Jesus Walks into a Bar
Imagine my heavenly wonderment as I experienced the convergence of the precepts of Austrian Philosopher, Martin Buber, with the staggering presence of God in a sex bar in Angeles City, Philippines. And if this opening hasn’t piqued your interest, I’m fresh out of better ideas.
I have the immense privilege to work with an astounding organization, Wipe Every Tear. WET not only rescues girls out of the hellish shackles of the sex slave trade but welcomes them into the abundant life of healing, education, restoration, and financial independence. And while I have spent many nights on the strip visiting bars to rescue girls, this one particular night was like no other. This miraculous, almost holy portal of an evening, transformed not only an exploited girl's life but the very nature of how I now try to live my life, day to day.
The Philippines is one of the most beautiful countries I’ve had the pleasure to visit. Unthinkably, it is also a select destination for sloven, depraved, late middle-aged American and European men to embark on month-long sex vacations where they defile not only Filipina girls but their own souls.
The Director of WET, Kenny Sacht, taught me more about the realities of Heaven on Earth than any person I know. Based in Boise, Idaho, this organization has set up Safe Homes both outside of Manila and in Angeles City where rescued girls don’t just get a new Zip Code but receive new life: Clean bedding, clothes, counseling, sponsorship for any vulnerable children, Christian discipleship, high school and college education, job training, placement and transition to independence — all at no cost.
Upon hearing the buffet of free humanitarian entrees, a Director of a local NGO said, “These girls are taking advantage of you”. To which Kenny replied, “Yes, that’s the whole point! We want these girls to take advantage of all the benefits the Kingdom of God has for them”.
Let me state the abundantly obvious: A heterosexual man can not walk into a sex bar and calmly start rescuing girls. The only way to embark on such a mission is to have your vision recalibrated, and the way to do that is through worship.
Dr. Jordan Peterson recently described worship as the beholding of something or someone with such an elevated sense of awe and worth; it manifests the instinct to imitate:
“When the idea of worship is taken seriously, it manifests the injunction to imitate. With great awe, find the highest thing you can find to admire — and then imitate it. And that grip is the worship, that’s the awe.”
Jesus provides the Biblical mic drop of this concept:
“The Son can do nothing except what he sees his Father doing. For whatever the Father is doing, the Son does likewise.”
~Jesus in John’s Gospel
Grievously, modern worship often fails to portray the weightiness of this spiritual truth and presents us with smoke machines, theatrical lighting, and a talented house band in lieu.
Before heading to the strip of bars, we would spend two to three hours in prayer and worship. Adoration, reflection, awe, repentance, and singing are released, not only because of the immeasurable worth of God but also to be made ready for what lay ahead that night. Before you can do what you see the Father doing, you have to first be able to see as He sees.
Jesus Eyes
In the early 1920s, Martin Buber developed a philosophy to describe how we engage in dialogue with one another, with the world, and with God. It is called, The I and Thou. He describes two primary ways humans interact.
The I-Thou relationship sees the other as a subject and therefore engages a powerful awareness of a unity of being. As a subject to subject engagement, vision is gained to see the great worth and value in the other. This leads to an exchange of the whole being.
We don’t see a problem that needs to be fixed or an opponent who needs to be defeated. Instead, we see a fellow image-bearer of Christ.
Alternatively, the I-It is a subject to object interaction and therefore negates any sense of unitive essence. In this mode, visibility is limited to only see isolated qualities, deficiencies, and differences which breeds a relationship of separateness and detachment.
When a man walks into a sex bar with a quest for prostitution, he is the subject and the girls are the object. It is the purest, most reviling form of objectification a woman could ever fear. But after hours of worship, our team transitions from I-It to I-Thou. I call it, Jesus Eyes.
The Sights, Sounds, and Smell of Sex Trafficking
When I walk into these bars with Jesus Eyes, there isn’t a hint of sexuality or temptation. I don’t see dancers, I see daughters created by God. Beautiful girls with inestimable value and worth who were born with a plan and a purpose far beyond the gruesome cage of sex trafficking. The Kingdom of God has just entered the joint, and in a Matrix-like way, we can see the code running behind the simulation.
There are few things more abominable than seeing a drunk, bloated, bulbous-nosed pervert makes his move on a dread-laden, diminutive Filipina as he walks his prey back to the hotel. The first night there, we wanted to punch these guys in their pickled noses.
But, Kenny plainly explained a profound, deeply uncomfortable truth:
The Kingdom doesn’t work that way. You can’t love the girls and hate the men.
Once you peer through the corneas of Christ, you see what heaven sees.
These men are sons created by God. Men who were born with a purpose far greater than this. We would buy a round of drinks and talk with these guys (We always drank seltzer). Their lives were filled with pain, abuse, cheating, and abandonment. And as I look into the eyes of the Mamasan’s, (Think, pimps), the bartenders, waitresses, and porch callers, I see that every one of these dear souls is in prison: They’re just being tortured in adjoining cells.
Only Satan can build a kingdom where everyone is miserable.
During worship above the Coffee Shop, some will write names of girls on the wall. You would be surprised how many times these names would prophetically announce the very ones who would be rescued later that night. Imagine being brought to the Coffee Shop by kind strangers only to see they were praying for you by name before even meeting you. One of the names written on the wall this night was, Joann.
The music in the bars is deafening because robust dialogue is never the aim. The commingled waft of stale perfume and sweat-ridden cologne creates a nostril-pinching stratosphere atop the wreak of spilled drinks, many of which were spilled weeks ago. As the girls pretend to look happy wearing less fabric from which to weave a bracelet, all I can see are the flashing S.O.S. signals in their eyes.
While prostitution is illegal in the Philippines, there is a loophole. The bar can fine any girl who leaves before her shift is over. So when a John selects his girl, he pays her Bar Fine and she is released. A typical Bar Fine for a girl is 1,500 pesos or, about $30.00. In exchange for her night of exploitation, terror, and abuse, she gets about $8.00. The majority of that is sent home to help her impoverished family.
What’s a Rescue Look Like?
Unlike the John’s who shamefully skulk in with their heads down, we joyfully enter the bar as if they’ve been waiting for us all night. With our heads up and eyes connecting with everyone, we exclaim, “The Kingdom is here”!
“Indeed, the Kingdom of God is within you”.
~Jesus
We sit down, order drinks, and ask Jesus what heaven sees. We then tell the Mamasan who we would like to talk with and she brings the girl(s) over. We make introductions, compliment them and offer to buy them a drink. They make a small commission on everything sold.
After the opening greetings and conversation, we explain why we are there and our WET Filipina partner, a former bar girl who has graduated from the program, goes to work conversing in their native language. Surprisingly, many girls are afraid to leave with us because they’ve been told we are part of a more sinister group that will treat them far worse than the bar already does.
The ones who allow us to pay their Bar Fine are freely able to choose what comes next. Some are so exhausted, they just want to go back to their plywood palace and sleep. Others are starving, so we take them to a local restaurant and have a meal with them. Others will come back to the Coffee Shop where they can sit down and talk with the girls who have come through the program and meet the teams that run the Safe Homes.
The home run comes when they trust us enough to agree to travel the next morning to tour the homes and meet the girls in the program. One would think every girl would leap at the chance, but having been trapped once they are very skittish to trust anyone so easily.
On our last night of that trip, we ventured into The Doll House, one of the largest bars on the strip. We ordered our seltzers and settled into the balcony overlooking the dance floor, it was time for our worship-shaped Jesus Eyes to see who heaven was targeting.
Do you remember the scene in Saving Private Ryan when Carpazzo was shot? A German sniper was panning his high-powered rifle, peering through the scope, looking for the next American to shoot. Suddenly, in the crosshairs of his scope, he sees an American sniper pointing his rifle right back at him followed by a perfect shot — right through the glass.
From the other side of the dance floor, a pair of eyes were locked on me. Almost emitting light, I had to turn away as it was impossible to return the gaze. Imagine a bar jam-packed with people, yet the only thing I could see was one pair of eyes. I try a few more times to casually look her way, but it was like looking at the sun.
“Turn your eyes away from me - they overwhelm me!”
Song of Songs
Where did my Jesus Eyes go? I could tell she was a dancer on break, but this was not sexual in any way. It was almost holy, yet unsettling. I leaned over to a friend and asked if he saw what I saw. He said, “Yeah man, invite her up”. I leaned to my other side and asked our WET Filipina friend the same. “Yes po, she is the one”.
We let the Mamasan know as I gestured for the girl to come up. As she sat down, we went through the normal introductory niceties and ordered her a drink. She was strangely relaxed and did not leap into the normal, flirtatious behavior to satiate the bosses watching eyes. To put her at ease, I said what I often did, “We are not here for boom-boom”. She calmly replied, “I know”.
She then told us her name was, Joann. I practically fall off my plastic-wrapped bench! As our WET Filipina friend began explaining what we do in her native language, my bewilderment continued to rise. Her reactions were unlike any of the girls we had ever worked with.
One of the most prized moments in this process is when our WET Filipina takes out her old Bar I.D. followed by her current College I.D. to prove to the girls this is all very real. As she did this, I see that her old Bar I.D. was from this bar! What does heavenly restoration look like? This!
I then quizzically say to Joann, “When we come to the bars, we pray and ask God who it is we should invite over. But tonight, you saw me first? She said, “Yes”.
Entirely perplexed but overwhelmingly intrigued, I then said, “I invited you up here, but you chose me first, didn’t you? To which she said, “Yes”.
Amid the thick, oppressive darkness that accompanies the Sex Slave Trade, the Coffee Shop that night was practically glowing like a Garden of Eden amidst the chaos. The place was filled with bar girls who relaxed, laughed, cried, learned about Wipe Every Tear, all the while daring themselves to make the trip in the morning to tour the homes. Not only was Joann with us, but we Bar Fined three of her friends that night too. And, miraculously, she made the trip in the morning to Quezon City to tour the homes.
Joann was right; she chose me. But why? More importantly; how? All weeklong I worshipped to get my Jesus Eyes in focus so I could see what heaven sees - only this night, heaven was looking back at me. Jesus’ Eyes were beckoning me through a trafficked bar girl who somehow saw a path out of her hell. I will refrain from trying to explain any of this theologically because I see the pitfalls and counter-points as I ponder it. All that I know is: Jesus was looking at me that night in the bar.
May we decrease in our I-It perceptions and move more and more toward the I-Thou. May we dare to worship only the Most Worthy and in the exchange, imitate perfect love. And may we evermore seek to see as heaven sees; everyday in every person. I promise, it makes all the difference in this world.
