They Came Before We Opened
They were already waiting when we arrived.
Before we were ready to open, people asked to come in. Within twenty minutes we had gone through a liter of milk and two packets of biscuits. That is what Sunday morning looks like at our soup kitchen in Tel Aviv.
This week we served borscht, made with chicken, onion, garlic, celery, carrot, potato, beetroot, cauliflower, and cabbage, alongside matzah to celebrate Pesach. The girls come in the morning after working all night. They need Jesus. We pray that God opens their hearts to the gospel.
Lena is waiting.
Lena is waiting for her place in a rehab center. She is ready to go. We are asking God to open the door soon, even today. Please pray with us for her.
Dany washed himself at our sink.
For Dany, that sink is the only place he can shower. Many others did the same that morning. We are praying that God opens a house or a place with proper showers for the people who come through our doors. It is a real and practical need.
Embal came without pants.
Her pimp does not allow her to dress. Every week there is a desire to cover her. We managed to get her to agree to put on a pair of men’s underwear and she was extremely grateful. But she is very scared of her pimp. Elias will talk to him when he comes again. Please pray for Embal.
Most of them want to be heard.
Most of the people who come are surprisingly willing to be interviewed. They want to tell their stories and to be heard. We sit across the table and listen. That is part of the work too.
Yosi came to eat.
He came for the soup. After he finished, he went upstairs to learn about Jesus. Please pray for Yosi.
Benjamin, Sara, Svieta, Inbar.
Benjamin is homeless. We pray God opens a home for him. Sara is in prostitution. Please pray for her. Svieta came in and we are praying for her salvation. Inbar needs to get off the street. Please pray that she does.
The people who walk through that door on Sunday morning are known. Known by name. Known by story. Known by the One who formed them before they were born and has not stopped seeing them since. Not even on these streets. Not even in the darkest corners of Tel Aviv. God sees Embal. God sees Dany. God sees Lena and Yosi and Sara and Benjamin. He knew their names before we did. And because He sees them, we are here. That is the only reason we keep coming back on Sunday mornings. Not out of duty, not out of program, but because the God who knows them sent us to remind them of that.
