I have seen, now I am responsible.

Prayer is this crazy enigma of power flowing from our lips that knocks down demons and flees straight to the Father’s ear.  He hears it.  Every time.  And then guess what?  He answers it.  Every time.  No prayer returns void.  Ever.  That’s it, no exceptions.  And, if I’m being honest, I definitely did not fully believe that a few months ago.  Apparently, it was something I had to fly halfway around the world to learn.  I used to have this spirit of complacency while praying, but I recently found myself on the ground literally begging Jesus to steal sweet Nang’s heart.  That’s when I realized, what have I been doing all this time?  Really, though.  How could I talk to the God of the universe and not have complete faith He would hear me?  He made me and breathed His own breath into my very lungs.  Some moments here have caused me to throw away everything I have ever thought about prayer and to fully surrender everything my heart is feeling, leaving my words super un-eloquent and desperate.  When I can no longer physically explain my praise or my need to Jesus, I feel Him most.  Last week while out on Bangla, I was playing Jenga and laughing with the cutest bar girl ever, Luck.  She had these little duck hair clips in, not a part of the story, but basically, she’s precious.  This man walks up and starts touching her and whispering to her.  I was instantly angry.  She kept trying to turn away, but he was persistent.  All I wanted to do was grab her, hug her, and say, “She’s mine.”  I knew I couldn’t do that, so with balled fists I just began whispering prayers.  I’m watching this scene unfold in front of me and I am frantic for Jesus to rescue her.  I don’t remember any of my words, but shortly after I began praying, this man just walks away.  Luck turned around, hugged me, and kissed me on the cheek.  We didn’t talk much because I speak little Thai and she speaks little English, but I saw such joy in her eyes that she didn’t have to go with this man.  I know Jesus was there.  My soul feels heavy for the things I am seeing, but God has entrusted me and given me faith to be here.  I am responsible to intercede for these beautiful daughters.  The spirit of prayer changes when it’s the only hope.  I legitimately can’t physically do anything on Bangla besides talk to these girls, the rest is all spiritual. Sometimes the spiritual realm manifests itself physically, which brings me to my next story.  I have a friend named Nang that I talk to almost everyday.  I have never once seen her with a “customer” until two nights ago and it shocked me.  It seems so obvious and in your face that it happens, but the reality of it is so difficult to process.  I ran up to her, hugged her, and told her I loved her before I had to watch her walk away with him.  I found myself sitting on the curb begging Jesus to steal her heart that night.  I have never begged anyone the way I did that night.  I remember telling Jesus that I trusted Him to care for her, but I needed something to be reassured.  I wanted to know His angels were surrounding her.  Now, I’ve had this obsession with wanting to see angels, so I asked Jesus to show me the angels around her.  I needed to see them, any part of them, even if just a feather from their wings to know she would be okay and I wouldn’t get off the curb until He did.  My head was in my lap for a while before I finally looked up and there, a few feet in front of me, in the middle of Bangla road, was a white feather.  A freaking angel feather!!!!!  How cool is that?  Jesus doesn’t show us pain or evil or injustice to be complacent.  He shows us these difficult things so we can fight for those who can’t.  And when we fight, we win.  Evil has already been conquered when the grave couldn’t hold my Jesus.  So this is what we do here; we battle in prayer for love and freedom and Jesus.  And He shows up.  Every time.