Just a ten-minute walk from Amsterdam Central Station lies the office and home base of Bright Fame. There, we visit Frits Rouvoet, the founder of this organization, whose mission is to help women (and men) leave prostitution behind and find their true calling. With a delicious cappuccino in hand, we sit at the table where (former) sex workers can come for a listening ear, a helping hand, or prayer. Captivated, we listen to the stories Frits shares with us.
"I grew up in the Christian Reformed Church and had a good time there," Frits begins. “I was always asking lots of questions, so the pastor and church council probably considered me a bit of a handful. But I was always constructively critical not argumentative. I was very active in church and always intellectually believed in God’s existence. But it was during outreach ministry at a campsite that I met people who made me think: they really have something more.”
Eventually, I became involved with In de Ruimte in Soest, where I asked even more questions. At home, I had heard of God and Jesus, but barely anything about the Holy Spirit. So I started having conversations there and ended up giving my life to Jesus.
My wife Jacqueline and I both had a shared desire to be active in God’s Kingdom. Through our church, we became involved in aid work in Romania, taking vans full of supplies and Bibles. At one point, while driving home, I knew: this was my last trip. I was disappointed, but I felt certain it was the end of that season.
Half a year later, I saw footage of Albanian refugees, and their eyes touched me deeply. I said, “Lord, I want to go there. If you have something for me there, it’ll come to me. And if not, then it’ll just be a lesson and a cost.” I arranged a truck with a trailer and went there. In the end, we were involved with the Hope for Albania Foundation for around eight to nine years. And gradually, the subject of prostitution started to cross my path.
After organizing a conference with JoAnn McFatter, I was driving her back to the airport. We were chatting, and I asked if she knew the Blood ’n Fire church in Atlanta. She leaned halfway across the table and said, “Frits, you need to talk to David VanCronkhite. You have the same heart I’ll set it up!” She was about to spend eight weeks in Mozambique, and I thought: if she actually follows through, then this is truly from God because JoAnn was the type to vanish once she left. But after her trip, she had arranged it! So Jacqueline and I went to a conference in Atlanta.
What we experienced there is hard to imagine from a Dutch perspective. There were about 350 homeless people, former addicts, and visitors gathered in a massive warehouse. At one point, someone came forward to share a testimony on the mic. There was singing and dancing it felt like family. God spoke to us through what we saw and experienced. It sank in. I was deeply moved and felt Jesus was truly present and at home there.
God also told us there: “I’m going to bring separation. I’m setting you apart.” At the time, we didn’t really know what to do with it. We were both active in church and had paid jobs (in the church bookstore and the affiliated daycare). But on the flight home, we felt something had been severed.
Back at our own church, Bert Piet spoke that first Sunday. During his sermon, he unexpectedly referred to Abraham and Lot how both were blessed but it was better they went their separate ways. Later, we approached Bert, and he said: “I hadn’t prepared that at all.” We told him our story, and for both him and us, it clicked this was a message for us. We stayed another year at the church to part respectfully.
I’ve always paid close attention to “what is God saying?” And that doesn’t only come through spoken prophecies. God also speaks through relationships and people. I was continually confirmed in the steps I took and in the things I did.
After leaving the church and our jobs, a friend asked me to manage the bookstore across from Central Station. At first, I wanted nothing to do with it. But eventually, I thought: maybe this isn’t such a bad idea I’d be right near the people I wanted to reach. So I agreed to try it for a year (which ended up being nearly five).
Someone had prophesied over us earlier: “The Mary Magdalenes will come in an old building, not in great shape.” That perfectly described the place. And yes, the women did come. They’d stop by the bookstore outside of working hours—for a cup of coffee or even a glass of wine.
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