It is an exciting time to do my work. Each day that I work, my brain
comes one step closer to fully comprehending the way our work
functions to combat the evils of sex trafficking. Fortunately, each
step also inches toward more insightful work product.
The social interaction of the office is unique. Arriving each morning
to the silence of stillness serves as a reminder of where our power
actually comes from. From outside, it might seem that no one is
working- but opening the door reveals an atypical scene: every desk
is occupied, but there is neither movement nor sound. Some desks
reveal an opened Bible, others a bowed head, still others a journal
recording the spiritual growth cultivated by this daily routine.
Thirty minutes later the stillness is broken by a peaceful migration
to the particular department where the entire office meets for prayer.
Soon, the arrival of every member of the office fills the room to
capacity. Here, time is spent discussing the issues and milestones
of current cases- good news is applauded, bad news is mourned, but
all news is petitioned in prayer. Assignment is unnecessary as
volunteers ensure that each concern written on the board sees
prayerful attention. Further, it is humbling to hear the type and
variety of prayer lifted up by those in the office. I didn't realize
that there are so many variables that effect how each of us chooses
pray: Australians from a different denomination may sound different
than the American or British expatriates, or, certainly, than a
national staffer from northern or southern part of the country--
nevertheless, all approach the throne of God reverently pleading for
God to bring the counterparts of justice and mercy to specific
situations. The ending is always the same and always appropriate-
"And all God's people said... Amen."
It is still morning when corporate prayer breaks, escorting the office
into the usual perpetual motion. In and out, up and down, each
department fulfills its purpose and communicates its accomplishments
to the other departments... it's like a colony of ants- each one busy
contributing his gifts to the colony. As if the office was not
crowded and noisy enough to begin with, two exterior influences shape
my work each day. First, neighboring our office is a Muslim goat
slaughterhouse. The smell, which combines with the open sewage system
outside, is enough to make me revile mutton forever. Most infamous,
however, are the periodic wails of dying goats. Needless to say, its
nerve-racking to be typing a brief and suddenly find yourself startled
by what sounds like an old man getting electrocuted while gargling his
mouthwash. Amazingly, this is not the greatest distraction at the
office. Laborers are demolishing the building immediately outside our
office window. No wrecking ball, no crane, no dynamite- just twenty
locals with sledges balancing on bamboo scaffolding. For the most
part, it is merely the rhythmic thudding of hammers; however, I will
not soon forget the tremors felt each time a given floor or exterior
wall takes its final blow and crashes to the surface far below.
I must admit that it is difficult not to discuss details of the cases
on which I am working. I want the people at home to know the specific
nature of the work God is doing here, but understand, and agree with,
the reasons that I cannot disclose these things. Part of my desire is
that I want people to realize how involved in the work they really
are. Prayer, encouragement, and financial support are producing
results here (not to mention sustaining me). For the most part, I
guess you will just have to be content to trust me about these things.
Nevertheless, I located another way you can support this work. One
of the people that frequently spends time with the group of
expatriates is not an employee of IJM. Rather, she is the founder of
an organization that vocationally trains girls rescued from
sex-trafficking in this locality. The training occurs at after care
homes in coordination with their rehabilitation. Notably, many of
these girls were rescued by the raids that our office conducted. The
girls produce jewelry that is resold in the United States. Of course,
all of the proceeds go to the girls. If you desire, you can go to
http://isanctuary.org and check out the work and the merchandise.
Let me know if you are interested in something and I can communicate
it to my friend.
On a final, lighter note, I experienced my first train ride in the
city this past weekend, when I decided to escape to a park in the
northern part of the city. I will never forget the ride. Crowded,
is a grossly insufficient description of that train car. Perhaps, you
can better relate if I tell you that, at several points, my feet were
not touching the ground- there was enough pressure from the compacted
bodies to lift me and support me by the numerous and uncomfortable
points of contact. And, while many things are much more difficult in
a country where the average man is half a foot shorter than you, at
this time, I was glad to be tall. I was also glad that everyone on
the train was willing to help me understand what stop I needed to take
(the graph was in hindi), even if it was awkward talking to someone
when both of your heads are supported in fixed locations, so close
that you expect to periodically touch noses. I was further warned, by
the face that composed my entire view, that if I wanted to get off at
the next stop, I needed to get closer to the door. Great- like that's
gonna happen. Nevertheless, due to deliberate and continuous work
over the next fifteen minutes, I managed to leverage and belly dance
the entire six foot span between me and the door, and escape.
