I have been trying to write a blog about Thailand for over a week. It’s not that I have writers block or I’m unsure how to approach a topic…that isn’t the problem. The problem is every night as I lay in bed I am haunted by the stories and sights I hear and saw that day.
Bangla Road. One of the darkest places I have ever walked down. The only lighting on the street is from the illuminated neon signs offering cheep beer and “shows”. Thousands of people on this crowded street every night. People taking selfies, laughing, and conversing on which club they want to go to. No matter what direction your eyes fall on, you see women for sale. Maybe by choice, often by force. Your eyes make their way up a few stories and fall on a glass upper level. “No pictures” a sign says on the window. There she is. A woman no older than 22 years old. Trafficked. Drugged. For sale. This woman is someone’s daughter. Maybe a sister or a grand daughter. Trapped. That was the moment I finally broke. I felt tears falling from my face and anger raging from within. I wanted to SCREAM at every single person. Do they even know? Why don’t they care? How can they think this is okay?
Every night our team splits up and goes to different bars. Bar ministry? Funny thing to picture for Christians to do right? Well, I believe God is in those bars. I believe a spiritual battle takes place daily in these bars and at Bangla Road. We play connect four, sip on our cokes, and befriend these women. To the men in that bar, these women have a price tag. To us, they have already been bought with THE price, the blood of Jesus. No matter how many clients they had the night before, or where they might be sleeping that night, they are precious in His sight. Jesus died for those women just as He died for me. And you know what? He died for the men purchasing these ladies. And that my friends it really hard to swallow. That I NEED the same grace and love of Jesus just as much as the 50 year old man preying on the 19 year old in the tight red dress. That Jesus’ heart breaks for me when I sin just as much as it breaks when the drunk men as they touch these women.
Sin and grace. We all do it and we all need it.
