I read the Facebook message that said the Lord laid me on this woman's heart and she was praying for me that morning.
I appreciate any and all prayers so I was immensely touched. We instant messaged for a second and she told me to be safe. I read it and felt this eery feeling settle over me. I don't live in fear (except for the elevator situation but I'm working on that) so to be fearful felt strange. I took in my surroundings and my senses kicked in. We were in the heart of Phnom Phen's Red Light District, there was a creepy old American boozing with two young Cambodian girls and the bars lined the walkways, full of girls ready to be whored out. The area reeked of evil just begging to come out and play.
I was ready to head home.
We meandered through the market and jumped into our tuk tuk. I felt nostalgic of Tondo as we passed countless prostitutes and drunks haphazardly sprawled wherever they fell. The air caressed our nose hairs with the stench of poverty and the neon lights were glowing in the hazy night.
We paid our driver and grabbed the bags. I reached to unlock the latch and realized it was dead-bolted. I turned to my small posse and watched the driver take off into the night. My heart sank. It started crawling through my veins and I felt strangled by an intense and acute awareness that we were very foreign and very vulnerable.
Men began walking by, weird vans full of eyes scoping out the three young women standing on a dark street peered at us, and guys on bikes passed by as we pounded and prayed for someone to hear us. Most of the folks weren't home which increased our urgency to get someone's attention. The cool perspiration settling across my face felt other worldly as I stood by this gate knowing safety was on the other side yet feeling helpless knowing I couldn't get in.
About 15 minutes later we were finally let in. Praise Jesus. The next day we met with the founder of a sex slave prevention organization and shared what happened. He was none too thrilled though he understood that we didn't mean to put ourselves in the predicament. He gave us tidbits of sex slave stats and my heart began to ache.
I feel overwhelmed by the feelings I felt last night as I try to imagine the children I play with in the villages experiencing the same paralyzing fear. The agony of my heart nearly blinds me as I type. God sent an angel through a Facebook message to alert me there was danger coming. My guard was up and I fully believe the prayers sent from Florida on my behalf prevented a bad situation from getting nasty. His angels surrounded us and the protection around us was impenetrable. My heart is light as I dwell on the ever present fact knowing Jesus immensely loves me and is watching out for my life.
Praise the Lord.
But what about these lost babies who run into my arms and laugh with me as we play games? Who is watching out for them? These children that don't know Jesus and don't even know He exists…
Who fights for them?
Half the time, it's the family who sells them into the sex trade to begin with. Every minute 144 kids are sold. Twenty million kids are in captivity worldwide this second. These baby faces that giggle as we feed them are the same faces thrown into holding rooms awaiting the next trick. These same faces who sit in agonized fear as young and old men prey upon them.
JESUS help us. Father God make it stop. I know we can't save them all (and I release the false burden of trying to save them all) but Jesus give me knowledge and wisdom to make a difference.
What do I do, God?
Pray.
Pray your heart out, Christin.
You have been given a voice.
Use it.
If that woman's prayer of protection can deliver me out of harms way in Cambodia, think about what thousands of prayers can do for the purity, restoration and protection of these millions of kiddos! God is so big! His network of Jesus lovers is enormous and we all know how to talk! God, I plead the blood of Jesus over these boys, these girls. These innocent baby hands scarred by hatred and sunken cheeks that have no reason to smile. These tear stained faces that have seen too much and the bloated bellies that are never full.
They didn't ask to be born into brokenness and they need someone, anymore to give a rip. Jesus I call freakin heaven to come and surround their tiny little frames. God I know You will show up. I know You will wrap Your mighty arms around them because You are a lover and these children are precious in Your sight.
We are a Holy People. We have to rise up. We have to fight. As you stare into your children's eyes tonight around the dinner table, offer up a song of thanks that they are safe. That they aren't naked and stripped of every right of being a human being. Praise God that they aren't eating things you wouldn't even feed a dog. Scream from the rooftops thanksgiving that they aren't bleeding and dirty from being drug through the hellish conditions that exist out here. It's disgusting. But we have a choice. We have a voice.
Will we use it?
What if our prayers changed it all?
I'm not here to debate His awesome sovereignty. I believe God works everything for His glory and I know He is good, fair and just. And so while He works out everything so that His name is glorified, I will pray.
He hears the cries of our hearts. I will utter groans only He can understand as I boldly ask Him to protect these children tonight, tomorrow and for the rest of their lives.
Will you stand with me?
