Welcome to Cambodia, Phnom Penh, more specifically. Let’s get down to business. A group of us set out on a prayer walk through the Red Light District. Here is what happened:
Prior to leaving, we decided to pray. During the prayer, one of the girls got weak at the knees. She is especially intuitive and has been more susceptible to spiritual environments in the past. We had her sit and prayed for her again. She had gone from feeling absolutely fine to extremely oppressed in a matter of 30 seconds. Myself, and another girl both got hot in a way that had nothing to do with the climate. The experience was scary but set the tone that we needed to carry on with our plan to do a prayer walk.
Spiritual attack: check.
I’ve never seen anything like it in my life because I’ve never had the chance to be exposed to it. We walked up and down the streets of a fairly contained area and there were men everywhere. Mostly foreigners, likely Western. On one corner, there was an establishment that gave off the illusion of being a restaurant but there was no mistaking that each man that entered was greeted and then entertained by a petite woman in a red dress.
The Red Light District complete with red dresses: check.
We walked up and down the streets just praying to ourselves and observing what we could. I’ve never felt quite that helpless. One area in particular was especially heartbreaking. On one of our passes we walked by a food court that was brimming with white men sitting expectantly at tables and young women dressed in the type of outfits that the girls in “Mean Girls” would wear as Halloween costumes playing pool. Every so often, one of the women would approach a man who eyed her hungrily. After we walked by once, one of our number felt we should walk through the food court. It was sickening to be offered menus of food to eat knowing that this was going on all around us.
An abundance of customers with healthy appetites: check.
As we continued, we passed a young woman sitting by an ATM who had limbs that were flailing around. She smiled at two of us and we both felt led to go sit with her. We were shocked to learn that she knew English and was 23. After chatting with her a bit, two of the group went to buy her water and crackers. We tried praying for her but she was not engaged. Her speech was broken and her attention faded in and out. One thing that regularly kept her focused was whenever a man would pass by she would whistle and smile at him. A white man walked by and greeted her in a familiar way. He even went so far as to offer her a cigarette and then proceeded to tell us some of her story. Her condition has worsened in the past 4 months and she can barely control her arms to smoke a cigarette let alone lift a bottle of water to her mouth. She kept scratching at herself like she had bugs on her. He explained that she had a child that she sold on the black market and squandered the money. After chatting with us, he quickly departed. To his credit, I believed him to be a friend rather than an enemy.
Available drugs and users: check.
That story did not seem real. I’m 23. Look at my life circumstances in comparison: I’ve been raised in an incredibly safe environment with a family that cares deeply for me and I’ve even had the opportunity to receive a college degree. Oh, and I’m on the World Race due to the generosity of others. Humble pie tastes great, no really.
While we were still sitting with the young woman, a phenomenon that I had observed several times got clarified. On most of the corners were a half a dozen men just sitting on motorcycles. This seemed peculiar until we observed a white man and petite (shorter than me) woman get on one of the motor cycles. The white man signaled to the driver where to go. He initially had his hands on the abdomen of the woman but she moved his hands to her chest as the motorcycle sped off. I mean, really??????????
Easy transportation: check.
Once we had finished chatting with the young woman, there was only so much that we could do. A man in a yellow shirt had walked by us several times and kept watching us. We assumed he was the inidivdual that she reported to. He started to approach us and we determined that it was our signal to leave. Our spirits had taken in more than enough so we decided it was time to head back to the hostel. Just when I thought I’d seen all I could bear, we witnessed what could have only been a father and son walk into the first red dress place that I mentioned. A father and a son.
Father and son bonding: check.
I did not stop feeling that out of place hot sensation until we started walking away from the area. With each step, my spirit felt freer, like it was finally taken a breath of fresh air. It felt like I held my breath the entire time we were walking around.
It may be too soon to say but this may be the great injustice that I bring home with me and find myself unable to shake. The biggest thing that I took away from the entire situation wasn’t anger with the men. It was compassion for them because just observing their eyes, they are empty. They are seeking a fleeting pleasure that will keep them coming back because it will never satisfy. They need Jesus as much as the women need Jesus to show them that they are valued for far more than their anatomy. The whole system needs a savior.
A cause that needs more help: GAME ON.
“The harvest is plentiful but the laborers are few. Therefore pray earnestly to the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest.” Luke 10:2
