She first reached out to our church in Dortmund via Instagram. The message read, “Hello, I am homeless. But I trust in God, and I believe that he has a plan. Can I come to visit your church?”
When Melissa finally came to church and I saw her for the first time, I took her straight into my heart. She was shy, hiding behind a face mask, and not speaking a lot at first, but when we sat down to pray and listen to God together, she warmed up quickly. I could tell that she was no stranger to God’s Word. Over the next weeks we spent time hanging out on Sundays and at Alpha dinners. Little by little, she told me her story. It was more than I could handle.
Listening to her story, my heart ached for her, but I felt torn. Did she need a place to live, or did she just need a friend to listen?
“As a child, I was just passed around in the foster system,” she told me as we were walking together one cold, December night. “Maybe that is why I got into prostitution so young.” Heavy drug abuse followed, and a child that she bore was taken from her by social services. She was homeless, alone, sick, and desperate. “There were church people who talked to me, prayed for me,” she shared. “Some tried to make me repent over my sins.”
Listening to her story, my heart ached for her, but I felt torn. Did she need a place to live, or did she just need a friend to listen? I had been planning to take her to a soup kitchen to get something to eat. Should I just take her to my own place, instead? I did not want to be that person who just blessed her “in the name of Jesus” and then went away to my own warm apartment. In the end, I booked her a one-room apartment for one week, just to buy myself some time to pray and discern.
Melissa was overjoyed to finally be in a safe place. Later that week, when I came to visit, she cooked me noodles and acted like a real host. I was hopeful that she was starting on a new path in life, but she confessed a fear of falling back into her old ways.
“When I run out of money, it’s so easy to just post online and offer myself to men,” she said. “All my financial needs are gone in one hour. But at night I get visited by demons, like ones that tormented Mary Magdalene.” Her words were blunt, and her voice unemotional. I shivered. Lord, show me what to do to help her!
“Melissa,” I asked, “are you willing to make a clean break with your old life? I know a place where you can get professional help from social workers and have a completely fresh start. A friend of mine in another city is opening a house for women that want to leave prostitution. Are you ready for that?”
Without hesitating, she responded with a yes.
It took only a few phone calls, and before long we were getting everything in order for her to leave Dortmund. Sitting in the car, she became very quiet. The shy Melissa hiding behind her mask was back. Once we arrived at the home, though, and she saw the beautiful room that would be hers, she warmed up quickly. I said goodbye to her that day, confident that she was in the best of hands, even though I would miss her at our church on Sundays.
Three weeks later, I went to visit her, and Melissa was like a new woman. She busied herself with cooking, an exercise routine, all kinds of crafts, and had already found a nearby church that made her feel welcome.
“I feel so at home here,” she said, smiling. “There are people who care for me, but they are also helping me become independent and take charge of my life.”
“What about the demons?” I asked.
“They are gone,” she stated firmly. “I gave them no reason to stay.”
Today Melissa is in trauma counseling, has started a job, and is finding healing community in the church. There is still a long road ahead, but God has been faithful to her every step of the way.
PRAY
Pray for hope and healing as Melissa embraces her journey of transformation. Pray for workers like Johanna to walk in risk-taking obedience as they engage the needs of those around them.
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