Tov is the Hebrew word equivalent to “good”. It’s the word that God used when He made creation. The definition of tov is “good, beautiful, functioning the way God created it to”.
For all intents and purposes, we’ll call her Tova, because she is all of those descriptions and so much more.
I don’t know what I expected when we gathered around to pray before heading out to the cabin restaurant, which is what we would refer to in the states as an undercover brothel. I had no frame of reference for what our ministry would look like. Roshni, our guide, even told us that she did not have a plan for the day. She said she had asked and asked God what He wanted us to do, and had come up with nothing.
“We can go to one of two places. The first place we went to on Wednesday. I know for sure we will all be let inside, and we can chat with the women there again. Or, there is another place about an hour away from here. They have yet to let me inside, so we might just have to Jericho pray, and then we will come back. Ask God and see what He says.” After spending some time in prayer, much of the group felt strongly about going to the second place. I saw a picture of double doors opening. I knew it wasn’t a vision, but I was certain deep within my spirit that they would let us inside.
I spent the hour long bus ride trying to prepare my heart, and didn’t know how I should act as we walked the streets of Nepal that led us to the cabin restaurant. After a quick word with the owner, Roshni ushered us inside, and four or five of us packed into the three cubicles, each holding a table and two benches. In these “restaurants” customers come in to order food, and in so doing, they also order a “service” from the waitress. In some cases, the customers are allowed to take the women back to guest houses surrounding the restaurant, or sometimes back to their own homes for a certain amount of time.
We bought fountain drinks, and ordered the girls some energy drinks as well. In buying drinks, we also paid for their time, which meant that we were able to sit and talk to them for nearly an hour. As Alex, MC, India, and I sat on the benches waiting for one of the girls to sit down across from us, we couldn’t help but feel the heaviness of the reality of all the things that happened in that small cubicle day after day, hour after hour.
Even the walls seemed to scream of the injustices they had seen.
Tova is only a girl- 16 years old. And we couldn’t really talk because of the language barrier. Initially she would smile and nod and try to talk to us, but then she would get up, and we’d catch glimpses of the frustration on her face as she went to demand Roshni to tell her why we were there. Roshni explained how we were thirsty and tired and needed a rest before sending her back to sit with us. Without an interpreter there was not much we could do, so for extended periods of time we sat and looked at each other, and tried (to no avail) to lighten the awkwardness. We finally connected through music. MC had downloaded some Justin Bieber on her phone (for whatever reason he is big deal here) and we played a few of his songs. Alex had brought some nail polish and Tova let her put it on her nails.
When Roshni moved to our cubicle, we began to ask Tova questions about herself. She said she’s been working there for a year. She left school when she was fourteen, and came to work there because of “family issues”. I later discovered that her brother was one of the owners of the restaurant. We asked what her dream job was, and what she would like to be in the future. She said she would like to be a singer, but she emphasized that she wanted to leave the restaurant and do good. Although she never blatantly stated it, Tova knew that what she was forced to do wasn’t good. It was clear by the way she talked about herself, and by how uncomfortable she was at our presence.
We asked Tova if she knew Jesus. She said ‘yes’, but she only knew a little bit about Him. She stated that her brother was a Christian. In Nepal, one can get out of going to festivals to the Hindu gods by claiming to be a Christian. I was heartbroken that all the evil that took place in those four walls was condoned and even forced by those who claimed to know and follow Jesus. I was a loss at how to witness to her after that. How could I tell her that what her brother was doing was sickeningly wrong and against everything Jesus stood for, while her brother stood at an arms-length away? How could I affirm her worth and try to lead her to Jesus in less than an hour while she was still trapped and forced to do horrible sexual acts day after day, falsely under His name? We told her Jesus loved her, that He thought she was so beautiful, and that He had created her to be good, that she was good. She nodded, and then seemed to disengage.
Before we left, Alex let Tova and her friend (who was also 16, and dreamed of being a beautician) do her make-up. The girls giggled and examined the make-up and chatted back and forth as they dusted Alex’s face with foundation, put on eyeliner, and eye shadow. As we left, we passed a bench full of men waiting.
I wrestled with God on the bus ride home. Why? They were so young, so trapped. All they knew was abuse and worthlessness. For the hour we were there, they could just be girls, getting their nails painted, singing Justin Bieber, and doing our make-up. But as soon as we stepped outside, they were forced to grow up and do things no human should ever have to do. So in the long run, did we actually make any difference?
I cried. I wanted His lightning bolts of justice to land in that place. I wanted the restaurant to be ripped out by its foundation. I wanted those men to do a 180, on their knees pleading for forgiveness from God and from those women. I wanted redemption and reconciliation. I wanted their souls to be saved and for them to worship the one true God.
Studying the big sky, I demanded to know why my God was so big but so silent.
I wish I could tell you that I have answers.
I don’t.
I can’t pretend to know the mysteries of how God works the way He does. But here’s where I’ve landed: I know my God is good. I know my God was weeping with me. I know my God is fighting for His children. If He wasn’t good, if He wasn’t weeping with me, if He wasn’t fighting for them, we would never have been allowed to step into that restaurant. He broke down the doors, and sent us in to bathe the walls with prayer, to smile widely at His girls, and to remind them that they are seen, loved, and Tov.
And whenever doubt whispers into my ear, asking me what we really did, telling me that we didn’t make a difference, and that those girls understood nothing, I return to those four truths:
My God is good.
My God is weeping with His children.
My God is fighting for His girls.
And my God never loses.
