We set out on a 5 day trip to Poland, just the two of us. Our bags were packed (as they always are) and our tickets were purchased. We rode the 16 hours to Warsaw and walked to our hostel–exhausted, hungry, and excited for this adventure. Our goal was to spend our last few days of the Race together, away from everyone else, before heading home where chaos is sure to ensue.
We spent our days walking all over Warsaw, then Krakow and Auschwitz, and our evenings tasting traditional Polish food, laughing over silly jokes and reminiscing over the past year. We kept saying to ourselves, "I can't believe this is over".
But it wasn't over. Even on "vacation", ministry still happens.
It was late. We had an early bus to Krakow the next morning to visit Auschwitz Concentration Camp. We were both out of it from the days excursions, and our goal was to make it back to our hostel as quickly as possible to sleep.
As we held hands and walked away from the busy street, we passed by three girls standing on the sidewalk on a one-way street. At first glance we thought they were waiting for the bus. A double take, however, proved to us that we were wrong. They weren't standing at a bus stop. There was no bus stop down these roads. These girls were waiting for something, but it wasn't a bus.
As we walked past them, I turned to Jeremy and said, "Were those prostitutes?". From the looks of them, he assured me, they were. And then he said, "We should go share Jesus with them". My first instinct was "most definitely not! I'm too tired". We stopped dead in our tracks and looked at each other in total silence. Were we going to do this? Yes, we were. Ministry still happens no matter where we are.
We circled around the block and walked on the sidewalk across the street from them. We took our time, and as we walked towards them we saw a car drive up, hand something to one of the girls, and slowly drive off. My heart started pounding. Here I was, about to do the one thing I'd been praying to do all Race long, and I was terrified.
As we walked towards the first girl, another car pulled up and she clumsily climbed inside. The car drove off, and we stared in disbelief at what we'd just witnessed. Right there in front of my very eyes I saw a man pick up a prostitute. My heart broke for both of them.
We walked towards the second girl, and as we passed her she stared at us–mainly Jeremy. We turned around and asked her if she spoke English. Very clearly she said, "Yes, I speak English". Jeremy took charge: "So you understand everything we're saying?" Again, she replied that she understood. "Good. Well, my wife, Toni, and I are here on vacation…" and at this she seemed to listen a little more intently. My stomach tightened. What was she thinking? "…and we're missionaries. I just wanted to let you know that Jesus loves you–"
"I'm sorry, I don't understand you" she quickly interrupted, and she turned away from us.
My heart sank. Jeremy looked broken. Here was this girl, desperate for love, and she denied everything we were telling her. She literally turned her back on us.
We stood for a moment longer and then walked away. There was nothing more to be said.
We reasoned that maybe her "pimp" was watching her and, if we didn't "need" her service, she didn't want to get in trouble. I'm sure she's heard about Jesus before. She was so quick to dismiss what we were saying. She was so quick to turn her back.
We walked back to our hostel in silence. We were discouraged and outraged at the atrocities that were happening a block from where we slept.
I thought about that girl all week, but never saw her again. In fact, we didn't see any of them on that street again.
I had witnessed something that I'd ever only seen on television before or read in a book: a man picking up a prostitute and taking her away from his own selfish pleasure. I felt contempt for that man, and I felt pain and heartache for the woman.
I walked away wanting to share Jesus with every one I saw. I walked away wanting everyone to know that they can experience true, genuine love that doesn't come from the world. It's unconditional and everlasting. It's real, and true and there for anyone at any time.
Here's a challenge for you: next time you see someone on the street who looks like they need to hear good news, share Him with them. They won't receive anything better and you'll literally change the course of their lives.
Just because the Race is over for us doesn't mean ministry is. In fact, it's just beginning. Where will your ministry begin?
