I don't know how it came about, but I found myself standing in a room in my dream. Ahead, stood a man with his back to me. I heard a cry followed by repeated pleas for him to stop. He was beating her down with an iron rod. The woman was on the ground. I could see the terror in her eyes, the pain across her face as this man, her partner, one whom she had come to love and trust, struck her endlessly with no mercy, without even flinching. Everything within me wanted to make it stop. But I couldn't. I was a ghost in that room. Neither could see or hear me. I couldn't even move towards them. I woke up with a heavy feeling in my guts.
It started when I was young. Somehow I'd come across articles upon articles of women revealing their gruesome ordeals of rape and abuse; reports of children being treated with violence. People even forwarded me emails with explicitly graphic photographs of women, taken after they had been sexually assaulted and tortured. Why I kept coming in contact with such writing and imagery I did not know. Each one would make me cry for hours, my heart aching, my head spinning and laden with questions and thoughts of revenge on their behalf. Each one would deepen the hole in my heart, the fear of being hurt myself, the resentment towards God and men. This would always come up as a barrier at some stage of my spiritual growth. A dead-end in my walk with the Lord. I'd make some form of progress but then end up at square one the next time I heard, read or saw anything that related to rape, abuse and torture.
Over the years, the questions, the "reasons" for my hatred and fear have increased. And every so often I would crumble into a heap on the floor, weak from the incessant begging of God to make it all stop, from bawling my eyes out, from feeling completely vulnerable, from trembling because a noise in the night when I was home alone made me think someone was breaking in and would take advantage of me and murder me because it just happened to an elderly woman in another suburb. I only felt perfectly safe when others were in the house or when I returned home to be with family. A couple of years ago, God brought a release from some of the nightmares I had been experiencing. I could be home alone and not be as consumed by frightening thoughts as before. I could make it through days without being overwhelmed by haunting thoughts and images in my mind. But I'd still hear and come across reports on the net, articles in magazines. I'd still struggle and fight with God, cry and intercede.
I remember sitting in a restaurant and seeing at the other end, a man grabbing hold of a waitress' hand as she tried to clean the table. He was with a male friend who thought nothing of it all. The man seemed to be making rather lewd comments while the waitress pulled her hand away, lowered her head and tried to clear the dishes as quickly as possible. As he approached the cashier, he reached out and rubbed her back. The young girl stepped away, went behind the counter and squatted down to hide, under the pretence she was looking for something. The man continued to talk to her, and asked the cashier what the waitresses' name was. The cashier replied, not clueing onto the situation at hand. The moment I spotted him behaving inappropriately, my stomach went into knots. I became quite light headed and nauseous and rage grew from within me. My face had lost colour but I could feel heat rising in my cheeks and along my ears. I finally managed to speak, "How can he not see the way he's making her feel? He doesn't deserve to live, He's a sick man, I want to punish him". My hands gripped my knife tightly as I turned to face him as he and his smiling friend walked up to the counter. My legs went weak and I couldn't move myself. I felt disgusted at him, helpless for the girl, and frustrated at my cowardice. Fab had no idea what I was muttering to myself about. He did not understand why I had suddenly fallen silent, why my expression had changed and why I was clutching everything around me until my knuckles went white. "Jos, Jos!...what's wrong? What are you saying? What's going on?" I snapped out of my insanity but couldn't shake the fear, rage and disgust. I couldn't stomach anymore food and told him I had to leave the place before I threw up.
There were a million thoughts racing through my head of how I would make the man understand the severity of his actions. He and his friend thought it was harmless fun. I wanted them to see otherwise. I wanted to hurt them. Very badly. I went up to the waitress who had emerged from behind the counter since the men had left. She looked shaken. Her head was still hanging low. I asked her if she was alright. She quietly replied she was fine now they had left the restaurant. I wish I could have done more for her. I should have stood up and defended her. Why did I not have the courage to do something? I cursed that man for weeks on end. The scenes replayed themselves in my mind every night as I tried to sleep. I prayed for the girl and spoke death over the man. God tried to persuade me to take on His perspective of the situation. To see the man through His eyes. I refused. I yelled at God, I threw probing questions into the silence that answered me. Finally I stopped. After a couple of months. We drove past that area the other day. The restaurant is now gone. I wondered about that girl. I wanted to know she was alright. I thought about that man and his friend. My thoughts didn't go anywhere. I prayed God would change his heart.
Recently, the haunting thoughts and images have returned. Every single day they are with me. While I work, while I listen to the sermon in church, while I drive...every waking moment. And now my dreams are reflecting the things that burden me and make my head hurt and my heart ache with pleas that God will intervene and end rape, end abuse, end the sex trade.
What do I do, God. with the image of a little girl being beaten into submission and locked into a dark cold room to wait for her "client", some man who has tossed some loose change to manipulate her body, as if she were an invaluable toy he could purchase at a whim? He will be aggressive with her. She will not escape. Her tiny undeveloped body will be broken. Her insides will be ripped. Her gift of virginity will be violently robbed from her. She will become just another object on the market. Another option for the millions of man who want nothing more than to satisfy their lust and greed for power and control. Another possession of the man, or worse, woman, who now "own" her for the purpose of their profitable trade. They are fully committed to protecting their business for it earns them a great deal. It is a booming industry. More and more men are throwing money into this trade. We cannot work fast enough to save them. With every one finally rescued, many, many more are being trapped in the business through kidnapping, fathers selling their daughters to clear debts, and reasons so many they fall off the page.
What do I do, God, with the image of a woman begging the gang to let her go as they throw her to the ground, rip off her clothes, press themselves against her roughly all the while bruising her as she struggles and fights, and tear away her self dignity, her joy, her hope for life, her desire to be beautiful, her emotional stability, her ability to trust in others, her sanity...? She lies exposed, vulnerable and shamed to the core. She's crying because her body burns with excruciating pain, her heart trembles with fear seared into every fibre of her being, her mind turns to thoughts of how she's now been made nothing. How will she face her family, her friends, society? Will she be forever rejected as dirty, as worthless? What did she do to deserve this? Was this punishment? Had she really been that bad? Was she dressed inappropriately? She'd always been conservative. She'd never invited that kind of attention. Maybe she ought to withdraw herself completely now. How will she ever heal? They did not care. The trauma was repeated as man after man lay on her and stripped her of everything. She begged, she tried to push them away. That only made it worse. Now her body was wrecked. There was blood everywhere. She found another bruise and another tear in her flesh. Her mind was weary. She couldn't even stand up. They left her for dead. The abuse lasted for hours on end. It felt forever. It is forever. She will carry this with her for the rest of her life. Every wound, every scar, every condemning thought, everything. There is no life remaining. They have brutally taken it all. Her life was perfect until that day she was dragged into an alley. It was broad daylight. Why did no one hear her? Why did no one come to her rescue? Why did no one stop them? Why did God turn His back on her?
Tell me Lord how I can make a difference. I want to take them out of those situations before they happen. I want to protect them, shield them, defend them, fight for them. I want to make the men understand what they're doing. Put them in the women's' shoes. Make them see that though to them it is nothing (they experience no pain, but sick pleasure), to the woman it can be everything (her whole life, her very sense of self). Show them the effects of their words, their violence. God, You don't want revenge. I plead You for vindication but to You, justice is quite different. My perspective is biased, limited, wrong.
Help me God. Help me to be someone who can bring Your light, Your life. To bring encouragement, truth where disillusionment has set in, hope, joy, peace for the fear someone will strike them down again. I want them to know they will never be shamed again. That You can and will restore them. That You love them and did not abandon them to the trauma. I cannot understand how You could stand by and watch and not do something. But there is so much I don't see, that I just don't know or comprehend. So much of You I need to learn and discover. Give me strength to trust You. To wait upon You. To believe I can make a difference even if I have not gone through the same things. Please do not let it be that I have to endure those horrible experiences to be of use to You. Please.
Forgive me for my unbelief, my lack of faith, my unwillingness. Grant me peace for my mind that runs like a tape recorder I can't shut off. Give me resolution. Please. Place within me the ability to reach out to them. The words to say to bring healing and restoration. Just as You have promised. Cause me to discover our true identity in You, to love being a woman, to celebrate everything about us and my purpose in You, to see beyond the circumstances so I can raise their heads. You have said that the same power that conquered the grave lives in me. You have said that the same love that saved the earth when Jesus laid down His life once and for all lives in me. Let it be so!
In my prime, I want to see the world change in this regard. I want a revolution in culture, that women can be exhorted. I want a revolution in perspective, that women can be respected, honoured and protected by men. That children will be adored and cared for with a love that is pure. Let me see this change. Let me see it first as a strong vision in my heart and mind and spirit so I can pray with fervency and sharpness. Give me words so sharp I can speak into their lives, into any situation and bring Your truth to set them free from everything that has happened. That they may look back at their pasts and laugh at the devil for he has lost all authority over them. You are our stronghold, Lord. Our ever present help in times of trouble. May I truly be convicted of this in my spirit right now Lord.
In Jesus' most precious and mighty name I pray, Amen
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