Nefarious – Merchant of Souls

Day Four

Greetings from Bologna!

I came here to see the screening of Nefarious.  Nefarious is a film about human trafficking (modern slavery), the vast majority of which is for purposes of prostitution.  The film is a deeply disturbing documentary which chronicles the lives of prostitutes in Europe, Thailand, and the US.  The organization that produced the film is Exodus Cry (http://exoduscry.com/).

The word nefarious means extremely wicked or villainous, and that describes the traffickers and also the men who frequent prostitutes.

The girls in the film had been rescued from prostitution.  Some described how they were tricked into prostitution by boyfriends who turned out to be traffickers.  Others told how they had been kidnapped.  Both of these went through a process of breaking-down their will and their resistance.  This process involves isolation, humiliation, drugging, severe beatings, and repeated rape until all the fight has gone out of them—along with any self-esteem or human dignity.

Some girls were made to strip naked and walk in line across a stage in a slave auction for buyers to bid on.  These buyers were the owners of brothels and massage parlors throughout Europe.  Often the buyers would manhandle them, forcing them to open their mouth and show their teeth, checking them over like merchandise.  Some buyers asked to “try the product” before they buy.

Some of the girls had been orphaned or abandoned by their parents in Eastern Europe.  One described how the orphanage director had encouraged the girls to “go off with the boys and have some fun.”  They were prostituting them.  Then when they reached 18 years of age, the traffickers came to pick them up from the orphanage and they were never heard from again.  East European girls have been trafficked into prostitution all around the world.  Their passports have been stolen by their captors.  They are invisible because they have no family, and usually they have no knowledge of the language in the place where they end up, except for what they need to know for working in prostitution.  The traffickers prey upon the most vulnerable: orphans and children.

Anywhere there is prostitution, there is trafficking.  The legalization of prostitution only helps the traffickers by giving them a “legitimate” market.  But legalization in no way means that the girls are working as prostitutes by choice.  The only girls in the film who had entered prostitution voluntarily had been lured by the glamour of becoming a high-priced Las Vegas call girl.  They dreamed of meeting and marrying a high-roller who could give them a luxurious lifestyle.  They were each disillusioned by the realities of prostitution.  Part of that reality is that some of the clients are men who hate women with a murderous passion.  All of the women had suffered beatings and strangling.  The thing that each of the voluntary prostitutes had in common was a history of sexual abuse as children, and the low self-esteem that comes with being the victim of abuse.

The purpose of the film is to educate the public about this extreme evil that exists all over the world.  The film also shows the only country in the world in which prostitution has virtually ended: Sweden.  Sweden’s approach is simple and effective: severely punish the clients and the traffickers.  In effect: stop the demand and prostitution stops.

Exodus Cry works on a 3 point attack: Prevention, Intervention, and Restoration.  The ultimate goal is to have people who are healed: physically, emotionally, and spiritually—and not only the girls, but also the clients and traffickers, whenever possible.

So what does all this have to do with my fasting and prayer for understanding of the things to come?  I believe that it is just a confirmation of darkness of these End Times days.  It’s confirmation that I am on the right track by fasting and praying for understanding.  Most of these girls were deceived in one way or another.  When the Antichrist comes upon the world stage, he will come with such great deception that even the elect, God’s chosen ones, will be in grave danger of falling for his lies.  This calls for us to be alert—super-alert!  We cannot afford to coast through these days on auto-pilot.

You can get involved with Exodus Cry through: Prayer, Awareness, Reform, and Donation.  Exodus Cry is above all a prayer movement.  They wisely recognize that none of this will change without prayer.  They also realize that nothing will change without laws that punish the men who exploit women and children.  I want to encourage each of you to support Exodus Cry with your prayers and finances.  All it takes for evil to triumph is for good people to do nothing.  Now that you know, you have the obligation to help the “least of these.”  God is good!  Go do good, too!

Speaking to the Foundation

Usually an essential means of changing the spiritual atmosphere of a city (especially an ancient city like Sofia) is to speak to the foundation of the city.  This is one thing we did today.  We went to the place in the subway where the ancient foundation of the city had been exposed when the subway was excavated.  There were 12 in our group, 3 of whom are Bulgarians.  The number 12 is important because it means government.  Three of course is the number of the Trinity, so signifies God’s presence in the government.  Half of us were men and the other half women.

First we prayed above at the place of the statue of the goddess of wisdom, Sofia, and then we formed a line, the men facing the statue and the women each with a man at her back, facing the Parliament building.  Then we switched places and the women prayed facing the statue and the men facing the Parliament building.  Thus an important demonic powerline was broken.  And that was important for what came next.

Then we prayed at the foundation of the Eastern Gate and then spoke to the foundation and to the gate.  Speaking to the foundation involved proclaiming that the city, originally founded on human wisdom, is now founded on the true cornerstone, Jesus Christ.  We also made proclamations that the people of Sofia and of Bulgaria are now free in Jesus Christ.  We proclaimed:

Lift up your heads, you gates; be lifted up, you ancient doors, that the King of glory may come in.  Who is this King of glory?  The Lord strong and mighty, the Lord mighty in battle.  Psalm 24:7-8

These kinds of prayers and proclamations may seem strange, but they are Scriptural.  In fact, any time that you use Bible forms, and especially words and phrases from the Bible to speak to a troubled place or situation, it brings all the power of Heaven into that place or situation.  This is why memorizing Bible verses is so important: they will be there when you need them, like money in your pocket or arrows in your quiver.

Tonight the pastor told us that because of past deceptions, he is not at all trusting of new people who come into his church.  But he said that because the government resigned on the day we arrived, it was a message to him that we had come in the power and authority of God Almighty.

Tomorrow we will go to the mountains just outside of town to speak to the mountains.  For this Jesus said, “Truly I tell you, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move.  Nothing will be impossible for you,” (Matthew 17:20, emphasis mine).  You don’t merely pray about a mountain, but you’ve got to speak to it before it will move.

God is good!

The Light Shines in the Darkness

I have written a few stories of actual people who have been trafficked (in both “Look, Listen, Love” and “Laughing in My Dreams”).  Those were people that my friend, Clara, the pastor’s wife in Romania told me about.  Buck and Nadia work with women in prostitution, and they have been telling me about the women they know.

The first time the issue of human trafficking came to their attention was in the small town three hours from Sofia, where they were pastoring a church.  The head of the children’s program at their church came to them with the desire to tell her story.  She had gone with a friend to Macedonia because of the promise of a job, and their documents were confiscated and they were told that they would be prostitutes.  She was a virgin and lost her virginity to a stranger in his car.  Her friend ran away, but was caught, and as the other girls watched, they broke both her legs.  Amazingly, the girl did eventually manage to get away, but now, years later, she still struggles with her past.

They said that they tried not to look shocked, but they were.  They had never heard of such a thing.  But little by little they became aware of the magnitude of the problem.  Often, even if the girl manages to get away, the police are reluctant to do anything about the trafficking.  The police and local officials are often involved either financially or as non-paying customers.  And the girls are mostly foreign and without legal identity documents—they are essentially non-persons.  So even non-corrupt police would rather ignore their complaints than get into the massive legal hassles required to help undocumented persons.

When they began working with prostitutes these stories of trafficking became more and more common.  One girl told how she had been living with her grandmother and helping her, but she needed to return to her own home about an hour away.  She ran into an old friend who invited her to have coffee.  Over coffee she told him that she needed to go back to their town, and he offered her a ride.  On the way they stopped at a coffee shop, and she didn’t think anything unusual about it except that her brought her a soda that was already opened.  Back on the road, she began to feel strange and physically paralyzed.  He had slipped her the date rape drug.  They went to her house, got her identity card, and he took her to Macedonia.  Because of the relaxed borders of the European Union, all he had to do was show both their identity cards to the border guard.  Then she saw him receive money for her, and she was put into a brothel and told that this would be her work from now on.  She became pregnant in the line of her work and was severely beaten for refusing to have an abortion.  Somehow she got away and into a halfway house for girls coming out of prostitution.  She said that whenever she looks at her baby, she tries not to remember how he was conceived.

The stories go on and on about husbands who send their wives out to work as prostitutes, and husbands who don’t like for their wives to work as prostitutes, but tolerate it because they like the money.  Many of the girls cope by pretending that they are a different person when they are working, and trying not to be present in their bodies during the act.  But these are only temporary and imperfect fixes.  There is nothing in the world like becoming a truly new creation in Christ Jesus.

No matter where you live, there is human trafficking going on in your country, and probably in your state, and possibly in your own town.  Check out the slavery map: http://www.slaverymap.org/.

God is good.  God is love.  Jesus is the ultimate expression of God’s love for humankind.  Love cannot allow this evil and injustice to continue against approximately 30 million people worldwide.  Love demands a response.  What are you going to do about it?

A Divine Appointment

Yesterday was a very full day of travel.  I started from Florence, where I had stayed the night with missionary friends, and went from there to the Abruzzo region on the Adriatic coast.  By choosing the less expensive, regional trains, I had to change trains twice.  The regional trains are less expensive because they are older and they stop in all the stations along the way.  So, travel which could have taken only a few hours, took six instead.  But the nice thing about slower travel is that I can catch a nice nap on the train, which I did.  I have learned not to fight the sleepy feeling if I don’t absolutely have to, and last night was a perfect example why.

When I arrived in Pescara, I went to the bus stop for the bus that would take me to the house of Bob and his family (Bob is the missionary there who I house-sat for during the last 2 summers—which you can read about in my book “Look, Listen, Love”).  I know other missionaries there, but because of the brevity of my visit, I hadn’t planned on visiting for more than a brief coffee or at least a phone call.  But God had other things in mind for me.

Not long ago, while I was still in North Carolina, I was inspired to start praying daily for divine appointments—both for myself and for my fellow missionaries.  As soon as I arrived I got a phone call from Betty, who had heard from Bob that I was arriving.  She and her husband are the other missionaries I had hoped to see, at least briefly.  She said, “Do you know Daisy of Rebirth Ministries?”  I told her that Daisy is a missionary I pray for daily, who I met at my home church in Milan a few years ago.  She told me that Daisy is in town for a women’s conference, and that if I wanted to go, she would come pick me up.  Of course I leapt at the opportunity.  I hadn’t seen Daisy for over a year, and had heard that she had moved to Rome.  This cut short my visit to Bob & his family, but we had a nice meal together and in our brief visit he caught me up on all the things that they are doing and things to be praying about.

Then after dinner, Betty, Daisy, and I went to the women’s conference.  Daisy is the founder of Rebirth Ministries, which helps stop domestic violence.  The focus of Rebirth is not only on educating and caring for women and children, but also on helping the abusers (which are not always men) to overcome rage issues and to find better ways of interacting than using fists.  Although the conference took place in a church, there were also women there, invited by friends, who were not believers.

Daisy shared her vision for Rebirth Ministries, and her personal story.  Daisy is from Argentina, and was twice widowed—one husband was one of the famed Desaparecidos “disappeared” persons, who was arrested and then simply vanished, never to be heard from again.  Alone, she raised two daughters and was called to Italy in 1994.  However, she didn’t immediately come to Italy, but prayed for Italy first, learned the language, and finished university.  During this time, the issue of domestic violence came to her attention.  When she put the call and the issue together, she understood why God wanted her in Italy, and so she came, forming Rebirth Ministries as a non-profit that meets in churches and schools throughout Italy.  The next step will likely be to bring Rebirth to the prisons.

In Italy, the danger of violence from strangers is very low, but domestic violence is unfortunately very high.  The police in bigger cities are beginning to respond to domestic calls, but in the small towns, they are still reluctant to interfere in “family” issues.  And even when the police arrest the abuser, the victim rarely maintains the courage to press charges, preferring to continue to try and make the marriage work.  In Italy, there is still a lot of shame attached to the issue of domestic violence because of the Catholic Church’s stance on divorce.  Italian women are encouraged by their priests to stay in abusive marriages, and often feel like failures if they cannot make the marriage work, make their husband stop drinking or using drugs, or stop seeking the company of other women.  And even among Protestant churches in Italy there is a lot of shame attached to divorce because the vast majority of Protestants in Italy are former Catholics.

One thing that Daisy shared was that many times when she speaks to groups like the one last night, someone invariably says, “But why Italy?  Surely domestic violence is a problem in Argentina, too.”  She admitted that it is, but much headway has been made in Argentina by others, whereas in Italy there is still much work to do.  As she spoke, I realized (not for the first time) that Daisy does have a true call to Italy.  She is being used mightily of God.

After Daisy spoke, Betty suggested that each person from the group give Daisy a brief word of feedback.  The overwhelming response was positive, and one young woman shared her story of abuse for the first time in her life.  It was very moving to see her tears, but also to hear the relief in her voice at finally being free to speak of it.  And the most beautiful thing of all was that this young woman was not a believer, but now that she has seen the love of Jesus in action, I have no doubt that she will make a decision for Christ.  Daisy spoke and prayed with her afterward, and arranged for follow-up counseling and care with the local church.

In a private moment I told Daisy about my personal observation that following Jesus always costs you something (He spoke of it in Matthew 19:29).  I told her that for me the cost is having left my adorable grandson.  But I encouraged her, saying, “But God always compensates me in the sweetest ways.  The first time I saw my grandson, when he was two months old, he laughed for the very first time—with his grandma!  And this visit, at eighteen months, he said ‘Grandma!’ for the very first time.  He sees his other grandma almost every day, but he called me Grandma first!”  Daisy was well able to relate because both of her daughters and all four of her grandchildren are far away in South America—the most recent was born two months premature just a week ago.  He weighs only one kilo—about two and a quarter pounds.  She is going to Brazil to visit Pedro, her newest grandson, next week.

Hanukkah Heaven or Hell

Baruch atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech Ha-Olam, asher kiddeshanu b’mitzvotav, vitzivanu, lehadlik ner shel Hanukkah.

Baruch atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech Ha-Olam, she-asah nissim la-avotaynu bayamim ha-hem bazman hazeh.

Blessed are You, Lord our God, Ruler of the universe, who has sanctified us with Your commandments, and has commanded us to kindle the lights of Hanukkah.

Blessed are you, Lord our God, Ruler of the universe, who wrought miracles for our fathers in days of old, at this season.

On Wednesday, right in the middle of the eight days of Hanukkah, the retirement home (where I live with Mom) had a traditional Hanukkah feast and celebration during the supper hour.  The two blessings above were recited (in both Hebrew and English) as the candles were lit.  It was beautiful, and I was grateful to have been part of the celebration.  The Jewish people here have been very kind about all the Christmas decorations and music—much of which is of a religious nature.  Nan told me: “I’m surprised that you would want to be here for this,” because she knows I’m a Christian missionary, and she also knows that I usually skip the evening meal.  “Well,” I replied, “Hanukkah is the celebration of a miracle.  I believe that we should always celebrate miracles!”  She smiled her agreement.  Nan and some of the other Jewish ladies had shared their recipes with the chef.  The resulting meal was delicious, though he’d had to prepare kugel instead of latkes because he doesn’t have a frying pan.

However this happy day didn’t have a happy start.  Mom and I returned from shopping to find a fire truck, an ambulance, two police cars, and a police department truck marked “Forensic Investigation” in the driveway.  Ambulances are not an uncommon sight here, nor are fire trucks, but the police vehicles are.  When we asked what the police vehicles were about, Jan, a kitchen worker told us: “One of the residents, a young woman wheelchair-bound by MS, had died in the night of an overdose.  They suspect suicide.”  We hadn’t known her, but we were saddened all the same.  She was young (only 42) and she had a fourteen year old daughter.

MS is a terrible, cruel disease that robs the body of strength and paralyzes, leaving the mind intact, eventually killing the person.  One person here actually applauded her for taking her life, and said that when her end is near, she intends to do the same.

I wrestled with the question: if it is kind to put a suffering animal down, why not a suffering human?  When I took this question to God, however, I felt a holy anger rising up within my spirit.  And with it the thought: God is the Author of Life, so killing (even yourself) puts you in league with the author of death—the devil, himself.  And on further thought, I realized that suicide is the ultimate expression of faithlessness, cowardice, and unbelief.

This was a hard realization for me, having lost two people I love to suicide this year: my ex-father-in-law and a dear lifelong family friend.

The last two years of my marriage I suffered severe depression.  The worst symptom—far worse than only sleeping one hour a night—was constant thoughts of suicide.  From the moment I woke until I finally fell asleep, I was bombarded with suicidal thoughts.  I would be in the bathroom and wonder how much of various medications it would take to overdose.  Or I would be in the kitchen and linger over the choice of knives for chopping onions, thinking about which would be the best for cutting my throat.  Or I would look out the window at the barn and wonder if there was a rope I could hang myself with—or a hose I could duct-tape to the muffler and gas myself with.

On and on and on, all day these thoughts tormented me.  I started reading books about positive thinking, but they didn’t help.  My prayers were stillborn, having died before they even started the long journey from my brain to my mouth.  So I mutely searched for God, finding only more misery.  The most innocent and normal things would start the flow of tears: a bird flying by the window or a pretty sunset.  I read and wrote obsessively just to keep the bad thoughts at bay, but they came anyway.  Our landlady’s dog became my dearest companion.  He would sit with me for hours.  I think he sensed the trouble in my spirit.

Our apartment was over the garage, and one day I went down to the garage and put my key in the ignition of our car.  I was going to kill myself and my husband, too (he was busy working on the computer in the room above me).  But instead of turning the key, I pulled the phone out of my pocket and dialed 911.  I told the operator what I was about to do.  He said to go to the County Mental Health Office immediately, and said that they would be waiting for me.  I did, and the doctor there gave me a prescription for Prozac.

When the Prozac finally kicked in, it helped a lot.  I was still in a lot of pain, but instead of raw pain, it was manageable.  The Prozac gave me back a degree of perspective, which helped me to find the strength to leave my abusive marriage.

These memories are so painful that it has taken me nearly a week to write about all this.  In the meantime there was the shooting of twenty school children in Connecticut.  The rampage ended as many of these do, with the suicide of the shooter—proving the diabolical link with suicide.  This was difficult to write, but now that I’ve done it I feel better.  Although suicide would have instantly ended my misery, it would have just started the misery for all the people who love me.  In the midst of depression it’s difficult to see that people actually love you.

To anyone feeling depressed and/or suicidal I say: be strong and courageous.  Get help.  And no matter how bad today is, tomorrow will be better.  Hang on!  God is good!