“The joy of the Lord is my strength.” I take a step.
“The joy of the Lord is my strength.” I take another step.
We come to the end of Soi Cowboy – a street in the heart of the red light district in Bangkok. “50 ugly ones and 2 gorgeous ones” continues to bounce around within my head. I saw this sign a few yards back: right after the sign that reads “Eden’s Garden” with a large red devil painted on it. The evil one could not get anymore blatant. He screams ‘
victory‘ in pink, gawdy neon lights.
Is there a battle raging in the heavenlies if there is no one standing for light in the midst of this darkness? Who is bringing the light? Who is standing in the gap for these girls? And the ladyboys (boys dressed as girls)? And the googly eyed men?
Before we headed out tonight I could see God pouring his holy anointing oil over us. Landing on our heads and flowing down our entire bodies. Covering us with the Holy Spirit. Let the battle begin.
There is power in presence. Jesus came into the world as the
Light. And he sends us out into the world as his light…not to keep it hidden within our hearts…or our buildings…
One flicker of light illuminates what darkness cannot keep hidden.
One flicker.
I look to my right and a smile catches my eye.
One flicker. She beckons us over. Amanda Peterson (http://www.amandapetersen.myadventures.org/) and I walk over to the small corner bar. Only one other customer is enjoying his drink with a Thai girl on his lap.
Her smile melts my heart. Daddy’s little girl is all grown up. Thousands of daddy’s girls are all dressed up. “The one, Stephanie,” I hear whispered. “Remember the one.”
One flicker.
“Can I get you something to drink?” she asks as we pull up three chairs. “Two sprites please. And can we buy you a drink also?” “Yes, thank you”, she breaths a sigh of relief, bows her head slightly and hurries off. You have to ‘buy’ a girl’s time in order to sit and talk to her. They get commission for each drink someone buys them. And to take them away for the night you have to pay their bar fine.
She returns with our drinks and sits in the open chair. She knows English pretty well (self taught) so we easily strike up a conversation. It flows naturally from one topic to the next. Her name is Benz. Two months ago, she migrated to the city from her village in Northeast Thailand. The majority of the girls in the bars come from this area. Hard workers. Poverty pushes them in this direction. They need to provide for their family. While this line of work cheapens one’s life, it screams money!
“I have a 7 year old boy. He lives with my parents in the village. I send him money,” she says in broken English with a Thai accent. We lean forward, cock our heads a bit and try to catch every last word. We find out that she loves living alone, swimming, going to movies and celebrating Buddhist festivals. She has a boyfriend from Sweden. At one point she was married, but no longer is.
“I like working here,” she interjects. “I have a nice manager. If a guys asks me to go home with him, I have the choice to say no. But you see those girls over there,” we turn our heads in the direction of her pointing finger, “They do not have a choice. The girls that wear numbers must go home with any man that requests her. I am glad I do not work there.”
I feel like I am going to throw up. (Good thing I am drinking Sprite!) Outside of some clubs, girls wear buttons with numbers on them. I remember seeing
#128 written in red on a small white button. It was clipped to a girl’s hip.
I don’t want to let Benz go. I want to talk with her all night. I want to save her from him. But it’s time to go. We say our goodbyes and walk away…
One flicker of light.
One flicker of hope.
One flicker of love.
…and darkness flees. Darkness cannot inhabit where light dwells. It is impossible.
