Right before coming on the Race I had heard so much about the horrors of a form of slavery that still exists today,even in my own country. I had read blogs, seen documentaries, and read books that made my blood boil at the stories of women and children being forced into human trafficking. Tears would well up in my eyes as I read of a little girl taken from her home and trafficked across the border and sold into sexual slavery. I knew I had to go to them, I knew I had to do something. So I was beyond excited to come to Thailand, which is major center for human trafficking. I had heard so many stories from Racers who got to minister in the Red Light District, or Racers who became friends with prostitutes during bar ministries. All of it intrigued me, I wanted to do anything to help put an end to human trafficking! But Gods plans always look a little different than the ones we seem to form in our heads. And while I did not get placed into any of those ministries God opened up my eyes to something that may not be human trafficking but is still so sad.
After a few days of teaching English to thousands of students, I began to get use to the idea that I wouldn’t be rescuing prostitutes out of bars this month.
During one of our usual wifi outings at the cafe down the street from our house, after ordering a delicious iced caramel latte, and successfully logging onto Internet, midway thru frantically trying to post a blog, check Facebook, and respond to messages I looked up from my laptop and noticed something was off. I thought it strange when we first walked in to find all the workers were beautiful young women, dressed in skimpy skirts or short shorts. But like most world racers, who can tend to be wifi crazed, I was too busy to get my checklist of Internet needs taken care of, to connect the dots. Not only were all the workers young women, but all the customers just so happened to be older men. And as I looked up and finally started to take in my surroundings, I saw at every table a man seated with one of the beautiful waitresses and large amounts of alcohol. And it wasn’t the men who appeared to be intoxicated, but the women. I was angry and deeply bothered by what I was seeing. And as our team walked back to the house, one of my teammates Seth, expressed his anger and discomfort with the situation as well. “Man I really hate that place ,”he said, “Something about that whole scene just wasn’t right.” I couldn’t agree more!
And at that moment, God put that little cafe and those girls so heavily on my heart. And in that moment I realized that God hadn’t called me to teach English, take care of orphans, fight to end human trafficking, or volunteer in a hospital, because I was a missionary or because I was on the World Race. He called me to do these things because I am a follower of Jesus Christ. And that even though I wasn’t assigned to a ministry that works with those affected by human trafficking, here in front of me was a situation that broke my father’s heart and I could either do something or walk away.
And although in my heart I didn’t feel that these women were being forced into sexual slavery, I knew that they needed the love of Jesus. So instead of going to the cafe to take care of my very important needs of Facebook and Instagram, I decided that I would go, not with a plan or agenda, even an agenda of “saving” these girls, but to simply be open to however God wanted to use me.
One night at the cafe, I heard God tell me to stop what I was doing, put my iPad down and talk to our waitress. And the next thing I know she is pulling up a chair and sitting down next to me, eagerly excited to talk to me, despite her frustrated male customer seated at the table next to us, who now had to pour his own liquor and sit by himself. I was amazed at how young she was and how innocent she seemed, despite her choice in work attire. We got to talking about how she’s a student at the university and how she was studying business and how she hoped to one day work in tourism. I then got to tell her about what I was doing in Thailand and how I was a Christian and a missionary. And a couple visits later led to me explaining the meaning of Christmas, my team and I singing “O Holy Night” to her, and me inviting the entire coffee shop to attend our Christmas party at the church. It led to relationships formed with the males who ran the coffee shop. And on Christmas night, I got to deliver little goody bags with cookies, nail polish, and the Story of Christmas to all the waitresses and owners.
I don’t know if any of that led anywhere. I didn’t rescue any of them from their jobs, or convert any of them to Christianity, none of them ended up attending our church party, and I’m pretty sure they are still getting paid to drink by their male customers. But I was able to love them. To be a customer in their shop who ordered my coffee and wanted nothing more from them but to genuinely know them. I was able to put my anger aside and treat those men with respect, even the one who tried giving me money one night to buy my attention. The waitress and I are friends on Facebook, where she can continue to read and see the adventures Jesus is taking me on.
I didn’t end human trafficking or change any of these women, but God changed me. He gave me courage to share His name. He gave me patience and kindness to love those men, despite how disgusted I was in their actions. He gave me boldness to invite them to church. And most importantly he showed me that the way we live our lives is a ministry. That every person He puts on our path is an opportunity to show Jesus’s love. That everyday in our lives we are presented with situations that break our Father’s heart and if we ask, will end up breaking ours as well. So many times we are so upset or so passionate about the things we see around us, that we take that step, that we dare to dream we can make a difference and we ourselves end up being changed in the process.
