Filtered by Category: Reflections
A visit to Bolivia will take your breath away. Literally. When you fly into El Alto, Bolivia, you land at an altitude of 13,325 feet. Your body is taking in approximately 1/3 less oxygen than normal and it takes more energy and time to do even simple things, like walking through the airport with your luggage.
Read More“I wish everyone would stop talking about him like he was a drug dealer and a gangbanger. As if that makes it okay that he was killed.”
Read MoreAt Christmas-time we remember the baby Jesus, but the nativity is not about warm fuzzies. It's love amidst fear, hope in despair, and light forcing back the dark - smirking faces and off-key voices, it's all a part of the Christmas story.
Read MoreEvery superhero has a tragic origin story, but Wanda's is absolutely horrific.
Read MoreSubsisting in the middle of urbanity, no one knew how she and her 3 children were suffering: a single mother prostituting, pregnant from gang rape, cooking on an open fire, and all 4 sleeping on one small mattress on the floor.
Read More“Sometimes,” she said, “You can come home from brothel visits and take it in stride. Other times, the harshness of what they face night after night, and how we can just walk away at the end of the visit, hits home and the gulf between us feels overwhelming.“
Read MoreThis spring, I visited Vanessa’s* to share Sunday lunch and a rite-of-passage tradition for her toddler. She received me in her stepmother’s home, one of two living relatives in her life. I cut her toddler’s hair for the first time - the hair he entered this world with – which now designates me as his godmother.
Read MoreI´ve been at a loss for words. Fluctuating between heartache and despair, anger and confusion, I’ve questioned our effectiveness, the possibilities of change and even God’s unfailing power.
Read MoreHonestly, I understand why Ada was mad at God. Misfortune and disaster seem to hunt her, and it’s hard not to blame it on an all-powerful Father.
Read MoreAlthough she visited our ministry center years ago, she wasn’t quite ready for change. But when she hit rock bottom, she knew where to turn for help.
Read MoreI felt my soul pierced. In a physical sense, it took my breath. This was someone else’s baby, born into the world through pain and sweat and love - as special and treasured as my own daughter who was at home with a caregiver. I felt the weight of indignation descend upon me. I was witnessing a lamentable injustice, and unfortunately a common one both near and far – a child’s true identity lost.
Read MoreWe walk into the first brothel; only red lights illuminate the shadows of utter darkness inside. The heavy smell of incense and alcohol, along with the pulsing music, adds to the stifling atmosphere. It’s hard to breathe in here.
Read More“Human trafficking,” she said, “that’s my thing,” as if it were a dessert affinity or a favorite dog breed, the selected piggy bank for her charitable thoughts or pennies – this was her proclaimed issue of choice, her thing.
Read MoreOver the last few months, we’ve been praying – quietly, fervently, patiently awaiting the Lord’s provision.
Read MoreDarkest Night of the Year. It’s the title of Over the Rhine’s Christmas album, but the words themselves seem to be the mantra to which I walk as I pass in and out of brothel doors. Every time I enter these places, I have let my eyes adjust to the dim red glow of the interior; I have tried to block out the mixed smell of alcohol, sex and urine; I have swallowed the never-dulling shock and disgust of passing an exiting client as I make my way toward one of my friends. Tonight somehow feels different, darker in a way that didn’t seem possible before…
Read MoreAl son de “Noche de paz” cantamos: “Noche de amor, noche de paz.” Se siente casi irónico. ¿Cómo puedo cantar al amor y la paz en este lugar donde se profanan las más bellas expresiones de amor…
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