An Outreach Testimony
by Raimer R.
June 6, 2026
Blog • Teachings on Evangelism • Loving Well and Trusting God with the Results
We were standing outside the Pasadena Courthouse behind a foldable table covered with a tablecloth, offering prayer. Various combinations of ministry partners from a local house of prayer (PIHOP) regularly went there because many people walking through those doors were carrying more than legal troubles. They were facing broken families, addiction, fear, loss, and consequences they did not know how to escape. The courthouse was a place where lives often came apart in public.
That day, a woman in her thirties walked out carrying a plastic bag filled with her belongings. She looked lost. We approached her gently. "How can we pray for you?" She explained that she had just gotten out of court. Everything she owned was in that bag. She had nowhere to stay and had been given only one phone number for a women's shelter. "This is all they gave me," she said. "I have to figure out where I'm going next." We prayed for her and asked God to open a door.
Then she told us—my ministry partner and me—her story. She had been involved with a Pasadena gang member and became pregnant. During one violent attack, he kicked her in the stomach, causing injuries that led to the loss of her baby. She fled to Utah, where she spent months recovering in the hospital. Though she had mostly healed physically, she still suffered from severe migraines and chronic pain. With no support system in Utah, she eventually returned to Pasadena, hoping to be closer to family. But when they learned she was seeking a restraining order against that gang member, they became afraid and washed their hands of the situation, leaving her without their help. Now she stood outside the courthouse with a plastic bag, one phone number, and nowhere to go.
We realized she was hungry, so we packed up our table, bought her lunch, and visited the organization listed on her paper. They could not take her in, but they gave us a multi-page list of shelters and support programs throughout Los Angeles and Orange counties. This resource felt promising. Surely one of them would have room.
While she ate, we started calling. One number after another. One rejection after another. Every conversation eventually came down to the same question: "Have you used any drugs within the last thirty days?" And every time she answered honestly: "Yes. I smoked marijuana for the pain." That answer closed every door. We worked through nearly the entire list. Nothing. The pages that had seemed full of possibilities slowly became a record of closed doors. Eventually, we ran out of numbers.
My ministry partner had to leave for a previous commitment, and suddenly I was alone with her, trying to figure out what to do next. “Is there anyone at all you can call?” I asked. She thought for a moment before mentioning a man. “He’s like a father to me.” “Call him,” I urged. She had already tried reaching him earlier without success. But this time, he answered. As she spoke with him, I prayed silently. "Lord, help me. I can't bring a woman I barely know into my home, but I don't want to leave her on the street either. Please help." After a long conversation, he agreed to let her stay with him for the night. Relief washed over me. Finally, I had somewhere to take her.
I drove her to the apartment complex where he said he was staying. When we arrived, I asked, "Which apartment is his?" She looked at me. "Apartment? He lives in his car. It's parked somewhere under the carport." I was stunned. After hours of praying, searching, and calling shelters, this was the best option we had found. Everything in me hated it. But I had reached the end of what I knew to do. We hugged, and I watched her walk away carrying that plastic bag. Then I prayed one last desperate prayer. "Lord, we tried. This is the best we could do. You have to help her now." I drove home feeling defeated. We had bought her a meal, made phone calls, given her a ride, and prayed. Yet none of it felt like enough.
For days I wondered what had happened to her. Then, about a month later, I was back outside the same courthouse. A woman spotted me from across the street and came running toward me with a huge smile. She threw her arms around me. The only problem was that I had no idea who she was. Seeing my confusion, she laughed. "You don't remember me? I'm the woman you prayed for—the one you tried to get into a shelter." I stared at her. It was her. But she looked completely different. The woman who had stood before me exhausted and hopeless was now full of life, confidence, and joy.
She told me she was living in a women's shelter in Los Angeles. They were helping her with housing, her court case, a restraining order against her former boyfriend, and the process of rebuilding her life. Standing beside her was a mentor from the program. I was speechless. After she left for her hearing, I stood there thanking God. "Thank You, Jesus. You heard every prayer—even the frustrated ones. I could never have imagined this outcome."
To this day, I do not know how she found that shelter. My ministry partner and I had called nearly every option we could find. Every door had closed. Yet somehow God opened one we never saw. And that is when I realized this story was not only about her. It was also about me. At first, I thought I was trying to bring a hurting woman into God's attention. But God did not need my help noticing her. Long before I met her, He had seen her pain. Long before I prayed, He was already at work. While I was anxiously trying to solve her problems, He was arranging people, opportunities, and provisions I could not see.
In reality, I was trying to impress her need upon God, while God was trying to impress His heart upon me. He was showing me that His compassion is deeper than mine, His wisdom greater than mine, and His ability to redeem a life far beyond anything I can accomplish. God had been caring for her before I arrived and would continue caring for her after I left. What He wanted from me was not to be her savior. He wanted me to be faithful. "You were never asking me to solve her life, Lord. You were asking me to love her with what I had."
We offered prayer. We bought lunch. We made calls. We gave a ride. It felt painfully inadequate—like five loaves and two fish beside an overwhelming need. But Jesus never asked His disciples to create enough bread for the crowd. He simply asked them to place what they had in His hands. Then He blessed it and multiplied it.
That encounter changed the way I think about ministry. God does not ask me to carry every person's future. He asks me to notice the person in front of me, love them well, and offer what I can. Then trust Him with what I cannot do. Love makes phone calls. Love buys lunch. Love gives rides. Love listens. But human love also knows it is not God.
There will always be situations beyond our ability to fix. Some burdens are too large for any one person, ministry, or church. Still, we are called to do the next loving thing. Offer the prayer. Buy the meal. Make the call. Give the ride. Listen to the story. Help someone take the next step. What seems small in our hands may become something beautiful in God's.
I left the courthouse that first day feeling helpless. A month later, God allowed me to see what He had been doing all along. That woman did not need me to rescue her. She needed me to love her during the brief stretch of road where our paths crossed. God would take care of the rest.
Since then, I have tried to minister with greater freedom. I no longer feel responsible to solve every problem. I can love people whose situations are bigger than me and trust God with the outcomes. Sometimes, in His kindness, He even lets us see a few pages of the story He is writing. This story left a permanent mark on me. It reminded me that God is never late, never distracted, and never scrambling to respond to human need. He is already there. And somehow, in His grace, He invites ordinary people like us to join Him in what He is doing. What a humbling lesson. What an incredible God. And what a privilege it is to walk with Him.
RELATED ARTICLE: Loving Well and Trusting God with the Results (Part 1)