Dance Bars Taught Me How to Pray

When I heard we were ministering in the Nepali dance bars, I was eager. I never thought we’d enter into this kind of ministry on the race, and it was happening in our final month.

So the night came, the first night we were going in.

We worshiped for a few hours, split into our groups, and off we went.

Walking up the stairs to the bar itself overwhelmed me more than I expected.

Thick smoke puffed out from the bottom of the door and bright lights strobed back and forth confusing my eyes with the contrast of how dark the room was.

Dark figures were drowning their thoughts with booze, screaming when the stage lit up indicating the start of another dance. They jumped up and down, howled, and made a mess of their food and drinks.

They were acting like animals.

 

The girls entered the stage ready to grab the eyes of the audience. They moved to the beat of the music, sometimes smiling, making eye contact with the men falling out of their seats. When their song ended, sometimes they’d come to our table and talk with us in the time they had. Though most were only about 18 years old, their eyes looked ages older. They looked tired. Worn. Numb.

Some chose this life, some were forced into it.

A life they felt trapped in.

A life that seemed to be the only option.

 

My heart fell. I was despondent, which led to an overwhelming wave of anger. I threw every question I could think of at God, not ready or wanting to truly hear the answer. I was far from ready to hear any truth from the God that lets this happen.

 The next day, I was drained of all energy in my body and mind. I knew I needed to take my questions and lay them at the feet of the Father, but I didn’t want to. I knew I needed to praise Him for He is good, but I didn’t want to. I was ashamed that I even went to a place of questioning the one true God who created everything. I slept for a while, and eventually wrote page after page in my journal of why I praise Him, why He’s a good Father, and why I love Him. My mindset went from ashamed to grateful; grateful that He had me see His children in a new light. I asked the Father for His truth and He simply said,

“Look at Me. I am the sky, I am the mountains, I am near and far. You yourself are created in my image. Why would you call My other creations inadequate? I didn’t create you to judge, dear one.” 

We serve the God who gently shows us His truth. Is that beautiful or what?

 

These men and women are in a different place than myself, but they never deserve to be looked at as less than. They are human, just as myself, who need the Lord to come in and capture their hearts.

 As we continued to go back to the bars, I went in with this new mindset. I knew each night would be different, but His children are still His children. This truth is constant.

 The second time we went, my eyes (and ears) were opened even more. I felt the Lord tugging on my ear, wanting to ask me something.

“Have you prayed for them?”

Another gentle wake-up call, I hadn’t prayed for these people at all.

 

Throughout the night, I prayed for each person I saw. I prayed for them as who they are: people in need of the truth. I prayed for joy to fill the room and their hearts. I prayed that the Lord would take them as His own and gently open their eyes to His might. I know prayer is powerful, but it never felt so tangible as it did this night.  

 I’m asking you now to join me in praying for the men and women in these bars. Pray that the Father would grab their hearts to Him with a strength that they can’t let go. A strength they don’t want to let go of. I pray your heart is broken for what breaks His. Our God is a Father of love, a Father who hears our prayers… each and every one of them. He does mighty things every day. Let’s pray the bold prayers that He would come in and take back what’s His.