Final debrief – the last week of the World Race and a time for all 50 of us squadmates to come together and worship, share, and reflect. It’s been 11 months of living among the poor and the needy (physically and spiritually), living in community and out of a backpack, getting new ‘homes’ every few weeks – final debrief is where we can all come together and just rest for a few days… feel normal for a few days. It’s the only time we get to see people who haven’t been on our team for the last few months – I always seek out Scott in particularly. Scott and I have never been on a team together but even still, there is a spark that is kindled whenever we get to hang out, I’m sure you can relate… One of those guys who stuck to my core the moment we met, a kindred spirit, someone you just click with before you even know anything about them. We’ve shared that bond since we first met at training camp in August.
So in usual fashion, we got together at debrief to unwind a bit and catch up. We scoped the streets in Vietnam for a quiet place to sit and have a drink, it takes a minute to find somewhere that doesn’t have flashing lights and a club vibe but nevertheless, we found a little hole-in-the-wall bar with only a few people in it. We thought it would be a perfect place to sit for a while so we went in. We sat in a small row of booths that ran parallel to the bar, the closest person to us sitting maybe 4 booths away. We ordered and as we waited we began to process the last few months – what has your ministry been like? How have you liked it? What has God been up to? Our drinks came and we leaned back… settled in.
After a few minutes a man walks up to us and asks in a smooth casual way “Should I bring some girls over for you?”
“Wait, what?” Scott and I looked at each other… “Of course not!”
The man shrugged, walked away unflinchingly, and left Scott and I raising our eyebrows at each other – in a sort of shock. We looked around and I wonder now how we could have missed it?
There’s a 50 year old man sitting at the bar 10 feet away, leaning into a 20 year old Asian girl, laughing and whispering in her ear. She was wearing this pink dress that was a few sizes too small with an open back that his hands were barely rubbing against. The guys a few booths down were sitting with a handful of Asian women. How did we not notice?
I looked back at Scott – I know I didn’t say a word but he heard me. “Let’s pray” he said… the words of a warrior, in my humble opinion. We bowed our heads and he started “Father…. ” That’s all I heard for a while. My spirit was raging inside me and I felt an anger swelling like nothing I’ve ever felt before. My eyes were closed but I could still see that old man’s fingers… I could still see the way he rocked in his barstool, drunk and nervous. I could sense the hunt… the anxiety…
I heard Scott say “Amen”, it was like a magician snapping his fingers after hypnotizing someone and I jerked back into consciousness.
“Scott, what do I do man?” I knew I had to do something! Right? But I couldn’t think of anything… what could I do to bring healing? to bring peace? to bring God glory? All that came to mind was punching that man in the face. Shaking him. Yelling at him. “This is evil! It isn’t love… it’s not affection! It’s not REAL! What are you thinking!?”
I sat there shaking, trying to pay my bill as quickly as possible so we could just leave. Scott asked me if I was going to say anything to him and I told him that I had to. So, I got up and walked over.
I walked, unnoticed by the man, to the bar and I placed my hand firmly on his shoulder. He quickly turned to me and I said, not nearly half as confidently as I would have liked, “Can I tell you something?” … I pointed at the girl… “This is fleeting, but Jesus loves you man – forever.”
He looked at me the way a dog might look at you if you started barking. He tilted his head to the side a bit and raised one eyebrow. Inquisitive maybe?
But all he said was “Thanks.” And then it was over.
It happened so quickly and I can’t remember anything between “Thanks” and being on the street with Scott.
I don’t know, I felt like a wimp and a hero. For a moment I thought “I wish I could have done more but I did something… I’m good right?” It was that same kind of feeling you might get if you say to the cashier “I’ll buy the meal for the car behind me… but only if it’s less than say, ten dollars.”
I look back on it now and I imagine that to him, it must have been something quite like a pop-up window that he just closed and kept going. I didn’t deter that man. I didn’t save that woman.
I got back to my room and Codie (my wife) said something to me – I don’t know now what it was – but I know I snapped back at her. I was so angry. We laid down in bed and we had one of those “It’s not your fault” moments that Robin Williams and Matt Damon had in “Good Will Hunting” … she broke through my anger and she held me as I cried those emasculating and helpless tears, I-saw-evil-and-couldn’t-stop-it tears.
Sex trafficking is real. I fear that in America we are too far removed from it to allow it to sink into our souls.
At least 20.9 million adults and children are bought and sold worldwide into commercial sexual servitude, forced labor and bonded labor.
About 2 million children are exploited every year in the global commercial sex trade.
Listen to me… I saw it happen right in front of my face and I’ve struggled mightily with my inability to help. But the truth is, we can help. We can be educated, and aware.
Check out A21’s campaign, get in the fight.
