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Beauty on the Backroads

Stories of grace for life's unexpected turns

hope

A slave's story, part 4: redemption

April 4, 2013

This is the fourth, and final, part of Anna’s story, a fictional account of what trafficked girls experience. Click the links for the previous accounts: Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Details provided by The Exodus Road.

Anna wakes with a start. In her dream she was running from her captors, running for her life. She looked around at the room she was in, filled with girls like her but entirely different from the room she only recently shared with another group of girls.

You are safe. Er-hands-safe

The whispered words in her soul brought her comfort as she settled back into her bed.

After the raid, Anna had been taken to a nearby group home that specialized in aftercare for girls who had been sold into slavery. For weeks now, she’d been meeting with a counselor to work through all she’d been through. Anna spoke often of the nightmares and the shame. The counselor assured her both were normal to her experience and recovery. Occasionally, the girls met as a group to talk, to remind them they weren’t alone in their feelings. Anna battled anger–at herself, at the men who trafficked her, at the men who used her. She was grateful the home had a punching bag. Anna slugged out her feelings until she was too tired to lift her arms.

Now, it was a waiting game. Her case had to be cleared through the legal system before she could travel home.

Home.

Her tears soaked her pillow still as she thought of going home. Last week, she’d been able to speak with her family. She’d called the bakery in hopes that her former employer would be able to contact her mother. She was shocked to hear her mother’s voice answer the phone.

“Mama?” she spoke into the phone, hesitantly.

The woman on the other end began to weep. “Anna? Is it really you?”

“Yes, Mama. It’s me.” And then Anna, too, had begun to cry.

Their call had been short, but they had talked long enough for Anna to assure her mother that she was safe and would be coming home soon, and for Anna to learn that her mother had taken her job at the bakery when they realized Anna wasn’t coming home.

“At first I thought you’d forgotten us,” Mama said. “Then, we started to hear rumors of a crime ring targeting young girls. I feared for you, my child. I didn’t want you to end up like me.”

Anna didn’t know how to tell her mother the truth. She told her counselor this–that she was afraid her family, her community, would shun her because of what she’d done.

“What happened to you was not your fault, Anna. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise,” the counselor said.

“Maybe I was greedy, trying to gain a job that would pay so well …”

“Hear me again, Anna: It was not your fault.”

God had forgiven her, she knew. Forgiving herself would be harder.

A few more weeks passed and Anna was finally granted clearance to leave the country. A local non-government organization paid for her flight to Russia, and a kind-looking older woman, a volunteer from the organization, accompanied her to ensure her safety. On the flight back to St. Petersburg, Anna thought about how quickly life could change. Months ago, she’d been a girl with a dream–a dream of a better life for herself and her family. She’d imagined herself boarding a plane to a new country full of new opportunities. Now here she was, finally on a plane, and she was headed back home.

But nobody said her dream had to die.

The NGO woman explained that Anna would not be left on her own. They had contacts in St. Petersburg who would help her–and her mother–work through the trauma of having been trafficked. They would do everything they could to ensure Anna would not end up a victim again. That included a stipend, $1,000 U.S., more money than Anna could conceive of at one time.

At the safe house, Anna’s counselor had helped her work out a plan for her life. First on the list was to finish school. Eventually, Anna dreamed of opening her own bakery. She’d learned some valuable skills at her neighborhood bakery–skills she hoped to perfect and make her own in the years to come.

It would not be an easy road, but Anna had hope that life could be better.

Epilogue: Anna goes on to earn a degree in business and open her own bakery. She employs at-risk girls in her community and educates others about the dangers of human trafficking.

—————

ER banner

The Exodus Road works with NGOs in southeast Asia to fund investigations into human trafficking and rescue those who are enslaved.

Filed Under: the exodus road Tagged With: aftercare, hope, human trafficking, rescue, slavery, the exodus road

When the hero won't stay dead

April 1, 2013

Last year, Phil and I caught a couple of summer blockbusters in the theater. We don’t get out to the movies much, so for us to see more than one “must-see” while it’s still in the theater is unusual.

I’ve noticed a theme in movies of late. Maybe it’s always been there, but something stuck out to me in the movies we watched last summer. (No spoilers. I won’t tell you which ones, but maybe you’ll know them anyway.)

Here it is: The hero doesn’t stay dead.

And I’m not talking about crazy action sequences where no human being should have survived but it’s the movies so it’s okay.

I’m talking about when the movie comes to an end, and the hero appears to have died, and we can’t believe it could be possible. Yet in the final scene we get a clue that maybe he didn’t die after all. Maybe he somehow survived. And there’s hope that maybe the story isn’t over and we’ll get to see the hero perform saving acts again.

cross

Easter is like that.

Jesus is a hero–an unlikely one–to the Jews living under Roman oppression. He rebels against the religious system of the day. He speaks with authority. He heals people. He draws crowds of followers. And when he rides into Jerusalem on a donkey on what we call Palm Sunday, the crowds are ready for what they expect to be a heroic act: the overthrow of Rome. In this scene, Jesus is, to them, a conquering king, a hero poised to rescue them from a foreign government.

It plays out like a movie.

Jesus eats a final Passover meal with his closest friends. He prays a dramatic prayer in a garden. One of his own followers betrays him to the government. He is arrested, without a fight (at least from him). He is mercilessly beaten and mocked. Falsely accused. And sentenced to death.

The stories of Holy Week are some of the most dramatic you’ll find. And from the point of view of the characters in it, the story is rapidly coming to an end. An end they didn’t expect.

Jesus is crucified. A cruel execution for the worst offenders. His friends and family and followers can’t understand how it ends this way. Maybe they’re still looking for deliverance. For God to intervene.

But He doesn’t. Jesus dies. They put Him in a tomb. They endure a Sabbath where they aren’t allowed to prepare His body for burial.

The story, it seems, is over. And those who followed Jesus are distraught. Grieving. Confused. Afraid.

Following Jesus had cost them. And now it seemed it was all for nothing.

As early as they could on the first day of the week–we call it Sunday–some women went to Jesus’ tomb to prepare His body with spices. They had no plan. The tomb was guarded by Romans and sealed with a heavy stone. They went to finish the burial preparations they could only perform in haste on Friday.

Then it happens.

The story isn’t over.

The tomb is empty. An angel appears to tell them that Jesus isn’t dead after all. He is alive. He is risen from the dead.

And the women, stunned, run back to the village to tell the rest of the followers.

Jesus, Himself, appears to the women, to the disciples, to men walking on the road to a neighboring village, to hundreds of people. In the flesh. They touched him. Ate with him. Talked with him.

The hero of this story–he didn’t stay dead.

We cheer it in the movies, grateful for the chance at another adventure. And we “believe” it because it’s a movie and anything is possible.

Yet when it comes to Jesus, we dismiss the possibility of resurrection.

We call it a hoax. Or we mock it, saying Jesus is a zombie, the walking dead.

We’ll say anything to discredit the truth of the resurrection.

I get it. I was a doubter. When God caught up with me in college, I knew what I felt but I didn’t know if it was true.

I hoped it was. I wanted to believe. I felt I couldn’t disbelieve, but I wanted facts.

In a college class about Jesus and the Gospels, I was given evidence. And my head confirmed what my heart felt.

Maybe you want those facts.

Maybe you don’t.

It wasn’t my intention to present a case for the resurrection here. Others can do that far better than I can.

I just want you to consider this: Jesus is the hero of the Christian story. And he doesn’t stay dead.

And that, alone, is the reason for our hope.

Yesterday may have been Easter Sunday, but Easter continues.

In the church calendar, it’s the next 50 days until Pentecost.

In our lives, every Sunday is Resurrection Day, and every day a reason to celebrate.

He is not dead.

He is risen.

Filed Under: faith & spirituality, holidays Tagged With: church calendar, crucifixion, Easter, hero death, hope, oppression, palm sunday, pentecost, resurrection day, resurrection hoax, zombie jesus

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