Friday Night. I couldn’t shake the tiredness. It was all over me, engulfing me, chaining me down. My headcould notescape from the fog, despite ingesting crazy amounts of caffeine.
I did not want to go on bar outreach. I did not want to go into the red light districts of Bangkok. My bed sounded likea much better option. I told my self that I didn’t like staying out late, despite the fact that I always stay up. Thoughts kept going through my head, maybe it would be better for my teammates if I don’t go, maybe I’m not the best suited for this ministry. I knew it was spiritual attack, so I prayed, a lot, then secretly wished that my bus would break down on the way.
When I got to the Night Light office they handed me long word document. I was slightly comforted when it said that feeling super tired before outreach was normal. We prayed, split up into groups of 4, and hit the bars. The plan was to prayer walk through what the Night Light volunteers referred to as “Satin’s playground,” than talk with some of the prostitutes.
I’ve been to a lot of bars, but nothing prepared me for what I walked into. I’ve seen movies that have the normal strip club scene, but this was different, a 100 times more intense, neon lights everywhere, music pumping, so much flesh I didn’t know where to put my eyes.
Rebeca, a full time missionary in Thailand, walked around with us. She faithfully goes to the bars twice a week. As we were walking in we met one of her friends, a prostitute, with a middle aged American man. He looked like my neighbor.The red light area was three stories, the higher you got,the more intense it was.
Rebeca pointed out a large ornate shrine and said, “Buddhists believe that if you make a comfortable home for the evil spirits they won’t enter the businesses.” The shrine was covered with offerings, fanta bottles, food, flowers. “Let me show you another shrine.”
She led us up a two flights of stairs and into a dimly lit passage. There hidden in the dark corner was a shrine covered in baby bottles, mushed up food, and small toys. Rebeca explained “So many abortions have come out of this bar that they believe the baby spirits need to be appeased.” My throat was tight. Shock prevented the tears.
We continued walking. Mamasongs (women pimps)yelled greetings,beckoning us into the bars. Most assumed we were lesbians and welcomed our business. As we walked by yet another bar, a large man dressed as a women came out to greet us. She was overly friendly, desperate for customers.It was early and thankfully most of the men hadn’t come out, yet. We entered the bar. My eyes slowly adjusted, forms materialized, in the black light. I was not prepared for what was illuminated.
To be continued….
P.S. Thankyou for your prayers and comments!
