So I’d like to start off by saying sorry I don’t post more frequently. Many, if not quite all, of you reading this know me personally and want to hear about the things going on while we are separated. I want you to know what I’m up to, but I’ve found that I can’t write whenever I feel I should. So while I hope to update you much more frequently please understand that I will write in response to occurrences. Now that that’s out of the way let’s jump into life in Thailand.
That’s right I left the islands of Indonesia and moved to Thailand. Those of you trying to follow me on my trip around the world are probably very confused because my route originally called for my squad to go to Bangladesh in month 2. The issue is that while Bangladesh desperately needs to hear the Gospel, it is being racked by riots and protests. The ministries we were scheduled to partner with contacted AIM and said that they did not feel that this was an appropriate time to bring in teams of foreigners. So during our debrief after month 1 we(team Wolfpack) found out that we would be going to the Thai-Burma border. I hope to write again soon in more detail about the ministry we have partnered with here, but I want to focus on a very specific place and what it has taught me for now.
To catch you up on events in Southeast Asia, know that Burma/Myanmar opened its borders in the last five years causing an economic explosion in the border towns of Thailand. These towns have hosted many NGO’s due to the length of the conflict inside Burma and the refugees it created, but many are moving into the Burmese interior hoping to stem the flood at the source. This is admirable, but they leave an undermanned staff at best for the people already over the border into Thailand. The city my team is stationed in is a short bike ride to the border, and earlier this morning we went to take a look.
The border is a joke. The Moei River churns sluggishly under a bridge with sidewalks and razor wire on the Thai side and dirt trails on the Burmese side. As we walk down the sidewalk discussing our plans for a youth outreach over the weekend we see “illegal boats” crossing back and forth while a 12 year old boy wades across. This is all conducted under the eyes of Thai soldiers lazing about on benches in the shade M14’s propped against the rails or trees near by. It is actually more affordable for citizens of Myanmar to cross on illegal boats where they pay a small fee to the boatmen which is then split with the soldiers than it is to use the bridge. This is all very disconcerting, but as we walk further along the banks we notice shanty houses set in the brush beneath our sidewalk. Our host tells us that the land in between the walkways on either bank is no man’s land. Neither Thailand or Myanmar claims this narrow strip of land and as a result it has become a wild gold town from a Louis L’amour novel. Men and women enforce their own justice as they see fit or are capable to. The weak tuck their chin in close to their chest and hope to pass unseen. There is a thriving black market of bootleg or stolen liquor, cigarettes, pornography, and people.
That’s right the no man’s land of the border is where men and women as well as unfortunate boys and girls are sold into slavery of all kinds. Some are forced to do hard labor for no pay and others are forced into brothels. Anyone forced into this life can expect to be addicted to drugs to increase their dependency on their owner, and their life will probably be short and hard. It’s now time to address a common misconception about the people forced into slavery and sold here. Not all of them were unfortunate souls caught while crossing the river in the middle of the night. Many of the younger people here are sold by their family. A single mother hoping to feed her younger children for one more month may sell her oldest child into this life. Can you condemn her for it?
If you are anything like me your knee jerk reaction is to say yes, but as the old saying goes, put yourself in her shoes. What would you do if you fell asleep every night to the sound of 3 or 4 of your children crying from hunger? What if you watched your neighbor’s children die from starvation or be killed in gang violence or die trying to steal? What would you say when the thought entered your head that anywhere is better than where you are no matter the cost? Imagine that you sit across a trash heap from her as she washes clothes in a filthy river and watch the tears roll down her face as she recounts the story of her life. How her husband, the father of her 5 children, goes into Thailand looking for work and never returns home. How she watched as her children searched through sacks thrown from the sidewalks for something to eat for the day. How a man approached her and said that he could take her oldest child away to a better life and leave her something to help get by. How even though she knew what that man was up to she convinced herself otherwise and agreed anyway. I find that I can’t condemn her for anything.
The people of no man’s land have no hope and people without hope clutch at anything to stay afloat. What I wondered, as we walked along that bank, is what future is there for anyone caught in that life. Will that 12 year old boy who was so full of life be forced to work for nothing just to stay alive? Will he even live out the year or will he stumble into a situation where he loses his life?
I don’t know what we can do for them here on earth but those people, more than anything, need to know they aren’t forgotten and they are loved. That 2,000 years ago a man lived a perfect life knowing that the cost was a horrific death. That that man was actually God. That he put on flesh came to a world he created to be perfect and magnify his glory, but that man has made into a place of sin and death. He did all of these things because he knew them personally. He knew that the mother would sell her child and her own body. That the children would lie, cheat and steal to acquire luxuries like a toy. He knew every dark and dirty corner of their souls, but he wanted them anyway. He wanted them so much that he sent his perfect son to pay a price they could never hope to meet. He wants to welcome them back into union with Him. Not as a servant or black sheep, but as co-heirs with his son. The people of no man’s land need the same thing I do. A loving God who would stop at nothing to reconcile me in my brokenness to Himself. The good news is I know just such a God. He is the Almighty one. The Alpha and the Omega. The Creator of all that is, was, and ever will be. He is also the perfect lamb, and he desires to reconcile all people to him.
