break my heart for what breaks yours



 As we walked through the neon-lit streets, my soul felt a crushing weight like never before. At the end of the night, we stood atop a cliff, looking over the infamous Sin City. To the casual observer, it was a serene image of a brightly lit city. But as one draws closer to the heart of the city, one begins to see that the truth is so far opposite the surface appearance. The truth is, there are few places on earth darker than this city. If Satan has physical strongholds here on earth, Pattaya is one of his most fortified.

It was the last night of the church retreat. A few people wanted to go to the night market. The fastest way to get there was through the notorious "Walking Bazaar." The entire street, it seems, is lined with go-go bars, brothels, and motels with one-night specials. It doesn't matter who you are, a pimp or a madam will walk up to you with images never to be forgotten. Throngs of prostitutes constantly circle you. If you are a Christian, then your natural desire is probably to fix your gaze on the ground and pray that your feet will eventually carry your body out of this hell to safety. And indeed it is a glimpse of the shadow of hell. It is the place where vice goes to multiply. Multitudes flock there to feed their vices, but they are never satisfied. Instead they emerge even hungrier and thirstier than before. If you look into the eyes of one of the prostitutes, you dare to gaze into a seemingly endless abyss. Absolute emptiness. It is as if you are no longer looking at a human being, but merely a ghost in a shell. Or worse yet, you find yourself face to face with a demon. Souls in prison become hardened. But this, this is far worse. Here, souls are destroyed-- ripped apart little by little, night after night until almost nothing remains.   

 

Credit to: http://www.flickr.com/photos/lynhdan/

My soul despaired. My blood boiled. My heart ached for the thousands of prostitutes trapped there alone. It broke for a little boy and girl, not more than 8 years old, performing football (soccer) tricks behind a can pointlessly labeled "education fund." At the same time, it raged. It cried out with great sorrow and anathema for what was before my eyes. Oh, how dark my heart could be! That night I felt nothing but hatred for the farang (foreigners) that were there. I was waiting for any reason to stop in my tracks and punch one of those smoking, drunk, smug monsters in the face. I hated them. I hated them because they were destroying the lives of helpless or desperate women. I hated them because I imagined they had a wife and children at home that they had kissed and hugged good-bye before boarding the plane for their "business trip." Oh, how I wanted just the smallest reason to jump on one of them and just beat their head into the ground. Thank God I didn't try. Or perhaps I too would have been swallowed by the darkness. We were not meant to be children of wrath.

And thankfully, the next morning I was reminded of that. Our hearts rightly break for those women and those children. Our hearts should cry out because of the injustice. But we should cry out not only for the apparent victims, but also for those going there night after night to violate them. We are also to pray for the men that help drive this industry. For these men are victims as well. They have been deceived by the Father of Lies. We are to take responsibility for our own sins, but these men are also to be pitied. Many were from the Middle East or South Asia. Perhaps the gospel has never had the opportunity to pierce their souls. And now there remains but a mere sliver of a soul to pierce.

Even now, simply recounting that night, my heart and soul are filled with anguish. But this remembrance must have been Spirit-inspired, for I began to feel the same hatred in New Brusnwick that I felt in Pattaya. My prayer for Pattaya was that God would find just one righteous in that entire sin-filled city and spare it, and that he would send his warriors into the battlefield to find and rescue his lost sheep. My prayer for New Brunswick, Rutgers especially, should have been the same. After all, the persecution we potentially face here is nothing in comparison to what many of our unnamed brothers and sisters endure abroad. If they can cling to that rugged and heavy, yet beautiful and glorious cross of Christ even as their bodies are mutilated, surely God will provide us also with the grace to endure social persecution. Surely we can bear having our names being slandered in this world, knowing that God has written our names in the Book of Life--never to be erased.

On hearing this, Jesus said to them, "It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners."  (Mark 2:17)

If your heart also mourns for the hearts and souls of the Thai prostitutes, I encourage you to check out http://rahabministriesthailand.com/. They're a Christian ministry located in the Patpong District of Bangkok. I don't think they have anything in Pattaya, but prostitution is also a huge problem in Bangkok. Rahab works to rescue the prostitutes from that life and give them decent jobs and more importantly the gospel. PayPal is being stupid and froze their account last month for six months. But if this touches your heart, check out their website.