In teaching, every lesson should include a short segment of background knowledge. It activates the student’s thinking and prior knowledge. In the spirit of following through with my teaching, here is the background knowledge for this blog:
-In Central America, it is traditional for people to greet each other or say goodbye with a kiss on the cheek.
-There are over 27 million people enslaved in the world today. This does not include those who enter into prostitution willingly, and find themselves stuck in a never-ending cycle.
Wednesdays here at the YWAM base in El Salvador look pretty much like any other day of ministry and life. Breakfast is at seven, chores must be completed in the morning, ministry and evangelism in the hospital and parks, building relationships with the amazing staff here… We eat dinner and then we clean up and have team time. However, the evening events on Wednesday are incredibly different. We are not swimming in the pool or watching movies or eating dessert with our new family. We aren’t killing cockroaches, playing soccer, or sneaking off to bed early. Instead, we are praying, brewing coffees, and preparing for battle. Because at 7:30 on Wednesday nights, with coffee and cookies in hand, we go out to fight the darkness in the world.
Fear is not a good word to describe how I felt. Maybe apprehension or searching in the Spirit. Only a few blocks from the base, we see 3 people standing on the corner. From where we walk, they look like women, but I know they are men. As we approach, they stare at us and suddenly, huge smiles transform their faces. One of the hosts runs up and hugs these men. They are her friends; she has built amazing relationships with them.
We give them coffee and cookies, we talk with them, we laugh with them, we pray for them. For 20 minutes on Wednesday nights, they are not prostitutes. They are just people, having coffee and cookies and conversations with friends. We met five men the first Wednesday night, all in different places in their walk. Some have been working here for 15 years and some for just 2 weeks. Some were ecstatic to receive their new bibles, some were hesitant to pray, and one even asked to go to church with our host. One man the other group encountered declared he was cutting his hair, leaving the profession, and living life as a man (Amen!). But no matter where these men are, God still loves them. When asking one man, “What do you think God thinks of what you are doing?”, he replied, “I know He thinks it is wrong.”
But does he know God still loves him? Does he know God is actively pursuing him? Does he know God does not look at him and see “prostitute” or “homosexual”, but “beloved” and “son”? Does he know he has never been alone? Does he know God wants to reach into his past and heal his hurts? Does he know God wants to redeem him?
God loves these men, right here, right now. God isn’t waiting for them to stop prostitution to love them. God isn’t waiting for them to turn away from homosexuality to love them. He just does. HE LOVES THEM. Do I? Do I really love people where they are, or do I love them contingently, with strings attached? Am I waiting for people to be “good enough”? Or am I truly loving them like Jesus? Jesus’ love is not a reward or the product of becoming clean and righteous – it is the agent of change. It is the reason a scorned woman at the well got living water. It is the reason an adulterous woman was not stoned. It is the reason a man is giving up a career that makes him more money in one night than a regular job would make him in two weeks. Jesus’ love is the reason another man is seeking God to replace the loneliness that prostitution cannot fill. Jesus’ love is the reason I am in El Salvador. Jesus’ love is the reason I am forgiven and can forgive others. Jesus’ love is the reason we are all here.
We can draw red Xes on our hands all day, but how can we expect to make social change if we are not sharing the love of God first? If I’m not willing to hug a prostitute and let him kiss me on the cheek, I’m not living like Jesus. I’m not loving like Jesus. And I don’t want any part of that life.
So, thank you, Jesus, for prostitute kisses.
