There are lots of great things happening in Swaziland.
Amazing things, even. Girls’ homes. Boys’ homes. Baby homes. Agriculture
ministries, teaching people to farm. Sewing workshops, empowering women to earn
a salary. Medical ministries, bringing care to the very rural areas of the
country. Some days, I interact with more missionaries and volunteers than
actual Swazis, learning about what God sent them here to do, and I am so
encouraged by their work and stories.
And then, El Roi, the God who sees, shows me the darkest
corners, where His light isn’t known yet.
Driving laps around the city, starting no earlier than 10:00
PM, doors locked. A girl in a short skirt and gold tank top gets into a black
car with tinted windows which speeds away into the night. Her friends move on
to the other cars parked along the block, offering to do God knows what for
next to nothing of a material price.
Abba sees these girls, His precious daughters. He watches
them get into the cars and give away a piece of themselves, all for a place to
stay or a small meal ticket. He sees me in my weakness, unable to stop or
rescue them in the confines of our van.
When we offer to give her a ride home, she asks us to come
back in a few hours, because she’s not done working yet.
He allows me to feel a small taste of the pain He feels for
all His lost sheep.
This. This is hell on earth.
God’s beloved children so lost and enslaved in Satan’s snare
of lust and greed that they don’t know there’s anything different. Girls who have
been told from a very young age that all they’re worth is what they can make in
a night to bring food to the table. Women so seemingly trapped in this
lifestyle that they believe there’s no other option. And a society that doesn’t
give them any other option.
And this is where God shows me my heart.
Five girls in the car, plus us two missionaries. Katy Perry
album breaks the ice. The girl in the front seat, J, guides us to her home.
Between African dirt roads and the way neighborhoods are set up, we can’t go
right to her house, but we get close enough that she can quickly finish the
route on foot. As she opens the door, her friends encourage her to go fast,
run, be safe; we’ll watch your back. After watching her dart into the darkness,
I turn to C and say, “It’s amazing how you girls watch out for each other and
take care of each other.”
“Well, we have to, love. Or else we’ll never make it.”
These girls cling to each other for mere survival. But
that’s not enough to dig them out of the trench.
They need someone to fight for them.
C is the last to be dropped off. After being in the car with
us for a few hours, she opens up about her life. “Once they find out we’re
prostitutes, they don’t give us a chance. But it’s like, we’re human
too!” Policemen chase them during the day, but then pay for their
services at night.
“Please pray for us. We need jobs so we don’t have to keep hustling. It’s a hard life, you know. Especially when you’ve got kids.”
Oh, my heart. My broken heart.
If only she knew how truly beautiful, amazing, and valued
she is, especially in her Father’s eyes.
In the Psalms, God gives us a direct order:
Defend the weak and the fatherless; uphold the cause of the poor and the oppressed. Rescue the weak and the needy; deliver them from the hand of the wicked. Psalm 82:3-4
Yes, Lord. Here I am.
