Finding Home in the City of Paradox
Here I’ll find my crowd,
In darkness, I can be fully unmasked
Nothing is hidden, for nothing is seen
City of liberation, set me free
You arrive at Centraal Station, Amsterdam a couple hours before your friends. Finally, in the city of the catchcry, “anything is possible.” Where to first?
Straight in front of you is a line of iconic 17th century buildings and as you walk you look up and see big blue letters along the top of one building. “God Roept U” (God Calls You) and next to it, “Jesus Loves You.”
In Amsterdam? How curious.
You enter the ground floor, and are immediately greeted by a barista, standing in front of a big, quirky sign of what looks like a priest. They ask you where you’re from and it turns out they have friends in the next town over. Wow, that’s so strange, no one knows your hometown! The coffee tastes heavenly, and you laugh to yourself, maybe God really did “call me” to this place. A woman enters behind you and greets the barista with a big smile. “Hello Lia, what beans have you got for me today?”
The barista grabs a colourful looking package to show her. “Today we have beans from Ethiopia helping to fund local schools. It’s got notes of wine gums, lychee, and raspberry jam.”
The woman spins it round in her hand, “Sounds amazing; gosh, I love what you guys are doing here. Anne is in the shop with me today, so two flat whites to go please!”
You begin to wander around the light-filled room and take in the scene: artwork, books on Amsterdam, Van Gogh, and one by someone called Henri Nouwen called, “Eindelijk Thuis” (Finally Home).
A tall man with a wide grin and strong Australian accent says, “G’day.” Australia, you think to yourself, that’s a long way to come. Expecting your question apparently, he explains that he moved his family over here four years ago so that his wife could join a Christian organisation working with women in the Red Light District.
You hesitate, thinking of your friends you’ll meet up with in a couple hours just a few hundred meters down the street. But something about this place, about Lia the barista, and James the Australian, you decide to stay and listen.
James shares that while indeed prostitution is legalised in the Netherlands, it’s not the celebration of freedom that it seems. A high percentage of the women in the windows are from countries other than the Netherlands and don’t speak much English, let alone Dutch. Their kids are often in the care of grandmothers or aunties as they send money back home. And while they may be technically free to leave — in reality they have no other work available to them. It’s fully legal, yet they’re stuck in a cycle and don’t know how to get out.
If only he knew what I was here for, you think. I don’t belong in this place.
James reaches for the book you noticed and tells you how the image on the front was painted by a Dutch artist named Rembrandt. It’s a depiction of the prodigal son.
He begins to tell of a son who took his inheritance and wasted it all on wild living. He ends up living among pigs, too ashamed to return to his father. Eventually, he makes the choice to come home, and his father welcomes him with gracious arms, full of love and celebration. “Jesus told this story to show us that it doesn’t matter what we’ve done, how low we think we’ve sunk, how unworthy we feel — God the father is calling us home, waiting with open arms to affirm our positions as his beloved sons and daughters.”
It’s all a bit much, and you accept the suggestion to head up the stairs into the gallery space to sit in some peace and quiet. In the center of the room you notice a statue of a father embracing their son.
As you leave, James mentions an event happening upstairs tomorrow evening in the ‘Upper Room’ called Amsterdam: Free City, Slave City. “It’s about the paradox of this city,” he explains. “How a place so renowned for freedom is intertwined with slavery, in the past and to this day.”
You nod with a half smile as you step out into the busy street again. As you walk down the Zeedijk you pass an eclectic array of shops with sights and smells from all across the world. Didn’t James say that this was once one of the most dangerous parts of town, a place where even the police didn’t like to go? It’s hard to imagine.
A few hours later one of your friends slaps his arm around your shoulder as you walk through the Red Light District together. But you can’t quite match his enthusiasm. In the back of your mind is a nagging feeling. The district is smaller than expected, with empty windows between the reminders that this is a residential neighborhood and to be respectful of that.
You glance at a woman in a window. But it doesn’t feel right. It all seems so base, so unglamorous. Instead of her body, you notice her eyes and wonder if she has children and when she last saw them. You were anticipating an ‘anything goes’ vibe, but what it feels like is a slick veneer that has lost its shine. The smoke-filled haze around you suddenly starts to feel sickly and thick. Your head starts to spin.
And then… a beautiful sound stops you in your tracks.
You’ve reached the very centre of the Red Light District, and above you the sign reads ‘The Tabernacle’. The sound of worship washes over you as you break away from your mates and enter the sanctuary.
“The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.”
John 1:5
YWAM Amsterdam
The ministries described in the story above are just some from the Amsterdam base of an international missions organisation, Youth With a Mission (YWAM), and next year we’ll be celebrating our 50th anniversary in the Netherlands! That’s 50 years of carrying the transformational love of Christ, to the city and to the nations — a love that brings hope and renewal where there was once darkness.
And we’re not finished, we aim to become a thriving missions training hub for Europe that releases young people from everywhere to share the love of Christ with everyone, find out how you can be part of it!