Last week my team and I visited one of the most popular bars in Siem Reap, packed with prostitutes and men of all ages. The entire night, I was captivated by one of women working there. Let’s call her Joy. I couldn’t stop staring at Joy as she played pool and danced around her grey haired, fifty-something year old customer with a gold wedding ring on his finger.
Joy was the youngest woman in the bar – maybe 20-years-old. She was wearing a short, revealing dress, heels, and bright red lip stick. She carried herself with such captivating freedom and joy. She was absolutely mesmerizing to me.
As I moved through the bar and got closer to her, I could see that something was off. Thinking she was tipsy, I couldn’t take my eyes off her. In the midst of her entertaining her customer, she looked at me. As we both stared into each other’s broken eyes, I lost my breath and the whole World seemed to stand still.
Joy is mentally handicapped.
I was speechless. I was angry. I was disgusted. I wanted to scream. I felt like someone was ripping my heart out. My mind was burning with questions.
Why would someone allow this girl who can’t fight for herself, much less make rational decisions, work at this bar?
Why would someone treat a beautiful, innocent girl like this?
How could someone possibly think it’s okay or right to take advantage of anyone, especially a disabled girl?
What is going on in the men’s lives that make them do this and think it’s okay to treat someone like this? Don’t they know the hurt they’re causing can last a lifetime?
Will Joy ever live a life of fullness? Will she ever have freedom? Will she ever experience real, true love?
How and why is a reality that seems so foreign to me, the reality that she’s faced with every night?
We left that night and I didn’t get the opportunity to talk to Joy because she was with a customer all night.
Last night, one week later, my team and I went back to the same bar.
We walked into the bar and saw one of the women, let’s call her Sarah, that we had made friends with the week before. I excitedly wandered over to her table. As I got closer, I saw who was sitting right next to Sarah – Joy. My stomach dropped. I didn’t know what to do – should I sit next to Joy? Will I be able to handle this emotionally? Would one of my teammates be better at loving her? As questions and self-doubts were flying through my mind, I looked up at Joy and forced a smile. Immediately her face lit up and she grabbed my arm and pulled me into the chair next to her. As I was apprehensively sitting there, I felt the Lord whispering to me, “Claire, this is who I want you to fight for and love tonight.”
I wanted to tell Jesus this was too much for me and I was unworthy of showing beautiful, innocent Joy the love of a King.
I wanted tonight to be easy. I didn’t want to have to fight carrying this. I didn’t want to have more restless nights and bad dreams. I was tired of absorbing the heaviness around me. I was tired of crying and seeing things that shouldn’t be real.
But okay, Jesus, whatever you want. I want her to know You and know she is loved by the Faithful and Constant One more than I want an easy, emotion-less night.
I continued to give myself a mental pep talk about keeping my emotions in check and hesitantly asked Joy, “Hi! What is your name?” Sarah responded, “She’s mute. She only uses her hands to speak.” Oh, Jesus, what? What do I do?
I asked Sarah if she knew Joy’s name. Though Sarah sat with Joy every night waiting for customers, she didn’t know Joy’s name. All Sarah knew was that Joy is one of the most popular women in the bar, that Joy always has men taking her home and buying her drinks. I could feel the anger, disgust, and brokenness from last week permeate my mind again.
Is Joy the most popular girl in the bar because she can’t speak? Because she can’t fight back? Why, God, do people flood this place thinking it’s okay to take advantage of someone, especially someone so innocent and voiceless? Why is this happening?
My friend, who we’ve named Joy, doesn’t have an identity outside of being a prostitute, a mute, a beggar on the streets, a mentally disabled girl who is tossed from one man to the other.
A few minutes went by of me trying to converse with Joy. I asked her through hand motions and smiles/frowns if she’s happy working in the bar. She quickly responded by shaking her head “no” and frowning. Then, she leaned down under the table and started pretending like she was snorting drugs through a straw and putting drugs on in her pinky nail. After her fake drug snorting, she put on a smile and gave me a thumbs up. Oh, Jesus, no. Please no. How can this be happening? Jesus, I need your strength right now.
Over and over again she’d frown, pretend to be snorting drugs, and then smile and give me a thumbs up, reassuring me that her endless cycle of drugs makes her life bearable and gives her a sense of happiness and security. I wanted her to stop showing me her daily drug routine so badly, but she wouldn’t. Again and again. She wouldn’t stop. I felt like someone was taunting me. I could feel my cheeks flush and tears well up in my eyes. Oh no. This is going to be bad, I thought. Cambodians don’t cry in front of people. They don’t show tender emotion. She’s probably never seen someone in public, especially a stranger, cry. What is her pimp going to think? Am I going to get her in trouble? Will Joy think I’m judging her?
Tears began streaming down my face, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop them. I told my friend Joy I’d be right back. I quickly grabbed my teammate as tears were flooding down my face and told her I needed her to sit and pray with me outside a couple doors down. As I was sitting on a street curb crying and pouring my heart out to Jesus, I opened my eyes to someone poking me on the shoulder. Standing before me was Joy. Her smile was bigger than any smile I’ve ever seen. She sat down on the dirty street, inches in front of me, in the nicest dress she owns. Through my teary, blurred vision, I couldn’t stop looking into her eyes. She kept looking into my eyes and watching the tears pour down my face. Neither of us could stop staring at each other, and in that moment, I knew she knew why I was crying.
As I kept looking into her eyes confused and broken, I saw Jesus sitting before me. I saw Jesus inside of someone who doesn’t even know His name, someone who doesn’t know the worth He’s given and won for her, someone who doesn’t know life outside of pure and utter darkness.
Joy sat and watched me cry for her. She sat and showed me that she saw me and cared for me. She sat and showed me my worth. She sat there being strong for me when I should have been the one strong for her. She sat there and showed me Jesus.
Joy didn’t leave my side until I stopped crying and re-entered the bar. She forfeited a night of income to show me love that she’s never received herself.
When I went back into the bar and sat by Joy, I watched her as she started making two roses out of the straws in her drink. For the rest of our time together, she sat smiling and looking into my eyes showing me that it’s going to be okay. When I left the bar that night, she handed me the two beautiful roses she had made.
Oh, Beautiful Joy, you may be voiceless, but there are people with voices fighting for you.
Beautiful Joy, you may think you don’t have an identity, but the King of Love is relentlessly pursuing you and calling you His.
Beautiful Joy, you will be restored and freed by the Almighty.
Beautiful Joy, thank you for showing me more of Jesus’ heart and shining His light in the darkest place I’ve ever been.
Beautiful Joy, thank you for being my friend. You are forever etched into my mind. I will never stop fighting for you.
Beautiful Joy, you are cherished. You are blameless. You are beloved. You are so highly treasured. You are seen through the eyes of Love. You are adopted into royalty.
Thank you, Jesus, for being bigger than every hurt and broken fragment of this tainted World. Thank you, Jesus, for dying so Joy can live in freedom. Thank you Jesus, that she is Yours. Thank you, Jesus, that when we see hopelessness and brokenness, you give us Your eyes to see hope. Thank you, Jesus, that you are Light. Thank you that you give us a picture of light breaking darkness every morning so we can be reminded of the everlasting, ever conquering Light that you are.
Father, thank you that though this life isn’t about us, you’ve invited us into it and entrusted us to love and care for your children. Thank you that when I asked you for strength you gave me strength in compassion and tenderness. Thank you that what I thought I needed, you knew something else would captivate Joy’s heart even more. Father, I pray that Joy would never forget the tears shed for her. I pray that the tears shed would be a demonstration of how beautifully and deeply loved she is by You. Thank you that the tears I once saw as a weakness within myself were used to show someone living in the midst of darkness her worth in You and the light and love of your Perfect, Blameless Son. Thank you for reminding me what really matters in this broken World. Please, Lord, don’t let me ever forget it.
Jesus, thank you that in you we have hope.
Friends, please join me in interceding and fighting for my sweet, light-filled friend Joy. Siem Reap, Cambodia is one of the darkest and heaviest places I’ve ever encountered – spiritually and emotionally. Please be praying for the Cambodian people and for the missionaries fighting to bring Light and Kingdom to this broken country.
Love,
Claire
“I am not silenced by darkness, by the thick darkness that covers my face…By His light I walk through darkness.” ~Job 23:17 & 29:3
