Chosen Series: Part 9

Yes. What a glorious truth that Peter and you and I are chosen by the God of the universe. He doesn't ask us to get it together first or even wait for us to ask to be chosen. He just chooses us and loves us.

This is maybe one of my favorite lessons that I have gained from Peter's life, that the very thing that appears to be his character flaw, once he comes alive in the reality that he is wanted by Christ, becomes the very thing that is most useful to the Kingdom of God. What do I mean? Well, I'm glad you asked.

A couple of years ago, I was preparing to go to India with a team of amazing people from Houston. We were serving with a ministry called As Our Own and we would be teaching girls about the life of Peter. I was set to teach the last day on the topic of Peter and the Holy Spirit...in a 40 minute lesson...which was really a 20 minute lesson because of the need for translation. No big deal right? Well, I was a little terrified about boiling all of Peter and the Holy Spirit down so much into a relevant, short lesson for little girls who didn't speak English. But, as I prepared, the Holy Spirit was up to something that would change me, and hopefully those sweet girls forever. Before my lesson, other team members had taught on Peter's name change, on his experience with walking on water, and about the time he cut off a guard's ear and told Jesus, "No!". And as I studied those stories along with the rest of Peter's life, I saw a common theme: boldness. The man was bold. And after being filled with the Spirit, after the moment on the beach when he realized he was chosen despite his character flaws, he was still bold. So what was different? Peter's personality didn't change. He was bold from the start.

Attempting to walk on water? Bold. Cutting off a dude's ear? Bold. Telling Jesus, "No." Bold. Stupid. Messy. Selfish. But, without a doubt, bold. But then....then Jesus died. And rose. Conquered death. And Jesus sent the Holy Spirit. His disciples all together, waiting. Suddenly met with the roar of a tornado and fireballs that looked like tongues. Woah. That is bound to change things. So what happened next. The disciples stood and began to speak in other languages. And as the crowd ridiculed them calling them drunk, Peter, true to form, did something bold. Only this time, he didn't lunge at the crown threatening to cut off ears or noses or tongues. He did curse at them or fight them. He began to speak over the noise of the crowd. Not hurling defensive remarks, but silencing the mockers with truth. Peter preached. He spoke boldly of Christ and fulfilled prophecy. And as a result of his boldness, 3,000 people became believers that day.

Bold before. Bold after. Only, before, Peter's boldness was selfish, messy, stupid. Then the Holy Spirit came and filled Peter. And that same boldness that had caused so many injuries to himself and to others, became useful for the Kingdom. It was a boldness that healed. A boldness that shined with eternal purpose. God had created Peter with a boldness from the beginning. As He knit Peter together in His mother's womb, God intricately wove a tight-knit, scratchy burlap fabric of humanity and called it Peter. And then God put of flesh of His own and came to earth and as He, Jesus, began His ministry, He called this burlap Peter to join Him. And Jesus patiently pointed out the ignorance and selfishness of Peter's boldness over and over. And then, Jesus conquered death, saving Peter from his selfishness and redeeming Peter's boldness. Jesus left so He could send the Helper, who could fill Peter from the depths of his soul and turn the boldness from self-centered to Kingdom centered.

You and I have it to. That personality trait that feels so very much like a flaw. It seems to only cause injury to ourselves. To others. And we are assured it is in fact a flaw because others have told us as much. Perhaps you are too loud. Too hyper. Too shy. Too trusting. Too much something. For me, it is my sensitivity. I cry. Oceans. I feel. Deeply. I am wounded easily. The pain of injustice rips through me like a hurricane. I was told more than once as a child that I was too sensitive, that the things that bothered me shouldn't. I was told to suck it up. Be tougher. Don't cry so much. And I was praised when I "got over it" so quickly. I learned to cry for a little and then move on like nothing was wrong. I learned to hate my sensitivity. To see it as a horrendous flaw. And then, in His grace, God sent me to India and gave me the task of teaching on Peter and the Holy Spirit. And in His grace, He unraveled some of the mystery of scripture for me. And I saw it. The truth about the sensitivity I'd been born with. It was given to me on purpose. It was not a horrifying blemish. It was a beauty mark given to me for the glory of God. When I am walking in my flesh, that sensitive spirit is gross. It is selfish. Injustices against me...my laws set it off. I cry over my hurt feeling, over not getting my own way. It's messy, like Peter's boldness. But...when I walking in the Spirit...filled from the depths by the Helper, that same sensitivity has Kingdom-purpose. My heart breaks over the wrongs done to others. I cry over the things that wound the heart of God. I am compassionate toward the hurting. I don't believe God ever intended for me to "get over" injustices. I don't think he wants me to cry for a little and move on like I never felt the sting of wrong-doing. Quite the opposite.

Genesis 1:27 tells us that we all were created in the image of God. I don't pretend to understand the fullness of what that means. But, I believe that part of it is that in each of us, God has placed a tiny drop of His own personality. Apart from Him, we use it to build our Babel. Our tower of self worth that never stands once the winds come. But when we allow Him to envelope us, that trait causes the world to see Him. We move from being a one-man failing construction crew to being a part of a Kingdom. All building together...building a city that cannot be shaken. And when your "flaws" become your "faith", you find a joy and a freedom like you've never known.

_______________________________________________________________
Questions for today:
1. What is your "boldness"?
2. Have you believed the lies that your personality is a flaw?
3. What do you think that flaw would look like when it is redeemed and filled by the Holy Spirit?

Happy Journey!
Erin

It's Here

Somebody get me a 13.1 bumper sticker! Friends, it is real. This time tomorrow I will be running the Dallas Rock n Roll half marathon. I am excited. I am nervous. I am in denial that it is already time. My friends and I are about to jump in the car and drive to Dallas where we will pick up our race packets, go meet with As Our Own staff and other runners, have dinner with BCF runners, and then check into the hotel for a few hours of sleep (hopefully) before waking up eeeeeeeeearly to run 13.1 miles.

It will be hard. I will be sore. I will have several arguments in my head as I hit walls. But I will also celebrate each mile knowing that each step is a step for freedom. It is a step of freedom for me...from the lies I so easily believe about what I can and cannot do and be. But, even better, it is a step for freedom for little girls who have been or are at risk to be trafficked. I pray that it is a step for freedom for the men who are enslaved by the lies that they need what those girls "offer". And for every other person in every other facet of trafficking.

Thank you so much to those of you who have prayed and given. Our team goal was $15,000 and we are currently at $13,240. Pretty dang close. It has been such a joy to see friends and strangers give so generously to a ministry that I love so dearly. I cannot explain to you how much of an honor it is to run under the name of As Our Own and even more so the name of Christ. Aside from His strength, I could not do this. There are lots of things I can "get through" on my own strength...granted it won't be awesome, but I can do it. But this is not one of those things. I would not ever have even dreamed of doing anything like this were it not for the work of Christ and the way He has tied up my heart with little girls in India.

If you want to read more about Parul, the little one we are specifically running for, you can go here. (You can also donate there if you are so lead. ) My memory of this little girl is her silliness. When we were talking about Simon's name being changed to Peter, Mitch had the girls turn their name tags over and write a "nickname" on the back. It was supposed to be a characteristic of them. Jesus saw that Peter would be a rock. The girls were supposed to think along these lines. What is something about you that God might call you? She had one of the house parents write her nickname on her tag. I asked what it meant and he told me it basically translated to "giggles". I loved it. It was the perfect name. She loved to laugh. She always had a smile on her face. I love that girl! Her face is my phone wallpaper. I cannot wait to run for Parul. I cannot hug her sweet neck right now so I will love her the way I can. I will make decisions for her good even when they mean my discomfort.

I will run. For Parul. For As Our Own. For Freedom. For the glory of God.

Becoming a Half-Marathoner

My blog world,

I wanted to share with you a great big scary challenge I have taken on. In a week and a half, I will be running the Dallas Rock n Roll Half Marathon. That's right 13.1 miles. I freak out a little every time I think about it. If you have known me for any good amount of time, you know that running is not my idea of a fun past-time. For some of you, running comes easy and is actually something that refreshes and recharges you, but for others of us, well...that just isn't the case. So then, why sign up for a half-marathon? I'm so glad you asked. As many of you know, in December 2010 I went to India for a couple of weeks to work with a ministry called As Our Own. They are working against human trafficking in India through rescue, aftercare, and prevention. 

They rescue girls who are born into brothels or are is situations which make them vulnerable to traffickers. These girls are brought into the As Our Own family and cared for as a parent cares for his child. They do not age out of the program since you can't age out of your family. They are in great schools, most making straight A's to the shock of the community ("The daughters of prostitutes are excelling in school?!?!"). They are given music lessons and dance and the little ones put on a Christmas play which their moms (the ones working in the brothels) get to come see. 

The prevention arm is about raising up the church in India to step into the gap and be the church God has called her to be. AOO has a Bible college where they are training young men to pastor the churches in India. They also partner with churches in the villages.

Back to the half marathon...AOO is in the middle of the I Will Run campaign. 10 races. 10 cities. 10 girls. I love this ministry. I love the girls that they have rescued. There was one in particular that I fell in love with during my time there. Her name is Parul and she just happens to be the little girl who is connected to the Dallas race. I was a little bit giddy when I found this out. There are over 100 people running in this particular race for As Our Own. We are running to raise awareness but we are also running to raise funds. Honestly, being aware of the problem isn't going to do much to actually set girls free. Here is a bit about the funds needed:

$696 provides 3 meals a day for 1 year for 1 girl.

$672 provides a home for 1 year for 1 girl.

$720 allows a girl to school for 9 months.

So my personal goal is $750. I currently have raised $200 and have just 10 days left.I will be running with a team of people from my church Bayou City Fellowship. There are 30 of us running. Our team goal is $15,000 and we are currently at $6,200.  It would bless me immensely if you consider giving. This run will not be easy for me. It has already stretched me. There has been achy muscles, more time required than I ever imagined, and even some tears of frustration over running. To be quite honest, I'm really intimidated by the reality of race day. But, if Parul and other little girls will know hope as a result of this, if they get to fall asleep feeling safe and loved, if they get to see what Jesus offers, than all of that is worth it. You can read more about Parul's story and my story on the donation page which is here.

Thank you for considering giving. And thank you in advance for your prayers. If you have questions about the race or As Our Own, please do not hesitate to ask. It is one of my greatest honors and joys to get to talk about what God is doing in the lives of those precious girls.

-Erin

 "I believe God made me for a purpose, but he also made me fast. And when I run I feel His pleasure." -Eric Little

(I believe that God has a purpose for Parul and so, even though I am not fast, at least for this one race, I will feel God's pleasure when I run.)

India

Finished and uploaded 2 songs in one day. Heck yes! This song is a reflection on my time in India last December. I hope you enjoy it. And while you are here, check out As Our Own, a ministry very dear to my heart.

 India by ErinWoodsMusic 

India

You painted my skin with the colors of earth
flowers and feathers and swirls
The colors will fade but the mark that you've made
on my life
will forever remain

India
India
India
You've stained my heart

Your streets are filled with the colors of life
As bright as the light of the day
But your allies are marked by the weight of the darkness
So I pray for the one I love

India
India
India
You've captured my heart

The other side of the world
is just a heartbeat away
Take a deep breath
we breathe the same grace
India

I pray that soon your daughters will dance
in the joy of freedom
I pray that soon your sons will walk
in the victory of light
India
India
India

The Love of a Mother (a letter)

Mom,

There is so much you have done for which I should be saying thank you. You cheered me on. You cried with me over hurt feelings. You listened. You said yes. You said no. You sat with me when I was sick. You taught me the value of mental health days. You supported me when I chose to speak against the “powers that be”. You grounded me. You made me read before I could watch tv. You made me RSVP and write thank you notes. You prayed for me and with me. I could go on and on, but I really want to focus on one thing for now.

4 years ago on this very blog, I alluded to a story of a time I felt forgotten. I also made sure to remind you then and again now, that that moment was years ago and I am not scarred for life from it. And I will tell you why. It is because you didn’t forget about me. You did come for me. And you felt so bad about me having to wait and wonder. So, yes, I felt forgotten for a bit but I was not forgotten. I was not abandoned.

Let me share with you a couple of other memories. First there was the time I asked to go down the street to play with Shannon and Shelby. I was probably about 8 years old. I walked down there but no one was home, so I turned around and headed home. I was in our yard when the grandson or nephew or some boy that was staying across the street came over and asked if I wanted to play. I did. So, I went to Wendy’s house to play. I was shocked when I got home and found myself in trouble. You gave me a spanking for not being where I said I was going. In my 8 year old mind, it wasn’t a big deal. I was just across the street. But you were so upset. And then I was upset because no 8 year old wants to be spanked.

And then junior high... We were at a speech competition at St Agnes. Seth and I, along with 4 others, decided to walk across the street to Pizza Hut. We did tell the adults (really), but they apparently didn’t listen because you came to pick us up and we weren’t at the school. Again, trouble. And again, now as a 12 year old, I thought you were being ridiculous. I know that I argued and screamed about how it was unfair and stupid and I was TWELVE YEARS OLD not a baby.

But mom, as an adult, I know you were upset because you love us. You were upset because you can’t imagine anything happening to your babies. All the “call me when you get there’s” and all the “be home at some absurd hour to the teenage mind’s” and all the “no hiding in the clothes rack’s” were about the love of a mother and father.

I was blessed to have parents, to have a mom who was terrified when she couldn’t find me. The Lord set Seth and I in a family that loved…loves us. A mother that would do anything to keep us safe. A mother who saw her children growing in the Lord and as a result pursued Him even harder. A mother who I see still growing leaps and bounds in Truth.

But there are children all over the world who are not loved. There are girls in India who are abandoned…sold by their families. There are daughters that are beaten. There are motherless children going to sleep in the streets. Their parents aren’t worried if they will come home safely. Moms aren’t checking in to make sure their little girls got to their friend’s house.

Those little girls in India don’t have what I have in you. But, this Mother’s Day I am giving to As Our Own in your honor so that children in India might know what it is to have a family that loves them. As Our Own is rescuing these girls from abuse, abandonedment, and a life of enslavement. These girls, according to the circumstaces they were born into, should have been wandering the streets. These girls should have been sold at six years old in order to bring in more revenue. But instead, they are singing and dancing. They are in school. They are growing up with sisters. They are loved. And perhapes as a result, the mothers that work in the red light district might see their daughters fall in love with Jesus and they themselves begin to grow leaps in bounds in Truth.

Thank you for not leaving me in the carpool line, alone and feeling forgotten. Thank you for loving me.

Love,
Erin

Want to say thank you to your mom in a special way this year? Here's how:


STEP 1:: Give to our Thanks, Mom! campaign to honor your mom on Mother’s Day, May 8.

STEP 2:: In the donation comments box, tell us what you appreciate most about your mom.

STEP 3:: Download a certificate for your mom that explains the gift you’ve made in her name.

About As Our Own

The extreme poverty in India places girls at great risk for exploitation, enslavement, and neglect. Girls are regularly abused and degraded, forced into lives of bonded labor, either in organized begging or the sex trade.

These girls will face a dark, horrific future—unless someone intervenes.

God has opened the door for As Our Own to rescue girls before they are exploited, giving us the privilege to care for each one as our own—for life. We are building strong communities through our Lighthouse church network and training strong leaders and pastors at our Hope College, all to break these cycles for girls in future generations.

Your gifts make a lasting difference for these girls. Thank you!

Becoming a Tuednesday

Tuednesday: a combination of Tuesday and Wednesday

I skipped yesterday's "Tickle My Fancy". This week has been busy busy busy. But, it's ok because today's World-changer and yesterday's Tickle My Fancy are the same thing. As Our Own.

Oh. You've heard of it? I talk about it all the time? You are right. I do.


Yesterday was Human Trafficking Awareness Day. Every 6 seconds two children are sold. And in those same 6 seconds, two human beings (daughters, sons, mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, neighbors, grandchildren...) are trafficked into the US. Sickening, huh?

As you know, I recently went to India to work with As Our Own, who is building relationship with mothers in the red light district in order to bring little girls out of it. My mission team decided to have a Share and Prayer to invite friends and family to hear about what God is doing in India. And we decided to do it yesterday. Human Trafficking Awareness Day.

There were some glitches in preparation. We were...or I was expecting there to be maybe 30 people who would come. So, we planned to have the event at my house. When the guest list reached 45, I decided we'd better move it to the church. So we did. We put in a room request and planned for snacks and coffee and chai. Of course, we got there and the room wasn't quite what we had intended. But, it turned out to be just what we needed. God knows better than we do.

So we set everything up and people came. Lots of people. About 80 people. And we shared stories and truth and our lives. We told them of the darkness we saw the first morning. And we told them of the light. We talked about painted nails and scwunchy giggle faces. We talked about young men coming to study God's word and taking it to a country in desperate need. We talked of rescue and restoration. And then we prayed.

We moved into three circles. A circle to pray for Rescue. A circle for Aftercare. And a circle for Prevention. We cried and we prayed for broken people and we cried and we prayed in worship to a God who is big enough. Jesus is the only God who hears the cry of the enslaved and moves toward them to lead them out of captivity.

And when we had prayed we shared more stories and met new friends and listened to them share about how their hearts are being stirred. And I delighted. I delighted in seeing people that I love in Houston, begin to love the people that I love in India. I delighted to have the opportunity to tell stories about my girls and to have people laugh and cry and hurt and rejoice with me. I delighted to see the church have the heart of the church. I delighted. And I imagine that the Lord delighted a million trillion bazillion times more in all of those things.

*if you would like to read more about my time in India, please see here.

Becoming a Mother

It's true. I'm a mommy! But, before you freak out, let me explain. You see, the organization I worked with in India is called As Our Own. They are an organization made up of people who are "caring for vulnerable children as their own. For life." From the moment I heard of this ministry, I knew I had to be a part of what God was doing through them. I had the privilege of hearing Ralph, the President of As Our Own, speak on a few occasions and every time I found myself humbled and challenged by his faith and the stories of God’s rescuing in India. What most stuck with me is the desire that Ralph and his team have to raise these little girls as their own children. Ralph says, “It is easy to raise a child as an orphan. The challenge and the joy are in raising an orphan as your own.” They seek to learn how God has uniquely formed and gifted each child and then do all they can to foster that gifting.

From the first time I heard Ralph say this, my heart latched onto the idea. I want to love these girls like they are my daughters. Each one of them are uniquely created and I want to help to nurture them into the young women God has intended them to be. For the last year my heart has held onto this idea, claiming it as truth. And as far as I knew how, I did love the girls as my own. But, I still was living my life for myself. I am a 27 year-old, single woman with no children. I have the freedom to spend my time and my money how I want to without having to worry about a family.

But my time in India changed all that. Sitting face to face with these girls, hearing their stories, seeing their personalities...I fell in love. We worshipped together. And we laughed, and danced, and painted each other's toenails. These are my girls, my daughters and sisters. They called us Didi and Dada. Erin Didi. Mitch Dada... it means big sister or brother. My heart was no longer clinging to the idea of loving these girls as my own. It was enveloped by the truth that these girls ARE my own. I know where some of them have come from. I heard the stories of abuse, rape, abandonment. I long to walk with them through their healing. And I saw their talents. One little girl was an incredible natural dancer. She needs to be in dance lessons. Another girl wants to go to seminary. Oh how I want to sit with her and talk about the deep things of God, to rejoice with her over God's works and words. There was one girl who I just wanted to hug and tell her how beautiful she is. That she is smart and talented and beautiful and God made her purposefully. That she is loved.

The night we left was one of the hardest nights of my life. As the girls loaded the vans to go back to Grace Home, it was all I could do to not cry. And those tears just kept pushing their way to my eyes through the entire flight home. I never imagined that I would know what it was like to send your child off to school for the first day or to college or anywhere that would mean separation for any amount of time before I'd even been on a date. But there it was, this horrible truth that I had to come back to Houston and live on the complete opposite side of the world from my girls. I'm sure the mothers reading this are skeptical that I could know how they feel. And perhaps it's not the same. There is really no way to know. All I know is that my life has to be different now. I can't spend my money however I want. I do have a family to think about. I have little girls that need to be in dance class and need to go to college. I have babies that outgrow their clothes too quickly and sometimes have tummy aches. I have sweet girls who have hurts and heartaches that need counseling so they have help finding healing. These are my girls.

And you know what? They are you girls too. As the church we have a responsibility to love the orphan, to help the weak. We can't expect the church staff or the people "called" to the mission field to do it all. You are the church. I am the church. You and I should be loving orphan children as our own. There is something that you can do. To find out visit www.asourown.org.

Becoming a Pastor

No. Not me. Young men in India. They are becoming pastors. We got to spend two mornings worshipping and studying the word with these men. Monica, Mitchell, and Will taught from the life of Peter. These men took pages and pages of notes about leadership and serventhood and walking with the Lord. They worshipped with great zeal, often while the worship leader was singing to his own rhythm. They play whatever instrument they can find. They clap and dance and sing at the top of their lungs. They celebrate God as a brotherhood. It was such a blessing to watch them dance and sing together. We even learned a couple of songs. One song is called Jesu Tera Nam...Jesus is the name. The other song is Ru Aa. Spirit Come.

What a joy to sing with a room full of believers all asking the Spirit to come, all proclaming the name of Jesus, even when we could not have conversations well because of language barriers. There are no language barriers when it comes to worship. One Spirit. One Truth. It was a glimpse of heaven.

These men, strong yet gentle, all have different stories. One man had lost an arm and came to the bible college because he didn't know what else to do. Another man had come from a village where, at one time, no one was a believer. A missionary came to the village and they beat him up and stuffed him in a tire and rolled him out of town. One family came to know Christ as a result of that man's obedience. And because of that one family, this man became a believer. And now, he is studying to be a pastor.

These are the men who will go out into India with the gospel. They are the ones who will speak to the church about loving God and loving people. They are the ones who will carry truth to the hurting. And with it, they will carry the mission of As Our Own, working to stregthen the church so that, all over India, the church will care for hurting people as their own family.

Let's pray for these men, for their time at the Bible College, for their future ministry, for their families. Let's pray that they would carry the banner of Christ in the strength and power of the Holly Spirit.

Hallelujah! Praise the Lord!

Becoming Melted

I know many of you are waiting to hear about the light I mentioned at the end of the last post. So, let me tell you about it. As I mentioned, our morning had been filled with heartbreaking darkness, weaving in and out of buildings packed with defiled beds and lifeless faces.

But, God is still pulling people out of pits and into the light. That afternoon we out to Faith Home, a house full of little girls most of who were born into the brothels. These girls, according to the circumstaces they were born into, should have been sleeping beneath their mothers' beds as the women serviced clients. These girls should have been wandering the streets. These girls should have been sold at six years old in order to bring in more revenue.

Oh Grace! What a beautiful truth!

Instead, these girls are in the best schools, Christian schools. They are getting straight A's and are in the top of their class. They are dancing and singing in worship of Jesus. They are learning English. They have full bellies and clean beds and clothes. They have smiles, not like the ones their mothers wear, lifeless and resigned, but rather beautiful smiles that know hope, that know a God who hears and saves. Hallelujah! Praise the Lord!

The girls greeted us with leis and then introduced themselves telling us, in their very best English, their name and grade. They sang and prayed with us and then performed a couple of dances. "Pray for India. Pray for India. You love India. I love India. God loves India too." Then we cleared away the chairs, got out the crayons, coloring books, and stickers and went to town loving on these precious babies. Sweet girls. They love stickers. And we took some disguise glasses (the kind with the big nose). They had fun wearing those and having their pictures taken.

One little girl continued to come up in conversation throughout our trip. She is a fierce little girl...lots of spunk. We talked often about how she need martial arts lessons. She would be great at it. Her dance moves resembled karate as it was. Her mom works in the district and there was some concern that she would want to take this little girl back with her. But instead, when she came to visit, she knealt down and asked her baby girl to pray for her. A mom, asking her four-year-old to pray for her. What a perfect picture of the hope that is seeping into India through As Our Own.

Let's join this little girl in praying for her mom. Let's pray diligently for the girls being brought out and for the ones that aren't. Let's pray for the political system in India to be straightened out. Let's pray that the Mafia leaders would know Christ, that the men who spend their time and money in the district stealing the lives of women and children would know hope and would see Jesus. Pray for visions, for rescue, for light to send the darkness fleeing. And let us give praise to a King who is loving and just, who hears the cries of the captives, and who continues to rescue the weak.

www.asourown.org

Becoming More than Aware

December 13th. Today I went to work...to the same job I have gone to for the last 2.5 years. And today, it was not any different. But I was. On December 1st, I boarded a plane in Houston and about 24 hours later, stepped out of an airport into the air of India. Eleven and a half hours ahead of Houston, we had completely missed December 2nd. It just didn't exist in 2010 for us. It was now about 5 am on December 3rd. We headed straight to the hotel where, although our bodies were convinced it was evening and fast approaching bedtime, we checked in and started the first day of what would prove to be a life-changing trip.

We ate breakfast and made a short trip to the market. Then, it was time. We visited the red light district. Everything seemed to be normal as we drove down the main street, but as the driver pulled over and we scurried out of the bus and began to weave in and out of buildings, we saw how dark was the "normal" . We ducked through doorways and packed into tiny rooms, stalls really. They could not have been any bigger than 4x7 and they were each furnished with a wooden cot sometimes hidden behind a curtain sometimes in full view. We climbed one by one up narrow staircases aware of everything around us and not wanting to touch anything and yet wanting to hug every woman we passed. We nodded emotionlessly as Ralph explained what we were seeing. And we passed women who had resolved to survive. (This picture is not from our trip. It was found on www.assistnews.net.)

You could see the struggle in their eyes. It's a struggle I am familiar with, but in this context, it suddenly developed new pain, deeper darkness. They were resolved, "This is my life. It's the hand I've been dealt. I don't want it. I want out, but there is nothing I can do about it. So, smile. Suck it up and don't let them see your aching." Their smiles were beautiful and filled with sadness. These women were not full of life. Their strength came, not from joy, but rather from resignation to what their lives had become.The walls were plastered with gods. Every god you could imagine, including Jesus. They are so hungry. The women. They are hungry for a god to know them, to hear them.

The nine of us packed into one room that was lined with stalls. The woman that was leading us through the district opened one room for us to see inside. But what we saw was not an empty room. No, we instead stood face to face with a young man, maybe a high schooler, sitting on the cot and the woman he had chosen facing him ready to offer what he purchased. They looked at us, him without shame, and her without any sign of wanting to be rescued...she was resigned.

As we walked through one alley, I thought I would have to tell Ralph that we needed to leave. We had been instructed not to show any emotional reaction to what we were seeing or hearing but I was not sure I could hold it in much longer. I was either going to cry or vomit. Thankfully, we left shortly after that moment and as soon as the doors of the bus closed, the floodgates opened. I cried all the way back to the hotel. I felt sick. I felt dirty. I felt the heaviness of all the lies that had been told to get the women to the brothels, of all the bruises and burns they'd been given as they tried to refuse that life at the beginning. The stench of death filled my nose. I wanted to wash it off. Thankfully, that was not the end of our day...For so many it is the ending of every day and the beginning of every new day and it fills every moment in between. But for us, we got to see the light.

(look for more posts about the trip as the week progresses)