returning… seeing the people I came to love last October… and a place that
oddly felt a bit like home despite the difference in language, food, and place. In many ways it felt as if we’d never left. Person after person bubbled up in my mind… would we see them? How were they? Did certain women still work in Pat
Pong?
Not that it’s about us at all. It’s
about Christ. But a focus on relational ministry makes it difficult not to be
emotionally invested with those we meet. We care about them, pray for them…
remember them when we are gone. So there was a little trepidation on my part as
to if certain people would recognize us. If they did, it would mean we did
something right… that something we said or did made an impact and pointed to
Christ beyond anything we could do on our own.
It started with squeals with the women at the Oasis, a spa
down the street Connie and I had visited a few times in October. Going there
for us wasn’t just to relax. It was to get to know and intercede for the women
who were there. We’d talk with them, ask about their lives, share ours… laugh, and
pray over them as they worked out the kinks in our backs. Some of my “best”
quiet time with the Lord last fall happened in the Oasis, where I was able to
zone out from logistical details and be still before Him.
When we walked in, Noy, the women who connected so strongly
with Connie, spotted her and freaked out. Squealing and screaming, jumping and
waving her arms-“You came! I thought you’d already come and forgot to visit.
You’re here! I’ve missed you!” Then came Fon, another girl, laughing and hugging us. Others came from the back of the store.. It was
a beautiful reunion.
bar owner after vendor, sex-menu peddler after dancer who we remembered.
And they remembered us.
The one we named Justin Beiber, the lady we call Gia because
we can’t remember her name-just her face, the man who would put down his menu
and go to get his kids so they could attend children’s ministry in the heart of
the oldest and largest Red Light District in Thailand, the deaf vendor who
sells beautiful paintings, and the manager of two prominent bars who welcomed
us inside repeatedly, encouraged us to spend time with the girls, and wanted us
to come back.
It was reunion, and it was beautiful.
I’m not in a place in my life where I can make a long term
commitment to living somewhere overseas full time. But being committed to
certain locations, to those people, and returning to them-I can do that. Pat
Pong might be many things, but for me, it’s where God is at work, and where
there are names and faces, not just strangers, who long for love, for comfort,
for security, and are doing what they do because it’s what they know.
Being able to return was such a beautiful blessing. And the
coolest thing is that there is one more Thailand trip scheduled for 2012.Connie is leading and I will be support staffing the one in
October. So even when we left, we were able to say, “This isn’t good-bye! We’re
coming back in October. See you then!”
But for me, a small but miraculous moment happened the first
night the team prayer walked in Pat Pong.
Last October, I met a woman named Nok Nok during a prayer
walk. She was on her way to work, and as she made her way towards me, I was
struck by her pronounced, painful limp and the hopeless look in her eyes.
She walked right up to me that night and we talked for a few
moments. She stopped because she liked my shoes, but the conversation that
followed was brief and what I hope was God-filled. She broke my heart. I prayed
after that night that I would see her on the street, because the bar she worked
at was one I wasn’t able to enter. All I could do was pray.
I didn’t see her again that trip. On the plane to Thailand
two weeks ago, I mentioned her to Connie, saying that I knew it was a long
shot, that it was likely she’d left Pat Pong and that it would be almost
impossible to find one woman out of the 4000 that work in that district. But
that I really hoped I’d get to see her.
Fast forward to the first prayer walk with this team. We
were about to leave, when all of the sudden, I heard my name. Connie, who was
walking at the front of the team, motioned me forward. And there was Nok Nok.
I couldn’t believe it.
She stared at me in confusion, then something in her face
changed. I said her name, and she said, “Do you remember me?”
The vulnerability in her voice took my breath away.
“Yes, I remember you! Do you remember me?” Out of all of the
foreigners she meets in Pat Pong, why would she remember me?
She smiled and hugged me.
We talked for a few moments, then she had to go to work. She
asked me to come see her at work. I told her I didn’t know if I’d be able to,
but that I would try. I tied a friendship bracelet on her wrist and prayed for
her, then said good-bye.
A few nights later, a small group of us went to see Nok Nok
at work. The bar was darker, darker than any I’ve ever been in. The air was
thick with confusion. It was loud, so loud it was hard to hear, and the girls
who worked there all wore glow-in-the-dark contacts that looked like cat eyes.
Finally, I spotted Nok Nok behind the bar, and relief swept over me. She wasn’t
a dancer… she was a bar tender.
A friend and I made our way over, and again, there was
confusion on her face. Then she remembered. She smiled. We talked, we pointed
at our matching bracelets… then she asked me for money. I said no, that we came
to see her, not to give her money… and she shut down. It became obvious that
she didn’t want anything else to do with us. So the friend and I prayed for
her, pretending like we were having a conversation with each other. In the
middle of that prayer, Nok Nok looked up, smiled one more time, then looked
away.
We said good-bye and left.
I didn’t see her again, but that’s okay-because I’m going
back in October! And I will pray that God will bring me across her path again.
She doesn’t know Him, and my prayer is that one day she’ll want to hear about
Him, to ask why “Pra Jesu rak koon”
(why does Jesus love her?).
Will you pray for Nok Nok? Please pray that God will help
her see that He remembers her. That she isn’t forgotten. That she is dearly
loved. That she can have hope.
I’m excited to see what the next reunion holds!
