On The Ground - It’s Harder To Judge

On the Ground - It’s Harder to Judge

WHORES. They don’t rank very high on our list of respectable professions, do they? Oh let’s see: doctors, professors, lawyers, nurses, teachers, businesswomen, writers, social workers, clergy. Nope. Call girls just don’t make the cut.

As a woman, prostitutes disgust me. As a professional, they insult me. As a Christian, I am appalled.

Before India, I had never personally met a woman of ill repute (at least that I know of). Before India, I had never walked the streets of a red-light district. Before India, I had viewed the women behind this shameful profession only through a window, where it’s much easier to judge and condemn than to understand and love.

On the ground, I walked through the streets of Mumbai where women posed at the front door of their brothels. I locked eyes with their pimps and glared at these men with disdain for their business practices. But as I looked into the eyes of the women, both young and old, waiting to begin their trade—with as many as twenty men a night—my disgust quickly gave way to anguish.

As we sat in a halfway house that rescues these women, many of whom have never learned to read or write, I listened to their stories. One after another, they told how their uncle, their father, or their mother had sold them into the sex trade at the tender age of twelve or thirteen. This was not the exceptional story—this is the story. As I looked into their eyes filled with tears and shame, I was no longer insulted by their choice of work. Instead, I was enraged that they had had no choice.

Nearby, my traveling buddies and I visited an orphanage full of little girls dressed in their Sunday best. We sang and danced the “Hokey Pokey” with these fresh-faced little cherubs whose mothers had tucked them away from the ugliness of their own world. Mothers who longed for a better life for their daughters. As I sang and played with these happy, gorgeous children, I was no longer appalled by their mothers’ line of work. In fact, I was awed by their courage in giving their little girls an escape from the brothels.

Looking through a window, it was easy to be judgmental. But on the ground, these women become real people. As I heard their stories, I couldn’t help but wonder how often I have misjudged people in the United States as well.

So now I am giving you a new commandment: Love each other. Just as I have loved you, you should love each other. Your love for one another will prove to the world that you are my disciples. (John 13:34-35)

On the ground, as a woman, a daughter, and a mother, I was heartbroken to discover my own judgmental spirit. Might there be more to the backstory of those you judge too?