We step out of the taxi. The air smells sweet and tropical, sweat begins to run like beads down our backs, and we hear the sounds of a familiar song mixed with laughter and the shouts of people inviting us to a ping-pong show. We take a left off the main road, and step onto Bangla.
We are hit with a rush of flyers and invitations. Shaking my head no, I continue walking. One foot in front of the other. I look to the right and see a bar filled with men and women. Young, old, barely out of highschool, married, single. Their backs are turned and their eyes are fixed on the women above them. The Thai women above them, dancing around a pole on the bar. My eyes follow, and I see beautiful women, young and full of potential, slowly dancing. Legs wrapped around cool metal, hips swinging, face stone cold and empty. Only offering a smile when a man offers a dollar bill. I pray, and continue walking, one foot in front of the other.
To the left I see an elaborate bar. Three stories high, with massive tiger statues. It looks like something out of Vegas. But the beautiful facade can't hide what's inside. More young women, dancing, serving drinks wearing less fabric then a bathing suit, heavy makeup and perfect hair. Each face emptier then the next. Men staring, women staring, touching, money changing hands, love being bought for a night.
I look to my two teammates, and with a nod we walk in. Walking past the first two bar areas, we try to find seats without a pole directly above us We settle on stools at a bar to the side, and order sodas. The bar manager who took our order hates us already, knowing what we're there for.
I look to my left and see a young woman, just waiting for a customer. She looks at me and returns a smile. She's it. My girl for the next thirty minutes. Thirty gloriously safe minutes. We make small talk, play bar games, and laugh together. Tonight I am just her friend, her safe place, her sister.
We leave the bar thirty minutes later, not wanting to overstay our welcome. All night we do this, go from bar to bar, and make friends. God gives us each a soft spot for certain women, who we visit each night and build a relationship with. When the time is right we can ask about her job, and tell her about SHE.
For the next hour, this is all I see, bar after bar, woman after woman. So much emptiness, so broken, so much pain and desperation. Most of the tourists, men and women, look like drones. Nothing but emptiness behind their eyes as they watch the women. Others have lust written in capital letters on their foreheads, and it takes all our effort to remember they are just as trapped as the women.
At the end of the night, we climb back into a taxi, and drive home. We process what we've seen and heard, how the Father is moving in us, and what He is showing us about the Thai women and about ourselves.
I feel no anger at night. I do not judge those around me. I feel only love on Bangla. My heart is constantly overwhelmed with love, joy, laughter, and worship. I feel like a light drowning out the darkness around me. On Bangla I am a refuge from the dark, a lighthouse of God.
