We went into the city one night and headed for a place whose name is altogether deceiving…the Beach club. It's s a hub for trafficking foreign women into Malaysia, and a tourist attraction for businessmen. Some of the girls are there by choice, but others have been brought by force or tricked.
I thought that I would leave that place with my heart broken. I almost expected that I would walk out of there with the weight of the world rested on my shoulders, but if I'm really being honest I didn't feel any of those things. I went there tied up in a ball of nerves and left completely unhinged. I was struck by a numbness that clutched my heart and paralyzed my soul. I have never felt so out of touch with life. My existence was merely physical. I could walk and talk, but even that was just muscle memory.
I was angry. So very angry.
I knew I wouldn't like what I saw, but I wanted to have grace for the men that were in that place. I didn't want to hate them, but I did.
My eyes met the glance of a few guilty men, but none were bold enough to hold my gaze before looking away. They knew I wasn't working there. Those girls don't look at the men with hate in their eyes like I did.
Seeing me might have made them think twice. It definitely made them feel uncomfortable. That was my favorite. I enjoyed seeing them awkwardly squirm in their seats so that their backs would be turned to me. I loved watching them maneuver around people and tables to purposefully avoid walking by me. But that was just a few of them. Most didn't even care.
While I was watching I just asked God for my presence in that bar to stir up the emotions of the men in the room. I wanted every man that looked at me that night to see one thing.
I wanted them to see their niece, their sister, their cousin, their wife, or mother.
I wanted them to see any girl that they have ever loved and cared for.
I wanted them to see innocence.
I wanted them to see hurt in my eyes and understand where it was rooted.
But this is not about what I wanted, what I saw or even what my thoughts were. This is not about my experience, the stories that the girls told me or the stories that I could tell you.
It's about love and grace. It's about forgiveness and compassion. It's about me coming up short in all of these areas, but God overflowing where I was lacking.
I tried so hard to see these men the way that God does, but I couldn't do it. I looked at them with hatred and had to refrain from going off at a few when they made a pass at me or had the nerve to touch me. But even when I held my tongue and suppressed my rage, I still couldn't set my heart right.
I couldn't do it.
I couldn't love them in that moment, but God does.
I guess this is where I just rest in my amazement because I couldn't even give them grace, but God looks at them in love.
I like to think that I'm learning, but it's a hard lesson to grasp. I'll be honest, I don't like it, but I know that I have received God's grace just like those men so what more can I do.
And from his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace.
John 1:16
Despite my anger, tight jaw, clenched fists, curled toes and fuming mind, God had a plan for that night. He wanted me to meet Jessica.
She's a delicate Vietnamese girl that had only been in the country for two months or so. Her english was broken, but I was able to talk to her carefully. She was 23 and the mother of a five year old girl whose name adorned her wrist. She was shy, but eager to tell me that she wanted to learn English. I was able to meet up with her for a few lessons before we left Malaysia, and then placed her in the care of our ministry contact.
I was suppose to meet her that night. She was a glimpse of hope in a place where so much hopelessness lingers, and I am thankful for her.
