So I watched a documentary in the wee hours of the morning that was......heartbreaking, to say the least. It is called 'The Day My God Died'. That is what the Nepalise and Indian girls say of the first day they are placed in the brothel. Lured away from home or kidnapped outright, they are drugged and taken to the teeming red light district of a large city were they are forced to exist in circumstances too horrible to imagine. Many eventually die of the diseases they contract, or are killed for resisting this lifestyle.
The thing is, this is not merely some other country's problem. This doesn't just happen overseas, it doesn't just happen in third world countries. It happens here. At home. And not only are little girls and women smuggled in from other countries, our own neighbors are being victimised.
Out of all the trafficking cases reported this past year, 83% of the girls were US citizens. One of the largest draws for human trafficking is major sporting events. It's estimated that somewhere around 10,000 women were specifically brought in for the Super Bowl last year.
Despite efforts to stop it, up to 300,000 girls from age 11 to 17 are manipulated and lured into the industry every year. Around the world, 1.2 million children are trafficked yearly.
This staggers me. I can't imagine a life so horrible. I can't imagine the depths of depravity and greed and lust that would lead someone to harm other human beings in such a way. My initial reaction is one of fury towards the people who treat others with such contempt and unspeakable cruelty! My strong sense of justice kicks in and I want to punish them within an inch of their wretched lives!
But then I have to stop and think. The same heart that wounds is a heart that's wounded. The pimps and the johns and the madams are people, too. They once were innocent little babies. They were children. They've loved and laughed and cried the same as anyone else. Their hearts are in the same state mine had been, the same state in which mine would still be, if I had not been washed by the blood of Jesus, if I had not been justified and the work of sanctification begun in me.
The bullies and the slave masters are enslaved every bit as much as the sweet little girls and the broken women. They, too, deserve our pity, our compassion.
Sin will continue on in this world, atrocities will be committed every day until Jesus comes again, but we don't have to sit idly by and watch. Nor should we hunker down into our cozy little hermitage and block out the world. We may not always be able to physically do something about the things that are happening, but we can ALWAYS pray.
So would you pray with me? This week, whenever you see an ad for the Super Bowl, when you're planning your party, when you get together with your friends and family on Sunday to watch the game, whenever you are reminded, would you pray? Pray for those who are enslaved? Those who are trafficked? Those who are traffickers? Our God is mighty to save.
If you are willing to have your heart broken, and to gain insite into how to pray sepcifically for those in this trade, below you'll find a link to the documentary, 'The Day My God Died'. A word of caution: it is NOT easy to watch and it is NOT for young ones, so please exercise discernment in where and when to view this.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BV5W6F4L5i8&feature=fvw&oref=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.watchfreemovies.ch%2Fwatch-movies%2F2003%2Fwatch-the-day-my-god-died-10571%2F
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