Gifts. Dreams. Souls. Slaves. Traffickers. Saints.

I was given many gifts this week, some of which I have not fully unwrapped or discovered...but gifts none the less. These gifts came in the time shared by persons who are daily on the streets of LA in outreach programs to rescue and restore, encourage and protect. Daniel allowed me to go with him into a Chinese foot massage as he invited the workers to a community center and church programs. While we were there we had an opportunity to observe the activity and responses of the workers. Reuben took us to a day labor site in front of a Home Depot where the ones without work are given the opportunity to learn English, get HIV testing, medical referrals and help with legal matters. We walked the streets of Skid Row and met the community face-to-face.

We heard the dreams of these people who work to change the lives of those affected by human trafficking and to change their city. We heard the dreams of a young woman who only wanted to help out her family and so took a job "answering phones and sweeping up" which turned into a nightmare of abuse and enslavement. We heard the dreams of a group of young people who are willing to give up many of the comforts of home, travel across the country or farther to make a difference in a crime-ridden, gang-infested community of LA. We heard the dreams of a young woman originally from Ukraine who fell into a lifestyle of drug and alcohol excess after arriving in the US with her family--and finally had come to realization that she needed to get her life right with God.

We met a woman who thought she had lost her soul after abuse destroyed her self-worth. I looked into the face of a woman on Skid Row who immediately looked away...but for that split second, I searched for her soul in her eyes. I saw people enslaved by their addictions, their admirable desire to better their families that had turned into bondage, and a craving for "love" in any form.

I did not meet any traffickers on this experience--I know that I should love all, but I must admit that I'm glad I didn't meet one. I have a hard time distinguishing the act-or from the act and so I'm hardpressed to love and pray for the trafficker. My anger gets the best of me.

...But maybe that's where we come back to the saints that I described earlier...maybe sainthood should be bestowed on those who are passionate about those who are abused in our society, respond to that hurt with compassionate action and do not allow the anger or hatred of the perpetrators to destroy their belief in God's image in every person.

I think that when we are able to do that, we can move from concern for success to a search for significance.

My prayer is that I may be a significant force for God's change in this world.