Somebody’s Baby Girl – a Prostitute’s Story

Just yesterday she came home in a soft pink bundle. “It’s a girl!” was her anthem. She was beautiful, a princess, and somebody’s little baby girl. Her mamma had some issues and so did her daddy. She wasn’t an expected baby – in fact, she was the opposite. Yet she was loved. She was tiny with her lanky fingers and precious toes peeping out from her blanket. Her head was full of rings upon rings of ebony hair and her eyes were large and sparkling.

She didn’t stay a baby forever. She graduated to pink dresses and to Disney cartoons. Her naivety was her blessing. Daddy left at year two and another man came in at age three. As momma went from man to man, the little girl thought that was normal. Fear did creep into her as she heard yelling and momma crying from the next room. Once, a lamp flew up against the wall, waking the little girl from her sleep. She simply shoved her fingers into her ears and told herself stories to block it out. Mamma said never to leave her room after bedtime.When she was ten, one of mamma’s boyfriends thought she was pretty. Too pretty. All at once, her innocence was gone. That was the day that she shed her pink dresses and her Disney fairy tales. In her mind, that sort of stuff was not for her but for “good girls.” That was also the day that the void in her heart was opened. That was the day that her craving for love, for the love of men, was unleashed and became her drive.

Push-up bras, mini skirts, low cut tops – whatever she could do to draw some attention at the age of thirteen. Sometimes, she would lie and tell boys that she was sixteen. That’s what she said to him, but he was too smart. He saw the truth about her. He saw her need for love. He saw that she was young and beautiful. He saw an opportunity. And he most certainly took advantage of everything that he saw.

She offered her whole soul to him. She was so willing. Her heart was so hungry. Her body was at his disposal. He urged her to come live with him. He was older. The life sounded exciting. Being his lady, maybe getting to have a few sips from his bottle of jack, and running away all appealed to her desire to grow up. She wrote a letter to her momma, though she doubted her mamma would be sober enough to read it. She packed her bag with excitement seeping out of every pore.

The life she found was not the one she had expected. She wasn’t his only girl. And he didn’t want to be her only boy. No, he told her that if she really loved him that she would help him out on a favor for a friend. She was hesitant. He was persistent. She obliged. The friend grabbed her hand and headed into the bedroom. There were two other girls in there. He ordered them out. If only she knew that it was just the beginning.

“I need you to work.” He said to her one day.
“Okay,” she replied cheerfully as she smiled at him and stroked his hair. “Where should I get a apply?”
“Honey, you need no application.” He smirked. “Remember that friend of mine? He said that you did just fine. That means that you can work like all these other girls do. Just doing some more favors. That is, if you really love me, baby.” His voice was so smooth. How could she say no? She hated being with his friend, but she figured that it was worth it as long as he still loved her. She was getting to drink his jack – was give some cocaine to stay awake from time to time. She was getting her big girl life.

So she did favors for his friends. At first it was just a few men a week, but gradually it became six or seven per night. She had moved from just being inside the cramped apartment to standing on the streets – doing favors in cars that stopped sometimes. “Can’t I just sleep tonight?” She asked Him. He laughed in a chilling manner and just took another swing from his bottle.

Then, he brought home another girl. This was a blow to her ego and most importantly to her heart. Until that point she didn’t realize that the other girls had loved him too. The other girls were just like her. Now she was just like them. No longer the favorite.

“I think I’m ready to move out.” She told him the day after the new girl came. Before she knew it, his bottle was against her head, knocking her to the floor. A string of curse words flew from his mouth as he pulled her off the floor by her neck.
“I’ll teach you to never say anything like that every again.” It wasn’t long before she blacked out. She she woke up as was a pulverised mess. Blood covered her clothes and bruises her flesh. “You’re working tonight,” he stated as a fact when he saw she was coming to. “And if I hear anything less than perfection came from you, I wont be so forgiving.”

This was the first point where utter despair swept into her being. Her soul felt crushed. Her spirit was captured, locked inside a solitary confinement cell. “This is what I get for not being a good girl,” she thought to herself. “I deserved this from the very first time momma’s man looked at me.” So she accepted her fate. She drowned it the best she could. Any chemical that she could throw into her body – she willingly took. Anything to make her not have to feel. Anything to make herself forget.

Her fourteenth birthday was spent with five men and a joint.
Her childhood was such a distant past that she forgot the plots of the Disney movies.
Her life was a doomed disaster.

She started as somebody’s baby girl.
She now is somebody’s whore.


Top 5 Reasons Why Church Planting Sucks

For those of you who don’t know me, two years ago, my dad left a pastoring job at a Baptist church to plant an Evangelical Free Church in Virginia, Minnesota. It’s a small town with plenty of rough edges and church planting in a place only 4% Evangelical isn’t an easy task. Therefore, I compiled a list of things that make church planting suck. Enjoy!


  1. People leave: Now this has been the hardest thing for me. You see, I came into church planting life with a lot of positivity. I knew it’d be hard work – but I thought that no matter what, we’d have the amazing people in our church to support us. It doesn’t quite work out that way. Out of the people that are in our church now, only a few were involved a year ago and maybe one was involved when we started full time 2 years ago.Seeing people leave – often over things that are related to taste – is discouraging.
  2. Pastor’s Family Does Everything: Me and my mother = nursery. Yup. That’s it. I try not to complain, I really do, but it does get challenging when week after week it’s either you or mummy or both. Basically, my “get out of nursery” Sundays are when I’m on worship team – and that’s not always the case. Thankfully, we don’t have to clean. But if tomorrow everyone that cleans left, we’d have to do that too.
  3. Explaining that your church plant is not a cult once a week: Okay, it doesn’t happen that often. I do, however, have to explain to people quite often that, 1) we’re not a cult. We’re Christians that meet in a old photography studio. 2) Why there’s a need to start a new church. 3) Why we don’t have a fancy building. 4) We really don’t judge people’s past and are a loving community. For realz.
  4. I can’t wear skirts to church without feeling awkward: See, we’re casual. I feel more comfortable wearing holy jeans to church with a zip-up fleece than I would wearing a skirt or a dress. I like skirts and dresses and sadly have no excuse to wear them not that I go to a casual church. That’s why I’m in speech though.
  5. I feel bad telling others Christians from other churches about how awesome planting is: See, what we’re doing as a church plant is pretty crazy. My daddy left a decent job as assistant pastor to go out on this insane adventure that required a pay cut and also had no guarantee of success. What we’re doing is Biblical in the Acts-Early-church-everyone-complains-about-not-being-like sort of way. We are simple and we are acting in faith because there’s no other way to do it. We’re trying to love our community with the same love Jesus gave us – this includes welcoming drunks to Bible study. (Which in my mind is really, really cool.)

Overall, church planting is revolutionary. It’s biblical and it’s bipolar. The outcome is completely unknown and as my dad preached once, we feel a little bit like the Christians from this passage in Hebrews 11. To sum it up, it says that by faith, some people stopped the mouths of lions and others got sawn in two. Sometimes, I’m not quite sure which it is for my family. Sometimes, I’m pretty sure it’s the sawn in two, “unsure if we’ll make it out”, type of action faith. But whatever the outcome and whatever struggles we face now — God rewards action faith.