The room is utterly dark, without even one beam of light. The rough concrete walls are grey and dingy. There's a dampness and a thickness to the air. It's muggy and sticky and ever so cold. This room is a cave, a prison, a tomb. Every aspect screams lifelessness.
She is huddled in the corner, face buried in her knees. Her long, black hair covers her face on both sides. But it's tangled. It's a mess. She lifts a trembling hand to her head in an attempt to stop the deep throbbing. She feels the dried patch of blood in her hair. Yet another reminder of her agony. The needle holes in her arm remind her of the drugs used to calm her. But she's anything but numb. Every part of her aches. She's starving. Unable to remember the last meal she's had. The little bits of ratty fabric hanging loosely on her small frame barely count as clothing, and she is freezing. She's dirty, also unable to remember the last time she was able to have a bath, or anything remotely close to it. She tries desperately to remember what life felt like. But she cannot. She remembers only the darkness. Her heart is in pieces. She wants so desperately to cry, but she can't. If tears come, the beating drum in her head stays longer. If tears come, they won't stop.
She has no idea what time it is, but surely it's almost time. The men will come in soon. To kill her? No, she wishes. It happens every evening. The owner of the cave will come in and grab her and throw her down in another room. She'll be on her knees, hair covering her face. But he'll bark at her to stand up straight and he yanks her hair. She's not a person here-not a daughter, a sister, niece, or friend. Her name has been replaced with a number, and she has been labeled with a price. She is nothing more than a product or a piece of meat. Man after man after man will come in.They will look at her with beady eyes and a crooked smile, like the way they would look at a meal. They'll do what they want, then leave. No care or concern for her at all. None whatsover.
That's if it's a good night.
But more than likely, they'll use her AND abuse her.
All of them are so angry. If she does one little thing incorrectly or not well enough, she will face wrath.
Oh, God, please not tonight ! She begs. Cries out in heart. She's so afraid. SO afraid. The darkness of the room doesn't even compare to the darkness in her heart. She is terrified. Deeply and sorely afraid. The fear never goes away. It follows her, lurking behind her around every turn. It's a deep, dark shadow, filling every corner of every room. It seeps into every hole, every crack, every open space. Choking all light out. Smothering and stifling every ounce of breath she has left.
She is living a nightmare. If the fear was the only dark cloud, maybe she could make it. But it's the shame that gets her. Dirty on the outside, filthy on the inside-- she's afraid she'll never be clean or pure again. Her body doesn't even feel like her own anymore. Questions haunt her. How did she get here? What even happened? When did she become living breathing fear and shame? When did this darkness, this evil, take over? Will the Light ever come? Is there anyone who has Light? Anyone who will bring Light back into her cave? Anyone who will kick down the closed door and cut off her chains?
Her heart cries out for someone, anyone.
Then...She can't explain it. But in the midst of all the questions running through her mind, all the questions that hit deep-- somewhere, even deeper down, she hears a faint whisper.
"The Light is coming. I Am coming. My people are coming."
And for the very first time... It's small... But for the very first time, she has hope.
He sees you, He knows you, and He is sending an army
There are 27 million people trapped in this nightmare today. Its called human trafficking. It is slavery. Yes, slavery. And there are more slaves now than ANY other time in history. In 2012, the slave traders made more than Nike, google, and Starbucks COMBINED. We know about it. Everyone knows its wrong. I know it's wrong. You know it's wrong.
We see this injustice. Will we do anything about it? We look back at history at other major eras of injustices and mistreatment of people and we ask "Why didn't someone do something sooner?"
I don't want future generations to look back at this time in history and ask the same question about us. And on top of that, Christians have been commanded to do something.
"Learn to do right; seek justice. Defend the oppressed. Take up the cause of the fatherless; plead the case of the widow. (Isaiah 1:17)"
It's our time. It's time for us to not just know about human trafficking and think it's bad, but know about it and do something about it, however we can. And more than anything else, make war on our knees. Make.war.
Also, look up "Beautiful Slave" by Take No Glory and "Twenty Seven Million" by Matt Redman.
Let the songs wreck you, friends.