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I remember this moment.

No… I am trying to hold onto this moment. Trying not to forget the burden of obedience, to remember what I felt like as He grabbed my shoulders and held me up, “You can do this Brianne, you can make it through this. You love me, you don’t believe it, but I see it.”

I was at that point in the race where I was climbing the hill, trying to remember why I began running and the only thing louder than my small attempts at encouragement was my heavy, pain-filled breath. The only thing more unlikely than the victory was how unprepared for defeat I was.

But I did, I ran that race. I finished, I saw the end of the tunnel. I clung onto the Lord like I knew my life would be dust without His say, without Him. I called on His name as if I were Jacob wrestling in the woods, David hiding in the cave, Mary shattering the alabaster jar.

And now…I can’t remember her name.

It was 5:00pm, we were split into groups of 2 with one translator. We walked into the red light district together and slowly branched off. 2 would go to that bar, another 2 to this bar and this bar and that bar. Finally Danni and I split off into a bar with a depiction of Satan as a sign to lure in the customers.

I climb onto the bar stool and ask for a diet coke. That was my “in”, I had 5 minutes to talk to the girl serving me. To plant some seed, to love her, to ask her if she wanted the night off. I had 5 minutes to tell my anger and rage to lye down while I delicately surveyed the situation and requested the Holy Spirit to allow me words of life. 5 minutes. But I hear, that can be an eternity to the Lord. So I sat. I listened.

She turned to get my drink and as she turned she unveiled a very young girl sitting on a box, crying. I could not mistake her dismay or her position, she was hiding. I was shocked, she was young. There is something in me that broke like I never knew could. I had come face to face with a human life about to be bought. A human life about to be used and delighted in as if she were some kind of commodity, some piece of material to be taken and returned. She was no longer seen as “her” but as “it”.

I ask her how old she is.

15.

She tells me (through my translator) that this is her first night. She has no choice, her family must eat and her father and mother agreed.

I act quickly, the sun is going down and we are only given 20 minutes for our protection. I tell the translator this is the girl I would like to take out to dinner with my group. She communicates to one of the ladies. I do not take my eyes off her, I need to see her reaction. Her tears vanish, her face lights up. It was as if someone had come to her and said, “I can save you, I can save your life.” As she grabs her purse and I take out my 300 baht ($8), the bartender (who is the wife of the pimp) approaches me and with rage in her eyes tells me I can take any other lady but not her.

Physical weakness takes over my body, “No Lord, please let me save her, if just for one night. Please let me give her this night back.”

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