I found myself glaring at the man standing just opposite from me on the subway. He stood out and I couldn't help but watch him and feel deep hatred towards him. It was obvious that this man was in Thailand as a sex tourist...or at least that was what I perceived. It was hard for me to ignore him and go about my own business. Everything in me wanted to go tell him that what he was doing was wrong. Instead, I just glared at him...hoping he would feel that he could not just be anonymous with what he was doing. Someone noticed. I noticed. Even if everyone else remained aloof and diverted their eyes...I noticed. My heart ached for the young woman who was trying her hardest to appear that she was happy to be with this man...this man at least three times her age.
But I felt helpless, and the anger (hatred) that I carried within me did no one any good. It did not stop the man from buying sex from this young woman. It did not free the woman from the sex industry that night. The hatred just stayed within me, burning and leaving me weary.
Over time I found myself suspecting all the men around me. We were in a small country in Southeast Asia for the purpose of helping some of these young women who wanted to leave the sex industry. I had left America to serve these women...with a desire to help them find emotional healing and spiritual freedom. But instead I found myself weighed down by the heaviness and the darkness that seemed to be lurking everywhere. When I would drive around the city I saw it everywhere. Perhaps my imagination was on overdrive and began seeing it everywhere...or maybe it really was. But instead of being energized to do my part in helping, I felt the heavy burden placed ever increasingly on my shoulders. Only when we would leave for our brief vacations would I feel a sense of weight lifted...only to return one week later and find it was all still there.
And then one weekend I went down to Bangkok in order to see a doctor for health issues I couldn't resolve (likely a result of the stress I was carrying around). As I got on the subway, I at once noticed these men lurking everywhere (yes, they are many). But something happened. I found myself moved to pray for them. Instead of cursing them under my breath and shooting fiery hateful arrows towards them, I smiled and prayed blessings over them. "You are loved!" I whispered under my breath. Why? It was a strange thing. But I realized that these men needed love and prayer and blessings just as much as the women. These men were hurting, too. I found myself moved deeply with love and care for these men. It was a new feeling, but so much better (and lighter) than the hatred I had allowed to simmer all too often. It reminded me that these men needed people to love them and see them as humans just as much as the women needed love and dignity.
Perhaps one might say that neither my hatred towards these men, nor my love towards these men did anything to change the situation. But I would disagree. Something big changed. Me. With the hatred I carried a heavy burden with me that I could do nothing about. But with love I found myself open and light, allowing the burden to be God's. Not mine. My heart (and arms) could open to these men and women, not be closed. Today as I sat at church taking communion I looked up and saw Jesus in our stained glass window. His arms were extended and open wide. That is the Jesus who says "come to me all who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest." That is the Jesus who welcomes the sinners and lives are changed. That is the Jesus who offers love to the sex tourists, to the broken sex workers. That is the one who offers life, not death. Love not hate. And that is the one I wish to carry around and offer. That is the one who gives us hope in a world so broken and full of hate. I wish to open my heart and arms to the hurting. Those arms are the arms I have needed. Those are the arms that the world needs. Those are the arms I wish to extend again and again to others. May it be so.
