Once, a woman named Hagar was sold into slavery. She became her owner's concubine. that was common in those days. And, when she gave birth to a son, it opened new doors for her. Now, she was more than a servant. She could hope for protection. After all, the master's only son was her son. As the story unfolds, Hagar gets big ideas. She flaunts herself and her son in front of the master's wife. Nothing good comes from this....and, as you might guess, the wife says, "Choose. Her or me."
Hagar ends up on the old-time, nomadic culture version of the streets - expelled from the camp and left to die in the desert.
Things can't get much worse than this. Hagar and her little son will die. thirst, wild animals and even wilder desert tribesmen are threats to anyone outside the protective walls of the camp. So, Hagar prepares to die.
She calls out to God for help. And, He comes. He speaks to her. He leads her to a well. She says, "You are the God who sees me." And he does...Hagar and her little boy live. the boy goes on to become a powerful man - entire Arab nations trace their family lines back to Hagar's son.
So, Saturday about 5, I came downstairs from my room into the "Ellis Room" - the large room at the YWAM base that faces the street. Most of the "big stuff" happens here. During the week it is a rumble of activity. Food Pantry for elderly neighbors on Thursdays. Monday afternoon is Nail Day and the room is filled with chatting, smiling women enjoying coffee, treats, art projects and manicures. Most mornings, men gather to play pool, chess, dominoes and just "be" in a safe place. People are referred for social service needs. Friday, folks come to take showers....a seemingly endless stream of people and nice, hot water. Soap and shampoo. Bodies and souls just feel better.
This Saturday the Ellis Room was empty. Quiet inside. The noise of the streets outside. A stretch limo pulls up outside our door. Hmmm...Wonder which YWAMer ordered this for a Saturday night date? My friend Missy comes in and we joke a little. Jesus sent a limo to take us to church tonight...
The limo driver is well dressed. The vehicle has FOUR doors and all but the front windows are so darkly tinted we can't see inside.
The driver locks the door and rambles down the street. It looks as if he's searching for a street address. Here? In the Tenderloin? The YWAM base is surrounded by run-down SRO housing (single room occupancy). People literally live on the concrete sidewalks. Not your expected destination for a shiny, black stretch limo.
Minutes later, the driver returns with a man and woman. I know that man. BIG, bald guy. Wears gold earrings. He hangs out near the bar on the corner. I suspect he's a drug dealer but... The woman with him looks in her 30s. She could be ten years younger. People look older in the Tenderloin. She's wearing black capri pants and a sleeveless t-shirt. Silver, shiny sandals. She could be headed out for coffee with girlfriends. She doesn't look compromised (intoxicated or "out of it.) The gold earring guy and the driver give each other one of the back-slapping "guy hugs." Hmmm. Then, things seem to move in slow motion.
the driver opens the back door of the limo. Inside, everything is dark. The woman takes a last drag on her cigarette...blowing the smoke straight up so it won't enter the limo. The woman climbs into the back seat. The driver follows. The door shuts. Earring guy walks away.
I'm thinking if the driver doesn't emerge immediately, I'm calling the police. About 2 minutes pass and he exits. Shuts the door, climbs behind the wheel and drives off.
Then, I realize my heart feels squeezed - as if a big fist has reached into my chest. I whisper, "Jesus help." over and over. I worry for this woman.
I worry about who is in the limo. Will men wealthy enough to rent this vehicle think a woman from the Tenderloin is "nothing"? Obviously anyone who buys human beings must think they are disposable. To be used and forgotten. Will they hurt her? Looks like the guy with the earring is a pimp in addition to a drug dealer. Were men already in the car? Or, does the driver operate a "mobile brothel" going from appointment to appointment all night?
Calling police is useless. I have no proof that anything bad is happening. In any case, in San Francisco - like many places including Madison - woman are arrested for prostitution. People caught in the sex trade don't need jail. They need help - safe housing and counseling and job training. an escape hatch to exit the life they've become trapped in.
I cried out to Jesus at Revive church that evening. Feeling helpless and angry. He reminded me that I was praying. Not "just praying" as I had told myself. But prayer with power. Releasing the Kingdom of God around that woman. Around the limo with its unseen passengers and the driver and the earring guy.
He reminded me "I am the God who sees her....Just as I saw Hagar."
After church my friends Lisa and Missy and I went to Gracias Madre, a vegan restaurant in the Mission neighborhood. Great food. We talked and laughed and had a good time. On the wall at the entrance, is a stunning mural of Mary, Jesus's mother. She is depicted standing in the middle of a farmer's field in Mexico. Mountains in the background. Light surrounding her. And, from her heart flows a shining, silver-blue river. It flows out toward me. Around me. Into the world.
Our God is the God who sees. He said, "Come to me and I will give you living water so you will never be thirsty again."
This is what sex trafficking looks like today in the Tenderloin.
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