I won the Lottery you guys. I was born in the United States. I have the most amazing father and mother who have loved me and supported me in almost every area of my passion (even though this trip scares the tar outta them sometimes). I have the most loving siblings who send me the sweetest texts known to mankind and give the best of hugs anyone could ask for. I go to bed in a safe house, with a comfortable bed, and doors locked “just in case” an intruder would dare consider harming anything of my family’s (and in my daddy’s view point, any of us). I have only ever known love.
And yet, there is a girl, in a brothel across the world from me, that was sold by her father. She goes to bed not feeling safe, with no locks on the doors except the ones to keep her trapped. She has no idea how her siblings are, and certainly does not receive hugs and texts from them. People only use her. She only knows betrayal, worthlessness, fear.
When I read the stories of these priceless girls and tears fill my eyes I cannot help but think that if I had been born in a different part of the world, that their story could be mine. But it is not. I somehow won the lottery with my life. It’s hard to describe the anger I feel for that girl across the world that did not have the many fortunate gifts I’ve come to acquire just as my status as a Benson. Why was she sold?! Why are people so horrifically mean as to do the unthinkable to HER? Who gives them that right to treat her this way?! Why does she have to suffer?! I am not saying that God allows this to happen, He loves her just as much as he loves me; it’s just the evil in the world undoes me at times and the questions are asked out of anger.
Her story is not mine. However I feel that I can put love in a story that has only known betrayal, worthlessness, fear. I can give her the best answer I know: Jesus.
