I had my first experience with a strip club ministry recently. These extremely friendly ladies were in the dressing room giving out pink cupcakes and being vague. They were all, “It’s just really important to us that you enjoy these delicious free cupcakes. You’ll understand in due time.”
The old red-faced owner was also in the dressing room, extremely intoxicated with one stripper trapped under each arm. I was kind of bummed that he was making us look bad in front of the Christians. It’s hard to tell, but I think he’s gone downhill. But maybe it’s just that he has a beard thing going on that makes it look like he’s been shipwrecked for about two weeks. My approach to dealing with him is to physically stay out of his way and his entire range of vision, and also to never make eye contact if I need to walk by him.
I thought I was safe, but heard slurred grunting and knew that he had somehow spotted me through his drunk goggles. The girls by his side smiled and beckoned. It was obvious that they just wanted someone to relieve their posts.
I stalled by playing dumb, saying that I couldn’t hear him. Since he wasn’t really using words, I figured he was used to people who thought they couldn’t hear him. He lifted his hands from the bodies of the girls just enough to motion when the cupcakes caught his eye. He immediately turned his attention to the earnest, cute/frumpy cupcake lady. He was macking on her in his own special way, which is to say that he sounded kind of like a sarcastic schizophrenic person. It wasn’t clear to me whether or not he understood that he wasn’t her boss.
I kind of felt sorry for her, but also knew that she would understand that God was testing her just like Job.
When I was falling asleep that night, I thought about what it would look like if all the club staff and strippers had an intervention for the owner. I pictured each girl holding her own crumpled loose leaf, pouring her heart out and crying about the ways his alcoholism had affected her. I saw him hitting on the interventionist and then firing everyone, saying that they’re all too fat to be working at his club.