I’ve been to Times Square before. Several times. But I ain’t never seen a Times Square like the one in Malaysia.
It’s Wednesday night around 8:30 pm. 5 of us jump into a black, 80’s Toyota. We head to a seedy part of town to share the love of God with Penang's neediest. Through busy intersections. Past streets bustling with nightlife. Eventually we drive up a dark, dirty road and nestle the black Toyota between two other cars on the side of it. From the back window, I can see a ritzy-looking mall just a block away.
We get out of the car. Lock it up. And walk around the corner to a dark carport. Beneath it is a wheel chair bound ex-prostitute. They call her Auntie Rokia.
An old, crippled woman sitting in darkness all alone. But she doesn’t seem to mind. Daytime or night… it's all the same to Rokia. After all, she’s become blind from cataracts – something that’s happened just over the past year. Sights like that are enough to make most people wonder if God really even exists, but even Rokia believes, having recently become a Christian.
Hearing that takes me back to a time in Nepal when a blind man said to me, "I can't see with my eyes, but I now see with my heart because of Jesus". I pray Rokia sees with her heart. I pray she sees Jesus.
I snap out of that thought, look up and notice a man peeing in the nearby alleyway. I see his back, but his shadow reveals a stream of urine coming from his lower half. This is normal. This is life… real, raw life… for Rokia. We crouch down to pray over Auntie Rokia. I see two signs in the distance. One reads, “Good Year” (advertising Good Year tires). The other reads, “Sunshine City.” I try to ignore them, but they shine so brightly amidst the darkness that I can't help but NOTICE them. I can't help but feel as if God Himself secretly planted those signs there, using them to speak life over Times Square.
We continue to spend time with Rokia. I notice a woman peering at us through the farside of a van window, as if to hide behind it. She's curious, but she remains distant. As we leave Rokia, we walk by the van, and I see that the woman who's been staring at us is a prostitute… dressed in a black mini dress with bright, red lipstick, perfectly, sleek flat-ironed hair and white, strappy stilettos. Nearby, a group of men sit around drinking beer.
We continue to walk… past a half-dazed, unkempt, shirtless man plopped over on a piece of cardboard. We step into an alley. Men on bikes speed by, trolling to find women for cheap sex. We stop for a moment to say "Hi" to an Indian woman and then continue down the dark, sleazy alley.
We walk from woman to woman…. I start repeating Sunshine City in my head – faster and faster… until I faintly whisper to myself, “Sunshine Shitty”. Walking through the alley, that seemed to be a more accurate description.
We came upon another Indian woman sitting in a plastic chair – Mirianna's her name. Looking at her, I can tell her life has seen few better days. She recounts to us her trip to the hospital as she lifts her pant legs to reveal major swelling around both knee caps. Plans are made to meet up with her again to discuss a way to help her. We pray over her… and we move on.
We walk further down the dimly-lit alley. A white bustier and a short, ruffled skirt glow in the dark. I then notice a cloud of smoke.
Behind that, the red cherry of a cigarette. Behind that, the face of a middle-aged Chinese woman. Behind that… a life imprisoned by the worst our world has to offer. Drugs, alcohol, cheap, meaningless sex.
Her name is Ling. She speaks only Chinese. Fortunately, we have one guy with us who also speaks Chinese. She tells him how she recently overcame her drug addiction. All the while, men on mopeds drive by, slowing down to check out the scene as they pass us. I look up, and at the end of the street, I see a silhouette of a man on a bike talking to a woman with tall legs flowing from beneath a short mini skirt. She steps closer and then past us. He drives by her side and pulls over in front of a small, metal door. They walk inside one after the other. I don’t see them exit. We all think it… but no one says it. Meaningless sex… with a price tag. One of the most uncouth, sleazy means of doing something that God intends for enjoyment and intimacy. (My heart goes out to the women who believe there's nothing better for them than selling their bodies… and for the men caught up in the sleaze.)
Time is ticking by… so we keep moving. Next we stop to visit Flower and Joanna – both locals. Beautiful faces. Long legs. Breasts popping out, leaving little to the imagination. Silky, black hair. Fit bodies femininely shaped by small, pretty dresses. Flower begins talking to us…. rubbing her nose.
I quickly notice two things: her nails are painted and her voice is deep… like a man’s. After a few seconds, it dawns on me. Flower's a man – a lady boy.
As my friend, CK, speaks to him, he looks around at the men passing by, trying to wave them over. CK offers him a free meal so that they can talk without the distraction of potential customers. He punches back, "I work too. I can pay for my own food."
Flower's sitting on a chair outside of a small, dirty house. Her and CK continue to talk. I walk into the house alone and run into another beautiful lady boy, named Aileen. His English is superb, and it's the best, raw, light-hearted conversation I have all night. We chat about my trip… and travelling. After a while, he prompts me to guess his age. His porcelain, flawless skin begs me to reply, “23.” He giggles and says, “Noooo! Older!!” "30’s?" Again, “Noooo!” "40’s?" “Older!!” CK calls my name, beckoning me to leave. But before I go, he tells me he was born in 1964. I gasp, wishing I could stay longer and continue the conversation.
Reluctantly, the five of us head back to the car and pull away, realizing that we are running late. So much darkness. So much pain. So much confusion. And not enough time to love on the people who sit in the dark alleys of Times Square.
Once again the thought, "Sunshine Shitty" crosses my mind. But I can't deny God’s presence throughout Times Square.
I can't deny the changes and goodness I had heard the women speak of… despite the darkness. Yeah, it wasn’t green pastures and fluffy clouds, butterflies and pretty, yellow flowers (of course, when is it ever?). It was dark. It was grim. It was heart breaking.
And at the end of the night, as we drive away in the Toyota… my heart couldn’t help but proclaim… Sunshine City. It may be a dark place, but God is moving there. His presence is palpable. I feel His Spirit stirring in my heart.
"The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, for he has anointed me to bring Good News to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim that captives will be released, that the blind will see, that the oppressed will be set free, and that the time of the LORD's favor has come." Luke 4:18-19
Indeed, it's a Good Year… to bring the Good News to the poor in the alleyways, to release the captives of Malaysia, to give sight to the blind – to Rokia, to set free the oppressed – of Times Square. The Spirit of the Lord is upon Penang… and the time of His favor has come. The time of His favor is now.
It's a Good Year for His Son to Shine throughout this City! Sonshine City… Yes, God, yes!
"Yet I am writing you a new command; its truth is seen in him and you, because the darkness is passing and the true light is already shining.” 1 John 2:8
P.S. The heart of this blog is to paint a real, raw picture of what I experienced, saw, thought and felt tonight – to bring you into ministry with me. But mostly to reveal God's glory and beauty through even the darkest circumstances.
