The flickering light of the fire cast dancing shadows across the tree trunks surrounding a thatched roof hut. A half dozen ladies huddled in the damp night air around a young woman who had just given birth to a baby girl. Above their excited chatter, the sound of the baby’s cry could be heard. A man crouched behind a distant tree unresponsive to the sound of the new life. He was not the father of the new baby, but he was the new man in its mother’s life. He was not happy about the child. Several weeks passed, and the cries of the baby became more irritable to him until one day he gave the woman an ultimatum. Either the baby must go, or he would go. The young woman placed her baby in her canoe and paddled downriver to a barren piece of land. She laid her baby girl behind some bushes, never to return.

In another village, the early morning sun shot through the trees arching over a path to the river. An elderly man strolled towards the canoe landing, a long wooden paddle slung over his shoulder. I’ll call him George. George stepped deftly from the muddy bank into his dugout canoe and took a few minutes to scoop the rainwater out of the bottom with his paddle before launching into the river. Standing on one foot with the other propped casually on the edge of the canoe, he was as comfortable and balanced in his narrow canoe as he would have been standing on solid ground. He had three hours of paddling ahead of him to get to town where he had some business to take care of.

George squinted against the dazzle of sunlight reflecting from the water. Just ahead of him, a fish splashed. Overhead, an eagle soared. Otherwise there was just the sloop, sloop, sloop of his paddle breaking the water’s surface.

Suddenly, George heard a faint cry from the distant bank. Curious, he steered toward the river’s edge to investigate. Pulling his canoe onto the bank, he scanned the thicket. Then he heard the weak cry again. Behind some bushes in the tall kunai grass, George found the emaciated baby girl, her brown body not much more than skin and bones. He scooped her up and placed her gently in the bottom of his canoe under the shade of a palm leaf. Then he quickly paddled back to his village.

George carried the baby up to his house and ran to find a relative of his who was nursing her own baby. “Please come and nurse this baby I found. We must try to save her life!”

At first, it seemed like a hopeless case. The baby had gone so long without milk that she was dangerously dehydrated and almost too weak to drink. But somehow the surrogate mother managed to feed the baby enough to keep her alive.

Little by little, as the weeks passed, the infant girl started to gain weight. Months went by, and little Waiyato (pronounced Wuh-ee-auto) grew stronger and soon was running and playing with the other kids in the village. She was energetic and loved to follow her adopted father, George, wherever he went. As Waiyato grew, she learned how to do the things Gogodala girls typically do—wash clothes by hand, cook sago on an open fire and weave baskets out of grass. Waiyato also loves to attend Sabbath School and church with her adoptive parents. Now she is one of the happiest and healthiest eight-year-olds around.

Waiyato was given a second chance at life because George cared. You and I have been given a second chance because Jesus cared. That’s what it’s like to be redeemed. “The Son of man is come to seek and to save that which was lost” (Luke 19:10). Jesus went out of His way to save lost sinners. He commissions us to tell others the good news that He is offering them eternal life. Will you accept that challenge?

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