Transitioning Back

Dear friends and family --

I'm home!! Thanks to all who so faithfully read my long, rambling blogs and prayed for me! My family is having our annual "reunion?" this week -- where all the men go on a long camping/fishing/mountaineering trip in the Montana wildlands, and all of us girls stay home and soak up the sun.

I'm sitting in the living room right now with my little 9 month old niece Estella and my amazing youngest sister Rachel (now already 19!!) - and I'm amazed that only a week ago I was still in the brothels of Athens.

I think it's a lot to process through . . . and I crave God's direction in the weeks and months ahead as I navigate His call. But I find myself growing more confident in God's Sovereignty in my life . . . as I've seen His faithfulness so much through the bumps and turns of my life.

You know, it's exactly a year (tomorrow) since my car accident on the way out to Montana with my friend Ryan. His neck is doing much better now . . . and, though those close to me know that it has left an indellible mark on my life, I rejoice in all that the Lord has done and taught me since that time.

It's been a year of victories and unexpected sorrows for me - I've finished my first year of teaching, conquered 3/4 of a full-time grad program, walked through the deaths of a close mentor and my grandpa, combatted some pretty major fears and really pursued the healing of Jesus . . . and so many other things.

And I think as I look back, I would say it's been a year when my faith in the coming of Jesus' Kingdom has grown a great deal - and my capacity to worship Him, to love His people, and to hate injustice has also grown . . .

I've decided that I will continue posting rather than closing this down, because my dreams continue on from this point . . . and the deeper relationships with women involved in prostitution that I hold on to really are here.

Last Monday night, I laughed with a Nigerian woman and convinced her to use the side of a telephone booth as an African drum as I danced in the street - and one of the other girls said, "She can dance like an African!" I had a difficult conversation with a woman who laughed with me about Nigeria - and started to cry as she spoke of being locked up during the day, having her phone calls tightly monitored, feeling like there was no way out.

But when I tell her, "You're not alone; we can help you . . ." Those words don't seem trite. I know it's true. My hope has expanded a thousand fold - and though trafficking grows by the day, God's Kingdom grows nearer by the hour.

I will spend my life building that Kingdom - and hoping when it seems ludicrous that there is hope.

One of my girls from Seattle called me and left a message in the middle of the night a few days ago. She's been on the streets since she was 7. She called to say she's ready to leave her man. She'll do what it takes . . .

I've walked with these women long enough to know that that conversation may mean 1 of a thousand things . . . and she may be in love with him again by today. But there are gems of hope that sustain me in this work . . . and it's the truth that Jesus has never given up on me EVEN TO THIS DAY that helps me to realize that there is no faltering in HIS HOPE.

I was talking to some friends the other night . . . it seems no matter which circles I run in now, someone starts to ask me about women involved in prostitution. I've laughingly mentioned that I often feel like I have a sign around my neck that says, "I work with women involved in prostitution . . ." and it either stops conversations short or becomes the only thing that people wnat to talk about. That's fine - advocacy is important.

I recently had a man confess? to me that he had actually been serviced by several women involved in prostitution in Europe. He admitted it with shame - and said, "You know, until I had this conversation with you tonight, I've felt guilty about it before - but I've never really understood their situations. I've never understood the way that I perpetuated that cycle. I wish I could change that now. And I also never understood how deep grace runs."

I'll be honest, it was an unnerving conversation. But I was thankful for it . . . another brick in the wall. Another reason I find myself unable to turn away . . .

What I meant to say before - I was talking to some friends the other night who asked me if I saw this as an issue I would be working with long into my future - something that I would really give my life to.

I find it funny - because I bumped into this ministry literally on ACCIDENT at New Horizons - and even before starting my grad program, I still didn't see it as something that would be a part of me forever. But little by little, the faces and the names and the deep friendships have grown -- little by little, their stories have dried up my throat and left my insides quaking; the research has infested my mind with first despair and then rage and then ideas . . . my trip to Athens helped me to see more pieces fitting together and the mighty role of Jesus leading all of this . . .

And now I'm left with their stories and their names crying out inside of me. How can I ever turn back? Sometimes I wish I could teach Junior High and live comfortably in Seattle - the city I love so much - for the rest of my life. But inside of me, there's this passion that burns - and this inherent knowledge, that if I choose to give myself to this work, Jesus can use me to build His Kingdom in their lives . . .

I believe in the Lordship of Jesus. I believe that His deliverance is sure. I believe that His redemption can cover the whole earth, as the waters cover the seas . . . and I will give myself to that Kingdom, to that Lord - and to His little girls, locked behind iron bars in a world that would rape them.