"What will you pray for me?" she asked us, one hand on her hip, standing under a tree to avoid the late night rain. "We'll pray for whatever you want, Sophia. What do you want us to pray for you?"
Sophia looked to be about 18 years old, long black braids and two small scars on her left cheek. She is from Monrovia, the capital of Liberia, West Africa. Her parents were killed in the civil war in 1999. Now, in 2010, she stands on the side of a street in a dark neighborhood of a European city.
Sophia was the ninth girl we talked with tonight. Most girls were polite and some even friendly, but Sophia wanted more. "What will you pray for me?" she asked, almost as if she were challenging us. "We'll pray for whatever you want, Sophia." I said. "What do you want us to pray for you?"
She looked at her feet, then looked into my eyes: "You pray that tonight I get out of this - that I no longer have to do this work." Keeping my eyes locked on hers, I started to pray... for her safety, for God to provide a way out tonight, for her not to have to work like this any more, for a miracle... As I prayed quickly, it was as if Sophia broke in front of us. Tears rolled down her face faster than she could wipe them away.
A car was approaching and we knew we had to move quickly. "Sophia, we will keep praying for you," we promised.
--
In the week that has passed since this night, I've really struggled with how God could bring good from such a horrible, evil situation. In my wildest imagination, I cannot wrap my head around it or produce a single good thing that could come of it.
Yesterday morning I read from Living the Message. The focus recently has been the crucifixion - not surprising, given that it's late March. This reading reminded me that in the worst moment of history, when Jesus experienced so much hostility and pain, God used it for the most beautiful - resurrection. As the text put it:
"The worst men could do became the occasion for the unbelievable best that God can do."
I am clinging to that as I pray for Sophia. Please pray with me.
Sophia looked to be about 18 years old, long black braids and two small scars on her left cheek. She is from Monrovia, the capital of Liberia, West Africa. Her parents were killed in the civil war in 1999. Now, in 2010, she stands on the side of a street in a dark neighborhood of a European city.
Sophia was the ninth girl we talked with tonight. Most girls were polite and some even friendly, but Sophia wanted more. "What will you pray for me?" she asked, almost as if she were challenging us. "We'll pray for whatever you want, Sophia." I said. "What do you want us to pray for you?"
She looked at her feet, then looked into my eyes: "You pray that tonight I get out of this - that I no longer have to do this work." Keeping my eyes locked on hers, I started to pray... for her safety, for God to provide a way out tonight, for her not to have to work like this any more, for a miracle... As I prayed quickly, it was as if Sophia broke in front of us. Tears rolled down her face faster than she could wipe them away.
A car was approaching and we knew we had to move quickly. "Sophia, we will keep praying for you," we promised.
--
In the week that has passed since this night, I've really struggled with how God could bring good from such a horrible, evil situation. In my wildest imagination, I cannot wrap my head around it or produce a single good thing that could come of it.
Yesterday morning I read from Living the Message. The focus recently has been the crucifixion - not surprising, given that it's late March. This reading reminded me that in the worst moment of history, when Jesus experienced so much hostility and pain, God used it for the most beautiful - resurrection. As the text put it:
"The worst men could do became the occasion for the unbelievable best that God can do."
I am clinging to that as I pray for Sophia. Please pray with me.
