My time in Thailand, though just beginning, has already been a trip. The past two weeks have been the toughest of the trip, by far, and I have struggled to adjust. From the beginning of the second half of the trip, in Bangkok, I struggled with leaving my new friends in Cambodia. Where I eventually found comfort in leaving them, I found a new brokenness being in this new place. This big city that I was trying to find a new comfort in, was seeming to break me from the inside out.
The truth about Bangkok is this: it is a broken city filled with broken people acting out of their broken hearts. It is not a glamorous and beautiful city as I had once imagined. You walk the streets and you pass bar after bar among clubs and parlors that are all in business because of one thing. This is human trafficking.
Let it be known that as I type this, I have suddenly been hit with the weight of this harsh reality. Maybe that’s why I’ve gone two weeks without updating anyone. It is scary and it is disgusting and it is unlike anything that I’ve seen before. I walk the streets and see the faces of broken women and men, night after night as we step into the ministry I prayed about for months. Nothing can prepare you for what you see when you enter the city streets of Thailand. Even here, in Chiang Rai, I am baffled time after time at the acts I see and words I hear. Women are looked at as nothing more than a object to be owned for a few hours, and so called “lady boys” are taken advantage of so openly and casually.
When we left Bangkok, I felt a weight lifted from my shoulders. So much spiritual heaviness and conflict was taken away, and I felt at peace instantly. Then we started bar ministry in downtown Chiang Rai. I felt scared immediately and wanted nothing more than to crawl under a blanket and wait for my mom to come find me and carry me home. I want my dad to tell me everything is going to be alright. Everything that people back home had listed as reasons to not come on this mission trip were suddenly screaming in my ears, telling me to turn around and not come back. I was scared of what I might see, and what I might not be able to do anything about. And, maybe irrationally, I was scared that someone might take me. What if I become a pawn in this industry? What if this is like one of those thriller films, except an intense ex-secret service man doesn’t come and save me? What then? My dad works in IT, what is he going to do? (No offense dad. I love you.)
As I continue to talk to these workers in the bars, I continue to be amazed. The kindness they show. The hearts they have for each other and us strangers, just buying a soda and a game of pool to take them away from what others might use their time for. Yes, it is scary. Yes, sometimes I want my mom to come scoop me up and carry me to bed like she used to do. Yes, it is hard to show love for the men that exploit these girls and show no remorse for it. But I do it because God called me to. And he is with me every step of the way. That I know for sure. And in that, I find new comfort.
All the love,
Margo
