Why I Wrote This Prayer: A Response to People I Met in Bali

Over the past few months in Bali I’ve met people whose lives and stories have stayed with me. They were warm, generous, and resilient — and yet many carried burdens that aren’t visible at first glance. Some of the most vulnerable among them are LGBT+ people living with HIV, including gay, bisexual, and transgender siblings, and others who are trying to access preventative care like PrEP (Truvada). That’s why I wrote the prayer at the end of this post: it came out of encounters, conversations, and the quiet, urgent needs I witnessed.

Here’s what moved me to put those words down.

Because human connection reveals need

When you sit with someone, hear their name, and listen to their story, statistics become faces. In cafés, at community events, and in passing conversations, I heard about missed appointments because of fear, about people choosing silence over seeking care, and about the financial and social pressures that make treatment insecure. The prayer is a direct response to those conversations — a plea for practical help and spiritual comfort.

Because access to medication can be lifesaving

Antiretroviral therapies and preventative medicines like PrEP are not abstract concepts for the people I met — they are lifelines. When I heard about difficulties obtaining ARVs such as Tenofovir, Lamivudine, or Dolutegravir, or the barriers to accessing PrEP, it brought home how urgent this issue is. The prayer asks for consistency, affordability, and availability because those elements literally save lives.

Because shame, stigma, and gaps in care are real here

I discovered a deep, pervasive shame in some parts of the community that keeps people from seeking help. Even though the government runs a free centre for people living with HIV, many avoid it because of stigma and fear of being seen there. That shame contributes to people not getting essential monitoring like viral load checks, and to many going undiagnosed for long periods. I also heard stories of people who became seriously ill and only found out they were HIV-positive after a specialist insisted on testing. The prayer asks for stigma to be broken and for compassionate, confidential services that people can trust.

Because stigma still blocks care

Shame and stigma remain powerful forces. I was told of individuals who avoided clinics, hid their status from family, or delayed treatment out of fear. Those experiences made me want to pray for the dismantling of stigma — to ask for environments where people can seek help without being judged, where healthcare workers are compassionate, and where community supports make disclosure and treatment easier, not riskier.

Because faith can be a source of healing and dignity

Writing a prayer felt like a natural way to hold both practical and spiritual hopes for people I’d met. For many, faith is not separate from health — it’s woven into how they find meaning, resilience, and hope. The prayer names God as one who heals and restores, and it is meant to give dignity and affirmation to people who are too often defined by their diagnosis.

Because solidarity matters

The line “You are not alone, not forgotten, and not defined by your diagnosis” is central to the prayer because the people I met need to feel seen and supported. Solidarity means more than sympathy — it’s taking action to make treatment accessible, to challenge stigma, and to build safe spaces. The prayer is also a call to others: to healthcare providers, community leaders, and everyday people who can make a difference through compassion and policy change.

Because hope needs to be spoken

In places where fear, isolation, or scarcity prevail, spoken hope is an act of defiance. The prayer is a simple way of naming hopes I share with friends and neighbors here: for accessible medicine, for empathetic care, and for communities that protect and uplift each other.

A brief invitation

If you live here or care about people in Bali, one practical way to help is to learn where local LGBT+-friendly clinics and support groups are, and to share that information. If you’re a person of faith, consider how your community can be a source of welcome rather than judgment. And whether through prayer, volunteering, advocacy, or education, small acts can make treatment and dignity more attainable.

Closing

The prayer I wrote came from real people I met — not as a confrontation but as a compassionate response. It’s an attempt to hold their needs before God and to urge the wider community toward practical care and deeper love. My hope is that those words bring comfort to anyone in Bali who needs it, encourage people to get tested and monitored, and inspire others to stand with our LGBT+ siblings — including transgender people — in their pursuit of health, dignity, and hope.

Note: This post is based on reported experiences and public data. Figures and stories are included to provide context and do not replace professional medical advice.

A Prayer for Healing, Hope, and Dignity

Gracious God, I bring before You my LGBT+ siblings in Bali — especially those living with HIV and those seeking access to PrEP (Truvada) for prevention.

For those already on antiretroviral therapy — ARVs such as Tenofovir, Lamivudine, and Dolutegravir — I pray that their medication remains consistent, affordable, and within reach. I know that without these life-saving drugs, lives are at risk.

Break the power of stigma and shame that keeps so many from seeking help, disclosing their status, or even walking into a clinic. Provide compassionate doctors, affordable treatment pathways, and safe spaces to ask for help without fear of judgment or rejection.

Let every person living with HIV know they are not alone, not forgotten, and not defined by their diagnosis. You are the God who heals, restores, and draws near to the broken-hearted. Bring healing, dignity, and hope to every person carrying this burden in silence in Bali today. Amen.

You are invited to say this prayer, share it, or simply hold those words in your heart as you act in care and compassion.

Local resources & where to get help

• Paid clinic (trusted): Bali Medika — Dr Joseph and the team there are recommended.
• Free/NGO services: Bali Peduli clinics — This is where many in the community go to get tested. They are excellent at keeping your data private and confidential. For local residents, they provide free counselling and affordable HIV & STI testing for around 30k IDR ($1.65 USD); sometimes tests are free during study collaborations.
• Education & outreach: Bali Peduli education programs — community sessions, school outreach and safer-sex information.
• Other prevention work: Yayasan Kerti Praja — Denpasar-based foundation involved in HIV prevention and community programmes.
• Government services (Puskesmas): The local government clinics, known as Puskesmas, provide HIV testing and treatment—for example Puskesmas Densel 2. These clinics play an essential role by offering free services for citizens and highly subsidized care for others. While some people avoid them due to fear of stigma, the existence of government-run services is an important step toward broader care. If you need detailed titer values rather than simple positive/negative results, confirm with the clinic beforehand or consider other testing options.
• Support their work: Donate to Bali Peduli — donations help keep free testing, counselling, and outreach running.

"I'm glad I went there for help when I first time having sex with a guy" — anonymous