The Darkest Place I Have Been Yet

Yesterday I went bike riding with my roommates.  As you can imagine, this first time experience included a few circles, several unknown paths, and perhaps one bike with no breaks causing someone to almost run head first into an ambulance….But, mostly, it involved huge smiles, lots of laughter, and great memories.  As we were biking to explore the park near our home, I began to feel as though for just a few moments of time, I had managed to escape the City life.  The paths were filled with nothing but greenery, quietness, and His beauty.  And as we came upon other adventurers, there was that rebellious part of me that wanted to say, “It’s a dog, eat dog world.  Passing on the left.”  Just as I had done a few years back with my family on the Virginia Creeper Trail.  But, I decided for the betterment of society to keep my mouth closed for the day.  To say the least, this was a perfect, much needed escape from a day of inside research and work. 

As we had biked for about an hour and half, after having sat in awe at the beauty found within this magnificent park, we decided to head home.  Somehow we had wound up at the Foundation Louis Vutton – so this alone should let you know this mark was quite glamorous, filled with beauty, for the eyes of the wealthy. 

As we headed home, I noticed these girls in lingerie.  As we rode by, my innocent (or rather perhaps, ignorant heart) was quickly looking for the photographer – wondering, “Who’s this shoot for?  Is this important?  Famous people?  What’s going on?....”  But, we just kept on riding, finding no photographer insight.  As we proceeded to ride for less than thirty seconds more, there was another woman.  And then another….Quickly, my innocent heart of thinking I was riding through a photoshoot, turned into the realization that I was in the heart of prostitution. 

As it was, with dead cell phones, and only previous decisions of our route to go off of, we had no option but to stay on this road for its full duration.  And I can’t help but feel confident that the Father knew exactly where He was leading us to – and that He fully wanted our eyes open to what was taking place on “Margarita Road.”  He knew our phones were going to die, and He liked that they did – He didn’t want us to deviate off this course, but rather stay the course and be heartbroken in ways I didn’t know were possible.

As we rode along this road, which probably took us about twenty-ish minutes to complete, we saw somewhere between thirty to fifty women standing on the side of the road - ranging anywhere from a couple years younger than me, to one my grandmothers age.  We saw women standing at 3:30pm in nothing more than lingerie – something that a woman should only wear in her home for her husband, not on the street for all to see.  And even worse, who knows how many women were already engaging in activities, within enclosed parked vehicles along the side of the road, that we didn’t see.

This road was lined with vans, big and small, new and old.  The vans were marked with colored ribbons, and women standing close by.  And occasionally, a pimp.  Standing guard watching “his women,” to make sure that they were working and fulfilling the “duties” given to them. 

While riding past one van, the door slid open.  While the pimp checked to make sure that all was okay, a man exited the van, while another man (who was anxiously waiting in the woods) stepped inside.  And the pimp returned to the front of the van, standing outside – keeping close eye on the other girls and passer-byes.

This is when I began to notice that the woods were filled with men.  Men waiting for their “woman” of choice to become available. 

And in this exact moment, this is when I realized that what I was seeing was more than likely not just voluntary prostitution – but, also, more than likely, many of these women were victims of illegal sex trafficking.     

As we continued to ride through this, I could not help but to continue to stare – shocked, in pain, breaking for what was being shown to me. 

Among the most beautiful park I have ever seen, there was the ugliest, most gut wrenching thing I had ever seen.

This was something I had seen in movies, but never really placed into my mind as being true, as real, as a way of life.  Literally a way of life.  As I saw one grandmother, I realized that this “industry” was truly a career; a way of life for so many of these women.  It was all, and will be all, that they know themselves as.  Their source of pride is based off of how many men asked for them, and came to see them that day.  And how much money they made.  

This was, without doubt, the most heartbreaking thing that I have seen in this City yet.

The rest of last night, I didn’t desire to speak to anyone about anything else – I couldn’t even think about anything else.  I just continued to rewind and replay the things I had seen.  I continued to ask myself how this is possible.  How do women feel this unloved, this uncared for, this desperate, this unfulfilled, this unworthy – that only this style of life brings them some sort of self-dignity?  How does one see that “owning” women, that “buying” innocent young girls, and forcing them into this life is anywhere close to okay?  How do men have such a desire that they would pay a woman, and use her as though she is merely nothing more than a source of pleasure?  How does pleasure even exist in this world of darkness, when the actions being performed are meant for sacred love, between a husband and wife?  How many women on this road are drugged?  How many women on this road have had abortions?  How many lives have been lost, ruined, and broken?

While I rode along this path of darkness, while the darkness crept inside my soul, and filled my heart with anxiety, my thought became – “Thank you Father for showing me this road today.  Thank you for opening my eyes to this.  There was no mistake in you revealing this to us today.  This is a perfect place for ‘work,’ just show us what to do next, and how to make you known to these beautiful women.  Show us how to make them realize their WORTH IN YOU.” 

And this is exactly all I have thought about since.  All I simply want to do is to rent my little velib’ bike.  Ride back over to “Margarita Road,” grab those beautiful women’s faces, and tell them they are WORTHY.  They are LOVED.  They are CARED FOR.  They were beautifully and wonderfully made for something FAR GREATER than this…..

 

So that is where you come in! 

I am begging you to have a burdened heart for these women.  I am begging you to pray daily for these women on “Margarita Road.” 

These women are of different ethnicities – from all different walks across the globe.  They are lost, and we are called to shed light, to love on the lost of this world – no matter who they are.

So I am asking you to pray that the Father reveals to us what steps He would have for us to take next.  That He shows us how to do life, to shed light, with the women on this road.  Will it be through my roommates and I, or will it be through someone else? 

I have no idea what will come next.  

We do plan on prayer biking through this area weekly.  And from there, we are praying that He shows us what to do next.  So I ask for you to pray over this with us too!