I debated long and hard about whether to share these stories with you. It’s a little bit longer than my normal blogs and I wasn’t sure how you’d react to what I have to say. I wasn’t sure you’d understand how this counts as ministry. I wasn’t sure whether kids would be reading it. But then I realized that I don’t really care. This is what’s happening in my life. This is what God is doing. This is how He is working. This is reality. Welcome to Chiangmai.
My first night at the bars was interesting. I saw a lot of things, but what stuck out at me most was the interactions between an older white man and one of the Thai girls, who looked to be about my age. She was sitting on the bar stool between his legs and I don’t want to think about the things he was doing. Does he think she likes it? Does he think she enjoys being groped and held and degraded in such a manner? I watched her face. She had her back to him, so real emotion was coming through. I’ve never seen anybody laugh and giggle without smiling before. She was making comments and noises of pleasure, but her face was expressionless. My heart broke for her. Night after night she has to deal with this. All I could do was sit there and pray. Pray that he would go back to his hotel alone. Pray that he would feel some kind of conviction about his actions. Pray that she would find escape. Just pray.
I’ve read about previous teams that have been here, and I’ve seen the power of prayer through their stories. Half the team would stay back to pray, and the other half would go out into the bars. Upon return, the stories shared completely aligned with the words and images received during prayer. I want our team to experience that, and told them so. One night before heading out, Sandy looked at me and said, “Purple dress.” That’s all. Later on, we ended up at Kitty Cats Bar. One girl in particular caught my eye. Her name is Beer. She’s petite and beautiful and full of smiles. I didn’t get to say much more than a quick hello because some white guys came in and ,of course, they get priority. But my heart went out to her, and my eyes kept moving back to her. After a while, I realized that she was wearing a purple dress. Yes, this is exactly where God wants us.
Another night while we were praying before heading out, I kept picturing a short strapless dress with a big metal zipper running down the front of it. We ended up at Joy Bar that night, and I had forgotten about the dress until one of the ladyboys, Jenny, came out from behind the counter. She was wearing a short strapless dress with red roses on it, and a big metal zipper running down the front. Yes, this is exactly where God wants us. When we got back to the house and I shared that story, Bethany mentioned that she had pictured a red dress and the name “Jenny.” YES, this is exactly where God wants us.
We were praying one night across the street from the bars, watching the interactions between yet another white man and one of the girls, and struggling with the idea that God loves him just as much as He loves the girl, and just as much as He loves us. It’s a hard concept to grasp, but deep down I know it’s true. I’m finally understanding what it means to say that our battle is not against flesh and blood. As we were sitting there, Beer walked by on the arm of another white man, who looked to be a bit older than me. I think he bought her that night. I didn’t know what to do with all the emotions flooding through me.
We met a bartender named Minc one night. She was only working part-time in addition to working with car insurance. We asked her a couple questions, and it’s like the floodgates opened. She told us about her life, about her fiance from Holland, about vacations, about what she’s studying, about her hopes and dreams… She told us that she’s tired of all the men coming in looking for sex, as we watched a white man pass money over the counter and leave with two girls. Minc just needed someone to listen. How many people have taken the time to ask about her life? How many people have stopped to get to know her?
Bethany and I were praying another night, and we decided to stop at Kitty Cats Bar to say hi to everyone. Beer was there, and her face broke into a smile when she saw us. She remembered. I can’t tell you what an incredible feeling that is. She came over and gave each of us a hug, but I noticed that she looked sad this time. She was still smiling, but there was a visible pain in her eyes that broke my heart.
The idea of what we’re here for is overwhelming. How can five of us make a difference on a street that is literally named “Sin”? How do I show God’s love to people when all I want to do is yell at them about what they’re doing? How do I show understanding to women who have experienced horrors I can’t imagine? How do I step out in faith day after day when my heart feels dead? I’m still figuring it out, but it comes down to the fact that God is still God. Though I don’t always feel Him, I still believe Him. He has called me to be different. To act differently. To love differently. I have to trust that He has a plan and is working in ways I cannot see.
“Consider the work of God; for who can make straight what He has made crooked? In the day of prosperity be joyful, but in the day of adversity consider: surely God has appointed the one as well as the other.” Ecc. 7:13-14
Sharing God’s love is not about standing at the end of the street waving our Bibles and preaching. It’s not about condemning people. It’s about slowly infiltrating the darkness with light. It’s about bringing joy to an otherwise dismal world. So simple. So effective.
