ear as we hugged goodbye. In that moment, washed in the glow of neon lights on
a city street in the heart of a red-light district in Thailand, I knew these
girls had changed my life.
. . . . .
Dozens of bars… Hundreds of
girls… Each with a story.
As we entered Thailand there was
a growing apprehension inside. To me it seemed the least likely of pairings, me
and bar ministry, and yet I had heard it echoing in the recesses of my heart
for months.
Neon lights. Street kids. Beggars. Fortune tellers. Families. Bar girls.
Darkness. Rejection. Shame. Deception. Pain. Fear.
All were present in those
streets, but we had something greater… Christ’s love, His truth, His hope and
His light.
The girls we met have hopes and
dreams, families to care for and a longing to be loved. They need friendship.
They need to know they are precious treasures, valued, and beautiful. They need
to know the God who saves, delivers, redeems and loves unconditionally.
They need others to look past
what they do to who they are.
Night after night they are
degraded, treated as objects of desire that can be purchased, used and left to
the side like trash.
Our ministry was to love. It’s
what they needed most. With us they were just girls – free to be open, honest
and to just have fun – free to be themselves. It was the love of Christ shared
over a Coca-Cola, a game of pool and conversations about life.
It seems so simple, almost too
simple, yet it made a difference.
. . . . .
Several weeks later I look back
and find that I miss them, their laughter, their honesty.
Friendships were forged in those
bars over a handful of weeks in April. Unlikely friendships brought about by two
completely different worlds colliding and joining together in a way that could
only be through God.
I see their faces and know that
God has plans for them, that He loves them and that greater things are yet to
come for Thailand. And I have to trust that while I may never see them again on
earth, God will make sure our paths cross somewhere on streets of gold in the
future.
