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Human Trafficking

Combat

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Combat

I am combat boots.

I am made to war and protect the being that is wearing me.

I am made to stomp, crush and kick anything in my way.

I am powerful and intimidating.

I’ve been around.

I’ve probably seen more hell than many will ever see in their lifetime.

I’ve walked a thousand miles in the pit of despair but I continued on with my purpose and expectations.

I am worn and partially broken but still wearable.

She bought me a few years ago specifically for a purpose. And as she laced me up she told me it was just to wait tables because she was never going to strip again. Anyway, I wasn’t made for the stage. I was made to combat the floor.

I am tall and black and made of strong leather. The laces wind up in front of me to hold me together when I feel like falling apart.

The woman who wears me is beautiful. And there are times I just want to cry over the things vulgar lustful men would speak over her. She would laugh and play along but I could tell when her toes would curl inside of me she was hurting on the inside so deeply she couldn’t breathe.

I’ve been spat on, spilled on, stepped on and kicked. I’ve been thrown and tossed around like no one cares. I’ve been locked in the dark where even if I were able to scream no one could hear me and if they could they wouldn’t care.

I may have a tongue but I am silenced.

I may be strong but I am only as strong as the one who wears me.

Yet I was created to step into combat.

I was created with a purpose of protecting and warring.

She knew this but the enemy had twisted the truth in her so much that she was fighting a battle she thought she could never win.

I tried to protect her from getting stepped on.

I wanted her to know she was worth fighting for.

There was this day she put me away in her closet and shut the door.

I waited for her.

I waited to be pulled down from the shelf for yet another night of walking the floor and trying my best to protect her.

But I was not pulled out.

I sat in the dark.

Each time she opened the closet door there was a part of me that longed to get picked and be worn again even if it was back to the pit of hell. I just wanted to be seen and loved again.

But each time she opened the door I saw something different on her face. She was softer and had this glow about her that I couldn’t explain.

Where she had been numb before there was hope.

Where her eyes had looked dead I saw life.

I would hear her sing a new song as she got ready in the mornings and the songs were beautiful!

Something had changed in her and she was even more stunning than before.

One day she opened the door to her closet and she lifted me up in her hands.

She sat down on her bed and I could feel the struggle in her heart of the memories that I brought to her mind.

She grieved and slow hot tears ran down her face and dripped onto my shiny black surface.

I could tell she was struggling but I wasn’t sure with what.

She set me down on the ground and slid, first her left foot into me then her right foot.

My heart dropped. I didn’t want to go back to that place. I didn’t want her to have to do this again.

She stood up and walked to the full-length mirror and stared at me. I saw the flood of memories run across her face but then something happened I had never witnessed before with her.

A beautiful free smile spread across her face.

She spoke down and directly to me, “You, my friends, are getting a new purpose.”

Her toes curled inside of me but this time it felt different! This time it was with a new found excitement that they curled.

The tears continued down her face but they were those of happiness and restoration.

She stood there and starred and said, “I have a friend who battled and warred like we did together.”

She paused and brushed a tear away with her fingers.

“She was a stripper too and now, like me, she is free.”

She smiled the most beautiful smile as she continued to talk to me.

“We were having lunch one day and she mentioned how she speaks to all kinds of groups and that one of the topics she speaks on she would love to have a pair of combat boots.”

Her toes wiggled inside of me and I got so excited about what I thought she was about to tell me!

“I mentioned that I had a pair that I used to wear in the clubs and asked her what size she wears. You are her size.” She smiled at me.

She contemplated speaking the next part but spoke slowly, “We talked about this several months ago and I’ve been afraid to give you up because I might want to wear you again.”

My heart sank. She knew as much as I did she would never wear me again. She will never walk back into those clubs that nearly took her life. At least that’s what I wanted to believe.

She reached down to untie me and pulled me off slowly one by one. I waited to be set back into the dark closet again but instead she walked me to her car and we drove away in silence.

I am combat boots.

I am made to war and protect the being that is wearing me.

I am made to stomp, crush and kick anything in my way.

I am powerful and intimidating.

Today, I no longer war in a strip club that almost took our lives. We were rescued out of the battlefield and the amazing woman who wore me in the clubs is restored, strong and a warrior!

Today, I get to war on stage showing women and men they are powerful fighters in Christ’s name!

Today, I am worn to remind men and women that our battles are worth fighting and standing for!

We are all warriors.

 

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Priceless

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Priceless

She is priceless but not a commodity.

She is valuable but not for sale.

The price you pay her for her body to please your desires and lusts does not disqualify her from the knowledge of who she is. The drugs she takes to numb her body from feeling does not kill her heart or her soul. The alcohol she drinks to forget does not mean she is less than the woman who has a safe life.

She is priceless.

She is valuable.

She is a daughter.

She is alone. Her soul hollowed out by the cruelty of man to satisfy his thirsty empty soul.

Taken so young by the ones who were supposed to care for her.

Purity robbed.

Her dreams twisted into someone else’s wants and desires.

Pretty little girl. Innocent. Wide eyed and curious. Clouded by pain and fear that froze her heart. She stops seeing the colors. She stops feeling or even knowing what a safe touch is.

She’s gone.

Checked out.

Numb.

Yet in the depths of her heart there is a memory of hope.

She cries out in a mad longing that almost crushes her heart under the weight of her fear and sadness.

She knows.

But how does she know?

She’s been told over and over again that she’s worthless. But knows there’s a price on her body.

She’s been told she’s good for nothing but knows there is a goodness in her.

She’s been told that without “them” she’d never survive. But she knows without her, they would die.

She screams inside. What if the things she knows is a lie. Her life is a lie.

A beautiful girl stolen from hope, from freedom, from life.

Hope.

She hears a Voice in her head and wonders if she’s gone mad.

“You are priceless but not a commodity.

You are valuable but not for sale.”

The Voice is warm and soothing, foreign yet recognizable.

Curled on the cold floor she lifts her heavy head to hear the Voice better. To see if someone is in the room. The presence of this Voice is like nothing she’s heard before yet she knows it.

“You are priceless.

You are valuable.

You are protected.”

She weeps.

Stolen.

Lost.

Afraid.

Hopeless.

“Protected?” She screams!

The Voice whispers, “Have hope.”

She collapses on the floor and laughs.

“Hope.” she says mockingly.

She hoped to be a veterinary as a little girl or a beautiful graceful ballerina.

She snorted, “All I do now is preform for the hungry. Give myself to the selfish.” She weeps, “I didn’t want this.”

The door creaks open to her room and she jumps up in fear and surprise. It’s the man that stole her coming to set her straight for screaming out again. Coming to get his needs met, dress her and take her to work to meet others needs.

The door shuts and she weeps.

“Hope?” She says under her breath and shuts her heart down again to survive what is coming.

She is priceless but not a commodity.

She is valuable but not for sale.

~ ~ ~  

You want a happy ending to this story?

Stop buying sex.

Men AND women it’s time to open our eyes to the world around us. SEX is EVERYWHERE! You pay for it everyday and you probably don’t even realize it. Magazines. Clothes. Beauty products. Car adds. TV shows. Commercials. Sports. Videos. Music. Restaurants. This list is salted with flavors of porn to drive a hunger that needs to be fed more and more to satisfy our emptiness.

We’ve become so numb to the sex shoved in our faces that we promote the very girls we want to help.

Become aware.

The choices you make everyday dictate the life of someone else. YES! You are that powerful! Good or bad.

Ask God to make your mind, eyes and heart so sensitive to everything the enemy is trying to fool you into thinking,“What’s the big deal it’s just a bra. It's just an ad. It's just a TV show. It doesn’t hurt anyone.”

A little girl exploited is a big deal.

You are priceless and not a commodity.

You are valuable and not for sale.

You are worth knowing the truth.

Everyone wants a happy ending to this story. Everyone wants to read she gets rescued and finds freedom and that Hope.

Few ever do.

The millions of children, girls and women trapped in the sex industry without a hope of rescue pray for death. They pray for someone to truly see them and hear their screams and cries. And if they are rescued the scars are so deep it takes years of care, love and heart to have a glimpse of who and Whose they were created to be.

BUT GOD!!!

He hears His children’s cry. He hears their voices and knows their names. He knows the number of fragile hairs upon their precious heads.

He knows.

He IS hope.

You GIVE hope!

Your prayer.

Your awareness of what media and the world is feeding you.

Your desire to volunteer or help ministries and groups that rescue and restore these women’s lives.

YOU can CHANGE the world around you.

YOU can CHANGE the community you live in.

YOU can CHANGE a life.

And if everyone started to CHANGE then the waves become greater and the broken lives can truly believe in hope.

You are called to love powerfully! It’s in you!

Make a difference!

“For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the powers, against the world forces of this darkness, against the spiritual forces of wickedness in the heavenly places. Therefore, take up the full armor of God, so that you will be able to resist in the evil day, and having done everything, to stand firm.” Ephesians 6:12-13

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