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Our program begins with intervention: meeting women in brothels and health centers, building relationships and trust. We believe that if Jesus came upon someone in the road who needed healing, he would heal them. Perhaps he would never see them again, but that one interaction still had an impact, still glorified God, and was still a work of the Spirit. We believe that even if we never have the opportunity to follow up with a woman, the interactions we have in the intervention stage still make an impact…
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We can all do something, from raising our voices, to volunteering or supporting from our own corner of the world, so that the “invisible” are seen. And you ... what will you do to change the world?
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Todos podemos hacer algo, desde alzar nuestra voz hasta ser voluntarios o apoyar desde nuestra propia realidad para que los “invisibles” sean vistos.Y tú… ¿todavía no harás nada por cambiar el mundo?
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Often times, the day-to-day of life in ministry can become meetings, budgets, endless reports… I often struggle, especially during the first couple of months of the year when our programs are slower, to remember the real issue at hand.
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Today on All Saints' Day we remember the deceased. Vivi* left us and her two young sons earlier this year.
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I was running errands with my daughters when a teenager with a duffel bag swung over his back stopped me and asked if I could spare some change for food. His name was Jesús. Sometimes God isn’t too subtle when He chooses to wrap Himself up in the guise of his suffering children.
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Of course it was "Mariela*" who didn't show up to SutiSana to work, our youngest artisan barely out of her teens, already a mom of her own two children and raising her orphaned brother.
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I walked into a brothel last night. The light was dim, the music bouncing. Hard porn covered the walls. Urinals lined the entryway. The place reeked of urine, beer, & smoke.
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For many years, the strategy God gave WMFB was to simply be present, to be with those affected by prostitution. That strategy continues today, as groups of staff and volunteers visit local red-light districts. They go to where the women are to get to know them and form friendships with them, inviting them to the activities offered at the ministry center.
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“I wish everyone would stop talking about him like he was a drug dealer and a gangbanger. As if that makes it okay that he was killed.”
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Angela has worked hard to never have to return to prostitution. On average, a woman attempts to leave the streets 7 times before finally becoming free. But Angela is going strong, supporting even her grandchildren.
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The story of Word Made Flesh Bolivia is one of God’s faithfulness and grace, one where loved ones have come and gone and left their mark, one of perseverance in the face of disappointment, political turmoil, sickness, severe weather and tough living. But it is also one where Hope triumphs and each small step towards transformation matters.
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As soon as I arrived, I became an emotional wreck for days, feeling the tears well up inside me at any given moment and for no explainable reason. After a sob therapy session, I took some time in the prayer room to quietly reflect - tried to breathe deeply, to quiet my body and mind that had been racing in preparation for this trip.
I began to walk the labyrinth in the center of the room, slowly following the lines set before me.
And as I walked…. I realized how very alone I feel.
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On a chilly Wednesday evening, a small team made its weekly visit to the red-light district, and met Vanessa.* At 28 y/o, she had resorted to prostitution a few months prior to make ends meet for her two young sons.
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In the red-light district a block from our ministry center, there are 500 beds. As we do every Christmas, we enter each of the fourteen brothels there donning Santa Claus hats and proclaiming the gospel through Christmas carols. The administrators were, as always, remarkably accepting; some even genuinely enjoying the cheerful invasion. One administrator in particular pulled us aside and told our staff, "I've got a girl who's not doing well. Think she's about to die."
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Although she visited our ministry center years ago, she wasn’t quite ready for change. But when she hit rock bottom, she knew where to turn for help.
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We walk into the first brothel; only red lights illuminate the shadows of utter darkness inside. The heavy smell of incense and alcohol, along with the pulsing music, adds to the stifling atmosphere. It’s hard to breathe in here.
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Darkest Night of the Year. It’s the title of Over the Rhine’s Christmas album, but the words themselves seem to be the mantra to which I walk as I pass in and out of brothel doors. Every time I enter these places, I have let my eyes adjust to the dim red glow of the interior; I have tried to block out the mixed smell of alcohol, sex and urine; I have swallowed the never-dulling shock and disgust of passing an exiting client as I make my way toward one of my friends. Tonight somehow feels different, darker in a way that didn’t seem possible before…
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Al son de “Noche de paz” cantamos: “Noche de amor, noche de paz.” Se siente casi irónico. ¿Cómo puedo cantar al amor y la paz en este lugar donde se profanan las más bellas expresiones de amor…
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