"Strengthen My Hands"

One of the astounding aspects of the work (and one of the best indicators that God sustains it) is that it keeps going. From my vantage point, people come and people go, but the work presses on. Case by case and rescued girl by rescued girl, the work places pressure on the oppression that has plagued this country for too long. Hidden behind a culture that is quick to point to the modesty demanded and exhibited in public dress, but which turns its head and ignores the prolific prostitution of underage, abused, non-consenting, detained, trafficking victims- our work sheds the light that nurtures widespread acknowledgment of such atrocities.

These thoughts prompted me to discuss what it is like to labor over individual cases. In one sense, it is deeply fulfilling to know a girl's face, and to know that she now knows a Savior and a new life because of the work of your office. There is also deep satisfaction watching justice come to oppressors, knowing that they will not do this again. Then, there are the failed cases, those that test each person's capacity to deal with frustration and those that pronounce the reality of the surroundings: that the task and the work are far from over, and that the end of prostitution, even just the end of oppressive forms of prostitution, has not yet even reached the horizon. It is the enormity of the problem that taunts and mocks those who choose to fight it.

For example, a few weeks ago, I accompanied a local friend to a "red-light" area for some observations. As we walked down the sidewalk, I was confronted with the public nature of the industry. These were not back alley whispers or sex compartments hidden in the back of disreputable establishments. This was public. In fact, nobody waited inside. The prostitutes and pimps lined the full length of the road and were so numerous that I occasionally had to weave just to keep moving. Everywhere, open doorways led to curtained areas shrouding the inside in darkness. Everybody knew this was where you went for it... and nobody cared. One girl, drenched in makeup, grabbed the back of my arm and offered a gentle tug. I spun around and she smiled, nodded in the direction of a doorway, and disappeared inside. I shivered and continued on. Disturbed as I was by what was on the street, I knew that the unseen girls had it worse. The solicitors had been either brainwashed or compelled. Those locked inside had no choice- they live as slaves for one purpose. I left discouraged, feeling like we could do our work for a hundred years and not defeat this problem.

At church a short time later, God responded through Nehemiah. The pastor introduced the task assigned to Nehemiah- the enormous challenge of rebuilding the wall that surrounded Jerusalem. He probably saw some individual successes that gave him deep fulfillment brick by brick or worker by worker, but that could not have blinded him from the enormity of the problems. The wall was huge, the deadline seemed to short, there was dissension inside the people of Israel about building the wall, and outright, hostility outside Israel. In fact, while the people worked half of them stood as armed guards for the workers and even the workers carried a sword at all times. It seemed an insurmountable task, and it is at this time that Nehemiah proves his worth (6:9), "They were all trying to frighten us, thinking,'their hands will get too weak for the work and it will not get completed. But I prayed, 'Now [Lord] strengthen my hands.'" What struck me about Nehemiah is that he doesn't ask God to divinely take care of it, he asks for God to use him to take care of it. He is asking for the responsibility of the task that he knows he can't handle on his own. It's clear the burden is too great, but he doesn't pray, "It's too much, please take my burden Lord." Instead, he prays for strength to meet the challenge... for God to make him strong enough, smart enough, diligent enough to complete the task God set before him. So, while not as much rests on my shoulders as Nehemiah's, I still imitate his prayer, "Now, Lord, strengthen my hands- so that You may use my work for Your justice."

A Visa Run followed by a Rocky Return

The past month has flown by! The office was busy during the weeks leading up to my trip. I guess I should describe my trip, and share with you how fortunate I am. In the months preceding my original arrival here, my family planned a family-wide vacation to the beach for this June. Accordingly, I anticipated missing out on this gathering. However, two factors permitted me the opportunity to briefly return to the USA to see them. First, my visa is a one year multiple-entry business visa, which only permits me to remain in the country for 6 months at a time. Accordingly, at some point during my fellowship a "visa run" is required in which I needed an entry and exit stamp on my passport for at least five days. Second, while there certainly are closer countries than the USA, a great airfare price permitted me to remain within my budget and still go visit my family for this trip.

I spent six days with my family and Megg on Tybee Island, off the coast of Savannah, Georgia. I cannot describe how refreshing familiar faces and accents; fresh air; quiet and smooth car rides; and mounds of beef and seafood were to me. Most of all, its impossible to describe how much it meant to spend time with my family and Megg. In fact, everything went so well that I wished I could spend another week doing the same thing.

With this mindset, at the end of the week my family dropped me off at the Atlanta airport on Saturday. My flight left Atlanta at 4:00pm on Saturday and after 23 hours of travel and 10 hours of time change, I arrived in Mumbai at 1:00am, Monday morning, knowing that I needed to be at work later the same morning. Tired and disheartened, I chose to focus on many of the negatives of this country- the pungent pollution that coats your throat immediately upon emergence from the cabin of the plane and ceaselessly clings to you during your stay, the unnecessary noise, the ruthless crowds, the delay in getting your baggage, the driver insisting on ripping you off, and the overwhelmingly discouraging thought that I was on my own again. I openly acknowledge that my mindset was not what it should have been at this time.

Actually, this is exactly the kind of experience that makes me long for Paul's perspective in Philippians 4:11, "I am not saying this because I am in need, for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances." And Paul was persecuted and in jail when he said this... looks like I've still got a lot of growing to do.

Nevertheless, this was the time that God chose to give me some unanticipated encouragement. As I dragged my jet-lagged self into the office around 8am, several of the coworkers who are closest to me met me with deep and sincere smiles and laughs. Their excited and kind greeting knocked me off my feet. I'm used to controlling and predicting my emotions more effectively- but not this time. I felt missed, I felt encouraged, I felt peace, I experienced genuine edification. It was a wonderful blessing and, undeniably, the answer to the prayers of some of those I left in Atlanta. After this divinely-orchestrated retransition, I resumed my duties with vigor and gratefulness, reminded of why I am here and of how much I believe in this work. Unexpectedly, each day this week got better. In fact, it was one of the best weeks I have had here. It made me realize exactly how much I enjoy doing my job.