Sunday morning, Shea shared with the miniature humans in Kids Community about taking her family to the House of Hope. Her two daughters went with her and they talked about their experience. But by way of explaining, Shea didn't explain to the tender hearts that the girls at HoH were prostitutes, she simply called them "slaves." Good description of not only those girls, in the abusive life they were forced into, but also what we were before Christ came for us. Which was a thought that crossed my mind as Shea shared.

And then came the breaking moment for me. The Big "whoa God" moment of the day.

She talked of Oscar, the man who helps run the House of Hope. He's the man who works with the police in Managua to find and rescue the girls out of prostitution. Shea described his actions. She said he dresses like a police officer, goes with the police and busts down the doors where the girls are being kept by the abusers, and captors. He busts down the doors, and the police go in and line the men up and Oscar takes the girls , carries them out, and rescues them. Removes them from the environment while they're being held captive in. Rescues them. Saves them. Takes them back to the House of Hope.

Can I tell you that at that moment, at that VERY instant, God whispered deep into my heart and said "Amanda, that image. That little girl in Oscar's strong arms, being rescued. That's you. Me, I'm the one who busts down doors to rescue you. I busted down the biggest door of all when I came and died for you. And all these other doors in front of you that look closed and are holding you in grief, I'm going to bust down those doors and rescue you, because I'm the door-busting-down kind of Rescuer."

One single tear fell from my eye. Jesus. MY the Door-Busting-Down kind of Rescuer.

On Calvary He busted down the door of sin and bondage.
On Easter morning, He busted down the door of death and destruction forever.
Every day around the world, He busts down doors in lives and frees people.

If he can do that. If he did...and he did.... The the doors in front of me - the closed ones, he can bust them down.

Recently, I told a friend - in describing my grief - "It's like I'd been locked in a dark, dank room for years. Then someone pulled me out into the daylight to show me all God had for me, only to shove me back into my small dark closet again. Now I'm stumbling and fumbling looking for the door and can't find it."

Guess I don't really need to look for the door and stop fumbling around. Just cry out and wait for my Door-busting-down Rescuer to to come for me.

Hope is coming for me. Salvation is coming for me. Love is coming for me.


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