State of Desperation

A few facts for you:


“Trafficking in human beings is now the third-largest moneymaking venture in the world, after illegal weapons and drugs. In fact, the United Nations estimates that the trade nets organized crime more than $12 billion a year” (Victor Malarek The Natashas: Inside the New Global Sex Trade).

According to a CIA report, 700,000 to 2 million women and children worldwide are victimized by traffickers each year.

The UN estimates that around 4 million people a year are now traded against their will to work in some form of slavery.

As many as 50,000 women and children from Asia, Latin America, and Eastern Europe are brought to the U.S. under false pretenses each year and forced to work as prostitutes, abused laborers or servants (Joel Brinkley NYT citing CIA report).


While I have only been in Bangkok for four months, the longer I am here, the more I realize how terrified I am to embrace reality. I walk down streets everyday. I see the men, women, and children sitting on the foot bridges, cups held desperately in the air. I walk on, hoping that the lump in my throat will disist, and I can return to the comfort of my own mind.

I am afraid of seeing things as they are. I am afraid of acknowledging the suffering, heartache, brokenness of the people around me. If I pretend that everything is right in the world, then it is. Right?

No. Absolutely not.

Father, I walk around with my hands figuratively covering my own eyes. I refuse to allow myself to see. But I must! I must be willing to get my hands dirty, and my own heart broken that my fellow human beings might be able to even taste love here.

Two years ago, I began reading "A Chance to Die: The Life and Legacy of Amy Carmichael." Amy Carmichael started an orphanage in Darfur, India in the nineteenth century. Her mission: to rescue temple prostitutes. Amy Carmichael became a hero of mine.

A year ago, I began working with the Global Missions Outreach Team at Brentwood Church in Lynchburg. We began researching Thailand, and surrounding countries, aiming at starting safehouses for women and children involved in the international sex-trade. A few months after I began working with this team, Jon Dupin spoke on the issue. I was broken. I was floored. I allowed myself to be vulnerable to the feeling of injustice. I allowed myself to see the inhumanity, the perverseness---the pain. Something inside of me determined to not sit by and do nothing about it. The next thing I know, I'm in Bangkok.

Now what? Do I return to apathy? Do I make my life comfortable here? My heart has been guarded, but I don't want it to be anymore. Lord, teach me how to see reality. Teach me how to love how you love.

So now what? It's time to decide.

Sing Over Me

The music of my heart---the song that You sing over my life---is a song without words. It is too big, too beautiful, too deep to be restricted by lyrics: a complex symphony of images and scores that opened in March nearly four years ago. Has it only been four years?

I remember sitting in my chair during worship that night, and I felt my heart beat for the first time. I began running toward You on that shoreline. The sun shone over the water, your arms were stretched wide, and my feet pounded against the sand in time with my heartbeat. My race toward You began at that moment, and it continues...

There have been obstacles since that day. The beautiful, driving melody of your song modulated into minor chords of sorrow. Brokenness had its way; but then---hope was restored. Passion was rekindled, and my eyes averted back to You. I began to run again, this time, equipped for battle. No longer is my race a straight-away to your arms. Now, I am running through armies of darkness---sword in hand. The song has become an intense, driving, powerful mantra of war, all in pursuit of Your glory. AND I DO NOT FIGHT ALONE! I STAND BESIDE MY FELLOW SOLDIERS, AND WE WILL WIELD OUR SWORDS AS WE LOOK TO YOU.

One day soon, the song of war will be stilled, and the sweet, calm melodies of a glorious homecoming will begin:

"...and you'll be here in my arms just sleeping.
And all will turn to silver glass.
The light on the water gracious pass
into the West..."

I am going home soon, but the battle is still raging. Hear my footsteps once again pounding against that sand. I am running to You.

"But none of these things move me; nor do I count my life dear to myself, so that I may finish my race with joy, and the ministry which I received from the Lord Jesus, to testify to the Gospel of the Grace of God." Acts 20:24