How a Drunk Dude in Bangkok Gave Me Clarity

He was drunk.

Settling himself amid some cushions on the floor of the Bangkok hostel, it was nearing midnight and myself and a few female med students from England were chatting about our travels. He was American, 25, and he had just come back from a club in Bangkok that he described as insane and messed up. Relishing the attention these words received, he proceeded to detail a place with alcohol, drugs, Thai girls performing sex acts onstage, and a few other things that needn’t be repeated here. Honestly, they don’t really need to be repeated anywhere.

It was strange timing. A few minutes before he arrived, I had just finished explaining to the other students, how I had been working in Indonesia the past six months at an aftercare center for girls who had formerly been trafficked in the sex trade. As the belligerent male spoke about the club, they began casting nervous glances in my direction, though my facial expression never changed (a combination of how tired I was and the nasty facial wounds from the previous night, making any facial expressions quite discomforting). As the conversation continued, I found out the girls I had just met (all in their early twenties) had also been to a similar club during their travels, though they were quick to say they didn’t like it at all and one girl admitted she had cried for two days straight afterwards.

The suddenly somber (though not entirely sober) mood was cut short when one of the girls checked her phone and reminding her friends that they were wanting to go out starting at midnight. Thankful for a diversion from the unpleasant conversation our visitor had brought in with him, they enthusiastically went back upstairs to get their things, leaving me with the guy who was still nursing a beer. For a moment, the silence between us was deafening.

After being in a bit of a stupor for a minute, he shifted a bit and asked me what I was doing in Asia, so I told him what I had explained to the girls earlier. The words seemed to penetrate his drunken state a bit, and he–just like the girls–expressed admiration for the work and for Compassion First. Was he aware of the irony? I wasn’t sure. Then, out of nowhere, he began talking about the Thai girls at the club again.

“You could tell they didn’t want to be there, man.” he said, shaking his head, “Didn’t want to be there. Just doing their jobs I guess.”

We both knew that even in his current state, he didn’t quite believe the words that had just come out of his mouth. Could I have said something? Probably, but no amount of admonishing or posturing from me was about to change that. Maybe my simply telling him about my work was enough to turn a light on. In the end, I think he was willing to submit to ignorance rather than responsibility.

As frustrating and bewildering as the conversation was, it left me more sad than angry. I’ve run out of anger after spending six months watching girls slowly rise from a life of pain and steadily flourish into something beautiful and amazing and so full of life and love. So no, I will choose not to be angry. No, I’ll leave that anger to someone else.

Nor will I take the position of moral superiority that I so often smugly fall back on to feel good about myself. After all, I do stupid things–the scabs on my face are a recent reminder of that fact. I often choose selfish ambition or pride instead of humility. In other words, I am just as human and messed-up as any of those people I met in that room. I’m just (I hope) willing to acknowledge that fact, and work on being a better version of me.

Another thing I have learned from Indonesia: we are not safe in our ignorance. Just like that dude I met, we may acknowledge the horrors of the world, but then shield ourselves from responsibility by pretending to be helpless in the face of it. In the history of mankind, no one in need has ever been helped by someone else feeling bad. Words without deeds is dead! (James 2) Years ago, I was challenged to speak up for those who can’t speak for themselves and defend the rights of the poor and the needy (Proverbs 31:8-9). Often, I fail to live by that standard, but I have never deserted it. I want others to try and do the same. For those med students to wake up. For the guy who is really, really lost, to see the world differently.

I met Jesus Christ when I was a kid. Sometimes I’m distracted by something else and I forget who made me, and it takes a bit of time to get back on track and continue the journey. So often when I see something wrong and painful, I forget Jesus bled and died for those things too and he feels that pain in a much, much deeper way than I could ever begin to comprehend. At times I only see what’s wrong with the world and ask, “Why, God?” instead of asking, “What can I do to make it better?”

We are all undeserving, but we have also been found worthy to be used for something much greater than ourselves. So instead of lamenting what is wrong, I am trying to find ways to do what Jesus desires for me to do. It won’t be perfect, but it will be something. But like my good friend Grahm Doughty recently wrote, “we have to actually, you know, go do it.”

Here’s to doing something.