My mind is still processing what I have learnt and seen from the documentary, Nefarious: Merchant of Souls. If my mind is still processing, my fingers will not be able to type out all that I am feeling right now. Disturbed, a bit disoriented (similar to a situation where you come out from a movie and for a split second, you had no idea where you were, I thought I was in Cambodia until I looked around and saw my Ratanak core people). My mind keeps going back to the streets, the red light districts, the girls being interviewed, the “window shopping” (for some, you know what I am talking about!!), their testimonies, their tears, their crying out to Jesus!!
It’s such a powerful film in which our partner, Don Brewster, was being interviewed by Benjamin Nolot for quite a lot of minutes in the film. This was not my first time listening to him. My very first time listening to him dated back 3 years ago when he and his wife flew from Cambodia to Toronto, as one of the speakers for the social justice conference that I attended. There were a few workshops for us to choose from. I chose his without even knowing who is Don Brewster or what would I be learning from his workshop, but I picked his anyway. It was one of the most vivid workshops I had ever attended. He was wearing a bright blue Hawaiian shirt with some palm tree green dashing sporadically. He was teasing about how mismatched he felt while the temperature in Toronto in that January Saturday was 10 degrees below sub-zero. An hour later, I knew why he chose to wear that Hawaiian shirt because it was made by one of the rescued victims who was at the time staying at his aftercare shelter. He was wearing this beautifully tailored made Hawaiian shirt, having this proudness only a father would have for his own daughter on his face, yet reading out loud with occassion chokes in his voice the story that this little girl shared with him about the terror she had been through. He had so much tears during the workshop. I have never seen a guy that big, that white, with a heart literally bigger than his chest (quoting Brian Mc.’s words), crying and weeping like that in front of quite the audiences there!
It was not his tears that moved me that Saturday. It was his faith in the Lord that moved me beyond words. He was there 3 years ago sharing his testimony and the plight of these Cambodian children. I took notes of what he said and shared. 3 years later, the notes I still occassionally opened up and referred to when I prepare for my speaking presentation. 3 years later, I found myself heeding the Lord’s call, not only be an advocate for these children being trapped in sex slavery, but also be an advocate not only with a voice that speaks, but with hands and feet that move, but with a heart that constantly breaks and shatters when a child is lost, but also constantly beams with joy and praise when a child is found. I was convicted that weekend 3 years ago, to not be an interested observer, but a prayerful do-er. The Lord honoured and answered my prayers in so many ocassions of 5 loaves and 2 fish. You can choose to not believe me, but I have to say, every day I experience His 5 loaves and 2 fish and I praise Him for His 5 loaves and 2 fish!!
There are way too many, way too many, way too many interested observers who have known about the issue for years. Some give their monies, some give their times, some give their voices, some give their gifts. We need more people to give their monies, give their times, give their voices, give their gifts, because this is not about you, or whether you have any fancy degrees that qualified you as a prayer intercessor, or a public speaker. It’s about how your small step of obedience which the Lord would use to change and transform lives, it’s your willing hands and feeble voice which the Lord would yearn to see when there are times “The LORD looked and was displeased that there was no justice. He saw that there was no one, he was appalled that there was no one to intervene.”
Maybe if I hadn’t picked up that one person I wouldn’t have picked up 42,000. The whole work is only a drop in the ocean. But if I didn’t put the drop in, the ocean would be one drop less.
Same thing for you. Same thing for your family. Same thing in the church where you go. Just begin…. One. One. One.
At the end of life, we will not be judge by how many diplomas we have received. How much money we have made. How many great things we have done; we will be judged by this:
“I was hungry and you gave me to eat. I was naked and you clothed me. I was homeless and you took me in.”
Hungry not for bread – but hungry for love.
Naked not only for clothing – but naked of human dignity and respect.
Homeless not only for want of a room of bricks – but homeless because of rejection.
This is Christ in distressing disguise. – Mother Theresa
“I know I am about to get a heart attack when everywhere else was pitched dark, but my eyes were wide opened. I can feel my heart beating like “blrrrrrrrrr”. I said to myself, I am dying. Nothing comes to my mind, but the name “Jesus”. All I could say was “Jesus, Jesus, I am sorry! Please save me, please forgive me, please save me from myself. Jesus!” — Annie, former prostitute whose face was lit up when she recalled how only a distance of one breathe between herself and Jesus who said to her “I Love You.”
“Jesus. I know He is real. He is so gentle, so very gentle. We would be sitting on the bench, talking. He is so gentle. so very gentle. I cannot stop talking about Him.” — Helena, former prostitute, beaming in her beautiful smile talking about our King Lord Jesus