My Day in the Brothel- When God Speaks (Part 3)

There was no one left and I was tired.

Feeling emotionally drained yet so incredibly loved, I slowly walked back over to John’s office.

He saw me walk in, “Just one more, “ he said. Uh, really.

I mean, I loved this, but it is very emotional and I was drained and was feeling a little faint. I smiled and nodded my head, I mean how many chances do I have to do this?

Uh, like none. 

“Now it is my turn. Me” he offered, placing his hands on his chest, “I want you to pray for me.”

I smiled a little, nodding as if to say, of course, John, of course for you.

Now this was a leader. He nourished his staff first. All of them. He was last.

Before we could begin, the phone rang and John needed to take the call. At the same time, one of the other gals I had prayed for earlier, popped her head in. “Come. Come,” she urged,  grabbing my hand and leading me out into the hallway.

There were now a group of women well in age sitting on the floor. I was to learn later that they had heard John praying and worshipping in his home and they had knocked on his door and telling him that they were Christians as well.

He invited them to come pray at the Drop in Center and ever since then, they showed up every Wednesday and sat on the ground and prayed.

 I squatted down in the middle of these women, as the girl who brought me over spoke to them in Hindi, then turned to me.

“Just say a general prayer over them,” she instructed.

Okay, I thought, I can do that. I mean they won’t understand anyways, right?

So I began to pray. It didn’t take long before I felt the need for them to understand what I was saying.

I turned to my friend and asked her to translate.

They women began responding and their sounds of worship filled the air and it was beautiful.

Beauty. In the midst of all that which was not…. beauty at its finest.

I was so lost in worship that it’s hard to explain what happened next, except to say that I opened up eyes. I knew something. I don’t know how I knew, except I knew that I did. I grabbed the leg of my friend.

“One of them has lost a son,” I blurted out.

She translated, and their eyes got wide, like super wide.

They were talking so fast and all at the same time. I had no idea what they were saying except I caught the eyes of the women to my left, her eyes filled with tears and pain and fear. She gripped her chest with one hand and me with the other. She was talking so fast  to me in Hindi. They all were.

Ahhh, God. Come on, download Hindi to me. I don’t’ know what they are saying!! 

Yeah… nothing.

I turned to my friend, she was trying to talk to them and calm them down,

What are they saying, I asked.

She tried to talk to them and me at the same time.

“Yes, yes, her son is lost. They don’t know where he is. He left. He walked away from the Lord. He has a drinking problem and she is afraid of what might happen to him. They don’t know where he is now.”

And there was the answer. It was on my tongue.

Oh, okay. Tell her that God sees Him. That he is not lost to God. God knows where He is. It’s okay now. God wants you to know He is not lost to him.

I can’t tell you how I knew, but I did. It was just there.

I know for some this may sound a little weird, even like psychic stuff, but it’s not. If we read the bible, it’ s  all about God speaking to people, like really seeing people. It’s what gives them hope. The woman at the well. He knew her. He knew how many husbands she had and that the man she currently was with was not her husband. He knew it all.

So, it’s that same God who lives today. That God who loves his children so much that there are times He speaks, like literally speaks.

 He lets them know that He sees them. He sees the details of their lives. He sees their heavy hearts. That nothing escapes his eyes.

As they kept talking, over each other their voices getting louder and louder as they held my hands- my arms- I was reminded once again how much people desperately need a loving God that sees them.

But doesn’t that go for all of us, dear sisters, are we not longing to know that God sees our pain when no one else does?

Well, that day, these women did and it was beautiful… and sacred.

Just then John came out and invited me back into the room. We prayed together.

It was sweet. It was soft. It was the end to a perfect day… or so I thought.

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