We stood on that dusty street corner, waiting. Our team had talked about the brothel for weeks––we’d meet the girls, maybe share our story, or just bring a little joy to their day. But this was the last day of outreach. I hadn’t personally led anyone to Jesus, barely seen the miracles I hoped to see when we started. How would anything change today?

The tinted door opened, and our local contact beckoned us through the restaurant. She talked quietly to an older lady in a back room. Meanwhile, I wondered what six white girls entering this building looked like to people on the street. Then I remembered our briefing, that local Christians had built good relationships here and we were safe––even from weird looks.

As we sipped hot tea, we offered the cookies we brought, and the girls barely offered a smile back. That was until the music went on. Suddenly we were all twirling and bobbing, as they led  a dance that looked straight from a Bollywood scene on Netflix. I laughed my head off––we weren’t the best dancers––and it was all so normal.

When we collapsed to the floor, we started a hand game, with one translator and lots of motions. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a middle-aged man standing in the hallway. The older lady nodded, and a girl in her early 20s slipped out. She rejoined the game shortly later, and it was like she never left. Me? I felt like I’d been punched in the stomach. This was her normal life.

Finally, it was time to share our story. When it got to me, I said something about community and how we all need someone to rely on– it felt like a blur. The girl from earlier admitted she used to be a Christian, but since her husband left her, she had given up relying on Him. However, she shared shyly, now she could picture Jesus pulling her out of a dark place. Her chocolate-brown eyes sparkled–she wanted to follow Him again.

Shaking with excitement, I led her in a simple prayer. I couldn’t believe it, this was the miracle I’d been hoping to see all outreach. In one day, one girl’s life was transformed. Our translator exchanged contact details with her, we all snapped selfies together, and then waved goodbye.

On the flight home, I could still see the sparkles in her eyes.

As told by Karlie Fiore (November 2018), written by Kayla Norris.

Sat, 16 Jun 2018 02:51:02 GMT