A New Heart for a Brothel Prostitute

Our team participated in an outreach in an area famous for prostitution in the city of Belo Horizonte. Before I knew it I was climbing up the steps into a brothel with a team of four: Daniel (part of MC Brazil), Esther (YWAMer staff from Switzerland) Jasy (a girl from local Methodist church) and me.

The entire street of Guai Curus is filled with these buildings. Bottom floors are usually regular stores, restaurants or offices, top floors are the “work houses”. Men pour in and out as numerously as ants on an anthill. As we climbed up the slender staircase many times I brushed shoulders with them. But to my surprise, I was not disturbed, disgusted or afraid; I kept my head down and focused. I knew full well these men were just as lost as the women we would be speaking with. It was surreal walking through the dimly lit and narrow corridors which were lined with lime green doors. Many were closed yet a few were slightly ajar. The walls and floors were covered in tiles which seemed to extremely worn down from being stepped on so much; like a surface that has been overused. It was uncommonly quiet accept for the sound of foot steps of the countless men walking to and fro, but even those seemed faded and dull. I watched as many waited for a door to open, only to stick their face in for a peek and decide they’d wait for another door. Like ghosts, these men seemed; with hungry yet strangely empty eyes… almost like zombies… Dead men walking.

We would knock on an open door to let the woman know we wanted to talk. One of us would warmly greet the Lady, who seemed completely unfazed by us seeing her the way she was (almost or completely nude). I remember as I spoke to each woman I looked deeply into their eyes, searching their faces, their features. I’m not sure what I was looking for. Maybe it was my curiosity or maybe I wanted to know… what do you feel now, here in this place? How did you get here? How great is the pain, the cost, of this lifestyle?

I will never forget what happened next. As we turned the corner into the next corridor there she stood, Maria, at her door post inclined against the wall, a middle aged black woman, slightly top heavy, waiting for the next costumer. Little did she or we know that God had intentionally planned our next few moments together. We stopped at her door and began talking to her, telling her why we were there. As soon as she found out we were christian, missionaries, her face lit up. She began to explain her need to us.
“I have a heart condition. My heart is swollen… I might be dying. Do you know where I could find a hospital or clinic where they do these operations for cheap, are there any organizations that might help me with the money.”

As she spoke with Esther my own heart swelled. I watched her as she spoke… Pray for her heart… ever so quietly He spoke it into my ear until it was ringing in my head. I leaned over and whispered in English to Esther, “Do you think I could pray for her?” Esther turned to Maria and asked her in Portuguese, “Ele quer orar por voçê.”
“Oh please, sure, no problem. Come in, come in all of you."
It was almost comical the five of us crowded together in her 6 by 15 ft small room which included just enough space for a bed and a shower in the corner. She flipped off the purple neon light, switched on the regular light and closed the door. She looked like she couldn’t decide what to do. “Should I sit, should I stand?” I smiled and told her it didn’t really matter to God. Esther told her to do what ever felt more comfortable. She sat down on the bed with a smile, she seemed very happy that we were going to pray for her. I sat down beside her on the bed. The thought crossed my mind as to how many men had sat and lain here with her and now we sat here together ready to talk to God. I put my arms around her shoulder and told her that our God not only wanted to give her a new physical heart, but a new heart in general. She smiled a sad smile and nodded knowingly in response, her gaze filled with pain and sorrow. The prayer was short and simple.
“Dear God, I know this is your beloved daughter whom you care for so much, so I ask right now, in this moment, in the name of Jesus Christ that you would give her a new heart…”

That is the only part of the prayer that I fully remember saying. I remember when I said “new heart” it felt like my soul had caught on fire. I felt every measure of faith God had ever allotted to me was screaming out to God- "Give her a new heart! One that beats for you and you alone!" As I closed the prayer, I felt her body shaking against might as she began to weep. I will never forget what she looked like in that moment. Her hands were pressed tightly against her face her arms also firmly against her chest, tears streaming down the parts of her cheeks not covered by her hands. I knew in that moment it was time to do what the Lord had set on my heart. I wrapped my arms around her and put my head against hers and whispered into to her ear.
“This is not me holding you right now, it is the Lord Jesus Christ who is embracing you… My daughter whom I love so much… I created you… I have chosen you…

I kissed her forehead and released her looking up at Esther, Daniel and Jasy. We all looked at each other and we knew; God was doing something there that was beyond any of us. She cried for a little while more than finally looked up.
“I’m sorry,” she said with a half smile. “Its just that not many people pray for us that’s all.”

Later reflection on what had happened that day, I knew for sure a seed of hope had been planted in Maria’s life. I had the strangest sensation that I would see her again someday, in eternity. We’ll walk side by side with our Father... the one who gave us both… new hearts.

"I will sprinkle clean water on you, and you will be clean; I will cleanse you from all your impurities and from all your idols.I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh."

Ezekiel 36:25-26 NIV