When I first became a follower of Christ I was immediately brought into a world where reaching up and reaching out were the same. I was in the church a day and I was asked to help deliver heaters to migrant workers around the Brazos Valley of Texas.
A couple of years later I was in a prayer meeting in Houston and a woman had a burden laid on her. A burden for teenage prostitutes in the city. She asked for people to pray, and I showed up at her house. We prayed long and hard and when all was said and done I had a burden too. We went out around the Astrodome from 11 pm to 2 am witnessing, talking, learning. It was an education I will never forget. Others were successful in starting relationships with the people were praying and looking for. I think one young woman was rescued. We weren’t organized. It was ”flying by the seat of our pants” obedience to the Holy Spirit.
I remember fear-filled, faith-filled obedience. Bizarre encounters with amazingly ordinary people in frighteningly extreme situations. The only times I have ever had my life threatened were two occassions during this ministry. I still remember thinking how strangely un-traumatic it was. I put it all down to profound, ignorance. Maybe some day I’ll tell the stories.
The point of this writing isn’t the past, however. It’s the present.
I spent Tuesday night a couple of weeks past at my first Emergent cohort meeting in Atlanta. The topic was sex trafficking. We listened to Julie from Innocence Atlanta share about Atlanta’s horrific status as the #1 city in the US for child prostitution. She started out telling a story that took my breath away. You can read it yourself at www.IAmKatelyn.org.
I was so impressed with their organization and planning. She put out some other websites for information. The night was full of great questions and interesting suggestions. We’re making the topic one of the Theology Cafe topics for the year.
As I was processing all of this I found a familiar feeling rising up in me. A kind of cold rage at the injustice of it all. Of the broken bodies and minds. Of the callous, vicious consumption of a human being for profit. I saw the faces of the kids in the after-school program. I saw the faces of my own children and the children in the church.
The rage traded places with my own shame as I realized that my struggles with pornography were what helped feed this multi-billion dollar industry.
The indignation warred with the message of redemption that is the gospel. My delight that there would be ultimate justice for these broken lives, scrapped hard against the mercy and grace that define my life. Hypocrisy is always bitter.
So I’m wrestling with a response that includes anger at the obvious, rage at the violence and degredation, and hope for redemption. A need to have this sin ended. All these lives redeemed (perpetrator and victim).
What will I do? Pray, listen, learn, talk and follow the lead of the leaders. Try to see that the lives in our community of faith are free from those things which feed this sick industry. Support legislation. Stand in public and speak clearly. Try to see if there are things we can do in Chamblee and Doraville to free the slaves here.
My greatest fear, truth be told, is that I’ll get wound-up and do absolutely nothing about it. I would encourage everyone to go to innocenceatlanta.org, thedefendersusa.org (especially if you’re a guy), and other sites to learn more. If the Lord gives you a burden, please let me know. I have no big plan, but I trust the Lord and pray for others with the burden to seek the Lord for his plan.
