“Look! An ATM. I need to grab some cash.” My squad mate and I made our way over to the bank. We were walking around Old Town in Bucharest on an off day, enjoying the night out. We had passed by massage parlors and clubs on our way around, so I knew there was definitely some heavier partying happening that night. I had started praying for the people trapped in the nightlife cycle, searching for fulfillment in all the empty things.
As we neared the door to the bank, an older man and a young woman entered ahead of us. They seemed friendly, so I didn’t think anything of it. But as we stepped inside the room, I was hit with an immediate evil presence. I watched the girl point out the ATM, smile at the man, and step back while he took out the appropriate amount of cash. That’s when it clicked.
He was getting money out to pay for her.
She was watching him take out the amount of lei she had decided her body was worth.
I couldn’t breathe. I stepped out of the room, so overcome by the intense feeling of wanting to scream and sob and throw up all at the same time. I knew about the reality of prostitution and trafficking in Romania, but watching it take place literally right in front of me broke my heart in so many indescribable ways. I was angry at the man for thinking a woman’s body was worth a set amount of money, and I was broken for the woman who only thought her body was worth that much. I wanted to run after them and stop them and tell the woman she has a heavenly Father that finds her beautiful, worthy, and whole. I wanted to tell the man that Jesus paid the price for his sin and fulfills every desire we can think of, that he can take away the emptiness that he’s striving to fill.
Yet as I stood there, frozen and broken, I realized that the most powerful thing I could do was pray. I grabbed my squad mates and we formed a circle outside of that bank to cover the situation in prayer. I prayed for worth. I prayed for the realization of emptiness and that the Spirit would fill that emptiness. I prayed that someone else would come along in both of their lives at a more appropriate time and tell them about the God who brings new life, who brings restoration, who brings forgiveness.
I left the bank feeling peace. I left Bucharest feeling broken but hopeful. I’m trusting God to do the impossible on those streets. I’m trusting that the woman will realize her worth and her savior and walk away from that way of life. I’m trusting that the man will see his pain and desires can be washed away by the blood of the lamb. I’m trusting that the Holy Spirit we invited into that corner of Bucharest is more powerful than all the darkness that invades those streets. I serve a God who beat the darkness. No broken corner will be able to beat the light that he brings.
