Paris has a dark and sinister side. Underneath its streets are 200 miles of tunnels, full of 6-7 million bodies. Late at night, Paris is blanketed in darkness and sadness. We found how real it was right down our street.
We didn’t even realize what was happening on our street. We came back after squad worship night and one of our squad mates spent the night and noticed that there were prostitutes hanging around the streets. I didn’t notice or care much. “Interesting, I thought”.
A few nights later, we came home late and were walking back from Gare du Nord, the train station, around midnight and I noticed several girls hanging around the closed storefronts. “Those must be the girls”, I noticed. Others on my team decided to use this street as a ministry opportunity.
Lauren on my team spearheaded our night ministry and we watched Nefarious, a documentary about prostitution. I thought it was sad but I didn’t feel, feel sad. We walked around Pigalle, where Moulin Rouge is, that night and saw some girls on the streets. We walked back on our street and prayer walked. We saw more girls and when we came back home, I noticed a van parked right in front of our apartment. We went up and talked to the lady and it was a van with coffee and tea to help these girls. She had been working there 5 years and she said the van is out every Friday and they get about 100 girls who come and visit every time. Wow, this is real. My heart started softening up. I couldn’t believe this was happening right under our noses!
The next night, we prepared to go out with home baked cookies, Bible verses and bible tracts. We spent a few hours getting everything ready. We finally went out around 11pm and my heart truly got wrecked.
“Fear not for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine…because you are precious in my eyes and honored and I love you” – Isaiah 43: 1, 4
That was the verse we handed out with the cookie.
When we first started handing out the cookies, it was tough, another team had gone earlier that week and we got discouraging news: people started following them / started telling them to stop and they ended up leaving early and going home.
We heard that but decided to go out anyways after praying together. When we first handed out cookies, the girls were not accepting them and we were wondering if we would be able to reach them at all…
After half an hour or so and after some more prayer walking, we went up to two girls, offered them cookies and they accepted and it was like a Domino effect: other girls came flocking up and giggling and laughing and eating cookies and reading the Bible verses we wrote out.
Wow! Thank you God for an open door. As we stood there laughing and talking, I noticed this one girl in front of me was standing there quietly and she had an aura of sadness around her.
I asked her how she was and she shrugged slightly. We talked some and it came out in bits and pieces…she was from Nigeria (as most of these girls were) and she was 30. She had just come to Paris 6 months ago and she didn’t like her work. I knew, but asked anyway, “What is your line of work?”
She looked at me dead in the eye, hesitated, and after a few seconds, eyes watering, she softly under her breath, barely audible, said the word, “prostitute”.
More came out, she was unhappy. She didn’t know what else to do, she had no papers, how would she eat? Her family was back in Nigeria and friends in Italy. She had no one. My heart broke for her. I was filled with overwhelming sadness. My spirit groaned for her.
I asked if I could pray for her, she nodded. I prayed. I shared Jesus’ redemptive love. I shared the story of Hosea and how God used Hosea and his marriage to a prostitute to illustrate God’s love, heart and redemption.
I was so sad. I felt. Earlier, I participated from my head, knowing it was bad. Now, it was real. I met someone, I heard someone’s story. I felt the pain.
Wow. What should I do? I had her number and her Facebook name and she wanted to meet again tomorrow. But we were only Paris 4 more days. I prayed and thought and something clicked! At Hillsong Paris, we had met someone who lived in Paris from Nigeria, who understood the situation…what if I reached out to her and asked if she would be this lady’s friend? I messaged my friend and she called me back instantly, asking will we go back out and can she meet us? This was 10pm and by 11pm we had met up (in spite of the metro closing); my friend had dropped everything to come with us.
It was amazing, my friend was able to talk to these girls with such boldness, from a place of understanding, share Jesus, get their numbers and invite 4 of them to church on Sunday. Wow! How God orchestrated this! We were so tired, we didn’t get back till 1AM and I was so encouraging by my friend who didn’t even get home until 2:43AM (she had to take 2 separate buses because the metro had already closed)
I am so encouraged by the openness and the hunger in these girls of the night but so saddened by their lifestyle and the pain they carry. It was amazing to see how God opened up another ministry, after our refugee ministry ended. Two nights ago, when Tamara & I walked back home we saw a girl who recognized us. She greeted us and we talked for a bit. As we were about to leave, we asked if she wanted prayer. She asked for blessing and forgiveness. “Forgiveness for what?”, we asked. Forgiveness for the things she had seen and done.
I’m writing this blog on a 13 hour bus ride away from Paris. While our team may not be in Paris, please keep praying for the seeds we planted to be watered and for fruit to grow. I’m so thankful we got to minister to the refugees, the volunteers who helped the refugees, the tourists we met and prayed for, the Parisens we met on the street and on the metro, William, a Parisen we got to meet up with 3 times, our church host at CVV (the way, the truth & the life), our friends at Hillsong (Precious, Namur, Liz, Alicia), our neighbors and our team and our squad.
