I always knew that my heart did not belong where I was. I knew that there was something else out there, something that beckoned me to the world. A desire to find that place, that place where my mind was calm and my heart was still. The place that no matter the surrounding I was at peace. We all search for it, the thing that makes us content, the place that brings a blissful peace, the person that makes you feel at home. At 22 I knew I had yet to find it, I knew that I had a place in this world but I had yet to find it.
Eyes straining to guide me along the crowded streets I made my way down, all my senses going wild. The smell of street vendor food, alcohol, smoke, and many other foreign things were assaulting me as I pushed through the crowed. Lights flashed in every color my eyes could comprehend. The pounding of the club music turned into a lull that fell to the background. People from every nation walk around me as languages and accents meld into one. Girls beckon us into their bars hoping to find their next customer. Men shove signs in my face advertising the “Sexy Show Free Looking” along with pornographic images, just a preview to what awaits behind closed doors. Escaping the hectic streets I find myself sitting at a bar stool ordering a redbull. All around me girls are dancing on poles, fondling men, and trying to gain business for their bar.; This is Bangala Street.
Every year people travel from all over the World to Thailand, many people come because of the sex tourism that is prevalent in Patong, and the epicenter is Bangala Street where I find myself now. I have never been somewhere so dark, somewhere where I could tangibly feel the enemy at work. But as I walk this street I see myself in every face that a pass by. I see myself in the tourist who has listened to the lie that joy can be found with the money in their wallet. I see myself in the promoter who has listened to the lie that success is the goal and it doesn’t matter what people he uses to get to the top. I see myself in the bar girls who have listened to the lie that they need validation from men and their body is an object to be used. I am no different from them. I too have listened to the same lies that have brought them to this terrible fate.
These are my people. I am no better than them and they are no less than me. We are both sinners that so desperately need a savior. As I sit here in the midst of the darkness and lies I realize, I have never felt so at peace. There is a feeling that I have never experienced before. I can’t find the words to describe it, I try to explain it to my teammates but my words fail me. But there is a reason why I cant explain it, a reason why I have no words to describe this feeling. I have never felt this way before. I have never felt so content to be where I was. I have always been looking forward to what was next ready to move on and find the next nest thing. But not now, this feeling that I was experiencing for the first time was contentment.
We all search for it, the thing that makes us content, the place that brings a blissful peace, the person that makes you feel at home. I found that place on Bangala street. I found peace while sitting in a bar surrounded by chaos. I felt at home while talking to a woman who was so desperate she would sell her own body. In the midst of the seemingly hopeless, I found hope in the broken. It is not too late for any one of these people around me. They are not forgotten; I see every single one of them as the child of God that they are. And in the midst of the chaos I have found peace knowing that God has me here for a reason.
