For daughters of the night

(Based on a true story)


She could hear singing in the distance—

It was a sound she wasn’t very familiar with.

A sound of… joy, maybe?

Who would tell her?

There was a time, many years ago, when she might have been in that number—

Singing praises to God on a Sunday morning.

Today, she sat at the bar trying to recollect… to grab hold of a very distant memory—

After that last drink, what happened last night?

What happened?

What happened to the hope she had held out all those years that the sun would brighten the horizon one of these days?

Who would tell her?

Her reverie was interrupted by a newcomer who had been standing at the door since forever, possibly embarrassed to be seen in this den of sin that had become home to her.

She stated her price.

She was too tired for bargains.

Her stance was easy to understand—

Pay or go somewhere else, sir.

The singing in the distance grew louder. It was almost as if they were celebrating something on her behalf.

She took the last shot, paid the bartender, and confirmed with the newcomer—

Was she leaving or staying?

Who would tell her?

He paid the price.

And then he laid down his Bible and started to pray.

“I know my fate already, sir. Please do not mock me”.

The singing in the distance grew louder still.

The newcomer kept praying….

He invited her to hear a story—

It was the story of the sacrifice and endless pursuit of a Saviour who paid the debt of His beloved with His own life. Now, He offers redemption, a new beginning, and abundant life to His beloved who already is bound, lost and without hope, apart from what He offers.

What would His beloved do?

“Just take the offer”, she cried out, “What else is there to do?”

“What would you do?”

“Me, sir? Please do not mock me. No one would offer me that much”.

The newcomer opened the Bible and read from it.

He started to pray.

He wouldn’t stop… until she joined him.

The singing in the distance grew louder—

Just as I am…. I come….

She continued praying….

And then—

It was as if scales fell from her eyes.

She didn’t recognize where she was.

She didn’t remember how she got there—

It was as if a substantial part of what she knew had been blotted out.

The last thing she remembered was being home, watching the skies in earnest faith and hope that the sun was on its way.

“I don’t know where I am. Would you help me find my way back home, sir?”

The singing in the distance continued to grow louder—

I once was lost, but now I’m found…. Was blind, but now I see….

It was a sound of joy.


Whoever the Son makes free shall be free indeed…. But how would they know if we don’t tell them?

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16 thoughts on “For daughters of the night”

  1. You really pulled me into the story. If only all believers would be this passionate about reaching the lost with such bold love and compassion.


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