They took her kidney against her will.
The brokers called it “supply and demand.”
The hospital called it “anonymous donor material.”
The government called it a "non-incident."
She called it theft.
But she also called it a mission field.
They thought she might die, but she didn’t. She recovered — slowly. Her body was lighter, emptier. But her spirit was ablaze.
“They didn’t just steal part of me,” she prayed.
“They stole part of God’s temple. And God knows where it went.”
She had read the Scripture a thousand times before — “Do you not know your body is the temple of the Holy Spirit?” But only now did she understand how far a temple could stretch.
Each night, she laid her hand over her side, over the place where the kidney used to be, and she prayed:
“Holy Spirit, as You dwell in me, and if part of this temple now dwells in someone else…
then let that part carry Your voice. Let my kidney preach. Let it convict. Let it comfort. Let it awaken the soul of whoever holds it now.”
She didn’t know their name. Didn’t know what country they were in. Didn’t know if they requested it or simply bought a lie. She didn’t care.
She forgave.
And then she interceded.
He didn’t know he had bought stolen life. Or maybe he did — but didn’t want to admit it. The organ saved him. That much was true. But something came with it. Something he couldn’t name.
He started hearing things — not voices, but nudges.
A sense of being watched, not by paranoia, but by grace.
He found himself curious about Jesus. About forgiveness. About the concept of being “washed clean.”
He didn’t even believe in God.
But the kidney did.
Scientists couldn’t explain it.
Doctors couldn’t detect it.
But Heaven? Heaven rejoiced.
Because part of a temple, stolen and misplaced, had become a sanctuary again — not of stone, but of flesh and Spirit.
It preached through filtration.
It preached through circulation.
It preached through dreams, through unease, through mercy.
Because a daughter of God refused to let her pain rot. She turned her wound into a weapon — not of vengeance, but of Gospel love.
Turning what was stolen into a mission field for God’s glory.
We believe that even in the deepest injustice, God can transform loss into purpose. If your body, or a part of it, has been taken against your will, it is not the end — it can be the beginning of a testimony that changes lives.
We call survivors to:
Through faith, prayer, and witness, what was stolen becomes sacred. What was meant for harm can become a conduit of hope. What was a tragedy can become a mission field.
“Do you not know your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit?” — 1 Corinthians 6:19
We believe that this temple, surrendered in faith, can speak beyond itself, changing lives for eternity.
© 2025 Charles Jarrell / Creative Captions. Created with AI-assisted tools under the author's direction.