In the middle of an ordinary day, our entire office shut down, and we gathered to hear from a fiery woman from a place I won't name. For her safety, I can't share a picture of her. I have nothing for the eyes to see other than the words I type.
She had red hair and big brown eyes and an even bigger heart. Beside her was a strong and supportive husband. He let her do the talking and I chuckled inside because she was just the type of outspoken woman I can appreciate.
Her stories were rich and surprisingly positive. Well, they were surprising for me because I know how little it can take for me to find reasons to complain. Unlike me, she lives in a tough place. The kind of place in which prison and persecution are real. Only one percent of her people are Christian. In her country, freedom of religion is promised by law but punishable by the enforcers of the law. People may read a Bible but they cannot gather or evangelize.
When someone from our small tribe said, "How can we pray for you?" She asked for freedom. Then, she went on to tell us stories about the miraculous ways God has provided for her people—His people—who are so hungry for His stories. They are hungry for change and they need many things we take for granted. Like shoes. Yet, of all the gifts this fiery woman smuggles into refugee camps, the most appreciated gift is the Word of God in their mother-tongue.
In her world, the local church—the Bride of Christ—is working to help people receive Scripture. While it's not illegal to own a Bible, booksellers can be fined and jailed for selling the Bible. So, the local churches purchase copies in order to distribute as many Bibles as they can (within the maximum quantity allowed by the government).
Today, her sole mission was to encourage us to keep working through our ordinary days in the office. She came to share the stories of what happens in places we can't see. There we were, the seen, being encouraged by the unseen.
She asked for freedom, will you help me pray?