I stood there, close to a street corner, with beads of sweat forming and dripping down my back. Mass quantities of people were flooding across the street. Once they reached my “zone”, we tried to get their attention. Not everyone wanted what we were offering. Some were happy to take it and others rejected it quickly.
As I stood there holding my flyers, advertising a race to fight sex trafficking, I wiped sweat from my brow. It was over 90 degrees and humid. While my heart completely believed in what I was doing, my body screamed “Go back to where it’s comfortable and cool.” Suddenly, it was like the world around me turned to slow motion. I stared about 40 feet away towards the street corner and I heard the Lord lovingly remind me, “Somewhere, there is a girl on a street corner for a very different reason right now. She’s not there by choice. She’s standing there, uncomfortable and sweating too. But people will take what she’s offering. This sacrifice you’re making is to end that.”
The Lord tends to speak to me in a way that is both loving and earth shaking. Here I am feeling uncomfortable for a temporary moment, forgetting how many young girls (and boys) are forced to do this every day, for reasons that some of our minds can’t even comprehend.
Dear God – how did we get to be such a selfish people?
The world is fine until we’re uncomfortable. Nothing needs to change unless our comfort level has digressed. Is this the kind of people we really want to be? Are we such a selfish people that no other life but our own matters?
We live with so much freedom that it’s almost impossible to comprehend that people are still in slavery in this world. It doesn’t just happen in a third world country. It happens in America. It happens in your own backyard. Will we be passive and allow the robber to take our precious belongings? Or will we fight back and say, “No! You can’t take my daughters and sons. You can’t have my brothers and sisters. We will fight until our dying breath to rescue each and every mother, daughter, son, and child.”
That is the cry of my heart, reader. Until my dying breath, I will not stop. Injustice has hidden under its dark cape too long. Too many have been wounded and too many haven’t been rescued until it’s too late. It’s time to speak up, to fight, and let justice prevail. Slavery isn’t dead – but neither am I – and I will continue to fight until my dying day.
One person can make a difference.
Together, we can change the world.