Bri K

riding on a streetcar named desire

I keep waiting for him to call. Or hoping. I’m not really sure which. Maybe they are the same. I think I thought I once knew, but that’s before I learned enough to know that I don’t know much of anything. I know I can wait without hope, but maybe that is resignation. Maybe it’s despair. Can I hope without waiting? It doesn’t seem possible, but then again, I don’t know much of anything, and what I thought I knew, just doesn’t make much sense anymore. So I wait, but think it might never happen, and that if it does, something will just go wrong anyway. I know I can’t live like that and I’m trying not to, but I don’t even know his name.

I just got home after riding the streetcar from Powell’s where I overheard a city philosopher. “So the world’s supposed to end December 21, 2012. I think I’d like to be sitting in an Irish Pub—in Ireland, drinking a Guiness.” Casual Saturday conversation for the public transit: Cheers to total annihilation. What a way to go out, I thought. Seems a bit meaningless. Seems hopeless. Then again, maybe it’s peace, acceptance, contentment. Maybe it’s resignation. I don’t really know.

As I rode I sat next to a homeless man counting out his change—a couple dollar bills and a fingerless-glove hand of copper and silver-ish metal– whatever coins are made of. I sat there and thought of how I just want to be called to someone. That I’m tired of being called only to something—to leadership, to ministry to some city or some cause. I’m tired to be the one to counsel, and coach and lead others when I’m falling apart myself. I’m just tired of being the girl to pull herself up by the bootstraps and press in and press on…alone. It gets old I guess, perseverance.

At one point I wanted this life. I thought I had to be the girl to prove herself and conquer the world. I wanted the life of accomplishments and ministry and the things that you can hang up on an office wall to say that you’ve done something meaningful with your life. So I ran hard for a long time. I ran away as much as I ran toward. I pushed myself to be more, do more, do better, be best. Nothing was ever enough though, not for me. I didn’t really know—like the kind of knowing that shatters even cognitive understanding and goes beyond words—that I wanted someone over something. I didn’t know (or maybe I didn’t accept) that until I was lying on the floor of a Hilton Hotel room in Paris, curled like a baby in the womb and sobbing. I was living my dream and it was anything but my dream. And not until that night, sitting below the sparkling Eiffel Tower, did I know that what I wanted most was him. The staunch feminists might go crazy, but it’s true. The paper on the office wall just didn’t mean as much after that.

I used to tell my mom passionately “I don’t want the white-picket fence!” Mom, always so good at taking my passionate proclamations of truth, waded me patiently through a conversation that had me thinking (but still resisting) what “ordinary” really means. Maybe it was okay to want to be married. Maybe it was okay to want to have kids. And maybe I could still serve people outside of the home. Maybe that wasn’t ordinary. And maybe I’d see it that way someday. Maybe.

Some people say that they wish they had my life. I guess it seems romantic to them. I’ve done the academic thing. I’ve done the travel thing. I’ve done the condo in the city thing. I’ve done the leadership and responsibility and lots of people respecting me thing. Funny. Sometimes I get sick of being respected. I’d rather be loved. It seems that some think I’m getting to “do it all,” but I think I’ve done what I had to do because I couldn’t have what I most wanted. The old me wanted this life, but the me of the last seven years, never wanted this life. Well, I guess that’s not entirely true. I still wanted a lot of what I’ve been given, I just wanted it less than what I haven’t, and I didn’t want it alone. But when you can’t create plan A, somehow plan B has to become A so that it is still lived on purpose. Still on mission. Still with joy.

So I guess I never wanted this life. The girl who was running away wanted it because she was afraid and insecure. She just didn’t want to settle for anything less than a passionate life lived intentionally. And the last part is still true…well all of it is really, it just all looks different now. I just look different now. And the old she didn’t really know who she was or why she was doing what she was doing. She didn’t really know she was running…and now she’s talking about herself in the third person…interesting.

Still on the streetcar I thought, “Well, I guess I always have been called to a person.” It always is me making it about the doing instead of the being–wrestling to let extraordinary mean who I am before it means what I do, accomplish or produce. This I have learned long and deep, and will for the rest of my life. So then another question follows, “When will being called to Him mean being called to him?” Yeah, that’s the question. Because frankly, I’m almost out of any stregth to do anything of value. To give myself to anything sounds exhausting when I just want to give myself to him. Still there is this frustrating thing somewhere deep that won’t let me waver, that makes me press on. But let’s be honest, a hot beach, ice-cold mojito and a novel of someone else’s story, sounds pretty tempting sometimes.

But I know myself well enough. He’s got me on a sort of leash that feels like my umbilical cord and my noose all at once. Give me ten days on that beach and I’ll be going crazy, knowing I’m wasting my life away and throwing away the call that I can’t run away from. I told a friend today that I can’t give up and run away and that if I did, I’m pretty sure some big fish would eat me. I studied Jonah long enough my first year in Bible College to know that a self-inflicted hell is the result of running.

But that’s the thing. It’s the call itself that drives me crazy sometimes. Why can’t I be the girl lying on the beach for the rest of her life? Why is it that this sort of “call” has seemed to be the thing that has kept me from the desire of my heart? That’s a question I’ve come back to again and again these seven years because sometimes it feels that they are directly connected. Maybe they are. Maybe they aren’t. Somehow my obedience seems to cost me the one thing I want. And sometimes I just don’t get it anymore. Sometimes it feels a bit like torture…a bit harsh or malevolent. Sometimes I guess I feel a little used—called to extend and expend myself without quit for the sake of the eternal and always having to do it alone. And then as icing on the cake I get betrayed in the process. I get beat up, bruised and a bit battered and find myself alone again. I guess that’s what the Bride has always done to Him…and maybe that’s what still happens when you entrust your heart to Her. Love anything and you’ll be crucified I guess. But it’s worth it. I keep trying to remember that it’s worth it. I keep trying to remember that He’s worth it. But sometimes I forget.

I don’t want the white picket fence if it means living a normative life, complacent to the eternal and infatuated with the temporal. But if the white picket fence means to love and be loved by him and to love Him together…and then with them to love the “2.5” kids then yes, I definitely want that. In fact, it’s really the only thing I’ve wanted so badly that I’ve wept over. Many times: wept. Nothing has ever cut so deep. Today I’m more sure than ever that I want that life and that it isn’t ordinary…or doesn’t have to be. I think that, lived faithfully and passionately, it would be the most compelling call ever. It’s the ordinary that I’ve always strove against, but for a long time I mistook what it was. And I think I still do.

A month ago or so I decided not to pursue another degree, because even while many voices said I could do it or I should do it or that now is the time to do it, I didn’t want to do it. I’m not sure I want it at all. Ever. So I am once again in the place I’ve often been: what do I choose when I can’t have what I want? And that’s the question I’m standing still with. It’s really awkward. I feel deaf, blind and lame all at once.

I remember talking with a high school boy in South Central Los Angeles a few years back. I loved this kid and saw way more in him than I think he did in himself. So I was pushing him, wanting him to dream more for himself and discover the dynamic ability he’d been given to influence. Passionately, pointedly and with a determined voice I dug, “What do you want?” He said in a quiet and contemplative way, “I don’t know.” I didn’t get it then. I didn’t get how he couldn’t know. I get it now.

I know what I want. I can’t have it, I can’t find it and I can’t do anything about it really. So now what? What do I want? For one of the few times in my life, I’m left with his response, “I don’t know.” Or even worse, “Nothing.” And it’s not even because I don’t want anything. But, when want is set beside want, one want prevails so that the remaining want feels as nothing in comparison. I suppose it’s a battle of affections. Maybe that’s why the Lord always wants to be our first affection—not to crush all other affections, but to set them free and on fire through submission to Him.

So what do I want right now? My heart feels nearly crippled by this question. I’m an all or nothing girl. I’m all in or all out. In-between or half-hearted has never been easy. So also patience has never been easy. I’m driven by want. So to be stoked about second best is kinda hard. That’s when I have to remember: I belong to Him. My life, this one life, is His life because I gave it a long time ago and have been giving it ever since. Any cost to know Him is a cost that is infinitely worth it, even when it’s the deepest and most lasting sorrow I’ve known. So that’s my hope I guess: Him. He Himself, not even His work or His people, but Him. And not what I can do for Him, but what He’s done for me. His love for me compels me to be faithful, not mine for Him. I think God must be a good runner. Cheesy I know, but seriously, He’s constantly chasing me down reminding me that He’s good and He’s giving me the best right now. Reminding me that He wants all of me, always, forever.

I have no clue what to do with my life right now. For a woman who is often characterized as passionate, I find myself severely lacking. I’ve nothing to prove. I’ve nothing to chase. I know He’ll bring a fire back because He always has before. But for now, nothing seems compelling except one thing. What do I want? I’m left with one answer that is two: Him.

morning thoughts on miracles

I was reading in Matthew this morning and considering chapter one verse twenty three. Thought I’d share my ponderings…

“The virgin will be with child and will give birth to a son, and they will call him Immanuel–which means, ‘God with us.’”

Here are two miracles–a virgin will give birth and the child will be God. Seriously? Actually make that three–not only will the child be God, but in this child, God will be with us–not separated by a chasm of divinity and mortality–but WITH us, like us, among us. God will be man.

I come without desire to understand this miraculous and improbable union. I come only to say thank you because my mind will never comprehend and theology will never appease the questions that, prior to this moment, would find no answer. For here exists, in You, a truth that previously would have been named as irreconcilable even opposable realities. God and man would never be one.

But then there is You, who are simultaneously flesh-birthed and Spirit-breathed–the God man. And this miraculous conception was so that man could be one with God. In Christ is both God and man and in Christ alone are God and man reunited. This would have been named a lie, a blaspheme to join these two things–for a man could not be God.

And certainly this is what You were called–a blaspheme of the highest order because of this absurd claim. “..you, a mere man, claim to be God!”
So “Hosanna” turns to “Crucify” and the crowd cleansed in blood cries out for yours. And all because we cannot conceive of an altogether holy God entering our dark, dirty and messy cave of hopeless humanity.

But this you did…quietly, subtly and anonymously you cried your first cry in a cold cavern as a light in the sky marked your entrance into the night. For a mere 33 years later, You, the Light of the world, would cry your final cry of utter desolation, deep in the grip of death, washed in the darkness of our fanatical sin. You would be lifted in the sky of black as the One light. Death reigned, but Life conquered.

It seems that ever since this ghastly incarnation, you’ve had a way of joining furious opposites as Chesterton has said. Always the incompatible is reconciled without losing their fury or forsaking their full fire. For even on that night when you, Light, were lifted up and the sky went to slate, the wrath of God was at once the deep, fiery relentless love of God. The curtain was torn. And this burns all categories and shatters all conception of reality. At once our logic lies dormant, not because you do not accommodate it (as if you were too small or incongruous), but rather because our logic is infinitely small to contain you. In this way, You certainly are illogical and most definitely You are foolish. How could an obscene cross of robbery become the most beautiful of all gifts? How could the most horrific perversion of justice our world has ever seen become the lone beacon of true justice? How could a King be condemned as a slave? How could God die? And how could God die, not only as any man would die, but as the worst of men would die–the underbelly, the ostracized, the evil? Truly you are a God who is utterly incomprehensible and absolutely unpredictable.

And for this I love you. For this I am humbled. For this I worship You as the most beautiful person I’ve ever known–my God, my Lord, my Love!

Update from OAF

The following is a letter from the founder of Open Arms Foundation as to their current situation. While we were there the director and other staff were haggling with the government seeking to get things figured out. I know they would appreciate your prayers!

Hello Everybody,

The Open Arms Foundation has been receiving subcontracted municipal funds for over four years. During this time we have been able to work in an amiable alliance. Recently, however, the group with whom we have been serving has been asking us to give up our children to be transferred to other programs throughout the city. These programs have little or poor supervision which allows the kids to use drugs and openly practice homosexuality. As you may recall earlier in the spring, they took our girls in the residential ministry, then they took six of our older boys in the past couple of months, and now they want seven more. Some of our kids have even ended up back on the streets after being taken away from our care.

There are currently many boys on our farm who are refusing to go to the municipal government program. The entity requesting the boys has not paid us for two months. Last week they informed us that they will no longer be funding our level one Patio day program downtown where we receive up to 30 children daily.

I believe that the Lord has given us a stern warning in Jeremiah 23:1 (ESV): “Woe to the shepherds who destroy and scatter the sheep of my pasture!” declares the Lord.” Therefore, we are compelled by this scriptural mandate to inform the entity which has been removing the children from our care that we will no longer be contracting with them. During the Fall 2009 Board meeting, the Open Arms International Board of directors made the decision to not renew current contracts or make any new contracts with the Municipal Government, unless OAF is assured through a contract that the children will remain under our care until they reach the age of 18 or are able to be reconciled with their family of origin.

By saying “no” to the government contracts, OAF will suffer a monthly $15,000 – $16,000 loss of income. We will be forced to lay off 60%-70% of our staff which has worked with us faithfully for years. OAF could potentially incur a huge labor salary settlement debt because we are terminating workers before the end of their contracts and we are laying workers off who have several years with the foundation.

We believe very strongly that the Lord has given us the children and they are with us for the specific purpose to raise up our children in the Lord, just as Psalm 92:13 (NKJV) states: “Those who are planted in the house of the LORD shall flourish in the courts of our God.” It grieves us to see the planting of the Lord plucked up before they have properly matured. In the past we have lost many young lives in the transition from the farm to the urban setting. This is the reason we started the Open Arms Church. Since starting the church or the family of God setting in the city, the transition process and our success rate both have greatly improved.

Please pray for the Open Arms Foundation.

Sincerely,
Bill Perrow

The guys

Juan G, Wilmar, me and Jose Pablo Saturday night at our apartment

It’s still kind of ironic to me that we came here thinking we were going to be working with girls and that instead the Lord has placed the boys in our lives!! We have had such a great time getting to spend time with the little ones and the older guys who are living on the farm or have graduated from it. Saturday night we had a great time having a bunch of the older guys over to hang out. It turned into a great time of salsa and merengue dance lessons before an intense game of four on the couch! There are accusations from both sides as to who was cheating, but I will say this: the girls took the last 3 games to win best out of 5! YEAH! I thought this would be a good pic to give you all a visual of some of the guys I’ve been sharing about. We were planning to go to a HUGE futbol game on Saturday night, but the tickets were sold out, so we’ll probably have the same crew over for a final hurrah before Michelle and I take off Monday morning.

Top L to R: Juan G, Yilmar, Lark, Sarah, Me
Bottom L to R: Michelle, Kathleen, Jose Pablo, Wilmar and Christian

a cultural thing

“It’s a cultural thing” is a phrase I’ve gotten used to over these past five months. In Turkey, Kim and I would always say “You would think…” and it became our tagline for our experience! So often we found ourselves starting a sentence with that phrase, assuming that they would do something a certain way because it was just the logical thing to do!!! I mean, is there really another way???? He he…

So today was a really rich day, but it began in typical cultural fashion; a fashion that somehow this type-A, highly organized, highly goal-oriented, driven person has somehow become somewhat used to. We didn’t know it when we started the day but we found out that we had the opportunity to paint an office at the foundation. Not too difficult right? Well fast forward to two hours later: first 10 gallon bucket of paint brought down from the roof on a wobbly ladder was the wrong one; second paint batch: one gallon as hard as a rock and the second paint bucket was half full with mildewed paint; obtained keys to the the room after going through three people; one key worked but the office door was padlocked–who has the padlock key??? the people working away from the office today; is there an extra padlock key with one office worker??? nope…no padlock key. After involving a total of seven people we discover things that “you would think” someone would have known (or at least that we could have discovered in say, 10 or 20 minutes: 1. There is a padlock on the office door whose keys are with those who work in the office and there are no spare keys. 2. We do not have paint to actually paint the office with.

And thus began another day of “flexibility” in exchange for Western “efficiency” and in the meantime we were able to enjoy a bunch of wonderful people, teach three of the girls English by playing Bingo and have an awesome time of intercession over different areas of the Foundation. And this is why my day amazing.

Michelle and I were about to pray when we ran into Jose Pablo (19, grew up on the farm and is now a tutor on the farm and plays drums in the worship in song team at church) and invited him to pray with us. He prayed in Spanish and we prayed in English as we went from offices, to the sanctuary, to the kitchen, the pool and a classroom to listen to the Lord and lift up the walls and the people within them. WOW. I greatly miss interceding with people. It was so so encouraging to hear and see Jose Pablo’s passion and love for the Lord even when I couldn’t understand much of what he spoke. It was amazing to conclude our time praying over him and really catching the Lord’s vision for this young man and the call upon his life.

Afterward, Michelle and I hung out with Jose Pablo and Christian (who’d helped out with the paint situation and the English class) for awhile just talking and laughing and enjoying each other. As we spent time with them I realized afresh how unique these young men are, and it came through a flash back to Compton: People invest years and depths of their lives and see most kids walk away from the Lord and get caught up in the streets. I remember two of the boys I’ve loved, both student leaders when they were in high school, but both lured away even while they were leaders… and both not living for the Lord. If they don’t get caught in the streets, it is still very rare to see young people wholeheartedly and passionately love the Lord AND THEN STAY in the environment from which they came and invest in the next generation of leaders. RARE! I sat there and in a brief moment– an almost subconscious thought–was stunned at how the Lord has worked in these men and what He is raising them up for. It is incredibly compelling to see young men who came from the streets not only be off the streets, not only loving the Lord, not only serving Him and passionate about Him…but pouring their lives back into young boys just as they were poured into by others.

This morning I was praying and expressing that the trip has been different than expected. Specifically, my passion has not been renewed and my vision has not been enlivened as I had hoped. And then came an inefficient “cultural thing” and the Lord reminded me that with Him all things are possible and that the most unlikely of people, from the most unlikely of place, could be the next leaders who shake the Church and rise up as prophets for the next generation. This has been a burning passion and YEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSS!!!!! this is my passion!!! Turning the world upside down…one life at a time! My God is HUGE!

Second Week: Recap

Here’s a brief update on last week!

Wednesday was another great night at church. Michelle and I were able to go early with Pastor Henry into the subsidized housing for home-visits and pray with some of the people there. I’ve never been in homes quite like that–all concrete walls and floors with a scrap metal door. I’m reminded again of how much I have. To see joy in the midst of dearth has always been extremely challenging to me. As the van full of kids rolled up that night, some of the girls were calling my name and I was met with a swarm of hugs and kisses. I LOVE it!!!

Thursday was our trip to the farm, which was amazing!! It was so cool to see all that is available for them–wood working, milking cows, growing corn and other veggies, learning to bake, etc. It was absolutely gorgeous out there and such a reprieve for the intense smog and pollution in the city. We played games, sang songs, sat around and hung out and got to hear the beginning of a presentation a couple police officers were giving on anti-narcotics. We’re taking off tomorrow for another day there and hopefully spending the night!

Andres and I at program for the kids on the farm

Friday was a day at the waterpark about 45 minutes out of Medellin up in the middle of the mountains! This was another gorgeous day and a great break from the city! We had a great time hanging out with the boys and definitely stood out and provoked many questions from other kids (not a lot of other White people hanging around)!!

The whole crew at the waterpark!

Saturday was another day helping at the two children’s churches. My first week was my favorite, but it was good to get to see a few of the kids from the first week!

Children's Church in Monrovia

Sunday we went with some of the older boys to a futbol game, complete with a pre-game dinner at Domino’s! Oh…pizza tasted SO good! It was super fun to experience a futbol game in Latin America. One thing that is different from the stateside games I’ve been to, were the policemen with shields protecting the referees from pelted objects when they were near the sidelines!

Dominos Lunch!

Please continue to pray for wholehearted investment here! Apparently culture shock sets in about now and I really want to pour out fully and glean fully during my remaining time! If you could pray for health as well, that would be great. I’ve had headaches basically all day every day for the last week and a half and I’ve been fighting off a cold—both aggravated by the severe pollution here. I’ve been feeling light headed and really run down, which makes it hard for me to have a ton of emotional energy as well! I’d really really appreciate your prayers for this! Thanks so much!!

From the blog