Six months
ago I ended my time on the World Race: Human Trafficking edition, with the
expectation that I would spend a little time in Charlotte
before moving to Cambodia
to live and open a coffee shop. Having a coffee shop that provides a skill-set
and transitional space for women and men who have come out of sex trafficking
has been my dream for a few years now. And Cambodia has had my heart since I
first stepped foot there in 2007.
But this
summer, God changed my desires. Well, He didn't exactly change my
desires - to see men and women live in freedom and walking out the
Kingdom, to see the slavery of one human over another abolished, to see healing
from brokenness and pain in the lives of those in sex trafficking - those
dreams are all still alive and kicking. But He did reveal more of how I am to
be involved in all this, and it is much different than I had expected. God said
"not now" to Cambodia
and opened my eyes to sex trafficking in the US,
and more specifically, in Charlotte,
and burdened me to be involved.
And so today,
after months of asking the Lord where my gifts and skills fit long-term into a
non-profit or ministry setting, He has brought me to Asheville to work with Hope House. "Hope House offers a safe
place of seclusion, restoration, and healing for domestic minor victims of sex
trafficking. The Hope House serves victims by supporting the United States
Trafficking Victims Protection Act and their three-pronged approach of
protection, prosecution, and prevention."
I'll be
interning here for the next 4 months, and could not be more excited to get
involved with the girls here and see how this ministry operates!
AND,
Shared Hope International, a leader in the anti-trafficking movement, believes in the work we are doing at Hope House! They
have provided a matching grant to further our programs in 2012 and are
challenging YOU to match that amount to demonstrate that the community
cares deeply about the victims of sex trafficking. They will match
every dollar we raise up to $45,000.
We have until midnight on November 30th, 2011!
You can donate online to On Eagles Wings Ministries at
www.oewm.net or by mail (On Eagles Wings Ministries/The Hope House PO Box 9737, Asheville 28815).
You can give safely online and there is a form for autodraft to the website - your gift of even $10 a month is of help!
Also, Christmas is coming soon! If you are interested in sponsoring a girl, please email hopehouserk@gmail.com for Hope House 1 and hopehouse2mp@gmail.com for Hope House 2.
Thank you for helping us to reach this goal! This will do so much for the girls we serve. Thank you also for your prayers!!
I've been back in Charlotte for just over two weeks now, and though I have been thrown into busyness and "regular" life, I am still processing four months worth of facts, stories, sights, sounds, smells, experiences. I try to describe the past four months but my answer is always along the lines of "it was hard. it was real. i learned a lot."
And I realize that's not really an answer that educates or invites for further discussion, although my hope is that my experience on the World Race WOULD be an invitation for further discussion, a chance to share what is really happening in the world and what God is doing and how we, individuals, can be a part of changing things. In the coming weeks I will have the opportunity to share with my youth group about trafficking in the countries I worked in, and possibly will share this with much of my church family. I need to sit down and organize my thoughts, pictures, facts, etc. so I'm able to share more than "it was hard. it was real. i learned a lot."
In the meantime, until I'm able to articulate these past four months, I want to share two incredible, informative, heart-wrenching blogs by my teammate Kylie. She did a great job describing a small glimpse of trafficking in the US, and the steps, big and small, that each of us can take to get involved, even from our living room couches. I want to encourage you to read these blogs here and here, to become aware of the process and to pray about what you can do.
I also want to thank each of you for keeping up with my (sporadic) blogs, encouraging me, supporting me, and praying for me and those I've met throughout this trip. You've been a huge blessing and have done more than you or I can know. Thank you!!
This past month was spent in Atlanta, Georgia - the first time that a month of World Race ministry has been in the US. Last fall as I was preparing to leave for four months and would talk to people about this anti-human trafficking trip, I would list off each of our four locations: "Cambodia, Thailand, India, Atlanta." I got a lot of blank stares and requests to repeat myself on that last one. "You're doing ministry in Atlanta?"; "There's human trafficking in Atlanta?"; "You can be a missionary in Atlanta?". Yes.
Over the past 30-ish days, living in the States under the authority and restrictions of a ministry team has been challenging, to say the least. Learning to submit to others instead of walking in my own freedom and independence, in a place where I am familiar and comfortable, is not easy. Dying to self instead of choosing to be a consumer after my own wants is not natural.
But I would argue that doing ministry on home turf is the best thing the World Race has ever done (are you reading, Allison?).
The World Race is designed as a mission trip that not only allows you to go out into the world and be the hands and feet of Jesus, but it also shapes your identity and calling, questions how you relate and respond to people, and calls you to surrender all that you have and all that you are to the will of God. And truly, when I travel overseas to hold orphans, speak Truth to prostitutes, build houses, etc., I start to feel like I am doing an adequate job of challenging myself in those areas of surrender, communication and the like. But that's overseas-Cameron. Its much more challenging to ask me to do those things in my own country. To give up personal freedoms like walking around the city alone, meeting up with friends I haven't seen in years, or making my own schedule instead of following the schedule of the team. But its not really about the rules anyway - its about cultivating a heart of submission and its about preferring others above self.
These are characteristics that are so often lacking in America, in the church, and in me.
In America, we so often think of mission work as something that needs to be done "out there." Sure, we send groups to aid disaster relief in the South or help build houses in the mountains, but how often do we really consider what it looks like to live missionally in our own country, our own city, our own neighborhood? Does Christ call us solely to do a service project every other month and write a check to feed a child in a far-off country? Are we called to give only when our schedules or our wallets allow for it? Is ministry only to the homeless and needy, or is it also to our own families, roommates, friends, and neighbors?
A teammate of mine recently noted that "Hurt exists everywhere, as does love. And at the end of the day
that is the message we are called by Jesus to share with people: Love, in the midst of hurts."
She sits across from me, speaking Bangla, describing her past.
A young girl from the village, knowing only the business her father works and the chores her mother teaches her. East and West Pakistan, fighting, leading the family to flee to neighboring India. A refugee camp. A lie from a trusted friend, leading her to Sonagachi. 13 years old. Unknowing what the woman and men before her are discussing. Unknowing why so many girls put on so much makeup and stand in the streets outside her door. Overwhelmed by the sounds, the smells of the huge new city outside the door. She is treated sweetly, dressed in pretty new clothes. In a room with a strange man, she is offered a drink she has only heard of, but has never tasted. Coca-Cola. Something is slipped into her drink, and soon, she is out.
A new life begins for her. A life of constant beatings, constant raping. A life of "standing in line" on the streets of the red light district, seeking to attract as many of the daily 20,000 male customers as she is able, just to make a few rupees and avoid more beatings. A life of hiding from the police, and being raped down at the station when the police pick her up after a raid. Knowing no other skills, knowing not where her family is now. She is trapped.
Meena tells me her story now as a supervisor at a warehouse that employs women, just like her, making bags and shirts. Women with similar stories, similar memories, similar wounds. She now knows how to write her own name, how to count and save money, how to sew and cut. Her business now is not one of shame. Her business now is one of freedom. For herself, and for the hundreds of other girls she works alongside. Her dream: to bring this freedom to the 10,000 others that live and work in the one square mile area of Kolkata's red light district.
10,000 women. Girls as young as 9. Married off or sold and trafficked. Prostituted as long as possible, until they are no longer profitable. Trapped, just like Meena once was. Stolen. Lied to. Beaten. Selling their bodies. Not given a choice. Not regarded as human.
They are now given an opportunity. A choice. They are businesswomen. They make a decent wage. They choose their own future.
Many still suffer from their past. AIDS, addiction, fear, shame. Many still live in their own slavery, although they have physical freedom. But they are learning. As they gain simple skills and confidence in their work, they gain more and more of their freedom. And so many have a joy that radiates, bringing light into the darkness of the red light district.
They are free.
India was a very hard place for me to live and work last month. But amongst the darkness, poverty, corruption, and lies, I was so blessed and thankful for the business we worked alongside. The concept is "business as mission," and in the almost 10 years it has been in existence, over 170 women have found freedom from the sex trade of Kolkata, India. The women make bags and shirts, but primarily, they are given a choice to be free. They gain self-confidence and empowerment. The company's 10th anniversary is this September, and their goal is to see 200 women free at that time. All month long, I had the opportunity help with construction that would allow for the space demands to make this possible. I was also able to work alongside a few very special women, cutting strings off the finished bags or adding clasps to fabric. They blessed me incredibly. I learned so much from the way this business is run, and I absolutely LOVE their products! Not only are the providing freedom, but they offer only fair trade products - and they're cute!
For safety reasons (because of India's governmental restrictions), I cannot name the company on this blog site. However, please visit my facebook where I've mentioned the name and website, or comment on this blog if you'd like more information and I will email you the link!
By buying these products, you are getting involved in the stories of so many women, helping even more to be free from a life of slavery and prostitution. 10,000 women...will...be...
Music is always pretty influential to me, but has most recently been even more so to me since I've been in India. God speaks to me through music, shapes my attitude and my perspective, and validates thoughts and feelings I can't seem to articulate. So when I was filtering through all the thoughts going on my head about what to say in a blog about India, naturally, song lyrics are what came to mind:
I keep on fallin'
In and out of love with you
Sometimes I love you
Sometimes you make me blue
Sometimes I feel good
At times I feel used
Lovin you darlin'
Makes me so confused
-Alicia Keys "Fallin"
As my time on this trip increasingly became closer to arriving in India - a country I'd dreamt about visiting for years - the excitement in my heart swelled. I thought of the beautiful people, the vibrant culture, the delightful food, and the beauty in the chaos I anticipated before me. But upon exiting the plane and taking in the streets of Mumbai from the window of the bus, my excitement began to fade, and turned instead to uncertainty and apprehension. I knew immediately that this was NOT going to be a month where God romanced me with personal space, quiet nights of restful sleep, or other physical comforts I would have preferred. Instead, He brought me to a country outside of anything comfortable I could cling to, so that HE would be my comfort.
So in keeping with the title of my blog, a list of the things that keep me falling in and out of love with the great country of India:
tasting and learning about new foods, drink, and desserts,
and the cheapness of each of them
constantly walking by beggars and people sleeping on the streets,
and knowing there is nothing i can do to help their situation
realizing that prayer is a powerful weapon,
and though i may not see results,
praying for the beggars and street-sleepers is all i CAN do,
and God is faithful
the constant noise, heat, and dirt that are inescapable
standing on the roof, praying and
worshipping over the people, the city, and the country
feeling constantly vulnerable to the stares and sometimes touches of
men on the street or the metro, and unable to do anything about it,
makes me want to act the opposite of Christ-like
working six hours a day pushing a clasp into a piece of fabric
alongside four beautiful women who have been rescued from
working in the brothels
being overwhelmed by hopelessness - the sight of a man dying alone
on the street, or watching bodies burned at a Hindu funeral, or hearing
statistics of children who have been sexually abused or molested
(in Calcutta: 100% of children over age 6)
working with a business that gives dignified work and fair wages
to women who have come out of the brothels - and one day to paint the
front gate with a man who was walking by looking for a brothel
(and found us instead!)
knowing my dirty, stretchedt clothes,
my aching back, and the parasite residing in my intestines
may never fully recover (or exit my body)
being loved, cared, and provided for over and over
at our guesthouse and by our contacts
risking my life every time i cross the street or climb into a rickshaw
learning to trust that God is GOOD, even when i
don't understand the poverty and pain and evil i see
being overwhelmed by all these things and more - the paradox of loving
and hating India all at the same time, and being exposed
to all that is truly in my heart - the good and the bad
But this I call to mind, andtherefore I have hope:
The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases;
his mercies never come to an end;
they are newevery morning;
great is your faithfulness.
"The Lord is my portion," says my soul,
"therefore I will hope in him."
(Lamentations 3v21-24)
Father God, you have shed your tears for Mother India
They have fallen to water ancient seeds
That will grow into hands that touch the untouchable
How blessed are the poor, the sick, the weak
Father, forgive me, for I have not believed
Like Mother India, I have groaned and grieved
Father, forgive me, I forgot Your grace
Your Spirit falls on India and captured me in Your embrace
The Serpent spoke and the world believed its venom
Now we're ten to a room or compared to magazines
Father, forgive me, for I have not believed
Like Mother India, I have groaned and grieved
Father, forgive me, I forgot Your grace
Your Spirit falls on India and captured me in Your embrace
There's a land where our shackles turn to diamonds
Where we trade in our rags for a royal crown
In that place, our oppressors hold no power
And the doors of the King are thrown wide
Father, forgive me, for I have not believed
Like Mother India, I have groaned and grieved
Father, forgive me, I forgot Your grace
Your Spirit falls on India and captured me in Your embrace
i never knew spiritual attack like i experienced once i committed to a
mission trip fighting human trafficking. or at least i never recognized it as
such. since high school, my appearance and weight have been a huge source of
struggle in my mind, and they off-and-on steal my focus from other, more important
matters. lies that i believe like "you're not pretty enough, too fat, not
good enough, not worthy, etc" cloud my vision and keep my eyes fixated on myself and striving to make myselfbetter. this past autumn, i reached a
pivotal point when the disordered eating patterns i thought i'd long done away
with resurfaced, and i chose once again to believe the lies that losing weight would make
me happy, make me worthy. my focus again stolen from me when i ought to have
been praying and preparing to come overseas, i chose of my own accord to
believe lies and walk in them, instead of trusting in who God says i am and
walking in that identity.
healing began through prayer and accountability, and spending time with the
Lord so he could reshape my way of thinking and to begin eating and exercising
healthily.
then, a few weeks before departing overseas, the Lord spoke to me two words as a sort
of theme of the work i would be doing: identity and worth.
two words that the Lord wanted me to bring to those affected by sex
trafficking.
two words that the Lord wanted my head and my heart to finally
wrap around.
month one of this trip was spent on a limited food budget in Cambodia, a country whose
cuisine leaves much to be desired. and so in effort to save spending money as
well as calories, i found it easy to forego meals and to still "keep it
together." i told myself it was a financial decision, and that i could easily
starve myself and still worship Jesus, being fully committed to what He brought
me across oceans to do. in hindsight, i relate this to a person saying "my
boyfriend and i can sleep together but also pray and worship together. no harm,
no foul." it is playing with fire: asking God to bless the good and ignore
the bad.
month two brought me to Thailand, where suddenly incredible entrees and
delightful desserts barely made a dent in my food budget and i found myself
going overboard and eating whatever my heart desired, exhibiting little
self-control. i then began again to question where my worth was found, fearing
that if i gained a pound or two that i may resort back to starvation. i even
told the Lord one morning that body image was one area of my life i felt i may never
be ready to surrender, that controlling food and my body was far too important. and yet at the same time, i spent my nights at the
bars speaking to girls who also have issues with identity and worth. in their
minds they know they are beautiful, but their worth is found in whether or not
a customer will choose them for the night. and if they look and act just right,
perhaps he will take them out of Thailand and love and care for them forever. he
will save her. i got to speak Truth to these women about who they truly are,
what they deserve, and how loved they are. and yet as i spoke these words, i
knew that i didn't fully believe them to be true of me.
and that's when God hit me with my own hypocrisy: how can i claim to have
freedom when i still live and act as a slave? how can i have faith to move
mountains if i do not have faith to believe my own identity?
so one evening in the quiet of my room's patio, i began declaring truth
over myself about who God says i am - i am worthy of love; i possess wisdom; i am cleansed
from sin; i am beautiful; i am wholly and dearly loved; i have the mind of Christ... but even as
i wrote and declared these things, i struggled to believe them fully. so i
resolved not to leave the patio until i believed who i am. i began making lists of
truth and even writing out the lies, and after some time on the ground with mosquitoes and the sounds of nothing but my pen on paper, i found my mind beginning to finally put
my worth in Christ. to believe what He says. to own it. to see His hand in bringing me to that city at that time to meet those people and hear those words. so Thailand became to me "identity month." and finally letting who HE IS define who i am.
I just never knew how hard it would be...and yet how amazing at the same time...
...to befriend prostitutes and johns - the very "least of these" whom Jesus loves the most
...to meet women who come from the direst of family situations, working at jobs they hate to send money home to their families, but unable to share the details of where the money comes from because of their shame
...to see one of my girls at the bar leave her job to find dignified work at a restaurant
...to pray BIG prayers and be disappointed by not seeing the fruit of those prayers
...to pray BIG prayers and see God answer in some of the most remarkable ways
...to get my hopes up about a coffee date, an invitation to the lake, or a promise of coming to church with one of my bar girls - only to be stood up or cancelled on every. single. time.
...to be in the middle of a great conversation with one of my girls, only to see her get up mid-sentence to go flirt with a new customer, hoping his business that night would pay the rent
...to see old men fondle young teenage girls, and see the hopeless look in their eyes that displays their resignation to this fate
...to see the hurt in a child's eyes as she struggles to sell flowers until 2AM to avoid a parental beating
...to see the joy in a child's eyes as I buy her a treat and we sit together eating on the sidewalk
...to be mutually encouraged and loved on by other missionaries and the staff of the coffeeshop
...to feel like I'm finally getting to know new friends and gain their trust, only to leave the country uncertain of what the future holds for them and if I will ever get to see them again
...to be hit upside the head with great Truths from the "pulpit" of the Shangri-La Hotel
...to be hit upside the head with great Truths from the voice of the Lord in the quiet of my hostel porch
Thailand was a roller-coaster on my heart. Some days it took everything in me to not take out my frustrations by punching the wall of my hostel. Some days I could not contain my joy. Some days I had no words other than tears. And I love Chiang Mai for all the ways I saw God there. I asked the Lord so many times if Thailand was where He woud call me to begin my ministry - to get to continue the work He started this month, because logically Chiang Mai makes so much sense. But in true World Race fashion, God appointed these 30ish days for me in this one city, and He knew from the beginning those would be the only days and I'd have to trust Him for the rest, even though He is not calling me there for the rest of my life. Where I am called is another blog, for another day.
I expected my heart to be broken, and it was...
but the Lord has a funny way of breaking and mending all at the same time...
I haven't written a blog in a while because I haven't quite found how to verbalize all the things I've observed or learned in Thailand.
I thought I should start off by telling stories of some of the girls we've been privileged to meet on bar street, but some of those stories have already been told, like in Kristen's blog.
I could share stories of our encounters with the Western men who frequent bar street, but that too has been done, like in Katie and Jason's blogs here and here.
Or I could reveal what I've recently learned about a different side of the sex industry in Chiang Mai: the seedy boy bars. But that too has been covered by Katie here.
So instead, I want to touch on the topic of culture - the culture that creates an environment that allows and encourages the exploitation of other humans, and the culture that uses and perpetuates this exploitation.
Here are a few culture facts (all Thailand statements have come directly from Thai women or from those who have lived and worked in Thailand and have an understanding of the culture):
THAILAND
In marriage, traditional roles and responsibilities are more important than passion and intimacy, and there is little to no romance in relationships. Marriage is fundamentally to support family and to raise children which will then support the couple. Most Thai men spend their days at work and their nights at the bar, where women are not allowed to join, and while monogamy is expected of Thai women, minor wives and commercial sex are common sexual outlets for men. Eighty percent of Thai men visit a prostitute on a regular basis. Thai girls are taught that a good woman remains a virgin until marriage, and that they should tolerate Thai men's promiscuity and accommodate themselves to it.
Additionally, the female children of the family are expected to support the family financially while the male children receive an education. Sometimes in marriage, Thai men will send their wives to work in the bars as prostitutes to bring in more money, often to fund drinking habits.
AMERICA/EUROPE/ETC (the West)
While Western culture encourages sex in both genders, the double standard still exists that a woman who is promiscuous is considered a tramp, but a man who is promiscuous is considered a true man. Sex is believed to equal masculinity. Men also equate sex with happiness and live chasing after their own desires and misconceptions of what a successful and satisfying life is.
Western men travel to the bars in Thailand because Thai women are "easy" - easy in that they can cheaply pay for sex, but also easy in that Thai girls will act adoring and attentive to them without much investment on their part. Additionally, Thai women as whole are more submissive than Western women, providing men with a false sense of power.
Every woman I have met thus far on bar street claims to have a boyfriend in a Western country. He takes care of her when he visits Thailand (often several times a year) and sometimes pays for her to visit his home country. None of these men are interested in marriage to their Thai prostitute, and yet Thai women continue to seek after a Western man who will romance her and provide for her or "save" her from the bars. To these women, financial security equals love.
I have to remind myself that I can't walk down bar street with disgust for the men or pity for the girls without considering the different cultures which perpetuate these injustices. And this begins to overwhelm me: knowing that while I may have influence in the life of one person, my month in Thailand is not realistically going to turn a culture, any culture, completely upside down and to right the wrongs that have ensued. But God can.
You're the God of this City
You're the King of these people
You're the Lord of this nation
You are
You're the Light in this darkness
You're the Hope to the hopeless
You're the Peace to the restless
You are
There is no one like our God
There is no one like our God
For greater things have yet to come
And greater things are still to be done in this City
Greater thing have yet to come
And greater things are still to be done in this City
Greater things have yet to come
And greater things are still to be done in this City
Greater things have yet to come
And greater things are still to be done here
Six years ago, I moved to New York City and began working at Starbucks, learning the ins and outs of coffee, customer service, and store management...
Three and a half years ago I traveled the world doing any kind of ministry we could find, and God began laying an idea on my heart: a coffee shop in a third world country that partners with local ministries and pours into the community...
Three months ago, a friend working at a local coffee shop in Charlotte asked me to come to work with her to help out over the busy holiday time...
And now, in Chiang Mai, Thailand, I am getting to work - you guessed it - at a coffee shop.
One of the many ministries our 2 teams are partnering with this month is a coffee shop called WonGen Kafe (wongenkafe.com) that seeks to be a meeting place for missionaries to meet up with Thai friends, and hosts conversational English groups, musical events, etc. I'm not sure what my time there will look like, whether its being a part of planning events or working behind the counter, but I am confident that it was the Lord that led me (and three other girls from our 2 teams) to be picked to focus on this ministry, and I am beyond excited for what preparations this may bring for my future!
The other six girls from our team will be working at a drop-in center on "bar street" that reaches out to children from the streets and the slums to provide recreation, English lessons, and Bible study.
At night, our teams are switching every other night going to the bars. But instead of going out to party like most of the other "farangs" (foreigners) in Chiang Mai, we are building relationships with the girls and ladyboys who work in the bars, and the johns that frequent them. I've only gone out one night since we arrived, and I spent another night praying over the team that was out at the bars, but I know God is already moving mightily on Loi Kohr Road. Like a mighty flood bring the Living Water, I get to be part of His work - watering the seeds that were planting by the teams before us, bringing light to the darkness in the multitude of the bars.
Thank you for your prayers so far for this trip - please pray hard for our next three weeks of ministering here in Chiang Mai!
Standing at the ledge of the rooftop of an eight-story hostel, looking out
over the city as praises to God are sung around me. I see tuk-tuks and motos on
the streets below. I see Olympic stadium a few blocks away. Governmental
buildings stand tall in the distance.
And there, standing tall and ready for battle, are angels. Hundreds of
them, nay, millions of them. I see them invading the streets of Phnom Pen. Some
standing guard and protecting. Others already engaged in battle. I see them in
the countryside: atop the hills, in the fields, walking amongst the villages.
The sounds of worshippers around me on the rooftop get louder.
"I believe that You're more real than
what I can see
I believe these hills are full of a
mighty angel army.
God of the Angel-armies,
You are mighty to save
God of the Angel armies
You are worthy of our praise
God of the Angel armies
You fight for us
God of the Angel armies
You come down as praises go up."
I join in with the singing as I weep for Cambodia on my last night in the
country. My heart can't help but want to burst with love for this broken land,
and ache at the thought of having to say goodbye. To the precious children at
our education program. To our delicate translators, our tuk tuk drivers, our
regular food vendors. To Huynh and Sat Long.
Three years ago I experienced this same weeping, this same aching, as I
rode away from an orphanage in a village far from the city, praying the Lord
would return me to this country one day. I am left to wonder where those three
years have lead each of my rambunctious Cambodian children.
The faces of all of those whom I've met in my visits to Cambodia flood
my mind like a cartoon flipbook. But as I fight to contain the tears and plead
with God to allow me to stay longer, He reminds me of this truth:
I am SURE of this, that He who began a good work in you WILL
bring it
completion at the day of Christ Jesus.
Philippians 1:6
My team and I left Cambodia
with stories unfinished. Four children at our organization still feel unsafe in
their own home, with a neglectful mother and an abusive father. A Buddhist
friend who was unable to come to church with us on Sunday may possibly go on
his own in the future, but only God knows. Huynh has begun a new job and is
carving out a new life for herself and her daughter, but God is still chasing
her.
And we are just a blip in the grand stories of these lives. It was never
ours to finish the work anyway. God allowed us to be a part of their stories,
but HE is the author and perfector. HE wrote the stories, the beginnings and
the ends. HE will bring the good work unto completion.
.JPG)
a.jpg)
