As I stood praying for God to strike down the man buying the teenage girl in front of him, I realized I was wishing for the death of a child.
Our team recently had the opportunity to do cabin restaurant and dance bar evangelism. Cabin restaurants in Nepal are the equivalent to brothels in the United States. Typically these “restaurants” attract traveling working men, and the women who work there offer them their services. The women have usually ended up there either out of desperation with no where else to turn or were tricked by owners or pimps that better opportunities awaited them through working for them.
While I didn’t enter the cabin restaurant, my team covered our two brave teammates in prayer as they set out in eager anticipation to rescue these innocent women from the injustices entrapping them. I found myself anxiously awaiting the heroic stories I was sure I would hear at the end of my teammates’ experiences.
However, I was quickly disappointed that the women didn’t jump at our offer of friendship and freedom. I didn’t realize it at the time, but anger and hatred took hold of my heart at hearing of the “Johns” in that place.
Later that day, we set out for dance bar evangelism, beginning our journey with a prayer walk asking God to highlight certain bars for us to enter.
I anxiously entered the dance bar, unsure of what we would experience. My team walked into a dimly lit underground bar to find a young woman dancing on stage. Oddly I realized that in any other environment, I would have easily mistaken her dancing as an innocent cultural expression. She wasn’t scantily clad as I was expecting, but instead wearing a sari. However, as I looked more intensely at her, I could sense her discomfort as she quickly made her way off stage when the song ended.
I began to look around the room and quickly made eye contact with an older “John” who had his arms draped over a young girl. Immediately I began praying for the young girl to be released from that situation.
The more I prayed, the more the John began to enter my thoughts. I prayed that God would convict him, that he would feel the weight of his sins. I prayed that God would strike him down for his evil deeds. Anger had once again taken over my heart.
However, it was only earlier that day I had read about a young woman who lived through the horrific Rwanda genocide. In the book, Left To Tell, Immaculee Ilibagiza writes of how she managed to forgive her family’s killers as God softened her heart to see them as children who didn’t know any better.
It dawned on me that the John sitting behind me was just that, a confused child unaware of the consequences of his actions.
My heart was softened towards the man as I began to pray that God would touch his heart. That he would feel the love of God and that God would forgive this man for his careless sin.
As much as I wanted to flip tables in that place, I humbly realized that this war was one that only God could win. It was a war that He had authority over, and my role was to stand and intercede for not only the young girl, but the confused, child-like John.
Sometimes I think we lose sight of the truth that we are all made in God’s image – regardless of how each of us live our lives. But God calls each of us to intercede for one another as if for our own brothers and sisters.
“If one person sins against another, God may mediate for the offender; but if anyone sins against the Lord, who will intercede for them?” 1 Samuel 2:25.
Jesus is our intercessor. He died not only to intercede on my behalf, but on behalf of that John as well.
