My husband has been into over 300 bars and brothels in SE Asia looking for victims of sexual exploitation, and the strange thing is, he’s re-learned the Gospel more powerfully in that setting than anything he’s ever experienced in a church building.
Funny that he would find Jesus in a strip club.
But he did, and still does.
Because each time he enters these places, these smoky halls with grime on the bars and music with volumes that induce a headache, he thinks of Jesus invading humanity, entering the brothel that is our world, what with its dirt and brokenness and abuse. He steps into literal darkness, and he wonders what it must have been like for Jesus to leave Throneroom and enter brothel, where the scene of slavery is played out in a million different stories.
And Matt will say that he sees himself as all of the players there– the prostitute, the pimp, even the customer– all broken and searching, trapped in prisons, some of their own choosing, all desperately in need of redemption and freedom, of justice and Life.
And my husband, in his imperfect nature, gets to taste a corner of what it must have been like for Jesus to walk back alleys and dirty lanes in this place called earth. To search for the treasures hidden in darkness. To fight and bleed out and even die for their redemption.
And this, this, is Gospel. It is remembering the invasion of a Holy God into a dark pit, where souls are bought and sold, used and trapped. It is not staying clean, staying separate, staying unaffected. Contrary to what our religious culture might tell us, the Gospel is not safe and comfortable, and it sure as hell is not always PG. When we choose to usher in the Kingdom, we are choosing to advance into the darkness.
And the darkness never promised to be a pretty place–
There might be awful, honest conversations with a spouse there or uncomfortable evenings rubbing shoulders with “those” people.
There might be heartache from saying goodbye to a foster child or grief from owning up to our own messes.
Participating in Gospel might mean inconvenient holiday meals or money thrown away or sleepless nights or hard pursuit or shattered dreams.
It might even mean late nights in seedy parts of town that make your skin crawl and leave your soul raw, as you witness treasures being sold for the price of a bottle of cheap wine.
But this is Gospel remembered and played out– Love that entered a brothel and somehow fought blood-spattered-hard to restore the customer, forgive the pimp, and free the prostitute.
And every time we choose to enter a dark place ourselves, any time we opt to engage rather than to hide, for the sake of Love and of redeeming something lost, we get to taste a little Gospel ourselves.
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In talking with many churches and individuals all across the country, we have heard some say they are hesitant to support our work in SE Asia because we are not actively giving the gospel to the girls our investigators are finding and pursuing rescue for. What do you think? Should the gospel be a requirement for Christian humanitarian aid?
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A huge thank you to the kind ladies who donated towards our $200 giveaway last week! These shop owners have practically fought slavery through their generosity, and I am personally so. very. thankful. The seven winners that won a product are {order listed receive the prize in order listed in giveaway post}: Sarah P, Jessica P., Susan H., Heather F., Krista S., Rebekah P., and Amylou. You each will be receiving an email this week letting you know the details of your prize! Thanks to all who participated and showed support for The Exodus Road.
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