A Prayer Circle on Bangla Road
"But… what are you doing?"
We stand out on Bangla Road. I mean, we're a bunch of college aged girls wearing t-shirts and long shorts or dresses with leggings walking down one of the largest red light districts in Thailand and drinking Coke and juice. We are obviously going to stand out.
But I was not prepared for how much we stood out. I grew up in church. I knew the whole "they'll see Jesus in you" speech. It's true, they see Jesus in us on Bangla Road. Everyone, the tourists, the girls, the vendors, the shop owners, and the bar keepers. They see Jesus. When we look them in the eyes they either quickly look away or they latch on, they stare at us, they follow us, and they almost never fail to ask,
"Why are you here?"
You're not drinking, you're not going to clubs, you're not at the beach… Why are you here?
And we answer,
"Just to hang out, to talk to people, to make friends, to love people. We're here for the girls, we're here for the vendors, we're here because Jesus is here."
My ministry for this month is to make friends. Literally. My job is to walk into one of the darkest roads in Thailand and shine Jesus' light and joy and hope. I get to walk into these places and smile at people and hug them and tell guys that they are not too far gone and bar girls that they do have worth and value, that they have an identity in Christ that calls them out to so much more.
I spent my Friday night with Regina.
Our big group stood in front of Soi Sea Dragon about to split into smaller groups and head to the bars. And then Regina found us. She is gorgeous, a tall, tan, blonde, 20-year-old Swedish girl and she wanted us to come to a bar with her. We smiled and said we didn't have much time tonight and we were heading the other direction.
But she was not to be blown off.
She offered us a drink. We said, "It's alright. We don't want one right now." She was persistent. We replied, "Actually, we don't drink. Not here."
"Oh… ok. What are you doing here?"
"We're hanging out! Talking to people."
"But why are you here? Like… why are all of you here?"
She was so persistent, this girl had a million questions, we eventually told her our whole story. "We're here to talk to the bar girls. To offer them different jobs if they want them. To offer them English classes and training. And to be their friends."
"You're Christians?" She said as she slowly hid the bucket of alcohol she was holding behind her back.
We laughed. "Yeah! But you can drink that, it's totally ok, we don't mind."
More questions. More answers. More laughter. And despite the darkness around us, joy began to build in our little group standing in the middle of Bangla Road.
Eventually we asked Regina if she wanted us to pray for her.
"Um, ok. When? Like now?"
More smiles.
"Like right this moment."
"Ok. Yeah. Yeah! That would be good."
Once she made up her mind that she wanted prayer she was determined to do it right. She first insisted that she put her alcohol down to pray and then made us all circle up and hold hands.
Now, I know that we stand out. That cannot be helped. But we do try not to stand out too much. We do not want to be obnoxious, we want to keep favor with the bar owners and managers so that we can keep coming back. Keep bringing Jesus there.
But Regina wanted us to circle up and hold hands. So we did, laughing, we held hands in a giant circle in the middle of Bangla Road and prayed for Regina.
As soon as we finished one of her friends came up behind our circle,
"Whatcha doing?"
"Just praying."
"For… who?"
"Regina."
This girl looked at her friend with a slightly bewildered look then Regina pointed to Karson and said,
"You! Pray for her too!"
So we held hands again and began to pray, this time for Eleanor and her mom back at home and her homesickness. There were some giggles in our group at the strange looks from the people who had to walk around us and at the tourists who turned away from the girl in the plexiglass box to stare at us. They just couldn't quite figure out what exactly we were doing. And as we prayed Eleanor started to smile, her eyes relaxed, and for a few minutes she just let herself feel peace again. And as we laughed with her and Regina you could see joy start seeping into them. As soon as we finished praying, up walked a man.
"Um. Whatcha doing?"
Apparently having a prayer party in the middle of Bangla Road.
"Just praying."
He asked us a bunch of questions and we found out that his name was Casper. We asked him if we could pray for him, he said yes.
"How do you do it?"
"What?"
"Prayer, like how does it work? Do I have to close my eyes?"
"We're just talking to Jesus. You can pray however you want. However you feel comfortable."
And so we prayed for him, for his health, for his family, for everything.
That's when we saw it, the "yolo" tattoo. We then realized who Casper was. Our team of girls that has been here for three weeks had already built a relationship with him, but when they asked him if they could pray for him he had shrugged them off and uncomfortably said, "Maybe next time." Now here he was standing in the middle of the road in a massive prayer circle receiving prayer.
All because Jesus made sure that Regina had insisted on not letting us get away. She saw something in us that she wanted and she was willing to ask as many questions as she needed to find out what it was. She was also willing to lead her friends to us and be stared at by the tourists and vendors on Bangla Road.
Regina had been working on Bangla Road for only three days. She didn't have any other plans at the time. When we went back on Monday she was gone, we talked to one of her friends and she told us that Regina's friends from Sweden had come to get her. That she left Bangla Road and was traveling with them now. We were so excited that she made it out. That she didn't fall into the trap with the rest of the people there. And maybe our prayer circle gave her a glimpse of something else, something more. I sincerely hope that she finds it. That she finds Jesus.
That I get to see her in heaven one day and laugh about our prayer circle in the middle of Bangla Road.
