March 19th proved to be a day full of juxtapositions. Of complete opposites that I’ve had trouble reconciling. It was a day full of love and worship, but also one of dark sadness and trouble.
My team traveled 7 hours by bus to attend a Bethel concert in Kuala Lumpur, which proved to be quite the adventure in itself. Getting there, making friends, and getting to see one of our favorite bands in a foreign country was exhilarating. The idea of getting together with other believers to worship God in a country that says I shouldn’t be allowed, made me weep with joy. You see, Malaysia is under Sharia law, making it illegal to speak to Malay people about where my joy comes from, and the only real place we can find fulfillment. I’m allowed to speak to Indian and Chinese people, the other two main people groups, but speaking to Malays can land you in big trouble.
Needless to say- this concert was a big deal to me.
When I arrived, I was already overwhelmed by the Spirit and all the goodness I could feel in the room. I met up with other squad mates, and met a missionary from the UK doing work in Thailand with women in prostitution. Before the concert even began, God was so clearly present.
Then worship started. If I’m being honest, I don’t know if I stopped crying the entire time. We rushed the stage and stood front row the entire time, crying out to Jesus, thanking him for his love and grace. I was overwhelmed with how much Christ has done for me, and couldn’t help but cry out in gratitude.
With our post-concert jitters, my team headed to visit the Petronas Twin Towers (currently the tallest twin towers in the world) and grab a bit to eat. The Towers were beautiful to witness at night, a pinnacle of man’s innovation. The restaurant we chose, was a bit different.
Walking down the street, we noticed a pretty popular restaurant. Loud music, lots of people, well dressed guests, and baby black fin sharks in a tank above the bar. It seemed so fun! Key word- seemed. As soon as we sat down and ordered, we noticed something a bit different. Only the women were well dressed. Only the women were locals. And only the women looked unhappy.
These women would line up on the staircase, appear to mingle with each other as you would on a girls night out, but quickly be whisked away by an older man, usually white, and sometimes married. Sometimes they talked, sometimes they flirted, but sometimes they just got in a cab and left quickly. My heart broke as these women displayed their unhappiness on their faces, while their bodies were subject to someone else’s desires. What is even sadder, is that these unhappy exchanges were so normal. It wasn’t hidden behind closed doors or portrayed as something else. As these women were being prostituted before my eyes, it was deemed normal.
We ate our meal, trying not to watch the sad injustices happen before our eyes, but before we left, Savannah and I decided to take a prayer walk around the bar. We walked inside, full music blasting, praying without ceasing, aware that every eye was on us. And when I say every eye, I mean it.
Let me paint a quick picture for you. Savannah was in baggy workout clothes and chacos, and I was wearing baggy overalls. We were not dressed to impress or draw attention. Yet these men were so conditioned that women are objects, that this is exactly how we were seen. For sale.
I honestly could not take my eyes off of the floor. As I walked the room, silently crying out to God to open the eyes of these men to the reality of their situation, I stared at the ground, unable to lift my gaze and face the objectification I was feeling. For just 3 minutes, I was unable to look head on into the situation that these women are in everyday. On this short walk, one man was brazen enough to call at us as we walked by, as if to say he was interested in us. I’ve felt degradation in my life, but not like this. Not to the point of broken heartedness. Not with a broken heartedness that spilled over for every single man and women in that room.
Afterward, Savannah kept asking me, “Are you alright?” I wanted to say yes. And I did. But was I? How could I be alright knowing that this continually happens and is allowed to happen?
In my journal that night, this is what I wrote:
“If I felt violated, just walking through the room, how do they feel? How do they feel getting grabbed at, as they walk away? Or bargained for because use of their body costs too much? Broken. There isn’t much of a better word to describe my feelings about that experience. Devastated.“
I’d like to be very clear about a few things. 1- some of these women, maybe even all of them, chose this life for themselves. Some women were probably trafficked into this, but perhaps all the women I saw that night made this choice independently. They believed that this life would bring them satisfaction and wealth, something we all seek. 2- In no way am I better than any of these women. 3- I don’t condemn the men either. They are just as broken as the rest of the world, in hungry search of what satisfies them the most.
However despite these 3 truths, it still breaks my heart. It breaks my heart that I can’t tell these women the truth of where satisfaction actually comes from, where the only riches that matter can be found. It breaks my heart that men are told they need to act a certain way, taught to respond to women a certain way, and not held accountable for their desires. It breaks me that these men are searching out fulfillment of their desires at the expense of someone else. Most of all, it breaks my heart that instead of loving these men and women where they are, we condemn them for actions we disagree with.
One of THE most beautiful stories in the bible begins with a prostitute. That woman, who led a life that most people disagreed with, was seen by Jesus as chosen and beautiful. Eventually, she was the one to discover the empty tomb. Mary Magdalene was a very special woman, but she doesn’t have to be the only special woman. Why do miraculous transformations have to be limited to biblical times? Where is our faith that God can and will radically transform our lives, if only we let Him? If only we offer an olive branch out to someone else, who knows what God will do?
Being viewed as an object certainly wasn’t the highlight of my night. Going from such a Godly high at the Bethel concert to a dark and empty low at the restaurant is a juxtaposition I hope to never experience again. But I wouldn’t change it at all. I’m grateful to have been given God’s eyes for just those few minutes, to break my heart for what breaks His. This broken situation breaks my heart- what breaks yours?
