I read this article on Eden. My heart breaks just reading it. The story of a sex slave about human trafficking. I wept just reading the article.
Imagined myself as a sex slave. All the hopeless that one can feel. The only question in mind is,”Is it my turn next?” The stories once heard as a child – of sunny days, of school days, of happiness, of college, of dating, of prom, of getting married, of building a family – would only sound like stories from a fairy tale. The truth is how to survive day to day. There is no crime fighters busting in to save the day. Only surviving.
I thought of John the Baptist in his last days in prison. He wavered, and sent a disciple to ask is Jesus was the one. Knowing the helplessness, will that break my spirit? It is easy to talk about love, god, friendship, forgiveness, faithfulness when we are in our rooms. In the comfort of the air conditioned rooms. Where is God in all these? Will I give up my faith? Will it break my spirit?
I can’t even verbalized a sentence of comfort to anyone who is a sex slave. What sort of consolation would comfort their soul? I can’t think of anything to explain these actions of these people.
At the same time, we are all eden. Slave to one thing or another. To our phone, to our pride, to work, to money, to “i”. The gospel passage talks about serving 2 masters. Unlikely eden, we might not even know that we are enslave to them, until we are challenged to the light of the world.
Do read the story: –