Wednesday, December 14, 2005
Sunday, December 11, 2005
little girl lost
last night we came home to Kolkata after a month away in Bangladesh. It was a homecoming that we had been longing for--we actually really missed Calcutta. But it was joy short lived as the reality of a nightmare of many many girls was shared with me. I know the stories by heart of the girls who have been tricked or coerced into the trade...i have read, heard from the girls in the gach but i have never had someone close to me lost. Last night i went to spend some time with my friend Maya and she told me that my friend --Paki--was gone. Paki is Maya's neice and i have known her since she was 11and watched her grow into a beautiful young woman of 15. Paki's mother sat and cried as Maya told me that Paki and five other girls from the area had been taken/ or coerced by the promise of temporry jobs with good pay. Paki did not tell her family good bye but left word through the parents of the other girls that they would return on the fifteenth of this month. It is difficult to hope that this is actually true--that Paki will actually be able to return unharmed. I could not sleep for a long time last night as images and thought of the worst flashed through my brain...tears held back in my throat even now.
Maya's family has filed a police report and they will be looking for her but they are not hopefull for paki or the other girls. Maya and Paki's mom believe that she has been taken to work in a bar or brothel--to dance--but i think they do not quite understand the depth of what could happen to Paki. I am sick with the thought of this 15 year old little girl being violated or lost in anyway....last night i prayed with maya and her sister...but i could not think of what to pray accept that jesus would protect Paki and bring her home. I came home from maya's and told kristin and beth and we prayed together--and because i could not pray--we prayed Psalm 10. This Pslam is for Paki...she is one of the fatherless--having been abandoned by her own father and she is now helpless in the hands of wicked men...pray this psalm with me for paki.
We are contacting our friends at IJM in Bombay and here in Calcutta to see if they can help and also to ask their advice. There is nothing that i will not do to get Paki back...we are now praying and if she does not return by the 15th then we consider going to the area that we believe she was taken and see if we can find her. please pray for wisdom and right direction on this...
Maya told me today that she believes that her husband and her husbands friends may have contributed to Paki being gone...i am not sure what exactly this means but she called her husband and his friends bad men. And both women are concerned that they will not be able to stay in the area because those in our area will assume that purity has been lost and make life very difficult for Paki and her mother...so much heaviness in this situation.
Right now, we will wait and pray and I will be fasting breakfast and lunch until the 15th or I will stop if paki returns before that...this email is a plea for your prayers and if you feel led please fast with me for God to bring about her safe return.
I will keep you updated as i have more information.
thanks for being with us in this...i have told Paki's mom that i would ask my parents and "the church" to pray and she covets your prayers.
with deep sadness...
Maya's family has filed a police report and they will be looking for her but they are not hopefull for paki or the other girls. Maya and Paki's mom believe that she has been taken to work in a bar or brothel--to dance--but i think they do not quite understand the depth of what could happen to Paki. I am sick with the thought of this 15 year old little girl being violated or lost in anyway....last night i prayed with maya and her sister...but i could not think of what to pray accept that jesus would protect Paki and bring her home. I came home from maya's and told kristin and beth and we prayed together--and because i could not pray--we prayed Psalm 10. This Pslam is for Paki...she is one of the fatherless--having been abandoned by her own father and she is now helpless in the hands of wicked men...pray this psalm with me for paki.
We are contacting our friends at IJM in Bombay and here in Calcutta to see if they can help and also to ask their advice. There is nothing that i will not do to get Paki back...we are now praying and if she does not return by the 15th then we consider going to the area that we believe she was taken and see if we can find her. please pray for wisdom and right direction on this...
Maya told me today that she believes that her husband and her husbands friends may have contributed to Paki being gone...i am not sure what exactly this means but she called her husband and his friends bad men. And both women are concerned that they will not be able to stay in the area because those in our area will assume that purity has been lost and make life very difficult for Paki and her mother...so much heaviness in this situation.
Right now, we will wait and pray and I will be fasting breakfast and lunch until the 15th or I will stop if paki returns before that...this email is a plea for your prayers and if you feel led please fast with me for God to bring about her safe return.
I will keep you updated as i have more information.
thanks for being with us in this...i have told Paki's mom that i would ask my parents and "the church" to pray and she covets your prayers.
with deep sadness...
1 [a]Why, O LORD, do you stand far off? Why do you hide yourself in times of trouble?
2 In his arrogance the wicked man hunts down the weak, who are caught in the schemes he devises. 3 He boasts of the cravings of his heart; he blesses the greedy and reviles the LORD. 4 In his pride the wicked does not seek him; in all his thoughts there is no room for God. 5 His ways are always prosperous; he is haughty and your laws are far from him; he sneers at all his enemies. 6 He says to himself, "Nothing will shake me; I'll always be happy and never have trouble." 7 His mouth is full of curses and lies and threats; trouble and evil are under his tongue. 8 He lies in wait near the villages; from ambush he murders the innocent, watching in secret for his victims. 9 He lies in wait like a lion in cover; he lies in wait to catch the helpless; he catches the helpless and drags them off in his net.
10 His victims are crushed, they collapse; they fall under his strength. 11 He says to himself, "God has forgotten; he covers his face and never sees." 12 Arise, LORD! Lift up your hand, O God. Do not forget the helpless. 13 Why does the wicked man revile God? Why does he say to himself, "He won't call me to account"? 14 But you, O God, do see trouble and grief; you consider it to take it in hand. The victim commits himself to you; you are the helper of the fatherless. 15 Break the arm of the wicked and evil man; call him to account for his wickedness that would not be found out. 16 The LORD is King for ever and ever; the nations will perish from his land. 17 You hear, O LORD, the desire of the afflicted; you encourage them, and you listen to their cry, 18 defending the fatherless and the oppressed, in order that man, who is of the earth, may terrify no more.
2 In his arrogance the wicked man hunts down the weak, who are caught in the schemes he devises. 3 He boasts of the cravings of his heart; he blesses the greedy and reviles the LORD. 4 In his pride the wicked does not seek him; in all his thoughts there is no room for God. 5 His ways are always prosperous; he is haughty and your laws are far from him; he sneers at all his enemies. 6 He says to himself, "Nothing will shake me; I'll always be happy and never have trouble." 7 His mouth is full of curses and lies and threats; trouble and evil are under his tongue. 8 He lies in wait near the villages; from ambush he murders the innocent, watching in secret for his victims. 9 He lies in wait like a lion in cover; he lies in wait to catch the helpless; he catches the helpless and drags them off in his net.
10 His victims are crushed, they collapse; they fall under his strength. 11 He says to himself, "God has forgotten; he covers his face and never sees." 12 Arise, LORD! Lift up your hand, O God. Do not forget the helpless. 13 Why does the wicked man revile God? Why does he say to himself, "He won't call me to account"? 14 But you, O God, do see trouble and grief; you consider it to take it in hand. The victim commits himself to you; you are the helper of the fatherless. 15 Break the arm of the wicked and evil man; call him to account for his wickedness that would not be found out. 16 The LORD is King for ever and ever; the nations will perish from his land. 17 You hear, O LORD, the desire of the afflicted; you encourage them, and you listen to their cry, 18 defending the fatherless and the oppressed, in order that man, who is of the earth, may terrify no more.
Monday, December 05, 2005
More on sarifice and the consuming...
Yesterday, my thoughts were pretty jumbled and not really clear...i kind of verbally started processing but did not really finish till we left the email cafe. So i have continued thinking about what specifically i am called to sacrifice and what that means i will not consume in the choice to sacrifice. The obvious sacrifice is that i have left my family and my friends for a life that does not hold any tangible comforts but offers so much in other ways. it is, has been and will continue to be a sacrifice to be away from my family, to have neice that does not know me...but i make this choice not to "consume" because i am seeking to be obedient to the call Jesus has placed on my life. and truly Jesus requires obedience not sacrifice...but still sacrifce can be apart of being obedient.
On the whole choosing not to consume thing...i think that the temptation for me and maybe for many of us is to consume instead of allowing christ to fill us up. the empty place in my heart crys out for something and i often will choose to fill them with food or something new or a good cheap novel instead of the one thing that i will find truly filling and fufilling. I think i said yesterday that what i consume creates a false identity but actually i think what i consume outside of the context of obedience is something to creates a dividing wall between myself and God. I attempt to satisfy what God is waiting to fill with things that will never completely give me long term comfort and satisfaction. So i will choose not consume certain things for the sake of my relationship with jesus and because i do love him and want to be with him.
hopefully, that is more clear...
On the whole choosing not to consume thing...i think that the temptation for me and maybe for many of us is to consume instead of allowing christ to fill us up. the empty place in my heart crys out for something and i often will choose to fill them with food or something new or a good cheap novel instead of the one thing that i will find truly filling and fufilling. I think i said yesterday that what i consume creates a false identity but actually i think what i consume outside of the context of obedience is something to creates a dividing wall between myself and God. I attempt to satisfy what God is waiting to fill with things that will never completely give me long term comfort and satisfaction. So i will choose not consume certain things for the sake of my relationship with jesus and because i do love him and want to be with him.
hopefully, that is more clear...
Sunday, December 04, 2005
The meaning of sacrifice...
today in language we learned the word for sacrifice and the teacher defined it as the choice not to consume that which is yours or that which you might be entitled to consume for the sake of something... a person, a cause, a belief. I have been pondering...praying about what it means to consume, why i/we consume and what each thing that i choose to consume or not to consume means...you could say i am overthinking..but being a place where there is so little for the many and much for the few makes you constantly question your motives and what is truly important. in bangladesh 93 percent of the country lives below the poverty line in the rural areas of bangladesh--the poverty line being they make less than 2 dollars a day. the 7 percent have all the wealth and they live in the city of Dhaka where i am currently staying...anyone who visits dhaka expecially the diplomatic zone might leave with a skewed view of poverty...because they would see only the wealthy 7 percent. i keep thinking i am what i eat, i am what i have--i am what i consume. what I consume is worn as apart of the false identity i create for myself... still pondering so more on this later...if you have a thought on this stuff--please share it...
Friday, December 02, 2005
these days....
i have a ton of pictures and no way to post them...but i will as soon as i get back to kolkata...right now i am really missing calcutta alot!! the language is progressing but somewhat hampered this week by being sick...seems we all--beth, kristin, and i--picked up some kind of bug while treating ourselves to mexican food--i guess eating mexican food in bangladesh is not such a good idea...so i was laid out for one day on tuesday and got better but then i was down for the count again yesterday with a fever and possibly more "d" then i have ever experienced on a single day in my life--i think saying that i went about 25 times would not be an exaggeration...and seriously it was probably more...i basically was battling dehyration all day long with a headache--still felt pretty crappy and nauseus this morning but i forced myself to go to church (church is on friday in bandladesh--same day as the big muslim prayer day--sunday is a working day) and i have since felt much better....hopefully no more relapses. being sick in the states is much easier --there are so many distraction--tv and movies--yesterday i read a book and a half and was still bored and so discouraged by being sick another day. i always try to remember those who suffer with long term illnesses when i am sick and how hard and discouraging it must be --how if i lose hope at the end of 24 hours how does one keep hope through months and years of sickness...days like yesterday make me wish for the kind of TLC that only mom's can give....yeah so yesterday i really missed my mom alot! MOM I MISS YOU!! i still comfort myself with 7-up when i am sick just like my mom but they are missing saltines here in bangladesh so sour cream and onion chips where the best subsitute--i was totally craving salt!! must have been the dehyration. I pray three psalms this morning all with the common theme of the Lord being my refuge and strength..i guess that is the cry of those who suffer long...lord be my refuge and strength, hear my in my despair and deliver me from this sickness.
Friday, November 25, 2005
You can not take anything from me...
You can not take anything from me because i give it to your freely. Nothing is mine---you can take my humanity and my diginity because i give them to your freely. They are not mine to protect they are God's. My humanity and my dignity are not mine to protect and hold and cherish--how can i hold so tightly to them when all around me some many are having their dignity and humanity stolen from them. I am not a victim. I have chosen to be marginalization for the sake of the salavation of the humanity and dignity of others. Nothing can take my diginity, my humanity, self esteem because i freely give them for the cause of Christ in the world--that he may be glorified daily in my life and even in my death and the death of the selfish and sinful parts of me.
I am stunned how small words of kindness can eliminate the most powerful barriers--the barrier between the beggar and the donor--the seperation is lessened by a human exchange of words and eye contact that can offer dignity and humanity to some whose presence if not dignified very often. There is a boy with a deep wound in his leg-now healed a scar but a horrible disfigurment and he begs. he begs from me. and for a few days i ignored him--walked by him and did not answer his request for a few taka...because i felt dehumanized by the beggars--by their hounding by the fact that they look at me as money and not a person--but i realized that i need to give it up again--you can not take my life from me because i give it freely and everything i have from my body to the money entrusted to me is not mine--so other day when he asked--i asked him name and where he lived and why he was begging and where are his parents...and he was suprised that i asked...and i then i gave him a little money but the money was not the thing that mattered to him--i think what mattered more was that i spoke to him and treated him like a person and he returned the favor not only that day but everyday since.
I wonder what i have been holding on to so tightly. Why have i been hesitant to give when God created me with an almost innated desire to share...i want to be generous. no one can take anything from me because i give it freely. I will not hold on to myself any longer--there is nothing to protect--my body, my things, my life--because none of it is mine.
I am stunned how small words of kindness can eliminate the most powerful barriers--the barrier between the beggar and the donor--the seperation is lessened by a human exchange of words and eye contact that can offer dignity and humanity to some whose presence if not dignified very often. There is a boy with a deep wound in his leg-now healed a scar but a horrible disfigurment and he begs. he begs from me. and for a few days i ignored him--walked by him and did not answer his request for a few taka...because i felt dehumanized by the beggars--by their hounding by the fact that they look at me as money and not a person--but i realized that i need to give it up again--you can not take my life from me because i give it freely and everything i have from my body to the money entrusted to me is not mine--so other day when he asked--i asked him name and where he lived and why he was begging and where are his parents...and he was suprised that i asked...and i then i gave him a little money but the money was not the thing that mattered to him--i think what mattered more was that i spoke to him and treated him like a person and he returned the favor not only that day but everyday since.
I wonder what i have been holding on to so tightly. Why have i been hesitant to give when God created me with an almost innated desire to share...i want to be generous. no one can take anything from me because i give it freely. I will not hold on to myself any longer--there is nothing to protect--my body, my things, my life--because none of it is mine.
An encourageing song from a friend...
In Christ Alone
In Christ alone, my hope is found, He is my light, my strength, my song; This Cornerstone, this solid ground, Firm through the fiercest drought and storm. What heights of love, what depths of peace, When fears are stilled, when strivings cease. My Comforter, my All in All, Here in the love of Christ I stand. In Christ alone who took on flesh, Fullness of God in helpless babe. This gift of love and righteousness Scorned by the ones He came to save; Till on that cross as Jesus died the wrath of God was satisfied; For our sin on Him was laid; Here in the death of Christ I live. There in the ground His body lay, Light of the World by darkness slain: Then bursting forth in glorious Day Up from the ground He rose again! And as He stands in victory Sin’s curse has lost its grip on me, For I am His and He is mine Bought with the precious blood of Christ. No guilt in life, no fear in death, This is the power of Christ in me; From life’s first cry to final breath, Jesus commands my destiny. No pow’er of Hell, no scheme of man, Can ever pluck me from His hand; Till He returns or calls me home, Here in the pow’r of Christ I’ll stand!
Wednesday, November 23, 2005
Just so ya know..
i am feeling a little better, a little more free and released to enjoy learning bangla. i have had some super sweet times with jesus that have lead to some good revelation--wanted to post some thoughts but forgot my journal so....i will just say if you are reading this...
Have a super happy thanksgiving!
Monday, November 21, 2005
being human, raw and vulnerable
Okay so i feel really human, really flawed and really vulnerable today. i have 11 pages of new vocab to learn from the last week and i have been studying a minimum of 3 hours a day in addition to my classes making some days a full 8 hours of bengali...i really feel like there is so much to learn that i will never learn it on top of which the way in which things are said is so different from how a native english speaker would say them. also feeling a little isolated from regular bengali speakers...i miss calcutta!! i miss the girls in the gach, i miss sitting with them and just being apart of their day...i want to talk with someone in bengali besides my teachers...
So i thought i knew alot but right now i feel like i know nothing and then there is the fact pretty much everywhere i go in asia i feel assaulted and demeaned by men. i was walking down the street today and the oncoming man felt free to make comment on my chest size. probably because he did not think i would understand what he said...who does that? and can someone tell me why? so i do know that my value is not in how much bengali i know or what my body looks like but it is pretty hard to remember that today. so i am going to work on forgiving him and not letting satan get control of my attitude but i still feel wounded and yes, very human today and even more i feel vulnerable and inadequate. but i am hoping for the "Jesus strength being perfected in my weakness" thing to happen today and all the days after this...
i did the passage from luke 8 this morning for our devotion...the story of jesus healing of the demoniac...as i write i think that applies more and more to my day. i am an imperfect woman...isolated and desperately alone until i allow the master to enter in...cast away the demons--both mine and those from others that assault with comment and stares--he casts them away and says now tell everyone what i have done and yes, i will stay here with you until you can stand on your own but then tell everyone what i have done for you. he has done much and i am trusting Him for more of his amazing grace on me as i walk onthe streets and hope and pray to learn bengali so i can speak fluently at some point in the not so far future.
pray that my brain can grasp what my heart already seems to understand.
So i thought i knew alot but right now i feel like i know nothing and then there is the fact pretty much everywhere i go in asia i feel assaulted and demeaned by men. i was walking down the street today and the oncoming man felt free to make comment on my chest size. probably because he did not think i would understand what he said...who does that? and can someone tell me why? so i do know that my value is not in how much bengali i know or what my body looks like but it is pretty hard to remember that today. so i am going to work on forgiving him and not letting satan get control of my attitude but i still feel wounded and yes, very human today and even more i feel vulnerable and inadequate. but i am hoping for the "Jesus strength being perfected in my weakness" thing to happen today and all the days after this...
i did the passage from luke 8 this morning for our devotion...the story of jesus healing of the demoniac...as i write i think that applies more and more to my day. i am an imperfect woman...isolated and desperately alone until i allow the master to enter in...cast away the demons--both mine and those from others that assault with comment and stares--he casts them away and says now tell everyone what i have done and yes, i will stay here with you until you can stand on your own but then tell everyone what i have done for you. he has done much and i am trusting Him for more of his amazing grace on me as i walk onthe streets and hope and pray to learn bengali so i can speak fluently at some point in the not so far future.
pray that my brain can grasp what my heart already seems to understand.
Wednesday, November 16, 2005
My bengali marathon
today kristin said we need to remember that language learning is like a sprint not a marathon--i say that all the time about stuff--especially about living in kolkata--but it was a good reminder that learning a language does not happen by osmosis--though that would be nice--it requires the same discipline and long term thinking that a marathon requires. so language school is off to a good start and i am really in touch with how much i do not know bengali. i am finally literate and can actually read bengali script but i am beyond help in retaining all the new things that i am learning everyday. i need to stop thinking like an english speaker and start thinking like a bengali speaker--which means that when i make trips home i will probably talk funny as my words will be all out of order.
doing an overland border crossing from india to bangladesh is also very much like a marthon and a world class marathoner could probably do a real 26.2 miler faster than we can get our passports stamped to leave india, walk across the border with everyone and their mother asking where you are from and wanting to see your passport--so many times that you are not sure if they are legitmate and need to see it or are just curious to look at your picture even though the live action figure is standing right in front of them--then once across the boarder--other people taking your bags as you hope that you will see them again as you hand off your bus tickets and go to the bangladeshi immigration and a number of other people handle and look at your picture and finally stamp your passport but then someone else has to sign it--and then one must grab a risckshaw-not knowing where our bags have gone to the next bus--which is still not leaving for another hour but thankfully our bags are now in sight and heavly protected by a 10 year old boy. so yes--i think i can be sure that there are some runners who could run a marathon faster than we crossed the border but i know that i can not run a marathon faster so i tried to keep the humilty that saying you ran a marthon in 6 hours requires. really travel in asia is a lesson in humility, patience and thankfulness. thank God for these lessons.
doing an overland border crossing from india to bangladesh is also very much like a marthon and a world class marathoner could probably do a real 26.2 miler faster than we can get our passports stamped to leave india, walk across the border with everyone and their mother asking where you are from and wanting to see your passport--so many times that you are not sure if they are legitmate and need to see it or are just curious to look at your picture even though the live action figure is standing right in front of them--then once across the boarder--other people taking your bags as you hope that you will see them again as you hand off your bus tickets and go to the bangladeshi immigration and a number of other people handle and look at your picture and finally stamp your passport but then someone else has to sign it--and then one must grab a risckshaw-not knowing where our bags have gone to the next bus--which is still not leaving for another hour but thankfully our bags are now in sight and heavly protected by a 10 year old boy. so yes--i think i can be sure that there are some runners who could run a marathon faster than we crossed the border but i know that i can not run a marathon faster so i tried to keep the humilty that saying you ran a marthon in 6 hours requires. really travel in asia is a lesson in humility, patience and thankfulness. thank God for these lessons.
Monday, November 14, 2005
Lament for Today
You are with me God. Are you for me? Are you for them?
I wrenched with sadness that a 19 year old girl will allow herself to be treated like crap by the man who lives off her—he hates her for what she does and yet he makes her do it. She has no reason to be kind—I think I would want to tell the world to go to hell for treating me this way—for allowing this injustice—this oppression for blatantly pressing my face into the dirt.
Do you stand far off God or are you here? Are you with her? Will you save her?
I am angry that someone who should know better—they all should know better—they are men—they are adults—they have mothers, sisters and daughters—will satiate their lust with the body of 14 year old girl. They will call her a whore and will not acknowledge her on the street but they will violate her body—her temple. They make her body a market when it should be sacred. I wanted men to be better, to know better, to see what I see when I go to the gach…beautiful, tender, broken woman who need love and empowerment not to be used…
God will you allow this continue? Are you here? Will you be the Emmanuel of Sonagacchi? Be here God—be here with the women…be here with the men.
I am broken and destroyed that I can walk up the dark unholy stairs to my friend’s home to find her with a western customer. Her sister and her children waiting outside… I saw the man escape down the stairs. His white skin, pony tail and striped shirt blurring past down the stairs away from his sin, his lust, his defamation of the body of my friend. I stood there for a second baffled and then I chased him to find him to ask him…what the heck he was doing and why he felt entitled to have five dollar sex with an 18 year girl...a girl who confesses that she no longer has a heart….who will not leave the trade because she believes that there is no salvation for her, that the darkness of her heart matches the darkness of the stairs that we climb to get to her room. But he was gone when I reached the street.
God did you see what I just saw? I need you to be here with her. Will you return to her what has been stolen not only this time but all the times before this one?
We travel in a mixed world…worlds we think will never collide. But today they collided. Even as we talked about what we would have said to the western man we saw escaping from our friend’s room in Sonagacchi we encountered him. There he was leaving and we were entering for lunch. And the words we wanted to say, to scream, to shout—who do you think you are? Why are you having sex with little girls you creep? But angry words did not come out of our mouths—only “Sir, we saw you today in Sonagacchi” first he smiled and then he turned and walked away as we called “what were you doing there?”
Jesus will you forgive him and help me because I can not. Are you here? Do you see that man’s heart? Do you see mine?
Why would the western man know better…we are all the same. I sat down and prayed for him, forgave and then cursed and hated him. I abhorred him because I know that he represents some part of me—that part of me that can dehumanize another, the part that chooses not to see everyone as valuable, the part that is selfish and lustful. But I am not him but by a grace—a thread of belief, redemption and hope.
Jesus forgive me, help me to forgive him. Love him and pray for him. My hope is you God…the only hope of Sonagacchi is you Jesus. I hope because you are my Hope.
I wrenched with sadness that a 19 year old girl will allow herself to be treated like crap by the man who lives off her—he hates her for what she does and yet he makes her do it. She has no reason to be kind—I think I would want to tell the world to go to hell for treating me this way—for allowing this injustice—this oppression for blatantly pressing my face into the dirt.
Do you stand far off God or are you here? Are you with her? Will you save her?
I am angry that someone who should know better—they all should know better—they are men—they are adults—they have mothers, sisters and daughters—will satiate their lust with the body of 14 year old girl. They will call her a whore and will not acknowledge her on the street but they will violate her body—her temple. They make her body a market when it should be sacred. I wanted men to be better, to know better, to see what I see when I go to the gach…beautiful, tender, broken woman who need love and empowerment not to be used…
God will you allow this continue? Are you here? Will you be the Emmanuel of Sonagacchi? Be here God—be here with the women…be here with the men.
I am broken and destroyed that I can walk up the dark unholy stairs to my friend’s home to find her with a western customer. Her sister and her children waiting outside… I saw the man escape down the stairs. His white skin, pony tail and striped shirt blurring past down the stairs away from his sin, his lust, his defamation of the body of my friend. I stood there for a second baffled and then I chased him to find him to ask him…what the heck he was doing and why he felt entitled to have five dollar sex with an 18 year girl...a girl who confesses that she no longer has a heart….who will not leave the trade because she believes that there is no salvation for her, that the darkness of her heart matches the darkness of the stairs that we climb to get to her room. But he was gone when I reached the street.
God did you see what I just saw? I need you to be here with her. Will you return to her what has been stolen not only this time but all the times before this one?
We travel in a mixed world…worlds we think will never collide. But today they collided. Even as we talked about what we would have said to the western man we saw escaping from our friend’s room in Sonagacchi we encountered him. There he was leaving and we were entering for lunch. And the words we wanted to say, to scream, to shout—who do you think you are? Why are you having sex with little girls you creep? But angry words did not come out of our mouths—only “Sir, we saw you today in Sonagacchi” first he smiled and then he turned and walked away as we called “what were you doing there?”
Jesus will you forgive him and help me because I can not. Are you here? Do you see that man’s heart? Do you see mine?
Why would the western man know better…we are all the same. I sat down and prayed for him, forgave and then cursed and hated him. I abhorred him because I know that he represents some part of me—that part of me that can dehumanize another, the part that chooses not to see everyone as valuable, the part that is selfish and lustful. But I am not him but by a grace—a thread of belief, redemption and hope.
Jesus forgive me, help me to forgive him. Love him and pray for him. My hope is you God…the only hope of Sonagacchi is you Jesus. I hope because you are my Hope.
Kristin's Poem
Your Shoes
Sir, I stand outside my friend?s door and stare at your shoes, I wonder who you are and where you came from and why you think that it okay that youcome and have sex with my friend. I wonder, Sir, what has been done to you or what lust controls you that you thinkcoming here is okay. Sir, do you know that my friend?s parents died when she was 12? Do you know thatshe has been working here since she was 14 years old? Do you know that she told meonce that at the age of 17 she had no heart? Sir, I stare at your western shoes and wonder if you think you are getting a waywith this. I wonder if you understand that your momentary satisfaction you gainfrom sleeping with my friend steals another part of her soul. Sir, I see your shoes and they represent to me what I hate. I see your shoes and amreminded how in this place oppression reigns. Jesus says that ?beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news?. But Sir,your feet are ugly and despicable. Your feet bring oppression and fear. They bringlust and selfishness. When you look in the mirror do you hate the man who wears theshoes that sit outside my friend?s door? Do you long to be free from the lust thatentangles you or Sir, are you so lost inside your selfishness that you can only seehow to meet your needs. Because, Sir, You are missing out on life. You are cheating yourself and the othersaround you. You, Sir, are lost. My Jesus is big enough to hold you. My Jesus is big enough to forgive what I feel Ican not. My Jesus is big enough to change your heart and take your shame.So, Sir, I ask you was that five dollars and that hour of your life worth what itcost my friend? Sir, do you know the cost that was paid for your sins? Do you know the love of aFather who weeps over you, who longs to hold you like a son? Do you know that youare the beloved of God? Sir, do you know?
Sir, I stand outside my friend?s door and stare at your shoes, I wonder who you are and where you came from and why you think that it okay that youcome and have sex with my friend. I wonder, Sir, what has been done to you or what lust controls you that you thinkcoming here is okay. Sir, do you know that my friend?s parents died when she was 12? Do you know thatshe has been working here since she was 14 years old? Do you know that she told meonce that at the age of 17 she had no heart? Sir, I stare at your western shoes and wonder if you think you are getting a waywith this. I wonder if you understand that your momentary satisfaction you gainfrom sleeping with my friend steals another part of her soul. Sir, I see your shoes and they represent to me what I hate. I see your shoes and amreminded how in this place oppression reigns. Jesus says that ?beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news?. But Sir,your feet are ugly and despicable. Your feet bring oppression and fear. They bringlust and selfishness. When you look in the mirror do you hate the man who wears theshoes that sit outside my friend?s door? Do you long to be free from the lust thatentangles you or Sir, are you so lost inside your selfishness that you can only seehow to meet your needs. Because, Sir, You are missing out on life. You are cheating yourself and the othersaround you. You, Sir, are lost. My Jesus is big enough to hold you. My Jesus is big enough to forgive what I feel Ican not. My Jesus is big enough to change your heart and take your shame.So, Sir, I ask you was that five dollars and that hour of your life worth what itcost my friend? Sir, do you know the cost that was paid for your sins? Do you know the love of aFather who weeps over you, who longs to hold you like a son? Do you know that youare the beloved of God? Sir, do you know?
Monday, November 07, 2005
everyday is a lesson in something
We went to the gach today. I went with Kiran and kristin and beth went together. We spent several hours on opposite ends of the street meeting and greeting those we call our friends and those we hope to call our friends. It was really a good day. We spent time in a couple of brothels with some of the ladies--drinking cha and talking about why i am not married and how in america everyone has a "love" marraige not an an arranged marraige. This is a stunning concept to most of the ladies i talk too. if i told them how old i am then they would be really shocked...i try to keep the fact that i am 32 on the down low--women in india who are not married at 32 rarely get married ever...i am hoping that is not the case for me.
We have spent alot of time with one of the girls in her room over the past couple of weeks. i have never seen her out working the line before today--i almost forgot what it is she does to support herself. She keeps telling us that she is leaving the trade and that she is going back to her family in bangladesh--which is great---but she keeps delaying --we are hoping that we can see her at her home in bangladesh on our way home from language school in december. keep her in your thoughts and p's.
3 of us are still scrunched into 2 rooms--sleeping in one room and living in the other. our beds are pressed together with no room in between--maybe i should put up a picture so you can see...but we are hoping to finalize the details of our new place this week before we leave for 4 bangladesh...seems like it might happen. things sure do take a long time here...it would be great to come home and paint and get the place finished and then have a christmas party.
i had lunch with my friend siara yesterday--a feast of beef biriyani--very yummy and a very labor intensive dish over a clay stove with only one burner. I was hoping for lunch by 2 but was super excited to eat when i did at 4pm. nothing like some serious hunger make something good even better. siara is an old friend from when i lived her before and it was a very relaxing afternoon sitting with her while she cooked--talking, drinking masala tea--that is tea with salt in it...talking to the occaisional passerby who very intrigued by a foreign girl sitting on the street enjoying sometime with friend.
still glad to be here...everyday remains a lesson in something....
We have spent alot of time with one of the girls in her room over the past couple of weeks. i have never seen her out working the line before today--i almost forgot what it is she does to support herself. She keeps telling us that she is leaving the trade and that she is going back to her family in bangladesh--which is great---but she keeps delaying --we are hoping that we can see her at her home in bangladesh on our way home from language school in december. keep her in your thoughts and p's.
3 of us are still scrunched into 2 rooms--sleeping in one room and living in the other. our beds are pressed together with no room in between--maybe i should put up a picture so you can see...but we are hoping to finalize the details of our new place this week before we leave for 4 bangladesh...seems like it might happen. things sure do take a long time here...it would be great to come home and paint and get the place finished and then have a christmas party.
i had lunch with my friend siara yesterday--a feast of beef biriyani--very yummy and a very labor intensive dish over a clay stove with only one burner. I was hoping for lunch by 2 but was super excited to eat when i did at 4pm. nothing like some serious hunger make something good even better. siara is an old friend from when i lived her before and it was a very relaxing afternoon sitting with her while she cooked--talking, drinking masala tea--that is tea with salt in it...talking to the occaisional passerby who very intrigued by a foreign girl sitting on the street enjoying sometime with friend.
still glad to be here...everyday remains a lesson in something....
Wednesday, November 02, 2005
Today's News
The Sad News...
Our friend who we were hoping to plug into a new job with Freeset was again resistant and made excuses about why she could not take the job...we are sad but not hopeless. We remain hopeful and trust that with our encouragement and maybe some prompting from Jesus she will come with us some day soon.
Hate the Drum, not the drummer
Every Puja (Hindu holiday celebrating a god or godess) is marked with very loud noise going very late into the night. And yesterday was the start of DIWALI--festival of light and boy did they drum straight into the middle of the morning. this morning on our 530am run we ran past the drummers sleeping and my first thought was that we should wake them up since they kept us up but then i was reminded that we need to love the drummer and hate the drum.
Still no house
We are still waiting for word on whether we can finalize the contract on our house...we really want to get it done and moved in by the 12th when we leave for language school in bangladesh. pray for us...
The miracle of garbanzo beans
Last night we accomplished the feat of making hummus in India. We soaked dry garbanzo beans and mash them with metal cup and then added olive oil, water, garlic, salt and lime. it was fabulous!! if you want to come and visit i promise to make it for you!!
The train station
I worked at the train station at Sealdah on monday to help out as they were a little short. It was strange to be back walking the platforms...looking for those who are sick or dying. Trying to distinguish between the dying and the sleeping--both postured in the same position. both in need but not in the same way. it is easy to forget how bad the suffering is here...hard to let your mind linger for long on 12 year old little boys sleeping everywhere you look and the one wounded and disfigured who is afraid to look you in the eyes. It is easy to put aside the suffering and exchange it for comfort. It is a very physical spiritual battle that we fight at the train stations...everywhere satan is seeking to marr the face of God by marring the face of a humanity made in his image. It is an honor and priviledge to step into the fray and say--not this man--not today-- at the train station.
and yes, so much an honor to tell a little girl or a struggling mom in the gach that this is not what things are supposed to be like--we were not created for this--they were not created for this...there are glimpses of the garden to seen and lived and a God who can handle our laments and their broken hearts outside the walls of the brothels.
Our friend who we were hoping to plug into a new job with Freeset was again resistant and made excuses about why she could not take the job...we are sad but not hopeless. We remain hopeful and trust that with our encouragement and maybe some prompting from Jesus she will come with us some day soon.
Hate the Drum, not the drummer
Every Puja (Hindu holiday celebrating a god or godess) is marked with very loud noise going very late into the night. And yesterday was the start of DIWALI--festival of light and boy did they drum straight into the middle of the morning. this morning on our 530am run we ran past the drummers sleeping and my first thought was that we should wake them up since they kept us up but then i was reminded that we need to love the drummer and hate the drum.
Still no house
We are still waiting for word on whether we can finalize the contract on our house...we really want to get it done and moved in by the 12th when we leave for language school in bangladesh. pray for us...
The miracle of garbanzo beans
Last night we accomplished the feat of making hummus in India. We soaked dry garbanzo beans and mash them with metal cup and then added olive oil, water, garlic, salt and lime. it was fabulous!! if you want to come and visit i promise to make it for you!!
The train station
I worked at the train station at Sealdah on monday to help out as they were a little short. It was strange to be back walking the platforms...looking for those who are sick or dying. Trying to distinguish between the dying and the sleeping--both postured in the same position. both in need but not in the same way. it is easy to forget how bad the suffering is here...hard to let your mind linger for long on 12 year old little boys sleeping everywhere you look and the one wounded and disfigured who is afraid to look you in the eyes. It is easy to put aside the suffering and exchange it for comfort. It is a very physical spiritual battle that we fight at the train stations...everywhere satan is seeking to marr the face of God by marring the face of a humanity made in his image. It is an honor and priviledge to step into the fray and say--not this man--not today-- at the train station.
and yes, so much an honor to tell a little girl or a struggling mom in the gach that this is not what things are supposed to be like--we were not created for this--they were not created for this...there are glimpses of the garden to seen and lived and a God who can handle our laments and their broken hearts outside the walls of the brothels.
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