Sex trafficking. How do we do it?
How do we go into Chiang Mai to the Red Light District and make a difference, love these people out of that environment, relate to them, communicate with them, humbly minister to them, and help convince them that there is an option for them? An option out of this way of death and into a life that says, “You are worth it.”
Like, without getting pissed off or heartbroken and being misunderstood in all of our passion.
How do we comprehend their life and pain? How do we handle that understanding? What will this do to my understanding of my own past? Will I feel more shame?
A copious amount of questions circulated through my heart and mind as we entered Thailand. There was a lot of fear. When will this hamster realize that their lil wheel is a trap? That I’ll be stuck just going round and round and I’m not makin’ any ground, babygur!
Well, I suppose when you’re Dad tells you, “Erin, you’re not a victim.” Or, when your mentor says, “Erin, you’re giving fear a lot of power here.” Or when you see the new Hunger Games and you realize it resembles the Gospel of Victory.
“I hope you find it…the life of a Victor.”
I have a choice. For the rest of my life. Victim or Victor.
Remember that lesson in Psychology on the mindset of a child? Children believe that they are the center of the world due to their limited understanding of life thus far. When they fall down, they think that the ground hit them. They feel victimized and attacked by the sidewalk.
They often think that the world happens TO THEM.
Diiiiiiiid I ever grow out of this phase?
hahaha
Maybe not. I ran into a glass door yesterday and my thoughts resembled that of a toddler. Kid you not, face planted that glass door surrounded by enough people to be embarrassed. In downtown Chiang Mai, Peyton and I ran across the street to yet another money exchange location and I guess they just keep their glass doors immaculate because it looked non existent.
Smack.
Pride significantly shot.
And I began to weep. What? Yes, I just ran into a door, and it hurt, but this is the kind of thing that I typically laugh at myself for. I then proceeded to the restaurant next door and locked myself into a restroom stall and wept some more. Like, weeeeheeheep.
I think it was because I was disappointed in myself for the fact that my mind went straight to, “Why did that just happen to me? Why did that door just hit me?”
After I was chastised by the restaurant manager for using the bathroom at the restaurant, I found myself in another opportunity to NOT choose into a victim mindset. Again, not a personal attack against me that it wasn’t a public restroom. More like a public attack on man-kind, but that’s another blog.
I think I also wept because it’s analogous with my life, lately.
I try so hard for trajectory movement, running around from place to place to get a task accomplished. I’m in foreign places and not 100% sure of what to do most of the time. I ask for direction. And just when I think I’m getting somewhere, BAM. Smacked in the face and knocked out by a seemingly invisible obstacle. People saw and so I’m now mortified as a failure.
OR
The gospel is true. If Romans 6 isn’t a lie. Well. Then. I’m a Victor and Christ made sure of that.
We died to the sin that holds us captive as victims when Christ died. And so we are resurrected and freed into a life living with God when Christ was resurrected.
What more to fear or hold me as a victim if I have already died? If death, the greatest fear of man, is taken care of…well, then…live. Victoriously.
Don’t fear the worst, it’s already conquered. Don’t defend myself. My case is already won. Don’t accept shame. The Divine Creator said that I was worth being made right.
I naturally desire to see to what extent I am loved. How much will someone do to try and prove they love me, risking that I may blatantly choose not to acknowledge it? Am I worth the worst comprehensible outcome if it means that I am saved? Yes. The answer is and always will be, Yes. Because of the One who started all of this and the One who finished it.
And beyond that, I am worth bringing back to life. The one who died to save me wants to also come back to life to show that death couldn’t keep us apart. The one who died saving me was someone great and powerful and holy, so much so that they couldn’t die. That’s who saved me. Not just some chummy prince charming. A Holy King walked away from His throne to be mocked and defiled and to come deliver me from being a victim. Turn me from a damsel in distress to a Victor with value and a mission.
Yes, Erin, you are worth even more than someone’s death. You are worth the resurrection of the King of all.
The Great Act of Love says, “I believe you are worth fighting for. You’re worth loving with such arbitrary grandeur that could warrant only reverence. Yes, I want to love you. Yes, I want to protect you. Preserve you. Keep you. Save you. Deliver you. Be your advocate. The answer is and always will be, yes.”
Sounds like I am taken care of. And if that is true, then it is time.
It’s time to believe in the Resurrection. For me and for all here in Chiang Mai and the world. Time to love others with the erratic grandeur that has been reckoned to me. Repeat to them what The Great Act of Love told me.
What would I do if I knew I was taken care of? Do so unto others.
This month, those others are the men and women and children oppressed in the sex trafficking industry. And no victim there will benefit from any foreign victim bringing more fear into the atmosphere. Only one who walks with the Victor can usher a victim into freedom.
Let’s be forthright, though (as if this no-nonsense lady is anything but). We’ve been here before. These individuals know racers. They know of Zion Cafe. We are not the first to come walking through telling them that Jesus loves them so much. Do they need more words? Or do they need continued and consistent friendship. Eye contact. Gifts. Understanding. Strength. Love. Consideration. Respect.
I don’t know if anyone will walk away from the industry this month by our hands. But I know a victim cannot lead a victim.
I know that I now have a choice. Every moment. To know that I am taken care of. Therefore, I can serve other’s needs, whatever they may be. I can use my past and my relate-able knowledge to show compassion and dying love.
Would glorifying the pain and severity of their circumstances and my past make any of this any better? They are not documentary or blog or world race or salvation PROJECTS. They are people and they are not idiots. You all have been made aware. There are plenty of documentaries and ministries out there bringing light to the global issue of human trafficking. So, would my harrowing words here help any of the individuals, or would they only be exploiting them? Would they only be trapping them on the hamster wheel of victimization?
Instead, I can be here in Chiang Mai and try to bear witness to their lives. Live out and love in action to their face, not in a blog about my revelation of victory. Tell them that I am here to willingly accept heartache and danger and failure if it means they may be 1 degree closer to believing that someone, somewhere, cares about what happens to them.
Instead, I can try as hard as I can but ultimately and foremost, call on the Spirit of the Lord to do everything for me and then all of what I cannot.
Instead, I can choose to believe that this is a divine appointment that I can fulfill only by acknowledging the Lord.
Instead…I can choose Victory. Every. Night.
