The Beauty of Redemption: A Modern Day Parable

She was only 12, but her tired eyes gave away the years of abuse she had suffered as a child prostitute in an Indian slum. Her name was Bandhura, which means pretty in her language. Despite the obvious scars on her face and the deep bruising where she had been struck repeatedly by her master and the men who used her, she was still a beautiful little girl.

I first spotted her as I walked down the dirt, trash-filled alley. She was caged, literally like an animal, her head bowed low as though she were unable to look at the next man who was going to use her for his own personal pleasure. Anger rose inside me at the blatant injustice; how much pain had this little girl endured? What had she possibly done at such a young age to deserve this? But greater still, I knew the love that my God, her God had for her. I knew the love I felt for her and a holy anger burned inside. I could not walk away. I would not walk away; not without her.

I boldly approached the man who I assumed was her owner. He looked eager to meet the perverse needs of an American tourist; and clearly saw an opportunity. My eyes must have flashed the anger that was seething inside of me. I asked him sharply, 'How much for her?' He quoted an amount in Rupees, and I knew he didn't understand. "No. I am going to buy her from you," I said. "I want to redeem her. Name your price." He replied, "I make my living off of this trash; and not much at that. She's not for sale."

I knew love would not let me leave. I had to take her with me. I had to set her free. This was not what she was created for. This was not the end of the story. "You don't understand," I said. "There is no cost too great; even if it is my own life." The man looked almost as if he was afraid. I could see the questions forming in his head. Yet, he quickly managed to muster a
response. "What if you traded yourself for her? You come to work for me. I can hire you out for manual labor." "If that's the price I will gladly pay it," I said without hesitation. He stood amazed. The man clearly thought I was crazy.

"You can have her for one thousand American dollars," he finally managed to mutter. "You will have the money in the morning," I said. "But right now, she's coming with me." One look at her face, and I knew that grace was what I would give; undeserving, unmerited freedom to a little girl I didn't even know. She had done nothing to earn it. I owed her nothing. Yet, I loved her. Grace was a gift that I wanted her to have so desperately.

If you have yet to see, you and I are Bandhura and God our Redeemer. It was grace that caused Him to take our place. No price was too great. Satan tried to steal Him away with temptation. Yet, His great love for us would not let Him leave. This is His story; it is our story: the history of grace.

For more information on how you can be a part of helping end the horror of human trafficking please visit http://www.thehomefoundation.net/. It is a non-profit organization founded by Christian music artist Natalie Grant. Women and children around the world are being sold as sex slaves. Give the gift of grace.