To hell and back.

Warning: This is raw and it’s real and it’s things I’m processing through. No, my hope is not gone and no I’m not going to jump off a cliff from despair. But, yes some things are harder than others and yes it’s okay that sometimes they sit with me for awhile. 

I wish that I could share a picture with you that would relay the things my eyes saw on that Thursday night. Instead, for now, the images rest heavily on my heart and I can only tell you through words. You can’t feel, smell, or taste a picture, so it wouldn’t help much anyway.

The way my heart raced as we walked into the KTV and through the doors of the “karaoke room”. The heat that radiated through me as I sat under the red lights and sweat began to bead on my forehead. The mice that crawled out of the air conditioner and across the floor. The despair that I felt as the women entered the room and sat on the couches next to us, all dolled up in heels and skimpy dresses with nowhere to go except to please the fleshly desires of man. The disgust I felt as I listened to the process of selecting a woman, karaoke fills the room until the client picks their “favorite” to continue on to a secluded room. The vomit that threatened to churn in my stomach as I watched the toddler play on the steps of the brothel. The anger that rose while numerous men took cigarette breaks in between the allotted time they paid for with their woman for the night. How dare they? Do they not see a child’s mother as they walk into the room? Do they not think of their mothers, sisters, and daughters while they are being so degrading?

While my mind wrestled with these things, all I could do was pray. Prayer for the right words and prayer for open hearts. How do you explain to women that their worth is so much more when their culture tells them otherwise? Provide for your children. Provide for your parents. Provide for your siblings. At all costs, even your dignity and your very soul, you must provide. You are, after all, a failure and a disgrace if you don’t. But, you’re also a disgrace if it’s found out you sold your body so really how do you win?

It’s so easy to look at a situation and try to analyze and form a solution in your mind. Well what if they had this opportunity, or what if they went back home, or what if, what if, what if? But, what if God used us to bring a few words of love and to tell them about Jesus? What if the whole night was meant for 2 women to simply come to know Him and be introduced to a local pastor to begin building a relationship? What if sometimes I have to step back and realize that the seed needs to be planted, love needs to be shown, and the time for me to put my hand to the plow is not now, even when the need is SO great? It is hard for me to see a situation like that and simply walk away.

So, for now, I trust and I wait. I trust that the Lord is working in the heart of the manager who came to know Him. I trust that He doesn’t need me to move mountains, because He can do that all by Himself. I wait on the opportunity to speak into similar situations, all the while trusting that He is directing each path in the perfect way it should go.

I do not often walk away and I’m often impatient, so this should be an interesting learning process 🙂

One thought on “To hell and back.

  1. ooohh your heart – I love it friend. I can hear your voice reading this and I remember a feeling very similar when we were on the bus on the way home in Thailand after going to brothels… it was the longest bus ride ever (it felt like at least because we know what was REALLY the longest bus ride ever hehe). You got this and you know that! God has got it too – love you guys!!!!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s