The Warrior

What's Going on Here!

Yesterday my ego was inflated so that it filled the room and began to pour all over the streets of Grand Rapids.  Not in an unhealthy, prideful way, but I heard a word I deeply admire being applied to my person, and that made me feel something.  So, yes, I strutted around for a few moments before coming back to reality and walking a lot less like a bro at the gym.

I was called a warrior.

As a girl (Oh yes, I know, here we go, nothing non-debatable can come after the phrase, "As a girl...") no one has ever bothered to call me a warrior.  And if you are a girl, I doubt that anyone has told you that you're a warrior.  Or if someone happens to tell  that you are a warrior, it is immediately followed by "princess" or replaced with a more feminine synonym.  You're a "leading lady," a "trooper," a "star."  Oh, wait.  My favorite..."prayer warrior."  (Only women can be those, haven't you heard?  We gather in groups to make brownies, pray for our preschoolers to become Harvard scholars, and travel in herds to the bathroom.  No.  Men need to pray too.  For all the thing.)

This, my friend:

Connotes something complete different than this:

(Google "Warrior" vs. Googling "Leading Lady")

And those are pictures very similar to what pop up in my head when I hear either of those terms.

To be called a warrior was simultaneously fantastic and devastating because I did not know if a warrior was something I could actually be, despite hearing it.  Am I supposed to be the leading lady who cries and mourns rather than the unnamed and genderless figure ready for war? 

I did a little Googling to settle on the definition of "warrior," a person engaged or experienced in warfare, and then I did some Bible-ing to see how that applies to me.  As a girl.  There, said it again.

There was dear Deborah, whom according to my Bible was a judge, yes, but was also leading Israel (Judges 4:4).  (Note:  She was not leading the "women of Israel," but the whole dang thing.)  I imagine a few battles would come across the leader of a nation.

And a name we pass over often, Junias, Paul's relative who was in prison with him for handling warfare.

Priscilla and Aquila?  Starting and running a church has its battles.

I could keep going, but I'll let you do your own digging if you feel so inclined.

The end result was that I decided I am a warrior, and it is very okay to be called that.  I can let the word sink into my heart and feel the definition being pumped through every one of my veins.  Then I can live it.  I can live it in prayer and live it on the streets.  I'm a girl, and I'm a warrior.  Last night I fought against drugs and prostitution.  I am a warrior.  Today I took a walk and read a book.  I am a warrior.  I use a real ninja star as a drink coaster.  I am a really cool warrior.

Manila!

I don't have much to say about Manila at the moment.  

Endless thanks to those of you who are praying and giving.  If I said I could do this without you, you could stop praying and giving to prove me wrong.  Thank you.  A thousand times, thank you.

Letters have been sent out, but I can still send you one!  Or if you know someone who wants to help fight against human trafficking/prostitution, let them know I can send them a letter as well!  And I am so, so, so, SO happy to answer questions about what you can be doing in your area to help!  Please know that my intentions are not limited, and although I will be in Manila, an enormous part of my heart lies with the sex industry situations in America, and I plan on spending the majority of my future with the battles on the home front.  So, please! Don't hesitate to ask anything!

My love to each of you,
Whitney 

Michigan -----> Manila

On Monday, it will be exactly three months until I hop on a plane and head for Manila.

For those of you who do not know, I applied and was accepted into an internship program with the International Justice Mission.  The injustice of human trafficking has been weighing heavily on my heart for years now, and this internship will be the first step from transitioning from a would-be career in music to a must-be career of providing justice for those caught in sex slavery.  Since I am not able to tell you much about what I will be doing until I'm in Manila, my blog updates for the next several months will be about my spiritual preparation, what I am currently doing in Grand Rapids, and keeping you updated on how my fundraising is going (Yes, I understand that we all just went, "Oh yeah, money," and then gulped out of guilt or frustration and are now going to go for a walk/smoke.  It's okay.  God provides.)

Looking Ahead!

What I CAN tell you, is that when I say "The Philippines," most of you will think of this:

And there will be water, and sun, and hugging, and much rejoicing!

On the contrary, I will be going to the most densely populated city on planet earth.  The much more appropriate picture would be:

No water, lots of sun, and an easily burnt, mildly upset, introvert.

But this week, my first support letter went into the mail!  If you do not think you've been sent a support letter, please ask for one!  I would love to send a letter your way.  I need prayer warriors as much as I need money.  My email address is whitney.custis.wilson@gmail.com, and I would love to hear from all of you and answer any/all questions!

What is happening NOW!

What is happening now is that God is whipping me into shape.  I found myself praying about a week ago that God would use me for something that no one else wants to do in the fight against human trafficking.  Whether that be hanging out in the slums, or sitting at a desk, I wanted God to know I am 100% in.  Done deal.  Whitney + Jesus= Hooray.  Living pawn.  All that.

What a dangerous prayer to pray.

If God were as avid a texter as I am, God and I would have probably had this post-prayer text conversation:

God: LOL.
Me: ...That's rather ominous, Lord.
God: ROFL, for real.
Me: ...God...
God: Was that in vain, or are you trying to get my attention?
Me: Your attention!  You're freaking me out!
God: LOL.

I can guess that is how that conversation would have gone because over the past week, I have flushed crack down toilets, walked/jogged/sprinted down the most dangerous streets in the city, made threatening phone calls, received threatening phone calls, driven to every mental health facility in the area, been in the emergency room, learned that the mental health system is pitted against the poor, seen a woman's stitches from where she was stabbed in the chest, walked with prostitutes, learned about AIDS, watched a woman find Jesus, and maybe aided in the kidnapping of someone's house cat.

And that was all to help one person, and possibly to un-help one cat.

And this was all 15 minutes from my house...  Imagine what's happening 15 minutes from your house!

Training week one has officially come to a close.  There have been no serious ramifications other than falling asleep face-first in some ice cream, causing that ice cream to melt, and ultimately resulting in me missing out on an ice cream experience.  An experience I never take for granted.

But in all seriousness, despite the week being crazy and learning that there are many jobs that people don't want to do, and that the human trafficking problem is so big that we need social workers, and mental health clinics, and new laws to protect women, and what seems like a kazillion other things, God has been completely faithful.  He has brought people to me when I have needed them, and allowed me to carry some things on my own.  He is always my refuge and my strength (I just love that, don't you?).

My love to each of you,
Whitney