Last night we joined with the ministry here as they reached out to the women who work on the streets. The team from here went to meet the women; we went out praying in the area. It was a powerful evening, and as we were walking the streets where the women also walk, so many things struck me and impacted my heart. This is such a stunning city in so many ways, and when you really look at the people (obviously without blatantly staring them in the face which might seem a tad threatening), they are so beautiful. They are unique and reflect the tender beauty of God, their Creator. I love that about different peoples- that each people group has different features that distinguishes them from others, yet makes them part of their people.
However, as we were walking the area and praying, there were so many buildings so worn down and neglected. So much hopelessness was felt, and in some ways it felt like there is no hope for change. Yet, in the middle of the square you see the church. In fact the church is so huge it towers over everything and you can see the spire from block away. The church is there. Jesus is there. And I felt so encouraged to be reminded that in the midst of the hopelessness and darkness, people of hope and light are going out to the streets. Brining hope and being light.
The area isn’t like you would picture it. It’s hard for the untrained eye to even know who is just a normal person and who is there to work the streets. And yet that is just it. The women are just like us in so many ways. They are women with lives and talents and things they like and don’t like. They have stories and dreams. Or at least had dreams at some time before they stopped dreaming. They are normal women who are in a desperate situation. They are women who are lost, needing to be found. They are women who feel all alone and need to encounter the God would created them, delights over them, and has not forgotten them.
And so I sit here on my final morning in Riga. The sky is grey outside, Ryan Kondo is leading worship on the webstream, and I am reflecting on last night. My heart feels broken with the brokenness of the women, yet at the same time I feel faith arise. Faith that nothing is impossible with God. Faith that if God remembers these women and has put it on the hearts of people in this city to reach out to the, then surely His purposes and plans for them are greater then what they are living right now.
I might fly back to Amsterdam this evening, but I know I fly back carrying with me more of God’s heart then I arrived with. And I am excited. Excited to hear the reports. And excited to play a part in what He is doing here, if in no other way, then through prayer.