attention? I don’t actually want to be a
boy, but last night in a few moments, I have never wished it more. I wish I could have been a man for just a few
hours. I am currently in Thailand. It is on the beach and an
absolutely gorgeous town full of young people, old people, couples, and
families, all here to have a good time and enjoy vacation and get a tan. We went to the bars last night. Thousands of people crowded on a street of
hundreds (maybe thousands) of bars, crowded around the dancing girls wearing
barely any clothes. Then there are these
glass boxes on the top levels of about 6 bars…
I wish I were
Liam Nielson (in taken) so I could go up there and kung foo, chop someone’s
bottom and take all the girls back. In
these glass boxes above the chaos are girls dancing. Alright, there are girls everywhere dancing but
these are American girls, eastern European girls. They are obviously drugged, you can see it in
their faces, some of them wear masks and the way they move and dance, they are
not all there and they don’t want to be there.
There is a lifelessness in their faces that is like none of the Thai
girls. These girls are trafficked, they
are not there on their on free will. I
wanted to SCREAM from the rooftops to all the tourists who think its so
fun. Don’t you see! This is human
trafficking in front of your eyes! Why are you showing your kids this?! Why
wont anyone do anything about this?! I cant go in there, I’m a woman, I’ll be
either trafficked of shot, ahhh HOW can I get them out of there?! I’m
literally overwhelmed with emotion, even as I’m writing this the tears are
flowing because I want so badly to go up there but I cant. Gosh why wasn’t I born a spy or trained for
war or something. These women, my age,
American, European, I know they have a family, friends, probably all wondering
what happened to them. And here I am,
seeing them before my eyes and I cant do anything about it but pray as I walk
by. They are literally trapped in a box,
physically and mentally, emotionally for the whole world to see. I know that prayer is so powerful, more powerful than action but it is so frustrating that I cant physically do anything about it.
We are not
allowed to go to these places for obvious safety reasons but we can walk by and
pray pray pray my freaking heart out.
There is a “massage” place here that advertises to tourists. In reality, it is a big warehouse full of
cages. It traffic’s women. People go in there and do not come out. Needless to say we are not allowed to go
there either. These are things you here
about in movies but its REAL! Its here! I have seen it for my own eyes. I think a lot of people know it happens, but
its so far away, in a different world, or not as real as its made
out to be, happens every once in a while.
NO It is a HUGE industry! They are in everything, they sell things
on the street, they have bars, businesses, and restaurants, massage places, all
pumping money back into trafficking. They are powerful.
such a dark place, so spiritually dark, but it is where we find God the
most. Allison Prysiazny (a woman on our
squad and wonderful friend), wrote a song this month and one of the lines is
“This is where my heart finds yours”.
She couldn’t have worded it better.
In this dark place, this is where our hearts find God’s heart. I have never felt Him more; never felt him
breaking my heart like His is breaking for these women. Prayers are so powerful and God hears our
prayers, hears our cries for mercy for these women, and cries for
protection. On one of the streets,
amidst all of the bars there is a banner flying that says FREEDOM (its at a Bob
Marley bar) but still. There is going to be
FREEDOM in these places! Satan and His plans have no place here! God is
bringing His Kingdom to these places.
There is Victory over this. There is victory in the name of Jesus.
so much for your prayers and support.
Continue to pray for supernatural strength and protection and an
overflowing of Jesus’ love on these women and in this place. We are lights for our Lord and we shine
brighter than even the brightest light.
