When it Gets Hard

It would make sense that by now I could have easily memorized the street of Loi Kroh like the back of my hand. I know every sidewalk that ends and another starts anew. I know where to watch my step because of construction or where to keep my balance because it’s a thin walkway separating two sidewalks. I know that I am never far from a 7/11 and that there will always seem to be a dog following us, although it never seems to be the same one. I know where each of the beggars hangs out most nights and the names of each massage parlor, bar, or spa I have visited.

But for some reason, each time we go, walking the street of Loi Kroh gets harder and harder.  And I think to some capacity that is a good thing. 

The first night we prayer-walked, I almost felt numb. My teammates were all vocal about feeling so many emotions when we met back up together, and I sat there just kind of confused. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what to feel. 

 

We have a list going to pray for everyone we meet, talk to, befriend, and share the Gospel with, and by now, the faces are so familiar. There are the ladies at Y&Y Kristi and I teach Bible stories and English to each week; there is O at M’s Bar I keep going to visit, hoping and praying she will seek salvation; there is Na and Ni, two women at a massage parlor Gee and I shared Creation to Christ with last week—Na being only 16 and having the most beautiful smile I have ever seen, and I find myself praying she would know TRUE joy; There is K, the Burmese beggar missing one leg, who Kristi and I got to share with just a few days ago but wants nothing to do with Christianity because he never saw true love from the Christians around him; there is Ya, who our translator Aoy introduced me to two nights ago and I got to share my testimony and the Gospel with, but the only thing stopping her from following Jesus is her thinking she has to earn merit for her deceased and strongly Buddhist father. 

 

And two nights ago I think the weight of darkness finally hit me. Not that I didn’t see it before, but that night…I felt it. 

I found myself wanting to just run down Loi Kroh screaming the Gospel to those who have not heard. I wanted so desperately for every single woman to know God, to stop selling herself. I wanted every single man to hear the Good News, to stop getting drunk on alcohol and purchasing human beings, and to be the man God has called him to be. I wanted to grab every beggar by the hand and lead him to The Father. 

But after talking to Ya, sharing with her that with Jesus, she doesn’t have to earn anything, her only response was to reassure me that every religion is good and of her completely steadfast and never-changing worship of Buddha. 

I felt defeated.

After coming back to our apartment that night, I tossed and turned all night thinking of all the lost people. The weight of hundreds of lost souls seemed to be bearing on me, and Satan just kept repeating, “lost” over and over again. 

It was one of the hardest things I have ever experienced, but I think that it kickstarted something in my heart that was truly needed.  

I can no longer look the lost one in the face and not feel something. I can’t see these people right before me and not do something. I can’t rest knowing that these people I have come to love with my whole heart, these people who are now so familiar, don’t know the one true God.  

I knew before that there are 6,000 unreached people groups. I knew before that these people are destined to die if someone doesn’t come and tell them. I knew before that so many people worship false religions and unknown gods. I knew before that thousands were selling themselves as if they are some item in a store to be bought. I knew before.

But now it’s personal. 

Pray for each person I mentioned, along with the other women my teammates have met and shared the Gospel with. 

Continue to pray for S and N, for their eyes to be opened—they seem to be persons of peace and are continually hanging out with us. 

-Ashley