The Prostitute’s Daughter
I look like a prostitute’s daughter.
And this haunts me every time I enter the red light district where I did ministry in Chiang Mai, Thailand. It sends shock waves through my identity and rocks me down in my core.
I HATE IT. I hate that that’s how people see me. I hate that that’s how I am treated. I hate that the enemy is trying to take back a victory I already won. I hate that he uses it as a foothold. But I mostly hate that that is how God wants to use me this month.
My mom is from Korea and my dad is from America and they met 27 something years ago in Louisiana where I was born and raised. They are the BEST PARENTS EVER and I know that most everyone says that about their parents, but they are biased and I am not. They love each other in a way that I admire. They love each other in a way that other’s admire. They support me in everything Jesus calls me to do, and I love them as much as my body and my spirit will allow.
But the world doesn’t love them like I do and not nearly as much as Jesus does.
The first night in the red light district I was walking around the area just praying and a woman called out to me and my friend. So we went over to the bar which is also where she “worked”. We started with a little small talk and exchanged names and she asked where we were from. We said America and she looked me up and down as if I was lying. And said “but you are fifty fifty right” I nodded my head and she scurried away. She came back carrying this worn photo and said with pride “you just like my daughter” The picture was of a beautiful little girl. She than began to tell us that her father was from England and he was a customer of hers, that she hadn’t seen him since, and that her daughter lived out in the village with her parents. She maybe gets to see her little girl once or twice a year.
I was furious and broken and hurt.
How dare she compare me to her daughter? How dare she put my parents in the same category as her and her "johns"? How dare these men taint what my parents have?
After this encounter I never wanted to go back. I never wanted to hear another story like that. I never wanted to be called out again. I never wanted to be compared again.
I wanted to be blind to it all. I wanted to go home where things seemed to be easier, where I was safe, where I could live in ignorance, where hard situations weren’t right in front of me. But I wasn’t at home. I am on the Race facing everything I never thought I would. Pressing into everything I want to avoid. And I realized that that is what this journey with Jesus does to you. It ruins you…..which allows room for God to restore you. I needed to be ruined, I needed to be wrecked, I needed the lies I believed to be destroyed to make room for His hope to restore me. This month I have had to use more of myself than I ever have. I have had to face stuff I never wanted to see. I have had to feel things I never wanted to feel. And I had to come to the realization that sometimes ministry is not what I expect, but what others need, and what God wants.
In the moments that I was so overcome by my own pain, my own brokenness, my own struggles, I forgot about the little girl. I forgot about her hurt and her brokenness, and her pain. And I forgot about this mother. I forgot that she was in deeper pain than I because she was still lost in it and didn’t know how to find a way out. That she needed to know that there was hope for her child. I forgot that I was supposed to represent that hope for her. That I was supposed to put aside how I felt to show her the hope that God has placed in me that pulled me out of a place that was not too far from how she felt. To her I was hope that her daughter could have more.
As we talked about our lives and I told her how I just graduated college and now I was traveling around the world helping people and I could see hope rising. I could see that she saw her daughter when she looked at me. I could see that she wanted to give her child what my parents gave me. I could tell that she loved her little girl and that broke me even more.
How dare I not compare myself to her daughter? How dare I be offended when all she wanted was hope? How dare I think I was better than her?
I never wanted to use the most vulnerable part of myself for anyone else. I never wanted a wound that I thought had healed to be picked at regularly. My identity has always been a struggle that I have recently dealt with head on and I didn’t realize that God wanted me to use that victory so soon. BUT He did and I almost missed the chance to give him glory for it.
I know that this is not some miracle story about how God used me to rescue women from the bars or even a story about a woman coming to Jesus. Because in all honesty we didn’t talk about Jesus all too much. And I am sorry if that’s what you expected when you started to read this, but I am not sorry about how my story turned out. Even though this miracle isn’t as evident as the red sea parting or a physical healing, God was still there in the red light district of Chiang Mai, and He was there for the both of us, and He is still there now in the hope that was found.
Thank you mom and dad for being a living example of love. For loving each other, for loving me and Michael, but even more than that, I thank you for loving Jesus.
And a special thanks to Cassie Baxter for threatening me to write/post this blog……you really know how to motivate me. In every way you are a great and true friend. I love you!
