Loving Ferociously

If I were to say to you that I've become more and more hesitant to declare that I'm a Christian, what would you say?

What if I were to say that I've become so hesitant to tell others that I'm a Christian because less and less people seem to understand what that really means?

It has become increasingly apparent to me this summer that there are so very many people who have been hurt by the Church, by people who call themselves Christ-followers, yet judge and condemn harshly. And what does this do? It paints God as a high and mighty Judge in the sky waiting to hurl angry lightning bolts at whomever does wrong. Still others see Him as a benevolent Nothing who couldn't care less about all of the hurting people around the world because we, His people, choose to turn our backs on those who need us the most. 

The God that I worship and serve is neither. 

The God that I know is a gentle Lamb, yet an angry Lion all at once. He is fierce in protecting His children, His beloved, yet quiets to a whisper as He breathes life into a hopeless little girl. He strikes down in the name of justice those who adamantly disobey Him as they continue to disregard life, but then wraps His loving arms around those children of His who have been harmed. He could be seen as contradictory, I suppose. But isn't it beautiful?

But still there are people who think that we, as Christians, believe that we have some type of magic formula that somehow makes us better than them. I hear {from my own peers} all of time: "Oh, sorry, Bailey - I know you're too good for that." "Well, Bailey doesn't do that because she's a good girl." "Why would you even say that around Bailey? You know she doesn't approve." Once, I was even introduced to an entire high school health class by a classmate as, "Bailey, the good little Christian girl."

Now, none of those things are particularly bad; some are even correct. I don't do or say certain things that I believe is wrong or against God. I am a "good little Christian girl" {but why was it said in such a condescending tone?}. However it is not because I'm a "good girl" or because I think that I'm better than anyone. It's because the Bible shows me what God calls me to, and some things just are not included. And that's definitely not to say I've never made mistakes or done anything that has gone against God {after all, I'm only human} but, it's true, there are things that I refuse to do on principle.

Then there are some things that just make no sense: "Bailey would never get a tattoo - that's too bad for her." "Bailey wouldn't go to that party - she's too good for that." "Don't tell Bailey - she'd definitely disapprove." First of all, tattoos are not bad and I don't not like them; some of them I really love, so I'm pretty sure those people judged me more than I've ever judged them in that one comment alone. As for the party comment: Excuse me? I like to have fun too. Maybe not exactly in the same ways those who made this comment do, but it's not off-limits for me to go to a party. And, lastly, I'm not going to stop talking to someone if they say a few things that I wouldn't say - I may correct them if it's offensive to a certain group of people, but I'm not going to try to act like their mother {despite often being called Momma Bailey}.

So, my question today is, why? Why do so many people have this misinformed idea about who we are {and who God is}? Why do we continue to push others down in condemnation through hate rather than love as ferociously {I love using this word because it mean to love "with unrelenting intensity"} as Jesus modeled for us? Why do we allow the Church to earn such a bad name for herself? Why do we allow our words and actions to be poisoned by the very things {hatred, insecurity, depression, etc.} that the Lord has saved us from?

Those who have not yet believed in Christ as their Lord and Savior {and, sometimes, even those who have} will be turned away from us, the people God has appointed to bring His Good News to all the nations, because we are not adequately showing the true character of God.  

And their blood is on our hands.

So join me, would you? Join me in actively seeking to show the fierce love of Jesus to every person we come into contact with.

Love ferociously.

For Christ's love compels us . . .

Ever since I can remember, I've known that there is a huge world beyond the confines of the rolling wheat fields of my family's farm, the brick walls of my small town high school, even the cocoon that the American culture has created for it's children. I've always known this, I tell myself, and yet I live as though I do not.

I live as though my world is the world, as though my minor problems with school and work are the biggest in the world {though I know they aren't}. 

When I'm hungry because I missed a meal because of class or work, I selfishly proclaim that "I'm starving", though I know full well that there are people all around the world {even in my hometown} who truly are malnourished. When my feet hurt because I've barely sat down all day at work, I complain, though I know that there's a seven year old boy somewhere in Africa who had to walk ten miles to the nearest well {and back again} just to have enough water for himself and his two younger siblings to live on today. When I'm exceptionally sleepy because I had to be at work at 5:30 am, I grumble, though I know that there's a woman my age somewhere in the world who is exhausted because she just got back to wherever she calls home after a long night of selling herself to feed her two children and her deceased sister's five. When I come home crying because I had a hard day at work and people yelled at me for things I have no control over, it's hard for me to remember that there's a mother surrounded by her sick children on the other side of town crying because she can find no job. 

Why is it so hard for me {and maybe you} to live what I {or we} proclaim to be true?

Does God call us, as Christ-followers, to become what this world deems radical to help those in need? Or simply live a comfortable life of "good works"? If someone were to ask me this question, I would probably answer with the first choice. So why aren't I living that out? 

There's a quote from Francis Chan that says:

"The God of the universe 

- the Creator of nitrogen and pine needles, galaxies and E-minor -

 loves us with a radical, unconditional, self-sacrificing love. 

And what is our typical response? 

We go to church, sing songs, and try not to cuss."

And isn't that exactly the way it goes? The Lord Almighty has chosen us {YOU and ME} to be a little lower than the angels! We are His children! He sent His Son to die for us!

And I choose to go to church {sitting in the same seat every week because I wouldn't want to throw anyone off}, sing songs about a God who created all the heavens and earth and how awesome He is {when I'm comfortable and not being thrown any curve-balls}, and maybe go to a missions committee meeting every {third} month.

But that's not what Jesus wants from me.

  He wants me to go to all the nations! He wants me to be His hands and feet to feed and clothe and house the poor! He wants me to love the least of these, the ones this world deems unacceptable! He's chosen ME {US} to do awesome things!

So why don't we? Why aren't we more excited to do those amazing things that He's loved us so much to allow us to be a part of them?

I think it's a very simple explanation {at least, for me - maybe some others}: I'm afraid. I'm afraid of what danger may be lurking in the blatant evil in the red light district in Amsterdam; I'm afraid of the disease running rampant through the Ugandan country-side; I'm afraid {much less now than my first time going} of the looks I get when I go to the courthouse in Columbus to listen to the stories of former-prostitutes. But why? The Lord definitely does not call me to be afraid - He calls me to live with reckless abandon because He will protect me. And so I do, and I trust, and I love {or at least try to love} each person He places in front of me.

"For Christ's love compels us,

because we are convinced that one died for all,

and therefore all died.

And he died for all,

that those who live should no longer live for themselves

but for him who died for them and was raised again."

{2 Corinthians 5:14-15}

All the Pieces...

I've heard the sayings, "Life is like a puzzle" and "The world is like a puzzle". People say that it is our goal in life to figure out where we are meant to be, what we are meant to do, where we fit in this world. That always scared me; I was afraid that I would never figure out what I was meant to do or who I was meant to be - what if I went all the way through life, trying to do good, but never doing what it is that I was meant to do? That thought terrified me.

"One day I'll stand before You
And look back on the life I've lived
I can't wait to enjoy the view
And see how all the pieces fit"
   - Casting Crowns, Already There

This song gives me peace. God is already there, waiting for me to come home, excited to show me how everything fits together in the end. 

But sometimes He gives us little glimpses into how all the pieces fit while we're still here on earth. He's showing me right now. 

*     *     *     *     *

ONE DAY, THE DREAM BEGAN...

"One day, I received a letter in the mail - one of my favorite things in the world. But this one was special, different from junk mail and ads. This was an old-fashioned, handwritten letter! Its blue and red envelope spoke of far-off countries, places I'd never seen and most likely never would see (or so I thought at the time). The handwriting was blocky, like a child had written it, and I couldn't wait to see what it contained. My enthusiasm bursting, I ripped it open and eagerly looked to see who it was from: a girl from Uganda. A girl I'd never met. As I wrote her back and we continued to exchange letters, as I began to learn about her culture and people, as she taught me bits and pieces of her language, we became friends. And as we became friends, as I started to care for and lover her and her family, I fell in love with Uganda. I fell in love with its people who love Jesus with all their hears but own almost nothing, who put their trust and faith in Him though they sometimes don't know where their next meal will come from. It may seem odd to you that I can be so passionate about this country and its people; that I can love them so intensely, yet I've never even set foot on that land. Don't worry, you're not alone. It's odd to me, too. But all of my uncertainty is overpowered by my love of Uganda's people and the Lord who has given me this love and passion. I have dreamed of visiting this country for years, I have read books about it and ... I still dream of a land that is halfway around the world. And I truly believe that God will get me there. Somehow, some way"

I DREAM...

"Four years ago, my heart was completely and utterly shattered. And I thank the Lord that it was. I asked God to break my heart with what breaks His - and He did. Four years ago, I did not know that there are over 27 million slaves in the world right now. Four years ago, I thought America was the land of the free; I thought everyone was treated equally and fairly; I thought our days of owning one another had ended with the Emancipation Proclamation. I was wrong. But I refuse to allow this kind of atrocity to prevail in this world in which I live any longer. I am sick of it and I will work to end it. People have asked me if I really think that I can make any difference in such a big world and such a big problem. My answer is simple: I can do all things through Christ, who strengthens me, because He has deemed human trafficking as my holy discontent for a purpose - and I will honor that."

DREAMING OF A FAR AWAY LAND 

"The people of a country I've never seen and people whose freedom is locked tight by another. I thought that these two passions were way too different to combine together, to share a blog. But then I started thinking. I have one purpose when working with both of these communities of people: to bring the hope and healing and love of God into their lives. I have two passions...so what? I have no doubt - in fact, I have complete faith - that the Lord will use both of them for His glory. I used to think that I had to choose one because I needed to give my entire life to one certain thing. I was wrong, again. My one purpose in life is to live for God and to work for the glory of His kingdom. I can do that wherever I am, in whatever I am doing. I know that there's a reason that I have a heart for both the people of Uganda and victims of human trafficking. If there weren't, God wouldn't have laid both so heavily on my heart.
 

So now dreaming of a far away land is about more than just Uganda and its people. This blog is about me living for Jesus, however that may be."

*     *     *     *     *

 In the past few months, everything surrounding this trip to Uganda that I am planning has just seemed to have fallen into place. And why wouldn't it? That's what I asked from God, and that's what He did for me as I said, "Yes" to each thing He placed in front of me. 

He Says, "Wait"...

 

"Throughout this past week, I have been constantly thinking about Uganda; a place I love but have never been. Uganda and its people have seemed to involuntarily invade my thoughts as nothing has before. So I began praying hard for this country and its people. Lord, what is it that You are trying to tell me? I was reminded of a book called Kisses from Katie by Katie Davis, one of my all-time favorite books, so I began reading . . . and reading . . . and reading. And so I prayed hard for Katie and her children and her ministry, Amazima Ministries. Then I was reminded of some friends of friends who are full-time missionaries in Uganda. So I prayed hard for Shawn and Sarah and their son and their ministry. Is this what You want, God? For me to pray for these people? But I wasn't at peace with just praying. So I emailed Sarah and asked a few questions about possibly spending some time there. I was met with great excitement and cooperation as she promised me that she'd research some ministries in Kampala, the capital of Uganda where Shawn and Sarah live, that work with prostitutes with whom I may be able to volunteer.  
Realizing that God may be calling me to go to a place I have been longing to go{FINALLY}, I introduced the idea to my mom {yet again}. By this time, I am very excited about the prospect of visiting and serving in this country that I've been in love with for years, but still have not had the privilege of stepping foot in.  

And, hearing nothing from the Lord, I became discouraged and whined and pleaded with Him to just tell me what He'd been trying to. Feeling prompted to continue reading, I started back at the beginning of Psalm 37 and, asking for wisdom and discernment, I read. 

Be still before the Lord and wait patiently for Him . . .

I paused. 

Be still before the Lord and wait patiently for Him . . .

Well, God, that's good and all but I just - 

Be still. {He interrupted me here.} 

But God, I'm not good at waiting.
 
Wait patiently. 

I can't. 

You can. 

But God - 

Stop. {Another interruption.} Just be still. Just wait for Me."

And so I waited. 


FROM MY JOURNAL: HE SAYS, "GO"

"'Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you.' (Matthew 28:19-20)

As I was praying, You brought this verse to my mind, God. Specifically, the part that says, "Go". That's all I heard at first. Then the rest followed and I recognized the verse. But that first part: Go. That's pretty straightforward, isn't it? Everything's starting to add up, Lord, and I'm pretty sure I'm starting to understand Your all-awesome plan. I will go."

*     *     *     *     *

Today, I received an email from Abby, the woman in charge of A Perfect Injustice, the ministry that I am {hopefully} partnering with this fall, letting me know that she and her staff have been praying about approving my application and will let me know within the next 48 hours. 

{My heart is racing just thinking about it.} And yet I feel that everything that has brought me to this point in my life has been so amazingly orchestrated by God that I think it has to be His will. Either way, I am resting in His peace. 

This August I will be flying to Uganda, Africa for 3 months to work with former prostitutes to help them build a new life for themselves and their families by teaching English classes and leading Bible studies for the ladies. I will also be working with street children who have special needs (developmental disabilties, whether physical or mental, substance abuse issues, behavioral problems, etc.) by teaching swim lessons as a reward for good behavior. 

So here I am, waiting before the Lord to embark on this amazing journey, as He is showing me how beautifully my two passions {which I once deemed inappropriate to pair together} merge. How faithful is He!  

I am in the midst of planning this trip, acting completely on faith; faith that API will approve my application, faith that God will provide both financially and emotionally, faith that I will be safe half a world away from everything that is familiar. 

Please keep me in your prayers as I prepare lesson plans, Bible studies, etc. and work to raise/earn the money needed to make this trip a reality. Pray for guidance, compassion, peace, and strength as I prepare my heart to endure much more than anything I've ever had to before. 

If you would like to support me financially, please prayerfully consider donating to my youcaring.com page here.      

He says, "Wait" . . .

Last weekend, my pastor's sermon was about worship; worshiping God and the blessings that flow out of that. He asked us to try to actively worship the Lord each day.

I took the challenge. 

Throughout this past week, I have been constantly thinking about Uganda; a place I love but have never been. This is new for me. Usually, the topic always on my mind is the victims of sex trafficking and those involved in prostitution {especially here in America}. Though those people were never far from the front of my mind, Uganda and its people seemed to involuntarily invade my thoughts as nothing has before. So I began praying hard for this country and its people.

Lord, what is it that You are trying to tell me?

I was reminded of a book called Kisses from Katie by Katie Davis, one of my all-time favorite books, so I began reading . . . and reading . . . and reading. I'd forgotten how difficult this book is to lay down rather than finish all in one sitting {which I would gladly do if I were given the time}. I highlighted paragraph after paragraph and reread those parts which particularly caught my attention. So I prayed hard for Katie and her children and her ministry, Amazima Ministries.

Then I was reminded of some friends of friends who are fulltime missionaries in Uganda. So I prayed hard for Shawn and Sarah and their son and their ministry.

Is this what You want, God? For me to pray for these people? 

But I wasn't at peace with just praying. So I emailed Sarah and asked a few questions about possibly spending some time there. I was met with great excitement and cooperation as she promised me that she'd research some ministries in Kampala, the capital of Uganda where Shawn and Sarah live, that work with prostitutes with whom I may be able to volunteer.  

Realizing that God may be calling me to go to a place I have been longing to go{FINALLY}, I introduced the idea to my mom {yet again}. 

By this time, I am very excited about the prospect of visiting and serving in this country that I've been in love with for years, but still have not had the privilege of stepping foot in.  

*     *     *     *     *

For as long as I can remember, one of my

favorite Bible verses has been Psalm 37:4:

"Delight yourself in the Lord and He will give

you the desires of your heart." I used to believe

it meant that if I did what the Lord asked of

me, followed His commandments, and was a 

"good girl", He would grant all my desires and

make my dreams come true. Today, this is still

 one of my favorite passages of Scripture, but I 

have learned to interpret it in a totally different

way. It is not about God making my dreams

come true but about God changing my dreams

into His dreams for my life.

 - Katie Davis, Kisses from Katie

http://kissesfromkatie.blogspot.com/ 

As I read her words, I flipped to Psalm 37 in my own Bible and found verse 4 underlined and highlighted - I'd already found that promise. 

But, God, I prayed, what is your plan for me? What are your dreams for my life? I know You have something wonderful planned, but WHAT? Am I supposed to go to Uganda? Am I supposed to be interceding for these people? I hate uncertainty, I hate not knowing, I can't keep living in such uncertainty. What do You want me to do? Please show me. I need to know NOW. 

{By this time I was whining - I knew that - but I felt that He wasn't being fair, that I needed to know right then and there.}

Feeling prompted to continue reading, I started back at the beginning of Psalm 37 and, asking for wisdom and discernment, I read. 

Yes, I know I must trust in You. Yes, I know I must do good. Yes, I know I must commit my life to You. Yes, I know You will do great things when I give you my life. Yes, I know . . .

Be still before the Lord and wait patiently for Him . . .

I paused. 

Be still before the Lord and wait patiently for Him . . .

Well, God, that's good and all but I just - 

Be still. {He interrupted me here.} 

But God, I'm not good at waiting.

Wait patiently. 

I can't. 

You can. 

But God - 

Stop. {Another interruption.} Just be still. Just wait for Me. 

*     *     *     *     *

I think so often we are deafened by the loudness of this world we live in. We aren't able to hear God leading us where He wants us because we are distracted, we are deaf to His voice, or maybe we just don't care what He wants {which I've been guilty of}. 

But He is there and He is calling each one of us. 

I don't quite know if God really does want me in Uganda right now {though I'm hoping He does}, and I truly do feel His nudging. So, I will wait upon Him and listen to Him and follow Him wherever He may lead. And I WILL wait for confirmation, but I REFUSE to second-guess the confirmation He may give me, and wait too long and miss whatever He has in store for me.

Trust in the LORD and do good;

dwell in the land and enjoy safe

pasture.

Delight yourself in the LORD

and he will give you the desires of

your heart.

Commit your way to the LORD;

trust in him and he will do this:

He will make your righteousness shine

like the dawn,

the justice of your cause like the

noonday sun.

Be still before the LORD and wait

patiently for him . . . 

- Psalm 37:3-7a (NIV)

The Prostitute on the Street

   A few weekends ago, a friend and I were driving up High Street to the campus of The Ohio State University. She was home from school for spring break and we were {unexpectedly} trying to find a restaurant to have lunch at together.

   It was a perfectly normal moment in a usual day in our lives. As I attempted to not hit any of the pedestrians crossing the street, keep the radio at an acceptable volume, and catch up with my best friend, I was marveling at the sheer goodness of this particular day. I was happy, she was telling me a story, and the day was good. 

   And then, suddenly, everything stopped; the world around me turned into a slow-motion portion of a movie, and I felt my heartbeat pound in my head. I think I mumbled something, but I can't really remember all that clearly.

   "What?" she asked as she looked at me. 

   "We just passed a prostitute." 

   "I didn't see anything," she said as she turned to look back up the street. 

   But I did see. I can still see her, her image forever seared into my mind. I see her dark skin and long black hair flowing in a ponytail behind her. I see her black leather mini skirt. I see her red tanktop. I see her black high-heeled boots. I see her hand awkwardly in a man's. I see her leading him {seemingly confidently, but actually hating herself for doing this yet again} to a cab. 

   That's all I saw. In those three seconds my eyes gazed upon her, I only saw those few things: her skin, her hair, her clothes, and the man she was to service next... 

   But in my heart, I saw so much more. I see her hurt and pain. I see the scars; on her body from her own self-hatred and on her heart from others who have hated her. I see the tears falling that no one else recognizes and I hear the screams in the night that no one else hears. 

   I see so much...and also so little. 

   I don't know her name or her age or her level of education. I don't know her background or her parents or her children. I don't know her at all...and yet I feel connected to her in an uncanny way. 

   "Wanna go talk to some prostitutes with me?" I asked my friend in the passenger seat. I giggled to make it seem like somewhat of a joke; who would want to go talk to her prostitutes at the Arnold Classic? And I was joking...kind of. I did want to go talk to anyone and everyone who would listen about sex trafficking and prostitution, and everything that those topics entail. But I was also uncertain and a bit frightened, so I didn't. 

   I don't know this woman's story. I don't know if she had a pimp somewhere within the Arnold, advertising his girls' services and forcing her to go with the man. I don't know if she "chose" "The Life" {what survivors often call their time in the commercial sex industry}. In fact, I don't even know if she was a prostitute. Maybe she wasn't. 

   But what if she was? And what if I was the only person who noticed the red flags {of a life of pain}?

   And I did nothing?

   "But I guess I just don't know the signs." My friend's words hung in my mind {and still are}. 

   Do YOU know the signs?

The Secret Behind the Super Bowl

   She sits in the trailer she's been given for the day and waits. She waits for the next man to walk through the door. Some of them are already drunk, barely aware of their actions. Others are sober and completely aware of what they're doing. But it doesn't really matter either way . . . not to her.

   She hears the door open and keeps her eyes on her folded hands in her lap. She wrings her hands in agitation as he walks toward her. He smooths her hair as if she were his child. What he doesn't know is that she's actually two years younger than his own daughter - barely 15. 

   She rises from her seat and it takes all that she has within her to smile weakly up at him. She falls onto the bed that has seen countless others just today. She closes her eyes to keep the pain away and tries not to think too much.

   Her heart sinks even further into the pit of her stomach and she wonders if she'll ever get used to being in this business.

   Her breath catches in her throat and she fights the tears that well into her once-innocent eyes.

   Her head spins uncontrollably and she's afraid that she'll throw up if she can't bring something - anything - under her control. 

   She sits up as he fastens his belt and slams the door behind him, loudly, as if signifying his finishing with her. A single tear escapes and snakes down her face as she wonders how long it will be before he's back again . . . maybe not with her, but with another girl who spends each moment pleading with God to rescue her. 

   The room continues to spin and she vomits into a plastic bag. Closing her eyes, she presses her palm to her forehead. Why can't she control anything? Just one thing would be enough. 

    Here, use this to numb it.
   Numb what?
   Everything. 

   The conversation rings in her head and she reaches into the cabinet, pulling out a bottle of cheap vodka. An older, more experienced girl had shoved it into her trembling hands yesterday after he had told her she was working today.

   Today . . . of all days, had to be her first.

   She unscrews the bottle and sniffs the alcohol inside. She doesn't drink. She's a good girl. But not anymore. Now she's a girl men come to to get things they can't get anywhere else.

   The self-hatred rises like a flame within her and the vodka burns a path down her throat, but she doesn't care. After a few more drinks, she won't be able to feel anything anyway.

   On her third swallow, she begins to sweat so the burst of cold air feels nice when the door opens. For the few seconds it is open, she can hear the loud cheering and announcers' voices. Then the door is shut and the outside world is gone just as Beyonce takes the stage for halftime.

   But what does it matter? Besides, it's not like she really likes football anyway.

  

But what about the consumers?

   There are parts of my passion for those enslaved in the commercial sex industry that often confuses others (and, at times, even myself). I say that it is my dream to help set free those who are held captive; to help them escape their captors. And that is my dream.

   But what about the prostitutes? The question inevitably comes from those who are not educated about sex trafficking, and also from those who are. As the question swirls in my mind, I find that I do not have an answer.

   I understand if they're physically held with chains and locks but if they aren't, they could just walk away. This one forces me to bite my lip and hold back the bitter words I want to spew out.
  
   They have a choice. They could stop if they wanted. These statements anger me because I've never considered that those in slavery have a choice. Then I wonder how much truth they hold, and I have to listen to some music and forget the debate for a while to keep my head from exploding.

*     *     *     *     *

   I think it's easy for those of us whom have never been in contact with the commercial sex industry to sit back and judge the women who provide the services, calling them horrible names and looking down upon them as if they're less than we are. It's understandable; when we think of the word "prostitution", we think of a scantily-clad woman standing in four-inch stilettos on a street corner as she lures men into buying the one thing she has to offer. We think of a half-naked woman dancing on a bar, hoping a man will approach her and ask to go into the back room. We think of a woman high on whatever her drug of choice; a "good for nothing" woman with no work ethic and no future.

   We think of the women.

   But one question no one seems to ask is, What about the consumers? What about the people who buy the prostitutes' services? Why don't we think about the men that use and abuse these women and shudder with disgust at the thought of them, rather than the other way around? These men treat these women with no respect, with no thought to how these acts must make her feel, and with no care at all to how this one sexual act with him will affect her for the rest of her life. And, yes, the individual men and experiences may begin to fade together and she will do what she must night after night, but those faces, those groping hands, those hardened hearts will continue to haunt her in her dreams.  

 *     *     *     *     *

   But what about the prostitutes? I still see a broken and hurting person who needs help to shake off the devil on her back, whatever that may be. I still see a soul who needs the love and grace of God. And I will help her regardless. 

   I understand if they're physically held with chains and locks but if they aren't, they could just walk away. Physical chains and locks aren't the only means of keeping someone in bondage; there is also the need for drugs to avoid excruciating detoxification, lack of anywhere else to go and/or anything else to do for money to support families, and paralyzing fear. In the words of a former prostitute: "The psychological games he played [with us] were just amazing." Not everything is so black and white.

  They have a choice. They could stop if they wanted. Imagine being a single mother with no education and five children who need you to provide for them, but it's impossible to work because two of those children are not yet in school and you cannot afford childcare. Even in imagining that, I know many of you will claim that you would still never sell yourself. Please don't speak out on something that you don't fully understand from experience. It's so easy for us to judge from on high those in a pit of despair. Be careful. 

   So, my question to you, to American society, to the world; What about the consumers who keep the commercial sex industry booming? Remember, no industry can survive without people willing to pay to purchase the product for sale.