This is a story I never told you:
My first month in Thailand, we painted a house for women everyday. There we met our first ministry hosts, who are long term missionaries. They lead us in devotionals before we painted. What I never told you, is that part of our ministry in Thailand was prayer walking through the red l¡ght d¡str¡ct every Thursday night. A tragic part of Thailand is human traff¡cki¡ng. It’s a complicated issue, and while it’s illegal in Thailand, the government tends to cover it up, rather than try to solve the problem. For this reason, our ministry hosts asked us not to blatantly post about it while we were in Thailand.
Our ministry hosts spent a lot of time encouraging us in our faith and teaching us about ministry in the red l¡ght d¡str¡ct. They told us to never judge and to ask God to show us what he sees. They taught us that the whole industry is full of victims, that satan is the only real evil, and not to forget to pray for the men as well as the women. They encouraged us to pray constantly and to pray big prayers. They told us to listen to the guidance of the Holy Spirit and to build relationships. Jesus’s love doesn’t speak condemnation, but He listens and shows up in our struggles to help us out. Our ministry hosts showed us how to follow His example and do the same.
Walking through the red l¡ght d¡str¡ct was like walking through tangible darkness, except the darkness is full of neon lights, pounding music, and spirit houses (The little shrines common in Thailand adorned every bar). Seeing the expressions on the women’s faces was extremely sad. They seemed tired and weighed down. They danced and hollered but there was no joy. They sat and waited and waited. Seeing the expressions on the men’s faces was even harder. There was often a scary hunger and entitlement written on their faces, and if not there was just brokenness. One time, I saw a man sit at one of the foot massage places. The girl scrubbed and scrubbed his feet in a culture where even pointing at someone with your feet is extremely offensive, all the while he yelled at someone on the phone. He seemed so arrogant and pleased with himself, that I never could forget the look on his face.
Our ministry hosts encouraged us to pray big prayers. I prayed for freedom and redemption in that street. I prayed for that man and the girl scrubbing his feet. I wished the best for each of them. I prayed that the women on that street would dance because they wanted to. I asked God to show me people through his eyes. I saw lost children with complicated and painful stories. In that I prayed for change and hope. It was hard to see where God was on that street. Yet, He was and is still God of that street.
There’s a song called “God of this City.” You may have heard of this song by Chris Tomlin, but it wasn’t written by Chris Tomlin. It was written by an Irish worship band. The band arranged a gig with a bar in the middle of a bigger Red L!ght d¡str¡ct in Thailand. They could play for as long as they wanted so long as they brought a bunch of friends and continued to buy coke-a-cola. They played all the songs they had practiced and when they ran out they continued to strum. They were sitting in the middle of a hopeless street, looking darkness in the eye. They had nothing left to sing, and as they sat watching hopeless eyes, God put a new song on their hearts, and they sang out.
“You’re the god of this city
You’re the king of these people
You’re the lord of this nation
You are
You’re the light in this darkness
You’re the hope to the hopeless
You’re the peace to the restless
You are
There is no one like our god
There is no one like our god
For greater things have yet to come
And greater things are still to be done in this city
Greater things have yet to come
And greater things are still to be done in this city.”
We walked down a similar street. I have felt that darkness. Cockroaches scuttled underfoot, lizards lined up on neon signs, spirit houses casted looming shadows, lights flashed everywhere, and the people walked all around. It was hard to walk down that street, each and every time we did. It was hard to look into hopeless, numb, desperate, and hungry faces. It was hard to avoid the judgement of the eyes staring at me. It was hard to block out the lies of the enemy. It was hard to cling to God. Yet, I kept thinking back to the song, written in a similar street. “You’re the God of this city.” It’s hard but there is such power in proclaiming the name of Jesus especially in the face of such darkness. It is so cool to see God show up in the midst of hopelessness and bring hope, laughter, joy, and love.
That’s exactly what we got to see. We got to intercede for people. We got to ask God for His perspective. We got to see God’s side, just like our ministry hosts did. One night, I went with one of my ministry hosts into a bar. We bought soda and we sat and talked with a couple of ladies. We got to just laugh with them and hear about their lives. The music blared and I couldn’t hear, but I loved watching these ladies smile, talk, and laugh. I heard God tell me that He is always with them, that He delights in them, and that they are his precious daughters.
Our ministry hosts lived out what they taught us. My other ministry host went to that street twice a week to build friendships with the women in the bars, and she had become good friends with many people on that street. I walked with her one Thursday night, and we were constantly stopping to talk to the many people she knew. It was really cool. They were all so enthusiastic to see her. One person we encountered that night stuck out to me in particular. She was a bar owner that my ministry host knew, but hadn’t seen in a while. She explained to us that she had sold her bar. She had started a new foot massage business for purely foot massages. We were thrilled for her. Her foot massage business seemed to be doing well. Every other time I saw the lady she was too busy with her business that we couldn’t talk, but I was glad for her business.
This was how my ministry hosts shared their faith in the red l¡ght d¡str¡ct in Thailand. They prayed, believed the best and people, and walked alongside them in the midst of their struggles. They loved them enough to call them higher, but they never judged or condemned them. While it was hard walking down that street, I’m so glad I did. Even on that street, Jesus was and is shining in the darkness.
