among their own, sometimes under the threat of persecution.

One such man in Haiti is Pastor Willio Joseph. Like the man on the beach, Willio is also working his way down the shore of poverty to make a difference for every helpless and needy person he meets.

A 30-year-old Haitian native, Pastor Willio remembers well what suffering is like. In his relatively small hometown of Oanaminthe (pronounced "wanna-a-mint") in northern Haiti, he brings abandoned kids to his 500-square-foot cinderblock home, where they sleep wall-to-wall on thin blankets spread out on cold cement floors.

About a year ago, he found he could no longer afford to take care of the then 18 kids, many with life-threatening health problems. Things got so bad that he was only able to feed the kids one meal every two or three days. Out of money and answers, he bowed his head and asked God to send help soon if there was any chance for them to survive.

Shortly afterward he was at his local "Internet café," which is nothing more than a few computers running off a gas-powered generator, when he entered the word "hope" into a search engine. When Hopegivers' website came up, he quickly typed out a desperate plea for food and help, not really expecting an answer any time soon.

The very next day, he received an e-mail response; and before long, help was on the way. Since then, Pastor Willio has been able to resume feeding and taking care of the orphans with daily meals and fresh water from a new well that is also used by neighbors for consumption, showers, and cleaning.

"I'm happy because I see that God doesn't leave me alone with the children," Willio says in his soft-spoken Creole accent. "He sent some angels to help us out." The joy and hope radiating from the faces of both Pastor Willio and the kids reflect their gratitude and their certainty that God has provided.

Pastor Willio has a great vision for Haiti. With the assistance he's now receiving, he plans to rescue as many helpless, starving, and unwanted children as possible, and give them the basic necessities of life—food, shelter, education, safety and love. He also invests much time and energy into teaching the children about God's love, and hopes that one day many of them will grow up with the desire to help him spread the gospel to all of Haiti.

And he's making all the sacrifices possible to make it a reality. In spite of his recent near-death experience with a bout of yellow fever, he still rises at 4:30 every morning to help his wife get all the children ready for 7:00 A.M. school—the Christian school Willio started for street kids. With a total of 403 kids showing up every day, there isn't room for one more body in the cramped schoolhouse, where the kids already sit three to a chair.

Every day is a struggle yet also a joyful sacrifice for Willio, who gives little thought to himself or his own needs while trying to make life better for others without modern conveniences or comforts.

When I asked Willio what drives him, his answer made it all clear. "I see the suffering of the children, and I remember how it feels because I suffered much as a child with hunger and sickness. I don't want to see them suffer anymore."

Observing Willio, my own cold heart grew warmer. No matter how big the needs or how impossible the burden appears, he tirelessly does all he can to alleviate the suffering he knows about, saving many starfish day after day. I'm confident that someday, true to his desires, he will impact a whole country through his efforts.

But what about me? And what about us? I've come face to face with specific needs in this world, now what am I going to do about them? I'm no longer looking at the speckled shore from a distance, but I've come up for a closer look to find Pastor Willio, faithfully making a difference for practically every need he encounters.

Just like the starfish washed up on shore with no means to help themselves, there are many helpless and suffering people in this world with no way out. Their only hope of change is from a loving hand that is willingly offered to make a difference, no matter how small. And the needs are urgent. Just like starfish are dying on the shore for lack of hands and hearts to pick them up and give them a chance, beautiful, real flesh-and-blood children, just like my own, are alone and dying every day of hunger and sickness—in Haiti, in Africa, in India, in the United States.

And so, I may not be able to save all the starfish on the shore, but for the needs I have become aware of, I can join in the efforts with people like Willio by giving and doing what I can, making my way down the beach, one starfish at a time.

And I will make a difference for this one. Will you join me?