Crying for the Children of the World

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I sit here staring at a blank screen. Words escape me. The grief of Friday’s tragedy is overwhelming. I think of my own niece and nephew who are 6 and 7. My heart breaks.

As I am weeping over the far-reaching loss, I am reminded of the brokenness of this world. According to the World Health Organization, 6.9 million children under the age of five died in 2011. More than half of the deaths were due to conditions that could be prevented or treated with access to simple, affordable interventions. About 1/3 of all child deaths are linked to malnutrition. Children in sub-Saharan Africa are about 16.5 times more likely to die before the age of five than children in developed regions.

My heart breaks. This world is broken.

One million children are exploited by the global commercial sex trade every year, according to The Polaris Project.

My heart breaks. This world is broken.

There is a time for action, but I believe there is also a time for mourning. All that I can do today is trust a sovereign God and know that it breaks His heart to see His world in this broken state as well. One day, He will make all things new.

Reduced to a Number

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On Monday I introduced you to The Exodus Road. Today, I’d like to share with you the story of Sarah, a 15 year old girl recently found and rescued by an investigator working with The Exodus Road.

The Exodus Road team met Sarah in a brothel in Cambodia. There was a line of prostitutes behind a glass wall – a fishbowl they call it. They were sitting on high bar stools, with heavy make-up and short skirts. They had numbers pinned to their shoulders on display for the customers on the other side of the glass.

Each girl was reduced to a number. A commodity to be sold.

Then Sarah was brought in. She was “fresh,” the pimp had told the lead investigator over the phone. Sarah was dressed in street clothes and kept her head down. She was 15 and had been sold by her mother in a neighboring country several days before to work off a debt which her mother owed. Sarah’s virginity had been sold three days prior for $600 USD.

Sarah’s innocence was reduced to a number – this time, a price.

With covert cameras, the investigators were able to record the sale of Sarah for the night, capturing valuable evidence that could be passed on to the trusted authorities in hopes of the pimp’s prosecution. Later, behind a closed door, the operative was able to call a social worker who spoke Sarah’s language. He explained that he was there to help her, not to hurt her, and that he could aid her escape if she wanted. Unfortunately, Sarah was too scared to run. She was understandably too scared to trust a stranger.

The following day, the investigator returned to visit Sarah in the brothel, just blocks away from a crowded local market. She scribbled a note, “Please Rescue Me,” on a bill and slipped it to him.

She wanted out, but didn’t know the way.

Immediately, the investigator gave his testimony and video evidence to the authorities and asked the government to conduct a raid on Sarah’s behalf. It was believed that 10 or more girls were also being held against their wills at the same brothel.

And so she waited. And suffered.

After weeks of waiting, Sarah’s door was kicked in. The note she scribbled to the investigator on a piece of currency which said, “Please rescue me,” finally got answered.

It was a professional operation, spearheaded chiefly by the lead investigator, which took the course of three days and resulted in the discovery of 8 underage victims and the arrests of the brothel owners.

As the doors were kicked in, the value of each individual victim was proclaimed – for truly they are more than a number.

 

Story details from Laura Parker of The Exodus Road. Used with permission.

For more stories like this, check out The Exodus Road blog.

 

Introducing: The Exodus Road

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Today, I’d like to introduce you to a ministry I wish didn’t exist.

Let me explain.

The Exodus Road is a non-profit organization that fights modern day slavery through covert investigations. Their coalition of operatives work together to gather evidence and conduct rescues for those trapped in sexual slavery. They gather legal evidence, support raids and prosecutions, and support aftercare facilities in their network. The fact that this is needed breaks my heart.

The number of slaves in the world today is estimated to be 20 – 30 MILLION. Every 60 seconds, a child is sold for sex worldwide. Human trafficking is the 3rd largest global industry, behind drugs and guns.

Those are gut-wrenching statistics, aren’t they?

But more than that, every one of those 20 – 30 million slaves have a face. A story. A soul. Somebody needs to care about them – as individuals, not as statistics.

Combating human trafficking is a passion of mine, and I am excited to partner with The Exodus Road as a member of their blogging team.  I will have an opportunity to share stories from the field with you and provide you with opportunities to get involved in their work in Southeast Asia.

From the beginning, I have been impressed with the structure of The Exodus Road and am encouraged by the hard, gut-wrenching work they are doing on behalf of the least of these.  I pray for the day when a ministry such as this will not need to exist because the slaves have been set free. Collectively, we are working towards that goal, one life and intervention at a time.

Want to Make Your Shopping Worthwhile?

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It’s no secret that people spend a lot of money this time of year. According to USA Today, retailers “depend on the last two months of the year for up to 40% of annual sales.”  (emphasis mine) Do you want the shopping you’re already doing to have an even larger impact? Well then … check out Pure Charity!

 

This one minute video sums it up pretty well ~

 

What would you like to give towards this holiday season (and beyond)?

 

Perhaps a school in Haiti?

 

Or a maternity home in Kenya?

 

Or fighting human trafficking in Southeast Asia?

 

There are numerous possibilities. Find one (or more!) that interest you and create an even bigger impact as you mark things off your shopping list.

When Poverty Calls You By Name

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This past summer I went on a short term mission trip to Haiti. I knew the statistics. I was acutely aware that I would be traveling to the poorest country in the world. What I didn’t expect was for poverty to call me by name.

 

Part of my group’s time in country was spent putting on a Vacation Bible School for village children. One day, after I finished making sandwiches for the children, I went outside to make the rounds to see if any of the teachers needed anything. A group of kids had gathered and were hanging around outside. As a result of my personality and life experiences, I always feel drawn to the “outcasts.” So I did what came natural – I sat down in the red dirt of rural Haiti and made some new friends. When I travel overseas, I naturally stick out. Between being a Westerner and having a fair complexion and light eyes and hair, it’s impossible for me to blend in in most of the places I travel. :)

 

One little boy, B, stole my heart. At the tender age of 7 or so, he practiced his English with me. One of his questions was, “What is your name?” “Ashley,” I responded. “Ash-a-lee,” he mimicked. I couldn’t help but smile, for that is the same way my three year olds in Sunday School class used to pronounce my name.

Me and B – Haiti, 2012

 

After a short while, I had to leave the group outside, for there were other tasks I needed to prepare for with VBS. As I said goodbye I wondered if I would ever see my friend B again.

 

Later that day while in another part of the village, I saw him again. My heart wasn’t prepared for what happened next. As soon as he saw me from across the field, he took off running towards me yelling “Ash-a-lee! Ash-a-lee! Hello!” and waving like crazy. He remembered my name. My heart melted.

 

But nothing could prepare me for what happened the next day …

 

The following day, I had the opportunity to spend the day with a local family and witness what their day-to-day life was like. What family did I get put with? B’s! Thank you, Father my heart whispered in prayer. As he saw me again, he ran and jumped into my arms. Then, something happened that altered my life forever. As I held this precious child in my arms, he cupped my face in his hands and said, “Ash-a-lee, I’m hungry.”

 

Boom.

 

What do you do when poverty calls you by name?

 

I could no longer claim I didn’t know. I had seen it with my own eyes. I was called out – by name. I knew I had a thank you gift with me that included rice and beans, but I also knew it wouldn’t last long with the size of his family. Then what?

 

Again I ask – what do you do when poverty calls you by name?

Everybody Has a Story

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Everybody has a story. Whether you’ve lived in the same town all your life or you’ve traveled the world, you have a story. The question is: are you sharing it with others?

My story goes like this – Born and raised in Texas in a Christian home. Grew up going to church and doing all the “right” things – earning the checkmarks on the “good, Christian girl checklist.” Sunday school attendance? Check. Bible reading? Check. No bad language or rated R movies? Check. Check. That was the path I was on until I met God at the age of 14. Oh sure, I knew about Him before that time, but I didn’t know Him. From that day forward, I’ve never been the same. That was the point in time where God interrupted my life, redeemed me, and I truly surrendered to Him and His will for my life.

Part of my story includes overseas travel. At that tender age of 14, God gave me a heart for the nations and a desire to see His Kingdom proclaimed on the earth. I’ve spent the last 9+ years living that out the best I know how. As such, some of the stories I feel compelled to steward well are not entirely my own. They are the stories and harsh realities experienced for people I’ve met around the world. But as God expands my worldview and gives me glimpses into the issues that plague our world today, they become part of my story. As Brooke Fraser sings in the song Albertine, “Now that I have seen, I am responsible. Faith without deeds is dead.”

I was on a flight from Tokyo back to the U.S.A. in March of this year when God convicted me about needing to steward the stories He’s entrusted me with well. This blog is a response to that conviction. I had spent the week ministering to missionaries in Thailand and was stirred by the stories they shared with me. I wasn’t ready to leave, but I was on Spring Break (I work at a university), and my time off was drawing to a close.  The flight attendant offered me a newspaper, and knowing that I had a long flight ahead of me, I took it. “Why not?” I thought. God had a purpose in that. On the front page of the paper was a story about child soldiers. I lost it. I continued reading. Story after story reminded me of the brokenness of the world in which we live. I remember getting to the back of the paper and finding stories that would be front page material in America. I wept for the harsh realities faced by millions around the world. I wept over my ignorance regarding many of the issues. I wept because I knew stories about child soldiers would likely never make front page news at home and our misplaced priorities disgusted me. “God what am I supposed to do about all that I’ve seen and experienced this week?” was a common prayer I prayed during the week before. In that moment, I knew what I needed to do – TELL THE STORY.

And that is just what I intend to do.

Are you sharing your story (whatever that looks like) with others?