She ran over, pressing herself into us. It was obvious who we were. We were the American missionaries who walk through the streets at night to pray over people.
And it was obvious that she didn’t belong with us.
Her friends pulled at her arms, telling her to not stay and pray with us. They told her she needed to keep working; she pushed them away and stood in the middle of our group of four or five people.
We talked and soon learned that her name is Melissa.
And when asked what she wanted us to pray for, she responded in Spanish, desperately: “I want to get out of here. I want off the streets. I want to be free from this.”
I laid my hands on her shoulders and prayed for her. I’ve never seen words fall so painfully short. But I know that I could’ve prayed for hours and my words would’ve still fallen short. I’m thankful that the Spirit can speak in my lack of words and in words that no language spoken by man could ever describe.
Even today, weeks later, everything in me aches in longing to sit down with her and hear her story. To tell her of freedom in Christ. To show her how to access the Power that casts off the devil who is after her heart.
And then to set her free. To bind the pimps and the johns after her body.
And then to empower her to glorify God in the ways that He created her to.
But that’s all out of my reach, both physically and spiritually.
Calling on the Name of the Lord, however is within my reach. That’s all that I can do for Melissa, and any of these girls, at the moment.
The only thing I know about Melissa is her name. I can’t even remember her face.
All I can do is pray.
Honestly, even after all I’ve seen and been a part of, it’s hard to remember. And I hate that in myself. My life is pretty normal and distracting.
But what if my life wasn’t normal?
What if I was one of these girls? How is it that I get to live in abundance physically, emotionally and spiritually, when these girls are starving physically, emotionally and spiritually?
[Honestly, the percentage of people who get to live a life similar to mine and probably yours is so extremely small. If you don’t believe me, google “world wealth calculator” and select a website or click here.]
And I just can’t help but think, “Why not me, God? Why not me?”
He has chosen a purpose for me in my life here.
But He has chosen a purpose for her too.
What if we spent our lives drawing a connection between us, the abundant wealthy, and them, the starving poor, instead of forgetting or allowing it to be hard to remember?
I don’t mean drawing a connection financially, necessarily (and especially not only financially). I mean choosing to know them. You can do it without ever meeting them, seeing their faces or knowing their names. You can choose to research and read generic stories, beginning to learn how many people really live.
And then, you can ask God to move that knowledge from your head to your heart. Without ever seeing their face, you can carry their burden with them, praying in all things.
By doing this, you can find even more purpose in the life God has given you.
Rich or poor or somewhere in between, God’s love knows no boundaries. No language barrier. No physical distance. No lack of knowledge. No lack of relationship. His love, always wildly abundant and free, has no hindrance, forever.
Please connect with people, especially those that you’ve never even met. It can really change you. Let the Lord move the statistics from your head to your heart. These statistics could so easily be you.
And if you want to connect with people through some of the stories that I’ve witnessed, stick around. I’ll be uploading a handful of them pretty soon.
I dare you to connect.
[and if you want more about the street ministry I’ve been a part of, read this post: LAS CALLES]