What man of you, having a hundred sheep, if he has lost one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the open country, and go after the one that is lost, until he finds it?
–Luke 15:4
I walked into the massage parlor on our street, ready to bite my lip through the muscle kneading, in hopes of having the past nine months of lugging the greater bulk of 70 pounds purged from my shoulders, neck, and spine. Everywhere you walk in this city, girls are laying in wait to pounce on you with a flyer for unbelievably inexpensive manicures, pedicures, and massages. All of the prices from each shop seem about the same, so I randomly picked one and entered.
However, I would soon learn that this place was anything but random.
Hiking up the stairs to a small, dark, air-conditioned room, I began to unwittigly disengage from the world around me. This was my day off and I was ready to clear my mind and try to enjoy the massage I was about to receive. I was ready to lay face-first on that table, turn on my iPod, and forget about the world for a while.
The girl that was acting as my masseuse was young and very friendly, and after exchanging a few short instructions, she motioned for me to take my place on the table. I put my ear buds in and turned on the playlist I usually reserve for those moments before I fall asleep, just in case I get soothed into slumber.
Lying there on that table, I consciously began to turn off my brain. I wasn’t thinking about Vietnam, I wasn’t thinking about the hundreds of people zooming down the bustling, crowded streets outside the curtain-drawn window and how, statistically, they will never hear the name of Jesus.
As I began to completely shut out the world around me, The One in me pried open those closing doors. With a convicting breath, a piercing whisper, He said,
“Shannon, do you know that the girl rubbing your back right now is mine? Do you know that I love her more than my own life?”
As if being woken from a deep sleep, my Spirit drowsily stirred and responded,
“God, of course I know that.”
Then, His whisper:
“She doesn’t. Who’s going to tell her if you don’t?”
I was shaken in my Spirit.
As I laid there, this Child of the King dug her thumbs into my shoulder blades, not knowing that her Father loves her, not knowing that she is royalty. If I know this about her, why wouldn’t I tell her?
My mind marinated in contemplation, my Spirit in conviction.
God, I can do this ministry thing as well as I can do a nine-to-five and I can turn my brain off after the work day is done…
Or I can LIVE this freedom you’ve called out of me and see every person as your one little, lost sheep you are willing to lay down your life for to bring back to the fold.
I began to struggle with myself. Did I really want to be that crazy person? It’s easy to call yourself a Jesus Freak at an emotionally-charged worship event, but in this dimly-lit room where God may have never been mentioned, it seems more than a little awkward.
I took my earphones off.
I began to talk to her.
I learned her name and her story. She works very hard, every day, to make ends meet. Even though I don’t have a lot myself, I felt Him telling me to tip her well, which I did. She was extremely thankful as I gave her this tip, and I could see that she really needed it. I wanted to tell her about Jesus, but I clearly felt that now was not the appropriate time, as she was hard at work and the time I had paid for was finished.
I walked out of that building never having mentioned the name of my Savior.
However, I had a plan.
I was going after this little lost sheep, full-throttle.
I went home and told Kendra and Katie of what God had laid on my heart for *Mai to create an accountability for what He had pristinely laid on my heart. I immediately began thinking of a bookstore I had seen not a far walk from our hostel. I purposed to find a Bible for her, no matter the cost.
So the next day, I set out. I was disheartened as I learned what I already suspected… No public bookstore would carry a Bible in this country.
I began to pray, asking God to orchestrate everything. I didn’t even want to try and make it work myself. I felt His relentless love for her in the massage parlor, and I knew if I was willing to be the messenger, He’d jump at any chance to let her hear of the fervor in which He loves her.
