God Hears Us

Today is Wednesday. Usually on Wednesdays, we go in the morning to a housing unit for foreigners called the Inquilinatos, but this week and next, we will be doing that on Monday instead of Wednesdays. So today, we did ministry at the foundation! Payton and Darrell do construction with the men, and us girls are in the kitchen with the women of the program. This is usually my favorite part of the week, because we sort fruit/vegetable donations, and prepare different foods for the day or week. (I’m getting really good at peeling potatoes with a knife, and I specifically find myself looking forward to that when we’re in the kitchen.) Besides that, and peeling hundreds of carrots, and sorting moldy tomatoes, we have had lots of time to talk to the women, practice our Spanish, and hear some of their testimonies.
About a week ago, a new girl joined the program. She is 19 years old, and came off of the streets after years of prostitution, drug addiction, and having been recently unwelcome back into her house. (Just for the sake of her privacy, I’ll call her V) Her sister is the only person in her life who is supporting her, and fiercely wants her to get help in the foundation. She told her that if she leaves here, she won’t speak to her again.
Last week, a few days after her arrival, while we were peeling potatoes, she was crying and talking about the struggle of choosing to be here day after day. (Right before she came, two other women left the program. One was asked to leave, and the other walked out in the middle of the night.) She missed her family, and at that point they didn’t know where she was.
Today, we were in the kitchen, and I sat with her for awhile not really knowing what to say. Ana is fluent in Spanish, so she came over and started to talk to V, and she was very worked up.
Her mind is consumed by thoughts of wanting to leave. Thoughts of wanting to go back into the streets because it’s a temporary sense of security, and because of its familiarity. Thoughts of worrying about what her sister will think. Thoughts about jumping out of the window and other ways to end her life. She doesn’t want to be here. She feels like an outcast in the program, and the thought of being here for a year is something that she has told us she can’t imagine doing.
It’s so heartbreaking to see. She has said that she doesn’t understand the Bible, and she doesn’t understand why God isn’t answering all of her prayers. She is exhausted, and the enemy is preventing her from understanding the hope that God is offering her here. The hope that is found in her already being here. It’s so hard to see the bigger picture. She told us that she could walk out right now and die in the street and wouldn’t even care. She’s tired of crying.
A few of us have decided to fast today in order to be reminded of the severity of the situation. We need the body to be praying. We are heartbroken. If you are reading this, lift V up in prayer. Pray that she would see God. That his words would break through her mind. That in the name of Jesus, the enemy would flee from her persistent thoughts. That she would have a supernatural revelation of His love for her.
Pray with us.

I will update later, thank you for praying. We trust that God is going to give us peace in whatever is the outcome of his will. We trust that He is the strength of this.