Bright lights, loud music, dancing girls, bursts of laughter, flashing signs. This is Bangla Road. Ping-pong shows, free drinks, pretty girls, everything your heart can desire. This is Bangla Road. A mask, a facade, a smiling face to hide the living being behind a show of laughter and gigles. This is Bangla Road. Distractions to keep you from seeing her. But I saw her. On Bangla Road.
She has a nickname, something short and easy to remember for her foreign customers, but most of the month I never knew her name. I called her Sarah… Sarah means Princess. I saw her the first night we were on Bangla Road. We were sitting at a bar nearby, Kayla and Laura chatting with a couple of girls as I interceded. While I was sipping on my Coca-Cola, I prayed and watched: watched the conversations, the passing people, the girls dancing and calling potential customers to stop and enjoy a drink. I saw the look of rejection on one woman’s face everytime a potential customer passed by without a second glance, I saw the listless eyes on some of the men’s faces, I saw the desperation to perform in the girls that danced on the bars. And on one bar, dancing by herself, I saw Sarah.
She held a hand strategically over her chubby waist, even as her hips rocked to the loud bar music. A numbness came in waves over her face, vanishing and reappearing before my eyes. Staring off into the distance with lost eyes and a rhythmic rocking motion, she repeatedly would snap herself back to the bar with a flashing smile and excellerated dance moves, trying to catch the attention of the men passing by. I could scarcely take my eyes off of her. We left that night without the opportunity to talk to her. But I prayed for Sarah.
On the many nights of bar ministry that followed the first one, I prayed for Sarah. But every night after that that I walked past her bar, looking for her, she was either preoccuppied with a customer or gone, presumably entertaining a customer. While the Lord was still walking me through much in my own walk, I could not get her out of my mind. I prayed for the opportunity to speak to her, a chance to learn her name.
Finally, three nights before we left S.H.E. ministries, I met her. She was dancing on the bar, but I was not to be detered. I knew their main job is to keep customers entertained, so I beckoned her down from the bar top to sit on the stool next to me. She did with a smile and sat down, and my heart lept.
We played connect four, a common game for the bars, and she beat me every time, just like they usually do. I tried to make conversation, asking her about her name, her family, where she was from, etc., and though she was friendly, her answers were short due to her limited knowledge of English. We played a dice game called Jackpot and laughed as both of us failed miserably. I had her attention for 30 whole minutes. I continued sipping on my Coke slowly, knowing that when the glass was empty, it would time for us to leave. And though our conversation didn’t progress much beyond the basics, I was praying for her the whole time. I left that evening rejoicing to have finally met Sarah.
Our last night of ministry I didn’t know what to do. I hadn’t known Sarah long enough to introduce her to S.H.E.. Without that relationship of trust having been built up, the bar girls are not prone to believing that the opportunities that the ministry provides are not a fraud. I received an excited welcome when we enter the bar, showing she at least remembered me…. Only to have her climb up onto the bar a moment later to start dancing. I just about cried right then and there at the bar top. I saw her glittering high heels and ankles wrapped in lace, and I just heard the words: “Maybe if I distract them, they won’t see ME.”
My heart broke for her that night as I walked away. I hadn’t done a single thing in her life, I hadn’t been able to make one bit of a difference. But at the same time, I had not failed. I had done my part, even if it had been nothing more than prayer. I was just reminded of the scripture in 1 Corinthians 3, inspired by those among the believers who claimed their salvation was specifically associated with Apollos or Paul, two teachers of God’s word. Paul said in response:
“What then is Apollos? What is Paul? Servants through whom you believed, as the Lord assigned to each. I planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the growth. So neither he who plants nor he who waters is anything, but only God who gives the growth. He who plants and he who waters are one, and each will receive his wages according to his labor. For we are God’s fellow workers. You are God’s field, God’s building.” 1 Corinthians 3:5-9
I had the opportunity to prepare the soil in Sarah’s life through prayer and intercession. I wasn’t the one to plant the seed, or to water, but that doesn’t matter. The Lord will produce fruit. I was faithful in prayer, and the Lord will be faithful in pursuing her, with or without me in her life. God is faithful, and he won’t be distracted from her heart…. No matter how much bling she puts on her feet.
