Innocence is Restored

“What will it take to make me innocent again?”

I look at the photo in front of me, a shot of my two married friends, myself, and two “bar girls” from the city of Pattaya, Thailand. Though only taken about three weeks ago now, it has become a sweet, sweet memory to me. There are many pictures that stand in contrast to this one, some only taken in my mind. Girls sitting at bars or standing outside of them, waiting for the next customer. The difference in this “customer service” job from so many others is that the girls are the merchandise. In these pictures, the only smiles you see are synthetic. An illusion of happiness creates the false aura around these scenes, so when you see the girls with no smiles, no expression even, that’s when you know they don’t want to be there.
Who would? Have you ever had to sell yourself? What kind of currency could validate these exchanges or replace what you would have to give away? For these girls, Thai baht is their only return. And while this may be a dire need, it cannot restore what they’ve lost. No amount of money can suffice to justify the sacrifice of their very souls. Not really.
I look again at the photo before me, and it tells a different story. An impossible story. The two “bar girls” have genuine smiles on their faces. You can see that it has been a long time since they have been able to smile like that. The three of us surround them and all of us are inside a safe house that the girls have just heard of for the first time. It’s a symbol of hope to them, a possibility that, as far as they were concerned, did not exist until now. There are no prostitutes in this picture. In fact, I shudder to even mention the word at the sight of my precious new friends.
I think of the bar they came from, the purpose behind it, the men who come prowling for young women to satisfy their selfish cravings for the night. And all I can think is, these girls have no place there. They don’t belong. In so many ways, they are just like us.
Now, as I recount the pictures in my mind of all those girls sitting, waiting, or standing outside of a bar in Pattaya City holding a sign that virtually says, “buy me, I’m worthless if not for your pleasure,” I see individuals with dreams that have been shattered. But I also see the hope that lies just beyond their next step. Our next step.
I see a young woman whose favorite color is blue, who wants to own her own salon to make a living in a healthy way and provide for her two young children. I see someone who just wants to be loved like everyone else in this world, who wants a friend to confide in, a purpose to live for that is bigger than herself. I see someone with a willingness to sacrifice for the ones she loves, but secretly wants to do it in a better way. A way that will not mix shame with a willing heart. I see death in their eyes, but I also see the potential of life ignited with just one touch.
How can they be innocent again? When they taste of a love that is unfailing, undeserved, and unearned. When they are seen through eyes that do not judge, do not lust, do not disregard. When who they truly are is recognized and acknowledged. It will be as if they have never been violated, as if all the abominable things they have ever done never happened. That’s what the Love we know can do.