All for Redemption

I haven't really written or journeled much since we have been here. It takes me a while to process things. Most times I have found I won't start to truly process until I get back to the states. I don't know why- maybe it's my way of emotionally detaching so I can continue doing the work that needs to be done here, or maybe there is just not enough time for me to process one tragedy before I am slammed with another. Whatever the reason, I sit here thinking about day 1- and a girl who stole my heart.

Her name is Maria- she is 20 years old... my age. Our first interview. I rememberher first walking in and sitting on the couch- arms crossed... dressed in all black... and I wondered if that was a depiction of how her heart felt. Before she even spoke I could look in her eyes and see something was wrong- something had been taken from her, hurt her deeply. And I instantly wanted to save her. As we set up the camera and she began to tell her story, I am completely certain there is no way that I could have imagined something so horrific. My age... it kept flashing through my mind... my age. This girl was just like me, at the same point in life I find myself at- yet we could not have been more world's apart. As I watched her sit there, sobbing, pouring out 20 years of heartache, my own heart was shattered. It is rare, if ever, that I feel so much love for someone so instantly- without even knowing them. But in that moment I would have given anything to take her pain for her. I would have given all I had to protect her and show her she is loved, and make sure she never has to go there again- cost is no object. Rape. Abuse. Rejection. Property rather than a part of humanity. Suicide attempts. Hearing a mother tell you to try and kill yourself better next time because you would be doing a favor to society. I can't imagine being a mother and saying that to your child. Bought. Sold. Bought again. What part of your soul dies every single time... And again it flashes. My age...

I don't understand how these things can go on. But in the midst of hearing such horror, I also saw strength. This girl was a fighter- she won't ever give up. That gives me hope. Each part of this girl's story felt like a blow to my chest... my with every single one, all I could hear was Jesus saying "But my love is stronger..." And even in the midst of such depravity, I know it's true. His love is stronger than rape, abuse, rejection, all of it. And so in the midst of it all, I still see that He is good. His love is strong enough to heal anyone and everyone. It makes all things new, covers all, even this.

As much as it hurts to hear a story like Maria's, I also consider it such a gift. It confirms my calling. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I am called to fight for these girls every day for the rest of my life. And I will. It's a fire deep in my soul to see them free. It's such a girft to me to be able to be cut by something that matters. Because those cuts turn to scars that remind you of the grace of God, what He feels, and what He sees when He looks at us. I wonder if what I feel for Maria is a small taste of the deep, unfathomable, relentless love that Jesus has for us. We are broken, slaves to the fall, drenched in our sin sith seemingly no hope. But when God sees our helpless state, He takes it for us. I only wish I could take Maria's pain for her. But Christ actually does- for you, for me, for us all. That's beautiful. Redemption is beautiful. And that is what I cling to.

"For the glory of it all, He came here. For the rescue of us all, that we may live. For the glory of it all. For redemption from the fall. For the glory of it all..." -David Crowder

Grace,
Ashley