Wednesday night was the culmination of what we as a church, Thailand team, and Freedom 4/24 team have been praying and fundraising for, for months. We've been throwing around terms like "Nights of Freedom", "honor and dignity", and "pathway to freedom", and we were able to put those to use in a big way. Wednesday night marked the first of two Christmas parties, where we planned on honoring around 120 girls from Soi Cowboy, one of Bangkok's main entertainment districts.
As I stood on the street at Soi Cowboy today, I looked around and saw countless broken, destitute girls riding into work on the back of motor-taxis, feeling completely alone in this world. As I looked at each face, I prayed, Lord, let us touch her life in some way tonight. And maybe, just maybe, Lord, let it be the last night she ever has to be purchased.
As I walked into Joe's Bar to pay my first two bar fines of the evening, I realized all my preparation, prayers, time, and financial investment, as well as those of my friends, family, church, and community, boiled down to that moment. I was finally "doing" the ministry that was envisioned by Christine over a year and a half ago, and that God laid on my heart in April, and has continued to press on me since that day. It was the strangest feeling, paying a fine that usually brings these girls grief and shame was tonight doing just the opposite.
It was at Joe Bar that I met Tan. She was the first girl we were able to purchase, and I was blessed to share a table with her later in the evening. Tan is 36. She is weathered and torn from year after year spent working in the bars. When I walked in to the bar, her face was expressionless, her eyes dark and without hope. When we invited her to the party, and paid her bar fine, she jumped up and down, hugging us, saying "thank you, thank you, thank you! I so badly want to come!" And so she did. During the course of the evening, we goofed off and giggled like little girls. I realized this was a childhood She never got to have. I saw a spark of hope in her once lifeless eyes. She insisted on serving me at dinner. No matter how hard I tried to put food on her plate at dinne and bring her the honor and respect she deserved, she kept putting food on my plate first, always making sure I was honored. During the message, she was captivated by the speaker, listening with all of her heart. She received a call in the middle from what I think was a customer during the sermon, and abruptly told him "I am busy---I do not want to talk" When the speaker asked who wanted to give their life to Christ tonight, she raised her hand.
At the end of the banquet as I hugged the girls and wished them a Merry Christmas, she handed me her craft from earlier in the evening. Each woman at the banquet was allowed to make a foam snowflake wreath. You know the kind---you probably haven't made one since you were in vacation bible school in the 5th grade. Each woman took such care to make it beautiful, and each was perfect. THis was an opportunity they never had for themselves. She looked into my eyes and said "this..for you." I asked her if she was sure, and she said "Tonight, you have made me very happy. I want you also to be happy."
The craft itself would have been of no value to me. However, with words like that, I will never throw it away. That snowflake wreath, however cheesy and juvenile, will serve as my daily reminder of why I do what I do. I want it to remind me each morning there are thousands of girls like Tan who desperately need to know they are loved and worthy of honor. They need to know there is a man named Jesus who is the only one who can heal their deep wounds. The faces of these girls are the ones that haunt my dreams every night and continue to move me to action. I want the snowflake wreath to remind me each day that these women, who have been forgotten by their culture and their country, aren't forgotten by me, and surely are not forgotten by our Savior. When I breathe my last breath, I want to do it knowing I did everything I could to bring these women to freedom from sex slavery, and ultimately, everything I could do to introduce them to a man named Jesus, who can bring them healing and restoration.
For one night, Tan knew she was loved. She was honored and given a sense of dignity. And maybe, just maybe, someday, she will leave the bars, and never have to be purchased again.
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