We meet at a coffee shop near the bar strips.
  I am a little nervous, not about what we are about to do, but about what I am going to see and how I will be able to handle my emotions.
  We sit in a circle and pray, pray for protection, for open opportunities, open hearts, and above all understanding.

 

As we walk the streets, I realize how protected and sheltered I have been from this kind of stuff.
  Working with men all the time, naturally, I hear stories, but I have never actually been so exposed to it like I am now.
  As we walk down the street to the first strip of bars everything becomes reality.
  Women standing on the corners dressed in almost nothing beckon us to come inside, men hold signs asking if we would like to see a ping pong show, old men stagger around drunkenly with women dressed in almost nothing on all sides.
 

 

As we walk up to the first bar we are greeted by a handful of girls, eager to touch us and be of service in any way possible.
  We order cokes and I sit for a while, looking around and taking everything in.
  I watch the men, many middle aged and balding, as they stammer around, searching for the perfect girl, caught up in a game of lust and seduction.
  I watch for a while, trying to gain some understanding, trying to sort out the mess of emotions I am feeling.
  An old man stares at me from across the bar.
  I feel his eyes on me, eyes that do not see me as a human, but more of an animal, a piece of meat, eyes to a soul that has become so numb and empty, that there is no emotion, eyes that are consumed and can see nothing but lust.
  I have to look away.

 

Suddenly, I feel an arm around my waist, startled; I turn to face him, the same empty eyes now inches from me.
  I become angry, disgusted, I tell him to get his dirty hands off of me, and I walk away.
  Turning back, I see that my gesture did not phase him, he is too busy being enticed by a few of the dancers.
  All I can feel is anger.
  I am angry that this happens, angry at men, angry at what women have become, angry because I know about the things that are going on behind the closed doors of the bar, angry that there is so much evil in this world, angry that there is nothing that I can do about it.
 

 

I begin to talk to one of the girls.
  She smiles, but it does nothing to cover the deep sadness in her eyes.
  I ask her about her life, and she tells me about her twelve-month-old daughter.
  We talk and laugh, she shares pictures, explains that the father of her baby was a client from Norway that fell in love with her, a man that created a beautiful baby girl, and walked away, a man, like so many in this world, that has lost the understanding of what it actually means to be a man.
  Her daughter now lives with her parents, and though her job is not something to be proud of, it makes her enough money to send home every week to take care of her family.
  She hasn’t seen her baby in months, the sacrifices she endures to provide are more than I know anyone could ever fully understand.
 

 

I no longer feel angry, but a deep sadness.
  I want to cry, and I do everything I can to hold myself together.
  As I look around, I no longer see the men in the bars for who they are, in their faces I see the guys back at home on my fire crew.
  I realize that I cannot be angry.
  That in each man, though I will probley never fully understand, there is a heart, emotions, stories I will never know, and as much as I want to, I realize that I cannot judge them.
  More than anything, I understand that although I am disgusted, it is not my place to put any kind of label on them, all I can try to do, as hard as it is, is love them, trusting that God, who is the only one who knows the inner depths of their hearts, will mend their hearts and minds.
 

 

In each girl, I see myself.
  I know the longings of the hearts of women.
  They too, I cannot judge, for like the men, I do not know their stories.
  I know what it is like to desire to be beautiful, to be loved, and I know how easily we can sacrifice everything, our bodies and souls, in hopes of finding true love, in hopes of being able to provide.
  Through my sadness, I know that being angry at all evil in this world will do nothing to fix it.
  There is so much that I am unable to understand, but at the same time, I know that I want to try.
 

 

I walk back to the girl I have been talking with, and invite her to come to the ministry base we are staying at tomorrow to have lunch and share pictures with her about my life.
  She smiles and says she will.
  I make her promise, and she does.
  Leaving the bars, I feel a peace inside my heart.
  I know that my time here is short, that my efforts will do nothing to change the growing evil of prostitution, pornography, and child sex trafficking in this world.
  But I know that I can love, that that is all that God is really asking me to do.

 

I walk home, a glimpse of hope in my heart, hope that one girl will choose to keep a promise, and with that promise I can plant a tiny seed of hope in her heart…

 

“For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.”

Mathew 25:35-36