The roof perched like a peek on a mountaintop, elevating me above a city that never slept. I danced with Jesus near the clouds in Thailand. I journaled and asked Him to show me what life would look like after the Race.
And He spoke to my heart.
Coffee and Prostitutes
I lightly squirmed recalling the thick as gravy NesCafe I’d slurped past that morning and to be honest, I didn’t feel particularly passionate for prostitutes. I knew they sold themselves for sex and the industry was disgusting. And it sucked. But what could I do? We prayed til the cows came home for those little girls bondage to be blown but what I wanted to see was results.
There wasn’t a connection for me.
It hadn’t hit home yet.
Then it struck me like an elephant kicking a soccer ball.
How many times had I used my body, my looks, a nature not my own to receive gratification or affirmation that said I was worth it.
I felt bile rise in my throat.
Too many times to count.
Maybe I’d never sold myself to support my family, or been stuck in a slavery more sickening than any Disney villan could conjure up, but I’d believed a lot of the same lies those women are fed.
I’d danced with the demons of deception and manipulation and I’d dined with addiction and hatred.
And suddenly there seemed to be a deeper connection.
The mind was lost and the heart made its way to my pulse.
So I waited. I knew He’d speak more. In His timing.
Coffee and Prostitutes
We’re not merely just a group of survivors. There’s something beautiful in survival. The race against time, that breathtaking, exhilarating moment when you realize you’ve made it. It’s such an indescribable feeling.
But I think the difference between mere survival and overcoming is something special.
Overcomers see the obstacle and don’t just survive the blow, they blitz past it and wind up living from victory.
not for victory.
And that’s what I began to see. I began to realize, whatever the coffee and prostitutes whisper encompassed, it meant that people would be freed. And they wouldn’t just be free, but they would live lives of bliss and victory, not just surviving the day, but overcoming life and any blow that came their way because of the Christ in them.
Little by little, month after month, this dream was birthed.
I sat crying in my contacts living room as things were spoken over me that weren’t true. I’ve heard people say there’s truth to all feedback. But I disagree. There’s a difference between what’s true and The Truth. Correction for the sake of correction is pointless, correction for the sake of pointing children towards more of His Likeness is priceless.
And something to be treasured.
As one of His Kids, I knew the venom being spewed at my team wasn’t from God’s heart to mine and try as I might, I took the feedback with my heart aching in confusion. I sat in the aftermath gazing into the Kenyan foothills wracking my mind for what went wrong. I thought this was the ministry I was supposed to partner with. I’d come so alive dreaming with my new friends and yet the blows handed to us the previous night had left me spinning.
Tess, my teammate, came out and told me our coach wanted me to come meet a woman in Kijabe. I jumped at the chance to leave. I packed as fast as my shaky fingers could grab my never dry clothes and jumped in the fan, throwing up a peace sign and leaving the farm.
I met Mercy and knew we’d be friends. Her warm and engaging spirit was contagious and I loved chatting with her. She introduced me to her friend, Matt and instantly we started dreaming.
Big dreams.
It was in those next moments of hearing what Matt and his friends did in Kenya that I knew it was where I belonged. The days leading up, the confusion, the tears, the trial. All of it was preparing me for this moment.
Matt’s team, 61Project, worked in the refugee camps. They worked with kids. The refugee camps had prostitutes. There were truckers from HIV Highway that used the women as they drove through.
Ideas were spinning in my mind faster than I can type the words.
But I knew two things. I wanted to partner with Matt. And I wanted to love on these Kenyans like there was no tomorrow.
I went to sleep that night, feeling overwhelmed with blessings and ideas. I probably even fell asleep with a peaceful grin on my dirty face.
Then that night, insane storms blew in, the mountains flooded and claimed lives not ready to leave and left a community gawking in shock at the disaster before them…
