She lines up next to thirteen other women. She tries to play the part but her eyes, haunted with deep, terrified emptiness, tell a different story. Ever so slightly, her shoulders tremble.
Her number is 34.
Number 34, one of many lost in a darkness she had never imagined to be possible, in all her innocent childhood play.
She was surrounded by other women and girls, some of them frightfully young, robbed of their childhood, each with a different story but a similar end. The day she saw one of the little girls ushered in to line up with the rest of the women, she fought to control herself. She clung to the memories of childhood mirth and girlish innocence in this hell hole of abuse. The memories were her hope that maybe good really did exist in the world. How was she surviving, the small wounded child, injured so young? Did she know that the world could be different?
The women with numbers live the world over, some of them right down your street, in your neighborhood.
Some of them are forty. Some are twenty-five. Some are eighteen. Some are nine.
They are women trafficked by insidious men who profit from the pain of the innocent. They are real women with real names and real stories who live in hell everyday of their lives.
I sit in my comfortable dining room staring at my Toshiba computer screen, and I’m asking myself how much I care about the fact that somewhere in this world, somewhere in my country, which is supposed to be the land of the free and the home of the brave, there are women and girls under ten lining up for potential clients, wearing a number.
“Sitting in the air-conditioned complex discussing Christian theology as it applied to relationships, marriage, family and employment practices was all very nice. In the light of what I had seen during the week, however, such debate and discourse seemed empty and devoid of any authenticity because there was no involvement on behalf of those most enslaved and oppressed within their own communities.” – Daniel Walker, God in a Brothel, page 131
I know we can’t save everyone. I know there’s thousands of pressing needs and urgent issues that cry out for redemption and I know that we can’t individually meet all those needs and address all those issues.
It is true. We cannot be the savior of the world.
But what would happen, if the Body of Christ rose up in the power of THE Savior of this world and stood against the depraved evil of mankind and defended the innocent and recognized that as long as they claimed His name, they inherited His mission to set the captives free?
“What would happen if in the face of the very worst forms of depravity and evil in the world, Christians walked in the knowledge that they are the dangerous ones and the ones to be feared?” – Daniel Walker, God in a Brothel, page 135
What would happen, if we acted upon the knowledge that we are the dangerous ones and the ones to be feared? What would happen if we stopped hiding behind manicured Christian lives and dared to storm the gates of hell itself?
What would happen, if we took the dare to be the radical brave, to stand against impossible odds, scorn and every potential criticism, to make every effort to stand up for the innocent, to reach out to the lost, to invade the darkness, to BE the light?
To do all that we can, with all that we have, with all of our might –
and trust that none of it goes wasted.
All that is spent and given for Him is used by Him.
What if we lived as if we believed that?
I preach this to myself and I dare to speak it to you.
Because somewhere, the women with numbers are swallowed in a darkness that only His light can infiltrate.