The bar wasn’t big; the stage filled the center of the room with booths and tables surrounding it. I sat at the bar directly in front of the stage, next to three girls in American and German flag bikinis (I’m guessing to please their targeted audience). It was their break from dancing on stage, so I bought them Mango juice as I drank my Sprite, and we talked. We laughed, talked about our interests, our families, and our lives. We were talking for about 5 minutes, until one interrupted and finally asked the question that had clearly been bothering her from the start.
“Can I ask you something?” She whispered hesitantly, “are you gay?”
Rage instantly filled my body, not because of the question, but because of the realization I had. I knew what these men were there for, but it’s almost like hearing it come out of her mouth made me not just understand it, but feel it. I wasn’t naive to what happened when men bought a girl for the night, but I wasn’t allowing myself to feel the gravity of it. In that moment, I felt her sadness, her fear, her hurt, and her distrust in humanity. What was left of my heart that night was absolutely shattered.
I looked around at each face in the bar- the young men, the middle-aged white men, the old men, the mamasans (managers of the dancers), the waitresses, the teenage Filipina dancers, and the dancers whose faces revealed how long they’d been working there.
Collectively, these people had hardly anything in common. There were men fleeing their families to buy women. Women who spent years as dancers, and now manage and “sell” young girls each night, knowing their fate. Girls who took waitressing jobs for money and have to watch their friends dance on stage for men. Young women with children, who feel like they have no other options. They each have struggles, brokenness, and hearts filled with hurt. The connection between them- they ALL need Jesus. They need to feel the love, forgiveness, and hope that comes from knowing Him.
So here I am, sitting in this bar, subconsciously deciding who deserves Jesus the most. I laugh now as I type that out, because it sounds absolutely ridiculous, but it’s how I felt. I wanted to scream in these mens’ faces, and angrily pitch a fit like a child in the middle of the bar. Run to my mom and weep in her shoulder, sob about how it wasn’t fair. I wanted to ridicule them for treating these beautiful girls like garbage and using them at their disposal. But, I didn’t. I didn’t run to my mom’s table like I so desperately wanted to. I held myself together and sat, stared, and witnessed scenes I can never erase.
As I observed my surroundings, The Lord softened my heart. He opened my eyes to see beyond what was going on in that moment and in that bar. How broken and hurt were these men that they could treat another human being like they were nothing? How did they view themselves if they could look at these beautiful girls and see an object?
The Lord doesn’t want to only rescue the victim. He came to save the ABUSER as well. What would this world look like if we didn’t view these men as the abuser? If we truly saw them for who they are, and the hurt they’re operating from?The Lord gave me the opportunity to pray for the men in the bar that I initially viewed as disgusting. He opened my eyes to view them as children of God, who were so very lost and desperately needed Him.
That night The Lord radically changed my heart. He gave me the opportunity to sit directly next to this girl who initially feared my intentions, and tell her that she has a way out. That she has another option, that she doesn’t NEED to do this anymore. She was scared. I asked her about her hopes and dreams for her future, and immediately realized it was completely foreign to her. That’s because the way Jesus treats people is foreign. Every part of Him is foreign to this broken world. Being followers of Him sets us apart from this world, and that’s why me being there to offer hope and not to buy her for the night was unimaginable. To have someone come in the bar and have genuine interest in her, and to even consider having hope and dreams? It flustered her. It brought tears to her eyes to think about another life, and the reality that it was being offered to her. I could tell she was trying to convince herself it wasn’t a joke, but couldn’t quite fathom it being real.
I don’t know if those girls I talked to that night are still in the bar, or if they called the number on the card I gave them and were able to get out. I don’t know if those men I prayed for continue to make trips to Angeles City. But that’s the beauty of it all. It wasn’t me going into that bar to rescue them. It wasn’t me offering them an education that could change their lives. It wasn’t up to me to change those mens’ hearts. It’s not me who is still there seeking after them, it’s the Lord.
He gave me the opportunity to go and SEE these people for who He created them to be, and not where they were at. Just because the world deems those men’s sin more disgusting than mine, it’s not. The Lord doesn’t view their sin any worse than mine. It makes it easy to see people when you come to know that truth. That’s all people need sometimes- to be seen. To be shown love. To be told they deserve to accomplish their dreams. I am so grateful that He used me that weekend, and gave me the opportunity to see them.
The Lord is moving in BIG ways with Wipe Every Tear, the organization we partnered with. If you’d like to get involved with what He’s doing through them check out http://wipeeverytear.org
