by B. D. Riehl
Lydia chortled. “Great, Mr. Patterson. I’m sure that was super comforting to hear as a kid.”
Michelle laughed with her. “I know! It was awful. I’m sure he said something encouraging after that, but I was so horrified by that statement that I couldn’t think about anything else for weeks. I was completely freaked out.”
“Um, yeah. I should say so. I would have been too.”
“But then he gave me a book to read—”
“What is it with your dad and Luke’s dad giving you guys books to fix everything?” Lydia interrupted.
“I guess because books can say so much more than a conversation. When you read a book, especially a good one, it seeps into your soul and changes you more than just an exchange of words will. Have you ever read, The Hiding Place by Corrie ten Boom?”
“No, but I read The Diary of Anne Frank. Isn’t that about the same?”
“Not quite. Anne’s diary is a great look at one aspect of what was happening, and I think it’s so important to have her point of view and human touch to that time in history. But Corrie’s book is all about faith in an all-powerful, hands-on God.” She scooted to the edge of the bed and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Corrie’s family hid Jews during World War II and were even sent to a concentration camp for it. Many people in her family died because of it.”
Lydia shook her head. “Did you hear my question, Michelle? I asked how you can believe in a God who cares when all this wrong is happening everywhere. Now you’re telling me about a family that followed Him wholeheartedly and still died in a concentration camp. I’m so confused.” She buried her face in her hands.
Michelle pulled her hands down to look in her face. “Quit interrupting then, and let me answer! Corrie ten Boom has some amazing stories to tell in that book. She and her sister experienced God intervening on their behalf in miraculous ways over and over again. He used them in that camp to shed His grace and love to others in desperate need. She went on to travel for the rest of her life, telling others about Jesus and His love for mankind, and she continued to watch Him work in ways that were personal. That book inspired this.” She reached into her pack and pulled out a worn journal. “This is my faith book.”
“Faith book?”
“Yup, I take it with me everywhere. Here’s the deal, Lydia. You’re asking good questions. But I’m not necessarily the one that can answer them for you. I can give you brilliant answers, of course.” She smiled, and jutted her chin in the air aristocratically. “But really, are these questions for me or for a God you don’t trust but want to? You need to figure that out. But I won’t leave you with a simple cop-out answer like that. It does take faith to accept a lot of things, but that doesn’t mean we follow along blindly and foolishly.
“I have written quotes and verses and questions in this book. I’ll let you look if you want. The point is, I’ve dug and wrestled and searched and surrendered, over and over and over. And I’m not done. I hate what is happening here. But think about why we’re here: There are people in this world that God is working through to rescue these girls, to liberate them and give them hope and a life. People at home gave a lot of money for us to come. People care.
“The thing is, Lydia, I don’t believe the lack of care in the world is proof that God isn’t active. I think the abundance of care in the world is what proves He is at work.”
Lydia furrowed her brow in confusion.
Michelle waved her hands in the air, exasperated. “Seriously, hear me out! I know we hear that everyone is capable of good and evil, but I say we are all sinners completely incapable of true good without God at work in us.”
“So you’re saying the only real good people in the world are Christians.” Lydia stated, crossing her arms.
“No, of course not. I mean…” Michelle released a puff of air that ruffled her bangs. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that God is the only source of goodness and love. He gives it freely and causes even kings and leaders to act according to His will when He wills it. So when someone has a stirring of compassion for this cause or that one, when the cause is aligned with God’s purpose, I think He’s the one doing the stirring. Scripture says if we don’t praise even the rocks will cry out. If He can make rocks sing, don’t you think He’s also working good even though not all are accepting of Him?”
Lydia squinted her yes. “I guess. Sure.” She shrugged. “But I still don’t get it, Michelle. I don’t know if I can have faith like that.”
Michelle yawned. “Well, that’s something only He can give. Ask Him for direction. And keep your eyes open. Remember what Paul said about keeping our eyes turned to the light? And because he’s brilliant, I believe he also quoted the Hiding Place, remember? ‘There is no pit so deep that God is not deeper still.’” She yawned again and looked sleepily at Lydia. “Let’s go to sleep for now and see what tomorrow brings.”
Lydia crossed the room to turn off the light while Michelle tucked herself under the covers. On her bed in the dark, knees drawn up close under her chin, Lydia worried her bottom lip. She was so tired. Tired of the fight. Tired of wondering. Tired of doubting.
But, God, why don’t You step forward and stop all of this? I don’t understand.
Her mind reeled and she knew sleep would not come without answers. She quietly opened the door to let light flood into the room from the hallway. She looked under Michelle’s bed to find her faith book. Not there. She looked on top of the bed, careful to not wake Michelle, and finally pulled out her pack, which was propped next to her sleeping friend, wincing as it thudded across the floor.
“What are you looking for?” Michelle groaned sleepily.
“Sorry.” Lydia knelt next to Michelle’s head. “Where did you put your faith book?”
Michelle fumbled around her legs, then under her pillow and pulled the book out with a yawn. “Here you go.”
Lydia whispered, “thank you,” and crept out of the room and down the hall, unsure of where to go. Sure she could find privacy in the dining hall, she headed in that direction, unaware as she found a small table and curled into a chair, that she was being watched.
Lydia thumbed through Michelle’s book, but felt as if she were intruding on something very personal. She tried to skim past what looked like Michelle’s prayers to focus in on quotes and verses. A few had been written in bold letters. The first that jumped out at her was a quote from Michelle’s favorite book:
“Don’t say it, Corrie! There are no ‘ifs’ in God’s world. And no places that are safer than other places. The center of His will is our only safety. Oh, Corrie, let us pray that we may always know it!” – Betsie ten Boom, The Hiding Place
“I need Thee, oh I need Thee; I need Thee every hour…” Beautiful song!
“Let me seek Thee in longing, let me long for Thee in seeking; let me find Thee in love, and love Thee in finding.” – Anselm
The quotes went on and on that way. Songs and poems and excerpts from books. Most of them were verses. She thumbed through pages until one particular quote jumped off of the page and grabbed her in its grip:
“The unbelieving mind would not be convinced by any proof, and the worshipping heart need none.” – Knowledge of the Holy, A.W. Tozer
She sat in the quiet, her hand resting on that page for a long time. Was this indeed hopeless? If she didn’t believe fully now, could she ever? The thought troubled her.
A rustling behind Lydia frightened her out of her reverie. There was an obnoxious flutter in her stomach when she noticed Kiet sitting in a dark corner behind her at another table.
She placed a shaky hand over her heart. “Holy cow, you scared me!” she hissed.
“Last time I checked, only God is holy.” Kiet smiled as he rose and walked to join Lydia at her table.
“And cows?” she asked.
“Well, now, cows are wonderful, especially in steak form.” He winked.
“How long have you been here?” she asked, trying to calm her ra
cing heart. His easy smile didn’t help in that department. He took the chair directly across from her and spun it around before he straddled it and leaned against the table.
Nope. Those eyes weren’t helping either.
“I’ve been here for about an hour.”
Lydia’s mouth dropped open. She’d taken her seat only twenty minutes ago. “Why didn’t you say something when I came in here?”
He reached out to finger the book. “You looked distracted.”
She looked down at the quote again and nodded. Uncomfortable with the silence, she said, “You sure do pop up all over, don’t you? But you weren’t at the fire.” Her cheeks blazed red as she realized how pathetic she sounded.
Great, Dee, be sure he knows how aware you were of his absence today. Good going.
He didn’t let on. “My job here takes me all over. There are only a few of us that speak fluent Thai and English. I am needed for complex situations sometimes. A Jack-of-All-Trades, I guess you could say. I would have loved the bonfire, but you guys didn’t need my skills there.”
When Lydia asked how he came to work with Deliverance, he tilted his head at her. “It’s a long story, Lydia. I will say I was completely naïve to the world that I was a part of when I first arrived in Thailand.”
She stared at him, confused by his cryptic answer and pensive silence.
“But,” he grinned self-consciously at her, “God grabbed hold of me, and life has been wildly wonderful ever since.”
Lydia winced as if he’d struck her and then looked down at her hands.
Kiet wasn’t sure what he had said, but instinctively knew not to press her. “You guys were on Walking Street today, right?” He sought to change the subject, unaware he hit a nerve with the question.
“Yes. That. Was. Awful,” she annunciated each word.
He could hear a slight tremor in her voice, as if she were fighting back tears. “Yes, it is awful,” he agreed. “I didn’t sleep very well after my first visit there, either. It’s a lot to take in.” That was only scratching the surface of his personal experience with Walking Street, but that story would have to be reserved for another day.
Lydia only nodded. No doubt he had been only disturbed by what he had seen there, she thought, not by any way of relating to it, as she had. The girl in her outfit fluttered through her mind.
Again, Kiet was left to wonder at the pained look that danced across her delicate features. Kiet tapped the top of Michelle’s book. “So what’s this about?”
Lydia told him about the faith book and the conversation she’d had with Michelle earlier. She waited for him to end his friendly demeanor once he learned that she wasn’t a Christian. Instead, he leaned close, his face open, accepting. She rambled on about her upbringing, the fact that her parents—and everyone at her Christian school—were hypocrites. How no one, not even her sister, knew that her parents were having real marriage problems, and she felt in the way most of the time. How she knew what everyone expected of her, but she couldn’t seem to fit in anywhere.
Mostly, Lydia talked about how her worldview had been ripped apart. The things she cared about at home: tans, nails, shopping, her looks, her clothes, her dream to be part of the fashion world eventually. She saw, for the first time, how empty and selfish her life was. What a terrible, horrible waste it had been. She wanted so desperately to change, to help, to make a difference, and do more than spend money, look pretty, and take up space; but how?
She told him about Ethan and how he reacted when she tried to break things off with him. How relieved she had been when he called to break up with her once her parents had grounded her. How relieved, but also how hurt and discarded she had felt.
And all the while, Kiet listened intently, without uttering a word. His hands were folded on the table between them; his eyes never left her face.
Maybe it was the late hour or the images she’d seen that night or her homesickness for her sister or the tender way Kiet looked at her. Whatever the reason, the well of emotions that had been building up for days broke through the meticulously constructed mask of indifference she’d worn for years. To her absolute horror, she began to sob while Kiet sat across from her with a wide-eyed look of bewilderment.
After a few seconds, Kiet shook it off and crouched next to Lydia, rubbing her back and whispering soothing, ridiculous things that males say when females inexplicably break down.
Lydia was pretty sure he said, “We’ll get ‘em next time” when she stepped out of herself and assessed the situation. And giggled. At the astonished look on Kiet’s face, she laughed out loud.
Kiet sat back on his heels and held up his hands in surrender. “Come on now, I’m only a man. You can’t mess with me this way.”
Lydia sniffed and wiped her eyes on her T-shirt sleeve, giggling once more. “I’m sorry. It’s just all so ridiculous. I saw girls out there, with no hope, no future, and no choices. Nothing but selfish jerks selling them and filthy guys grabbing at them. And here I sit crying because my theology isn’t figured out, and my parents fight sometimes.”
Lydia noticed a muscle clench and unclench in his jaw and found it inappropriately charming. She rolled her eyes at herself.
“Lydia, I think this stuff is normal. I see kids and adults come in and out of here all the time that have to deal with this. It’s difficult to step out of our comfortable, charmed life and stare at this depravity, eye to eye. You can’t deny what you see here and, thankfully, most that see it are never the same.
“I think Michelle is right: It’s only by God working through us that we can make a difference. The only reason we care is because He does. And believe me, He cares deeply.”
Lydia looked down at the table in discouragement. How she wanted to believe as freely as Kiet, Michelle, and Luke did.
Kiet placed a finger under her chin to pull her gaze back to his. She looked into his liquid brown eyes and tried to keep still.
“Here’s the deal, Lydia. Whether you believe in an intimately involved God or not, doesn’t diminish the existence of One. He can handle your disbelief. But can you? Can you go home after you’ve seen these things and go back to life as you’ve been living it? Probably not. But if you decide to do something about what you’ve seen, whatever that may be, you better believe you need the power and love of this God with you, or you will fall flat on your face and be churned up inside forever.”
He gently squeezed her chin before he let go and eased into the chair next to hers. “I’ve met dozens of girls rescued through this organization that immediately accept the love of Christ, and I’ve watched them transform. You might say, It’s because they’re finally out of slavery and in a loving environment, and you’re partially right. I’ve seen just a few others that are like you. They’re just not sure they buy it. And while they’re happy and their lives are full of hope, they are not transformed and overflowing with joy the way those who have Christ in their hearts are.”
He drummed his fingers on the table thoughtfully before he dug around in his jeans pocket. “There is something the staff here does to help those that are unsure. We give them a challenge: Spend the next few days rejecting the ‘what-ifs,’ ‘hows,’ and ‘if onlys.’ Instead, act on the premise that God is indeed real. He is love. He cares. He is powerful. And He is in specific pursuit of you.”
Lydia opened her mouth to respond, but with one hand he grabbed her wrist and held his closed fist over her open palm.
“Wait. Starting now—he dropped a small beaded bracelet into her hand and closed her fingers over it. “You’ll meet a few girls wearing this bracelet tomorrow. You’ll also meet the girls that make them and others like it as their vocation. This will remind you of my challenge to you.”
Her throat closed as she slipped the colorful beads onto her wrist. “I’ll do my best,” she whispered, hoping she wouldn’t disappoint him, wondering why she cared.
Just then the quiet was interrupted by a buzzing sound, followed by a ping!
Kiet pulled a phone from his pocket and read the text message he’d received. Lydia would never forget the way his easy face snapped to attention. His smile erased by a determined jaw.
“I have to go. Don’t forget. No if’s. Only belief.” He strode back across the room and grabbed a jacket off of the chair and a motorcycle helmet from the floor.
Lydia, startled by his abrupt departure, asked where he was going.
“Told you: Jack-of-all-Trades.” He leaned down as he walked by her and touched a soft kiss to her temple. He began to walk backward and nodded to her bracelet. “Starting now. I could use some prayer.” His face settled again into steely determination, and he was gone.
Lydia fingered the bracelet and touched the warm remnants of his kiss. She fingered through Michelle’s book once more and found one last quote to sleep on:
“Sow with a view to righteousness,
Reap in accordance with kindness;
Break up you fallow ground,
For it is time to seek the LORD
Until He comes to rain righteousness on you.” – Hosea 10:12
Michelle had scrawled beneath:
“Obey first. Believe first. Feelings to follow.”
Lydia sat back and fingered the bracelet. Could it be so simple?
Chapter Twenty-Three
The man that had bought Suchin hurried her along, half dragging her through the crowded streets. Her acrylic high heels were too big for her, and she struggled to walk upright. His eagerness should have frightened her, but she was too weak and dizzy to notice. He looked at her, and cursed under his breath.