does anybody hear her?

Last week I went with someone from the office for a visit to the police station to deliver Christmas cards to some high ranking police officials here. On the way there, we passed through one of the large red-light districts. Although most of the major districts are all within less than 10 miles of where I am, my world seems much farther away from theirs. I had never driven through or walked through before. I have seen girls on the other side-- the ones who have been rescued and the ones in healing.

There is a spot where a group of sex workers stand on a bridge on the outskirts of this particular district to allure customers. I wondered how I might be able to recognize them. It was also eleven in the morning and I couldn't imagine there being much business. But as soon as we drove through, I knew. The girls / women stood differently and were aggressively pursuing the men who walked. I looked into the eyes of one girl and for the last week haven't been able to stop thinking about her.

I think about the difference between her world and mine. What is her name? What happened to her? How did she end up there? Was she tricked and given empty promises for a successful future? Where is her family? Will she ever understand her value as a precious daughter who was bought at the ultimate cost? Will she ever get the strength or capacity to leave and live in freedom?

I think about my life as a teenager. A life of complete safety, total security, self-indulgence, healthy friendships, an excellent education, of love, of looking forward to the future. I had my share of disappointments, heartbreaks and tears of course, but looking back all of that pales in comparison to what girls like her have gone through by age 22. Life here makes my insignificant worries and troubles seem ridiculously petty. 

The statistics are clear. Of the two hundred girls and women who enter prostitution each day, 80% enter against their will and 35% are under the age of 18. The girls who enter the trade are held captive in a system that is pervading the remote villages. They are stuck in a cycle of poverty, illiteracy and disease that seems impossible to break. 

I don't know her name or her story. I don't know the names or stories of the other 10 women standing along that bridge with her. I don't know anything about any of the hundreds of girls who live, work and survive under the bridge and in the surrounding district. 

But I know that each one has a story. And each one deserves a chance.

The bridge experience was one of those 'where on earth am I' moments. They happen less as I am getting used to being here, but what never changes is the fact that I wake up and find myself in a place where I can see clearly the reality that

"The harvest is plentiful, 
but the laborers are few.

Therefore, pray earnestly to the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into the harvest." -Luke 10:2

Pray that God will move in a huge way in this city. Pray for revival. Pray for an end to corruption. Pray for truth to prevail in the courts. Pray for the day when the red-light districts are ghost towns. Pray for these girls. Pray that they don't give up hoping. Pray that the Lord God who created them and cries with them in their pain will send his workers to bring them out of darkness. Pray that we never stop praying.