Buddism: A Religion of Slavery

Have you ever watched the sitcom series, “My Name is Earl”? In this series an ex con artist named Earl, due to a set of unusual circumstances, decides that karma is against him. The series centers on Earl’s attempt to fix his bad karma by making up for his previous evil deeds by righting individuals he has wronged. Karma, in this series, is presented in a humorous manner and no doubt causes multitudes of people to laugh, yet most of these individuals probably have no clue that the idea of karma is actually based on the biblical principle: what you sew you shall also reap. The difference: while the Bible teaches that you will reap what you have sown, Karma, as taught and practiced in the Buddhist religion, is the foundation for the belief of reincarnation and is no laughing matter. In fact, it has destroyed the lives of many.

When my daughter (Mary) approached me about traveling to Thailand for three months, a foreign country whose entire culture is centered on the Buddhist belief of karma, I cringed. Of course, my first concern was for her safety. With the evil enterprise of slave trafficking on the rise, a tall, slender and beautiful American visiting a country where slave trafficking is the norm was most frightening. I had to keep reminding myself that Mary was safer in God’s will in Thailand than out of his will at home.

From her experiences, I have learned much. First, I was appalled to discover that these precious souls were usually sold into this evil enterprise by their own families yet blame it on karma. As Mary wrote, “If she were born a boy, serving in the temple as a Monk for a few weeks would earn enough good karma to outweigh a lifetime of bad and would bring unfathomable honor to the family. But, as a woman, in a family that is either poor or simply wants more wealth and prestige, duty, honor and Buddha require the ultimate sacrifice, a life of abuse and slavery to provide for those very ones who are so demanding and yet so ashamed of her existence.”

Second, Buddhism destroys lives. Again Mary wrote, “Today, I witnessed tragedy in the eyes of a young prostitute as she wept before Buddha, begging health for her family who sent her to work the streets and forgiveness for her wretched state and cursed life. Society looks down upon her and even her family despises her. But this life is payment to Buddha for the bad karma earned in her previous life. She believes—because Buddhism teaches—that everything that happens to her has been earned by her own hand and is deserved. There is no such thing as mercy, only debt. In her mind, the only chance for peace and redemption lay in selling the one possession she has, her body, to take care of her family.”

“Or, maybe she is a wife whose husband wants more money, so each day she slaves to take care of her family and each night she is dropped off by her husband to work the street. It is not the status of the girl in a family that determines her fate, it is the desires of others and the status of a gender Buddha did not consider worthy of value or honor.”

Mary worked with these precious girls each evening. She said, “. . . they are animated and sweet. Then when they have to get up and dance on the stage naked or mostly naked with bright neon lights and mirrors filling the entire room, with all the men saying and doing various things, their faces turn into masks. . . . vacant eyes stare out from the faces that pray they will please Buddha enough in this life to have a better spot next go around . . . We see Buddha’s everywhere with food, drinks and incense surrounding them. The girls pray to be purified constantly and for forgiveness for the lives they are living.”

Don’t ever believe that all religions are the same, that it doesn’t really matter which one you follow because every religion leads to God. Buddhism is a religion straight from hell. Can you think of any worse type of slavery than to believe you must submit to sexual abuse for your religion’s sake? These ladies, oppressed and scorned by the world, pray and worship the very deity that enslaves them.

Mary commented, “I weep for this people who reject the Alpha and Omega for a tottering statue decorated by the creative mind of man. I smiled as I saw the foundations of the temple were cracked and God’s nature was peeking through, eager to overtake and pull down the lies and schemes of man. All this will pass away. Every lie will be exposed. Every idol built up by man, especially those built on the sweat and blood of others, will fall.”

“One day every knee will bow and every tongue will confess who is Lord and it will not be Buddha. One day . . . truth will reveal every lie and each falsehood will be destroyed. The innocent, weak, and poor will be oppressed no longer . . . but until that day both the oppressed and the oppressor need the love and grace of Christ for both are enslaved.”

In closing, thank God for organizations who carry the gospel to these precious souls who are living in darkness and abuse so they can hear about the God who loves them.

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Ruins: Slave Trafficking in Thailand

[phil h] / Foter.com / CC BY-NC-ND

Everywhere I turn ruins surround me: broken homes, broken families, broken people and broken lives. Even the buildings and towering architecture, once the pride and glory of man, reflect the ruined state of this country.

Ashes sift in the wind from the burnt buildings, and just as quickly as the flames consumed this security of man so too the flames destroy the hope of man. Even so, brightly, for one brief moment burns the flame, then it fades into oblivion and the ravished are left to grope in darkness.

Reality sets in as I gaze around me into chaos and disorder. People are just people, in every nation, country or tongue — we are the same. Each has his struggle, weakness, misery, secret, joy, happiness, dream and hope.

Atlas has shrugged and left the weight of the world to rest on our weary shoulders. Each of us has paused under the weight, the heavy pressure that would crush and consume us.

Each day as I walk down the road, I witness the struggle of those who bear this heavy burden that I no longer carry. I see the men God created to be strong and tall reduced by the greed and cruel desires of others, often family, and by so many being forced into what people call Lady-Boys.

Maybe their family had no daughters, but still wanted to have the motorcycle or the flat screen television the neighbors can afford now that they have sent one or two of their daughters to the big city to sell the one possession they have. So the family chose the most feminine looking of their sons or the least valued and placed him on female hormones for a few years before getting him the surgery and sending him to the city as a Lady-Boy to sell himself. Or maybe after years of abuse and rape by men in his life, often temple monks, the wounded young man followed a horrific path never meant for him to more pain and wounds.

Truly, many of these Lady-Boys who flash smiles at me before resuming the dance of shame under a vacant mask are more delicate and beautiful than I could ever dream of being. Yet, never would I envy the ruins in which they live.

Nite is my favorite Lady-Boy of all. She smiles so brightly as we embrace and chat each day. She sometimes holds my hand and she loves posing for pictures. She is obsessed with beauty and dreams of being light skinned and having light eyes. She tells me I am so beautiful and pulls one of my curls. She smiles, laughs and beats me at pool every time I play her. The other girls fuss just as much over this Lady-Boy as any other member of their bar family. She is one of them and for the first time in her life, she is accepted and belongs — to a certain extent.

In the most horrible circumstances my friends live. With smiles, soft voices, laughter, humor and a ton of makeup they so diligently wear their masks and try to hide their bruises, wounds and pain. To show emotion, especially pain, is a shameful weakness, unacceptable culturally.

In their minds, the ruins in which they live were built by their own hand alone and no one else’s. When they are choked, it is because they talk too much and when they are beat it is only bad karma they earned from a previous life.

The ruins surround and overwhelm me. Where is civilization? Yet just as the Phoenix rises from the ashes, so too do I glimpse a glittering glimmer of hope through the ashes for once my life was a ruin and I too carried the burdens of the world which were crushing my spirit. But another took my burden and from the ruins of my fallen life He made me into His own beautiful image with love and tender hands.

How I wish my beautiful friends would meet my Savior and be forever freed from the crushing weight of the world they carry on their shoulders and from the masks they are forced to wear. How I wish they would meet my Lord.

Sunday, June 27, 2013