One night on the race we went dancing, shout out to my home girl Miley Cyrus.
“We run things, things don’t run we.”
On the race we know how to have fun. Whether that is through making stupid music videos, going on a crazy adventure, or simply just having a dance party we love to bring life and joy and laughter to our squad.
And we LOVE to dance.
Thailand was a heavy month for a lot of us. A majority of the squad women were working with people in the red light district of Chiang Mai and their mission was to spread light and life into a very dark place.
My team worked on a property that acted as refuge house or foster homes that prevented children from getting sold into the sex trafficking industry. ? The heaviness we felt was more physical because of all the manual labor we did in order to make the grounds a beautiful place for the kids. Both ministries were exhausting and we were ready for something fun.
On our way to Cambodia we had a night off in Siem Reap, home to the famous Angkor Wat temples and a group of us decided we wanted to go dancing. We found ourselves following the boom of the bass to the first safe place that had a dance floor.
It was relatively early in the evening when we hit the dance floor so we were the first group of people aside from a few people on the outskirts of the walls. I walked out with my friends and noticed a man that seemed to be creepily watching from the corner of the room. He had a very large bucket for a drink and in my mind he creepily gazed onto the dance floor leering at us. I caught myself watching him and trying to get a better look at this strange man. Upon further inspection my heart sank.
Out of nowhere this weight of sadness hit me and honestly I could still cry about it. I didn’t know why it hit me so hard but I the heaviness in my chest forced me to leave the dance floor. For some reason I felt like I could see more into his heart than what his outward appearance displayed. His eyes told me of his sadness, deep and dark sadness. In one look I could see just how badly he wanted to be engaged and a part of something fun and bigger than himself, but years of brokenness had led him to end up wasted on the outskirts of a dance floor in Cambodia, alone.
I felt like in his eyes behind the drunken glaze, I could see years of pain and heaviness surrounding his own soul to the extent that he had abandoned hope of facing life with effort. The world had put him in a place where he felt he needed to go out somewhere far from home, alone, and so drunk that his pain would be numbed. He was grasping for a way to prevent the sadness from overwhelming him for a moment.
As a group of my friends in our twenties were dancing and having a great time engaging life this man sat drunk in the corner seeking to be a part of something free and light, convincing himself that he was more than just a wallflower but in actuality he wasn’t participating. He was alone.
My heart hurt. Sitting in a booth trying not to focus on this stranger I felt like weeping. I could feel his longings to be known and loved. I could feel the pain of a past of not being accepted. And I could feel the desire to wash it all away.
In that moment I did not interact with him but I did what I could. I prayed. I asked that he would be found and known. I asked that the Lord would heal his heart, that he wouldn’t have to be drunk in an attempt to hide the fact that he was alone and in pain.
And I don’t really have a point to this blog or an answer for myself as to why this man stood out to me but I do know that the human condition causes me to mourn. The human condition is a broken heart. I mourn for those that can’t. I grieve the lives of abundance and acceptance and joy in the Lord that people do not get to experience. I pray for Jesus’ return because he brings with him love, joy, and peace.
