Be a Whistleblower

The rusting police vehicle drove up to the dingy bar that lit up the night in an otherwise pitch-black wilderness of war torn Bosnia. Kathryn, a US police officer on a UN peacekeeping mission, got out of the vehicle with a few other trusted local Bosnian police officers, including her friend, Viko. The handful of officers lost no time in rushing into the bar, bringing out the owner and arresting him.

Kathryn made her way into the cave of filth, reeking of alcohol and smoke. She stared into the faces of several frightened young women, plastered in makeup and wearing clothes that barely covered their bodies.

“Hey, these girls, work here! They all have… documents, passports… and you, can **** off!” said another bar manager. Viko immediately started searching for the girls’ documents.

“Fakes!” said Viko, after finding their passports. The police then arrested the other bar owner.

Kathryn frantically looked at the girls. “Okay girls come on, you’re safe, just come. Let’s go, don’t be afraid, we can all go now! Raya, it’s going to be okay, come on Raya.” She looked into the eyes of one girl in particular, Raya, who was already rescued once, but due to violence and corruption, was retrafficked and brutally punished by her captors. Kathryn once promised to protect her.

Raya took a step forward, looking back at Kathryn with a slight smile that lasted for a moment then vanished from her face. She stopped abruptly. “Raya come on, let’s go, what’s the matter?” cried Kathryn.

Kathryn turned around, only to see half a dozen American police officers entering the bar, piercing the young women with their disgusting, threatening stares.

“What the **** are you doing here?!” she snapped at them.

“We got a call about this raid,” the man said matter-of-factly.

“Oh yeah? From who?” Kathryn quickly realized there’s been a tip-off.

The women in the bar looked into the eyes of the men that were supposed to protect them, but were instead some of their regular customers. With the threatening stares of these American police officers, Raya knew going with Kathryn meant torture and possible death. She already experienced it once when she was retrafficked.

“Get out! Get out, get out, get out!” Kathryn screamed at the American men.

A fierce struggle ensued as Kathryn plead with the women to go with her, while she cursed and attacked the corrupt force behind her.

“Don’t look at these guys, don’t be afraid of these guys! Just say you want to go and I can walk you out of here! Raya look at me. You are safe… please, just say yes!” she desperately cried.

Raya finally looked at her with pleading eyes, then looked at the men standing behind Kathryn. “No,” she said and ran out of the room crying.

It was more than Kathryn could bear, as she started to attack the despicable men behind her. “What is wrong with you?! We’re supposed to protect these people!”

Viko finally grabbed her, “Look at me! Kathy! We cannot force them. Nothing will hold up in court. Please understand… they will be brought down here and punished. You want blood on your hands?”

Kathryn walked out of the bar in utter defeat, knowing full well these women had no choice. Stay in the bar and endure the abuse and rape, or try to leave and face the severe consequences of torture or death by the men in power. Kathryn was a woman with good intentions, but the enslaved women knew the corrupt force of men behind her would crush them.  

~

This scene is from a recently released movie based on a true story, entitled “The Whistleblower.” (Watch trailer here: www.thewhistleblower-movie.com). Since watching the film, this scene is engrained into my mind, replaying over and over. It depicts the reality of so many situations around the world: enslaved people, a rule of law with good intentions, yet a corrupt people who will not enforce it and instead prey on the weak.

I cannot get the face of that American police officer out of my mind… his disgusting, selfish eyes and lustful, threatening stare. There is a whole force of people just like Kathryn, around the world, who have jobs, because of men (and women) like this… men who were designed to protect the vulnerable; to rise up as warriors and fight for the innocent and weak.

Do we hear of raids on bars where dozens of trafficked girls are sold for sex here in the US? Not often. Does it exist? Absolutely. In fact, the true story this movie portrays proves that corruption, lust and abuse filter all the way to the top of the power chain.

But even more so, I think this scene is metaphorical of a direction our western culture is headed. We are not the first culture in history to continue down the destructive path of worshipping the goddess of sex. And the devastating consequences subtly creep up like a lion stalking its prey. It infiltrates every part of society, from our families, to our churches to our workplaces.

The goddess of sex is broadcast into our homes every day. It’s displayed on magazine covers in the grocery store. It rears its ugly head in the questionable conversation you just had with a coworker. It sneaks its way in with a sweet, seductive stare from a young woman you see in church. It sticks its foot in the door when you decide to think about your needs more than your sister in Christ. It gains a small victory when you don’t make an effort to guard your brothers heart. It wins when it has emasculated an entire generation of men who have forsaken their true calling of being protectors and providers. It wins when it has convinced an entire generation of women that they are an object to be played with and they need to manipulate to be loved.

It’s so subtle that it becomes normal. And we proceed to tolerate it, almost unknowingly.   

Is this being written in anger? Maybe. It’s incredibly easy as a woman, to go into an angry, bitter rant against men. But that would be letting the enemy win. No, my fierce anger is towards our despicable enemy and his cohorts. He hates us, men and women, children of God. But we will not entertain or tolerate him.

~

I suppose these thoughts come because in two weeks, I will get to help pour life into a group of women and children who have faced abuses I cannot imagine; and assist a team in documenting their stories of hope. Through that, I know God will bring healing not only in their lives, but also in my life. I’m so excited for this month-long endeavor, the journey ahead, and the team of justice warriors I get to work with, serve, and glean incredible wisdom from!

(Updates to come.)

The Girls of Manila

Update on an upcoming team project I'm working on!

Taxis and tricee cabs sped by us as we walked down a busy street in the heart of Manila late one night searching for a place to eat after a long day. It was my third month of living in the Philippines with Naomi Hamilton, a missionary nurse and midwife. I came straight out of college and it was my first experience of living overseas long-term.

This particular week held great challenges. One of Naomi’s dearest friends just lost her mother to cancer. She was known as “mama” to many people who knew her, and though I had only known her for a few months, I saw the incredible amount of wisdom and joy she imparted to those around her. Naomi stood by this precious family as they watched “mama” fight a long, hard battle against cancer and then go to be with her Heavenly Father.

I learned that Filipino customs are unlike the traditional funerals we know here in the United States. There is a week-long wake, the grieving family is expected to cater to and feed all the friends and relatives, someone is expected to stay with the body at all times, not to mention many other superstitious customs.

As we walked down the busy street this particular night, my western mind tried to process these experiences. In the weeks before that, I walked through one of the largest slums in Asia. I sat in the 10x10 shack that a family of eight lived in. I witnessed the chilling injustice of corruption and the often deadly effects it has on the vulnerable. It seemed that every day, Naomi dealt with situations that we can’t even fathom in the United States. And there I was, trying to process these foreign customs, superstitions and sometimes spiritual bondages. It was overwhelming.

Naomi among friends in Welfareville, one of the largest slums in Asia.

In the midst of our conversation that night, I finally asked in tired frustration, “Naomi, how do you do this everyday? This is almost impossible work!” She looked back at me and spoke two words with a peace that I saw rise up from her soul, “God’s grace.”

Those words were so simple, but they penetrated my entire being. I always knew about God’s grace, but it wasn’t until this moment that it became real to me. “God’s grace is sufficient.” Grace that I often took for granted. Sadly, it’s not until we face insurmountable circumstances that we realize how much we need God’s grace.  

This particular night that held this profound lesson happened five years ago. Those six months spent in Manila provided more opportunities to rely on God’s grace than I ever imagined. Learning from Naomi’s example set a foundation in my life for future missions opportunities that I’m living out today.  I realized that heroes are not those with incredible gifts, talents and courage. Heroes are those who rely on the grace and blood of Jesus and allow Him to use their offering of “rags” and turn it into his riches and glory.

Just before I left Manila, Naomi opened a shelter for women called “Safe Refuge.” Over the past five years, I’ve been able to return to Manila several times and witness the amazing lives changed through this ministry. The need is great, and we have an opportunity to work on an upcoming project that will help expand this ministry!

The second home birth I witnessed in Manila in 2008 of a Safe Refuge 

resident who gave her precious baby up for adoption.

The Girls of Manila

                 

Stories move people to action. We hear unfathomable statistics everyday, but they often get stored in the archives of our minds, quickly to be forgotten; however, a story pierces our hearts. A story makes injustice very real to us and motivates us to do something about it. Stories communicate truths and realities in a way nothing else can. Jesus used stories as a very strategic method of speaking to his people.

What better way to show the atrocities of injustice, as well as the miraculous redemption of the young women and children in Manila than by storytelling? Myself, along with a few others are teaming up to do just this. We will be traveling to Manila for a month to film a documentary of the work and ministry of Naomi and Safe Refuge. We will document how a humble vision has turned into a work of God that is literally rescuing lives every day, physically and spiritually. 

Our hope is that this film will not only provoke people’s hearts to get involved in this work, but that it will expose, convict and change our American culture filled with apathy, sexual promiscuity and pride.

Needless to say, we need your help. If you would like to contribute financially to this endeavor, please contact me directly at michellelenk@gmail.com. Any contribution, no matter how small, is greatly needed and very much appreciated (all are tax deductable). Also, please pray and intercede for us. This is a huge project being taken on in a very short amount of time, in a culture that does not work as efficiently as what we are used to. We will face hurdles and setbacks. But pray for God’s protection, favor and divine grace through it all. We know that God will work in our lives as well, as we are documenting the lives He has redeemed in Manila.

-Michelle

Life Lessons from a Roach

It was an interesting morning this morning. I pulled into the dirt parking lot of a small little church in our local community. They were having a health fair and I went to represent Care Net and give out our information. Though we arrived early to set up, not many people showed up initially, therefore I decided to make a run to Dunkin Donuts to grab some coffee, and of course, a vanilla frosted donut with sprinkles.

While standing in line to pay, my friend and I noticed an average size cockroach crawling on the cash register. My friend pointed it out to the employee who made a failed attempt to kill it. But it did what cockroaches do best, and escaped into a small crevice of the register. I then thought about ALL the donuts sitting out in the open air. If there's one roach, I know from experience there are more. But honestly, it didn't faze me. I still ordered a donut, and enjoyed every bite, much to the concerned look on my friends face (haha!). This small little ordeal brought back a flood of memories, and I proceeded to tell my friend all my roach stories from India. The constant game of hide and seek between my toothbrush and the roaches, the infestation in our kitchen one time no matter HOW much we cleaned, sprayed and set traps, how you force yourself to NOT think about where your food has been, or what's been in it, and just eat it and enjoy it. These memories made me laugh, and believe it or not, MISS India. How roaches can make you want to actually return to a place, I have NO idea. But it did. Because that little roach reminded me of so much more than that... it reminded me of all the amazing experiences and relationships I had.

But then we drove back onto the lot of the little church. There were still not many people there, but we connected with the few that were. One of the gentlemen I know works hard in our community giving free HIV/AIDS tests and informing people about the dangers, risks and how to get help. Another gentleman I know, was born and raised in our community, is now close to 60 years old, and runs an activity center here where at risk and underprivileged youth can go to get tutored, food and have a safe place to hang out. He has a hard job, but he LOVES what he does. The woman I met who organized the health fair event has a passion to reach our youth, encouraging them to make wise and positive choices for their lives.

Towards late morning, all of us gathered to tell everyone about what we each do in the community. We started with prayer, and a lively chorus of "Look what the Lord has Done." Though the building we were in was small and pretty old, I realized I was sitting in a room full of people who care about our little community. They are reaching out, right where they are, and I felt honored to be there. I thought about my experiences in India, and was yet again reminded of the desperate need, no matter WHERE we are. The physical needs and spiritual strongholds may be different depending on the location, but they ALL need Jesus. And hopefully, by meeting physical needs in our community, these agencies are bringing Christ into all that they do.

Though I know I'm going back to India, hopefully sooner than later, God constantly reminds me to continue reaching out wherever I'm at. Whether it's with my local church, my job, or just in everyday life. What can you do today to help someone in need?

Thank you, dear little roach, for this little life lesson. 

Undesired: India

When I was in India last year, I remember when one of my coworkers first told me that it was illegal in India for a woman to get an ultrasound and find out whether she is having a boy or a girl. I wondered why there would be such a law. "Because Michelle," said my coworker matter of factly, "if it's a girl, the family may want to abort the child." What?! I couldn't imagine that baby girls were being wiped out so much, that there was actually a law because of it. But it's true... despite this law, God's baby girls are being abused and killed. This short film I just found and watched sheds more light on it: UNDESIRED.
Only Jesus can save India.

In India, all women must confront the cultural pressure to bear a son. The consequences of this preference is a disregard for the lives of women and girls. From birth until death they face a constant threat of violence. See the project at http://mediastorm.com/publication/undesired

Africa

I don't pretend to know all the details of what is taking place in several countries of Africa with the LRA and child soldiers. But I do know the basics, being this... a whole generation of children is being abducted and brainwashed into becoming killing machines. It's been happening for years, and it's spreading to more countries.

When I saw this short film, posted by Invisible Children, I couldn't help but feel I wanted to repost it. I've never been to Africa. I cannot tell you first hand what it is really like, though I know God will send me there someday. But that doesn't mean our hearts cannot break for the injustice and evil that goes on there. It doesn't mean we can't pray for truth and justice to prevail.

To help you understand what is going on with child soldiers today, I first posted a short clip that gives some background into the situation.


Let Us Be Free: A Plea for Relief from the Violence of the LRA from DTJ on Vimeo.


Now here is the short film that brings it closer to home.

WARNING! This film is graphic, disturbing and uses strong language. Children should NOT watch this. But adults, this is reality. Be informed. 


War School (Short Film) from Pulse Films on Vimeo.

Only God can save this generation.

Cherry Blossoms, Sunsets and Heroes

I spent four days a couple weeks ago in Washington D.C. It fulfilled my dream of walking down the streets of DC, under the cherry blossoms, gazing at the sun as it sets. (I decided I want to get married under cherry blossoms, surrounded by tulips... okay or at least when we celebrate as the bride of Christ in heaven, I'm confident there will be cherry blossoms:) Witnessing the beauty of creation scattered among towering buildings and monuments where great ideas and philosophies swirl, was almost more than my soul could handle. It was blissful. I've been to DC before, but it seems every time I go, at different stages of my life, things become more meaningful.

 

Some thoughts...




I experienced absurd irony.


After touring the US Capital on a beautiful Friday morning, as we walked along, we noticed hundreds of  people wearing pink shirts. Upon closer look, we realized they represented Planned Parenthood (huge abortion provider in U.S.). They were obviously protesting as we watched them make their way to the steps of the capital. Unknown to us, we happened to be there on the same day that Congress was deciding weather to cut federal funding (over $300 million of our tax dollars) for Planned Parenthood. Men, women, young children, the elderly, pregnant women, everyone... they marched on up to Capital Hill... 

Later that afternoon, we toured the Holocaust Museum. For two hours, we walked through, remembering all the brutal details of the lives lost not many decades ago. Remembering a genocide on an entire people group. We saw their faces, their belongings, heard their voices, read their writing, and walked through the train that transported them to their fate. America is abhorred at what these people went through at the hands of Hitler. But since the last time I walked through the Holocaust Museum, another exhibit has been added... "from Memory to Action."

This exhibit talks about the world saying "never again," yet the genocides that have occurred even after the Holocaust, in Rwanda, the Balkins and Darfur. This exhibit encourages you to be informed and take action. We cannot stand by and let this happen. We cannot let innocent lives be taken and murdered, no matter how poor or inconvenient they are.


Yet outside, just a couple miles down the road, hundreds of people are marching, begging government to not only allow, but help pay for us to kill our own children.


Yet just down the street from this sea of protests, sits the original Declaration of Independence that reads, "That all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are LIFE..." 


Yet just a few miles away from this age old document, lie hundreds and hundreds of tombstones of the men and women who gave their lives to protect our lives, to preserve our country, to preserve life. 

If this isn't the most absurd irony, I don't know what is. 


It reminds me of the lyric from a Mumford and Sons song... "you desired my attention, but denied my affections, my affections." We desire God's blessings on our nation, we claim we want to see peace and good in this world, yet we deny the only person who IS that peace and goodness.  

I remembered the lives of heroes and abolitionists past.


One of those abolitionists being Abraham Lincoln. Standing before the grand monument of Abraham Lincoln, reading the words of his address before the nation, penetrates your soul. In a country where slavery was accepted at the time, he used the position of authority God gave him to pursue truth and justice. He also makes not one, but many references to God, our Creator, now inscribed on those walls, for all to see. There are those great people in this world who simply just "get it" and those who don't. Abe Lincoln got it. He knew the giver of life.

I fellowshipped with and listened to stories and encouragement from modern day heroes.


The icing on the cake of our trip was our last two days at the International Justice Mission Global Prayer Gathering. I'll just say this... I was in heaven. The first night was a banquet, and Gary Haugen spoke (founder/president of IJM), who is my absolute hero. His words soaked into my heart, and prepared us for the weekend ahead. We sat in the balcony, and as the worship band played that night, it was a breathtaking sight to look down at hundreds of God's children standing, worshipping and singing together. It was impossible not to let the the excitement build inside of you, knowing that one day this is what heaven will be like. Not only that, but the next day consisted of petitioning God's heart on behalf of the oppressed. We heard updates and stories and then split into different rooms to pray, each one representing a different country where an IJM office is located. Of course the Mumbai room was my first stop. As Jon, the field office director, shared about the prayer needs, I felt like I was back in Mumbai, sitting with the staff, praying together about our day ahead... how I miss it. It was so encouraging to hear stories throughout the entire weekend of the past year, of rescue and restoration, knowing that God allowed me to play a small part in it last year!


The weekend brought reunions with old friends, coworkers and fellow abolitionists, some who I haven't seen in several months or over a year. I LOVE these people. There's something about fellowshipping with kindred spirits who have the same passions as you that's just encouraging, exciting and soothing all at the same time. I met new people... including several of us sharing a meal with the Rwanda field office director... what a humble, amazing man. 


Overall, these four days exceeded my expectations. God is SO good; He is SO faithful. He knew the vision, inspiration and encouragement I needed. In fact, it was hard to come home. It's hard to come back to your own small little town, being faithful in the small tasks God has given you for the moment, when you want to be radically changing the world. But I'm reminded that it's in those small tasks, in our faithfulness and obedience, in our determination, that we will soon change the world. 


If there's one thing I learned this weekend, it was that the work of justice requires faithfulness and patience... pure, utter, patience. "Be still before the Lord, and wait patiently for Him." He will come through, always.

"Commit your way to the Lord; trust in Him and He will do this:

He will make your righteousness shine like the dawn,

the justice of your cause like the noonday sun. 

Be still before the Lord, and wait patiently for Him."

~Psalm 37:5-7

The Candy Shop

The Candy Shop is a 30 minute short film portraying the horrors of child sex trafficking and sexual exploitation. I just love the creative way in which the filmmaker displays these atrocities and every parallel that you see is right on with real life. This happens, everyday, every hour, around the world. I've seen it. So I plead with you to WATCH this, be INFORMED, and then DO something about it. 

How can you help? Well I'm glad you asked... these websites might give you some ideas:

ijm.org

thea21campaign.org

stopthecandyshop.com