I’m not good at going to the broken places, and spending time with the broken people. I still squirm sometimes, and feel uncomfortable. I still struggle to connect, to find common ground. I wonder why I’m going in the first place.
I’m going because I’m broken too.
But I forget it, I ignore it, I feel like it can’t possibly be true. I forget that my own soul is messed up, and twisted, and in need to grace. I lose sight of that far too easily.
Last night some of our staff spent time talking to a few young men and women who trade sex for money and drugs. Around the world, millions of women, men, and children are trapped in the sex trade whether because they feel they have no options, or because they are forced. I want to care for those in my city who are in that place.
I spoke with a woman who is my age (32) , raising her three teenagers on her own, and working to make ends meet. Her teenagers are getting involved with gangs and she asked for prayer for them. Her life is hard.
What do I have to offer her? I mean, really, what? We are the same age but we have vastly different lives. But we are both human, and that means we are both broken. Equally broken. I can love her, and I can be her friend. I can pray for her, and I can encourage her. I can tell her that her life matters to God. I can tell her that I’m broken too and in need of healing.
It’s frustrating to see people living this life. It’s difficult for those working on the streets to find another job that pays as quickly and as well. It’s easier to work at night while your kids are sleeping then to find someone to care for them, take them to school, and to do homework with them during the day. I don’t know if the woman I spoke to will find a way out.
But I do know I have to keep going to those places where everything is breaking down. I have to see my own brokenness there…one broken person pointing another to the Healer of us all.
I ask your prayers for this woman and her kids, and I challenge you to see yourself in the brokenness that is around you every day.