Light Shines. Darkness Flees.

It was late in the afternoon and we all loaded into the van and headed out to our desired location. After several minutes, we crossed a small bridge, entering into a new part of the city, and turned onto the main street. The atmosphere instantly changed as we saw bars lining the road and signs that lit up the names to their dark entrances.

We didn’t have to search long to find what we were looking for. It revealed itself right before our eyes, unashamedly walking the streets or sitting in cafés drinking coffee or beers: white men with Filipino women draped on their arms or sitting at their sides, at their disposal. It wasn’t even dusk yet, when this particular street really comes to life, like a playground with little children just being let out for recess.

Our group checked-in to a nice hotel to set up a base and prepared for a night of watching and filming what takes place in this red light hub, every single night. We split into three groups and started walking the streets. As the darkness approached, the artificial neon lights continued to light up the street and the techno music pumped through the air. The darkness brought out more and more men. Tall men, fat men, scrawny men, old men, young men, business men, American men, British men, Australian men, Irish men, Middle Eastern men, Indian men, Filipino men… they were all there. It felt like Disney World for grown ups.  What ride could they go on next?

We went to eat some dinner and then a few of us walked back to the hotel to sit in the lobby and watch. The hotel is known to be a spot where men bring girls for a little rendezvous, paying her to give them any sexual favor they wanted. Sure enough, we didn’t have to sit long before the men started trickling in and out. The hotel conveniently placed an ATM machine right by the entrance. Men came out of the elevator, took out cash, and then headed out to the street… like a kid in a candy shop, coming back a couple hours later with a young girl at his side.

Our team stayed up most of the night, walking the streets or hanging out in the lobby. Our purpose was to be able to show in the documentary what prostitution and slavery looks like in Manila; to show the reality of the lives of some of the girls now at Safe Refuge, before they were rescued and set free. Though our small team got footage of so many different images and situations, there was one significant moment that took place that night that is vividly etched in my mind forever.

I had a very small, high-quality video camera with me as we sat in the lobby, so it wouldn’t be noticeable that we were taking footage. As the men walked into the hotel with a girl, we nonchalantly followed them into the elevator with the camera. We did this a few times, getting good shots, though feeling helpless to do anything, knowing the exploitation that was about to take place.

After a few times of this, we followed one particular husky white man with a little Filipino girl into the elevator. She was no more than 5 feet tall and looked quite young. As we stood in the elevator with them, shame instantly came over her. I don’t even remember seeing her face, as she tightly grabbed the man’s shirt, hiding behind him. She barely came up to his waist. She softly let out whimpers of “oh my gosh, oh my gosh!” along with quiet cries. The man just stood there, staring straight ahead.

I'm not sure why this one struck me more than the others. The irony of the situation was almost unbearable… to see this young girl, practically begging this man to protect her, who is instead about to exploit her. The very person God created to be a protector and provider, was twisted into an abuser and stripper of innocence. When we arrived at their floor, they quickly walked out the elevator doors and we proceeded back down to the lobby.

I’m not even sure how to wrap my mind around such evil… to be so close to it and yet not know what to do about it. I wanted to scoop her in my arms and protect her, because all the men in her life obviously weren’t. I walked out of that elevator with my heart pounding in my chest, barely able to see straight and tears bulging behind my eyes ready to explode.

Only the spirit of God can battle such evil. We definitely knew and literally saw that the longer we stayed in that place, on that street, in that hotel… the forces of evil were stirred up. Because where there is light, darkness cannot bear it and has to tremble and flee.

Naomi cannot save every girl that is enslaved in poverty or prostitution. Olivia cannot capture the stories of every single daughter of Manila. But we can save and capture the stories of the few that we are called to. We’re not asked to meet every need, but we are simply asked to respond to the Call.  

Great is Thy Faithfulness

We arrived in Manila late last Friday night! We’ve been here a week already and time has flown by. I always cherish the times I am able to spend here with Naomi and Marybeth and the girls at Safe Refuge, though they may be short.

So many precious moments have already taken place that it is hard to write about them all. I wish I could bottle up each moment and remember it forever. Though it’s been busy, when you sit and actually ponder and think about the work that is taking place here, it’s quite overwhelming. Every time I visit, I get to see more lives being transformed and set free due to the obedience of Naomi and Marybeth walking in God’s calling.

Sunday was a special moment for me. It was the 17^th anniversary of the church here that Safe Refuge attends, Harvest for Christ. Pastor Ed and much of the congregation are involved in the lives of the Safe Refuge residents. Anniversaries here in the Philippines are a huge deal. They prepared a special service with worship, songs, dances, dramas and a message to celebrate what God has done.

As we entered the church, we were lovingly greeted by faces that were quite familiar to me and exchanged hugs and smiles. Everyone eventually found their seat and the worship team and small choir gathered at the front of the small church to start. The keyboardist gently started to play the melody of “Great is Thy Faithfulness,” as Marybeth played the violin and the choir ever so softly began to sing. It was one of the most beautiful choruses I have ever heard. The spirit of God instantly fell in the room as the words resounded in our ears.

“Great is thy faithfulness, oh God our Father. There is no shadow of turning in thee. Thou changest not, thy compassions they fail not, as thou has been thou forever will be.”

I looked a couple rows in front of me to the front and saw Naomi holding Jassal, a little girl with a heart condition from Welfareville, a slum here, that she has helped take care of the past few years. This little girl would not be alive if it weren’t for the grace of God and Naomi taking the time to reach out and help her.

I looked right next to me and saw one of the Safe Refuge staff members, who was a former resident, holding her little girl in one arm with the other arm raised up towards God. Her eyes were closed as tears streamed down her face and she sang the words to the song. Her story is one of rescue and redemption.

Seeing these two precious moments brought me to tears. Looking around the room and seeing the utter faithfulness of God in the lives of these people caused love and compassion to well up in my heart. What a privilege it is to be here even for a few weeks at a time, and be allowed to share a small part of the lives here.

“Great is thy faithfulness, great is thy faithfulness, morning by morning new mercies I see. All I have needed thy hand hath provided, great is thy faithfulness Lord unto me.”

~

Last night we spent most of the night in one of the main red light district areas of Manila to get some footage. Though I’ve experienced and seen things like this before, last night was definitely an intense experience. It’s too much to write about now but maybe in a later post.

Tomorrow we leave to go just outside the city to a province and lead a dance workshop for some of the girls in the surrounding churches. The rest of the team will be filming and getting some footage in the province area.

Pray for us as we have three more weeks left here!

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.