“Let all that you do be done in love.” 1 Corinthians 16:14.
Sex trafficking is a topic that many are familiar with, but not that many really engage in talking about. Honestly, I can see why. It’s uncomfortable. There’s seemingly no simple solution. It’s hard to understand. It’s upsetting. It provokes an emotional response. It hardly makes for an appropriate dinner conversation or Facebook status debate.
However, even before coming to Thailand to work with NightLight, an organization helping women and ladyboys transition out of the sex industry, I would have said that this cause was one that I am passionate about. I would have told you that these women are victims of dehumanization and devaluation from males that are trying to assert their dominance, and use women as objects for their own gain. In short, I was unapologetically for these women who were being sold and against the men that bought them.
If I’m honest, I never really asked God what He thought and felt about sex trafficking and those involved. I assumed He felt the way I did, saddened for these women and angered at these men. I figured the way I felt about both these groups was cool with Him and probably in line with what righteous anger is. (Spoiler alert: I was wrong.)
I remember the first day we walked through the red light district, and I saw all these beautiful, young Thai women lining the streets. They looked exactly how I expected them to – dolled up, empty eyes but smiles on their mouths. The white men that filled the streets, however, looked different than I expected. I thought I’d be able to pick these ‘clients’ out of a crowd. But I couldn’t. They were so, so normal. So normal it angered me. I could feel it welling up in me as we walked by man after man, and I wanted to curse them. So pretty bluntly I told God that. It went along the lines of, God, these guys suck. Why are they here?
Yes, why are they here? He said. What do you think, Case? What brokenness, what loneliness, what heartbreak, what emptiness do these men experience in their lives where the only way to fill that void is to fly to Thailand to pay for sex from a stranger?
I didn’t really like that answer, but it immediately started flooding me with compassion for these men. God faithfully started to turn my hard anger to soft empathy. It wasn’t these men I was actually angry at – it was Satan, the one who was deceiving them. These men, like these women, are bankrupt of love. They both need Love more than anything else. Not to mention, they are both Loved more than they could comprehend.
It humbled me how much I had in common with these men, how I too often try to fill up the broken spaces in my life with my own versions of cheap, fake love.
Praises to Him for shifting my perspective to align more with His before going into bar ministry. At NightLight they told us, “the time you spend angry is robbing you of time that you could spend in love.” It was a good reminder. Before going out, we took time to pray that His love would be shown to all and any that we meet.
The rumor was that the higher up in the buildings that you went, the more expensive and more risqué the bars got. For reasons unknown to me, I had the preconceived notion that we’d be staying on the ground level. But after climbing three flight of stairs, there we were – at that top level. Entering the bar, there’s dark lighting, loud American music, couches around the perimeter, and the girls on the stage, with numbers pinned to their outfits.
NightLight has personal relationships with these bars, which make us welcome there. A young girl named Lily came and sat with Elva and I. She was so cute and friendly that we thought she had met our Thai volunteer before, but really she was just that excited to sit and talk with us. Once she sat, she spoke a mix of English and Thai at a mile a minute about her family, her love for dogs, her job. She was my age.
Lily was incredibly easy to love. But it would have been just as easy to look around and feel the weight of it all – to be upset at how these women were being treated, to be overwhelmed with the sin filling the room. But that wasn’t our experience. Despite being in a dark place, all we could see and feel was Light. We were protected and filled in God’s love, and it poured out of us to Lily, too. When Esther, Lacie, Elva and I left we were not burdened or heavy or sad – we felt blessed that we got the chance to share Love with others, no matter who those there were or where we found them. When we got home, we literally made French toast and got ice cream at midnight – we were celebrating the victory that is already ours in Him.
One thing NightLight told us was this:
“Don’t pray for the bars to close.”
At first, this confused me. But if these bars in this district close, then these women will only go find work someplace else outside of their reach. Instead, they told us, pray for these establishments to value human dignity over profits. Pray that this district would come to know the Father’s love, and that it would pour out into every aspect out their lives. Pray that these bar owners, these women, these clients, and yes, even people like you and me – would begin to see all people (including ourselves) through the Father’s eyes: loved, and worthy of love, respect and value.
“Sometimes when you’re in a dark place you think you’ve been buried, but actually you’ve been planted.” – Christine Caine
