Our first night in the bars.
We sang worship for a while before
heading out, changing the words to the song “How He loves Us” to
“How He loves Them- the women and the men.” I finished singing
‘How He loves US” because we’re all in need of that love.
Prostitute, missionary, Lonely man- God loves us all.
While driving to Bangla road, I say to
Mark, our contact, “I’m not going to lie. I’m quite
nervous.”
“There’s be something wrong if you
weren’t,” he replied.
We park the car and walk towards Bangla
Road, the street where it all happens in Phuket, Thailand.
“Look for the bars where there are
plenty of women, and no men.” We find one on Lion Street, and sit
down. I order a water; Brandi orders a diet coke. We look at each
other, unsure of where to begin.
“Your goal is to start conversation
with them, to build relationships with them, and, later on, if they
seem interested, invite them to SHE.”
How do we begin a conversation?
“Hi. What’s your name?” I say to
the girl on my right. She looks at me like I speak a completely
different language. Oh wait. I do. She knows about ten words of
English; I know about ten words of Thai,
“Now what?” I say to Brandi. She
shrugs.
“God please bring someone who speaks
English.”
A few minutes later, the bartender
walks up, and asks us where we’re from. We talk pleasantries in
broken English for a few minutes, and then she takes out a few games
for us to play. We play games for a while, and then head to the next
bar.
I’m less nervous now, but still unsure
of what to do.
We head into a pub in Tiger street.
While there, I meet a girl named ‘Rung.’
She sticks out to me because
she is wearing almost no makeup- a stark contrast from the masks the
other women usually wear. She is 25 years old, has a DEGREE in
marketing, and… has only been here for two days.
So, that explains
it.
She’s sweet and naive, and laughs freely and genuinely when she’s
embarrassed by her lack of English. She has no friends, and no
boyfriend because he left her for another girl. When it’s time to
leave, I tell her that I hope to see her again. She smiles wide and
says ‘me too.’
I glance back at her on my way out. She
is speaking to one of her co-workers. I am amazed at how young she
looks in comparison. I wonder- how long will she stay sweet? How long
will she stay genuine? How long until she masks her face with
make-up? How long until she is on the counter dancing around the
pole?
How long until she finds a way out?
Will she find a way out?
After we head out of that bar, we pass
by the ”lady boys’ whose dancing has drawn a very large crowd. I
watch the men, women, and families as they watch the confused men in
amusement. “She looks so real” I hear one say. Another one points
at one’s pants and says, “wonder where he’s got that hidden,”
which is met with several laughs from the crowd.
I pass a man old enough to be my
grandfather who is clutching the breasts of a woman young enough to
be his great-granddaughter.
While trying not to stare at that, I
bump into an English teenager, who giggles drunkenly before heading
back to dance down the street with her sister, as their parents walk
behind; it appears they are almost as drunk as their daughters. A
line from a Snow Patrol Song pops into my head, “Please come
save me from this darkness, from this emptiness, please come save
me.”
We turn the street off of Bangla road
and I am exhausted. I want to go to sleep. I want to wake up out of
this nightmare into a world where such loneliness and emptiness
doesn’t exist.
But this isn’t a dream. This is the
reality on Bangla Road.
A reality I didn’t know about until a
few hours ago.
But, there’s a greater reality:
Prostitute, missionary, Lonely man- God loves us all. That’s a
reality they don’t know yet.
And that’s why we’re here.
They need prayer.
We need prayer. I’m tired, and I have
that feeling like I need to cry but the tears aren’t coming. I know
the joy of the Lord is my strength, but right now I feel so
broken-hearted.
How can I do this every night?
But, then again, how can I not do this?
