At some point, you and I will face a giant standing in our way, blocking our view of the road ahead. On our journey from where we are to where we want to be, we will encounter a person, idea, or fear. We'll confront a voice that traps us in our own thoughts and worst fears, and we'll miss the invitation to join Jesus in the place He's prepared for us.

So how can we move past fear and step into the places He has called us to? Here are a few tools I’ve leaned into time and again as I encounter my own giants.

Speak truth to the lies.

It’s what Jesus did in the wilderness when Satan tempted Him, and it’s what we do today as well! My desk is littered with truths. They’re not fancy. Most of them are on 3x5 notecards I stole from my parent’s house years ago. Some of them are encouraging notes given to me by family members or friends. One of them just says, “Abba called you here!” Speak or write truths. Shout it or whisper it. Let it overflow from the Father, and let truth extinguish the fire of voices screaming in your mind. 

Reach out to your people. 

You and I have to stop living our lives in a bubble, only letting people see the highlight reel. The Father created us to live in courageous, true communion with Him and others, so let’s practice this. When the lies scream and the voices shout their terrible advice, reach out to your people. Maybe it’s only one person. Maybe it’s a crew of people. It doesn’t matter how many. What matters is your courage and your authenticity in those relationships. Bring them into the mess and chaos of your life. The goal isn’t to receive a shower of flattery from them. The goal is to bear one another’s burdens. There might come a day when you can’t silence the lies on your own. On that day, you will need your people. So, let them come alongside you the same way you want to come alongside them in their dark moments! 

Give the Lord your yes. 

On a tough day recently, I felt the temptation to fold. I wanted to give up, give in, and call it quits. Did my yes even matter? Would it matter if I just stopped? Short answer: YES! It matters, friend! Your yes matters! Remember the story of Peter walking on the water to Jesus? Our guy sank under the waves. He took his eyes off Jesus in a moment and the water overtook him. Yet, Jesus still caught him, and we will tell the story of Peter’s courage because he dared to leave the boat in the first place.

More and more, I am convinced that Jesus doesn’t demand perfection. He just wants our yes. Even if we fall and fail and need Him to pick us up, He still wants our best, most courageous yes. That doesn’t mean we walk unafraid. It means that we keep our eyes on Jesus and walk toward Him as best as we can. So on the days you want to give up or give in, press in a little deeper. Reach deep into your gut and utter the word that leads you to Jesus: yes! 

Fight Lies and Live with Courage

Friend, on the days you think you can’t go another step farther, lean into the Father, lean into others, and keep saying yes to Him. He’s looking for your faithfulness not your perfection. When we give Him our trust and our lives, He will do more than we could ask or imagine. Over time, our courage and confidence will root deeply into His love, and His love will silence the lies! 

The post 3 Tools to Fight Lies and Live with Courage appeared first on Kate Berkey.

God's Brave Women - Kate's Story

As a kid, I think I just assumed that adults had it all figured out—life, relationships, careers, parenting, and everything in between. In my parents, I saw two people I thought were living with such certainty. They knew how to build a beautiful marriage, how to raise four happy and healthy kids, how to run their business, and how to discern a right decision from a wrong one. But now I’m almost 30 and completely convinced that our lives are just one step after the other into the unknown.

I haven’t been great at unknowns. I’d like to blame my fear on my three brothers, who took turns hiding in my closet or under my bed, but it’s so much bigger than them. It’s a fear of stepping into the impossible, of falling and failing, of making the wrong decision. Too often, I let these fears hold me back—exchanging comfort for the place God is calling me to walk.

Stepping into a new Place

In 2017, the Father asked me to step into the unknown in ways I had never imagined. I was working in communications and graphic design at my home church. It was a safe job—predictable and known in so many ways. Like He often does, the Lord shook me from my comfort and asked me to trust Him. Instead of continuing to plan and dream for my future in a town so close to my family and friends, the Father put a new dream on my heart—move to Mae Sot, Thailand to write a book we could use in ministry on the border of Thailand and Burma.

Talk about the unknown.

I’d never fundraised before. I’d never lived in a foreign country outside of short-term trips and vacations. I’d never co-authored a book. I knew little about Thai or Burmese cultures. So, when the Father called me to this place, of course, I felt excited but also crazy fearful.

A few weeks into life in Thailand, the Father gave me a vision. In it, I saw Jesus standing in a meadow, arms outstretched—an invitation to join Him. I walked to him, dancing with Him in the tall grass, the solid ground, but as we twirled around and around, the solid ground turned to water. We were dancing on the waves—deep in the unknown. But we danced together.

The post Braving the Unknown: Walking Out of Our Comfort Zone and onto the Water with Jesus appeared first on Kate Berkey.

But on the days when I’m less grumpy, less sweaty or upset about how much I sweat, I remember how beautiful summer is. I remember I live in a city with about 5,000 beaches and bike paths and three months of sunshine. On those days, I celebrate these summer months. 

My husband and I have tried to enjoy these moments more recently. Until this month, we had filled our summer with a wedding, travel, a book launch, and a brand-new job. Most days we are just tired—two introverts trying to juggle life, a new marriage, and a new person who lives in our space 24/7. With every passing day, though, we settle in a little more—into life, into love, into the beauty of this season. 

We’ve recaptured wonder. July is sunscreen and sand and summer heat. It’s the sound of music playing on the beach or on the basketball court. This month has taken on the sounds of a city bursting with life—busting at the seams with people eager to soak up the sunlight before winter returns to our world. 

To be honest, friend, I’ve struggled to love this city. I miss the quiet of my hometown. I miss the sound of tractors in the field. Nothing has quite replaced those Indiana sunsets or the peace and simplicity of my rural town. 

But these July nights have come close. We’ve spent more evenings at the beach, enjoying picnics and books and friends. These nights are not quiet or peaceful. This week roughly 100 cars sped down lakeshore drive with mufflers that echoed all the way to our beach towels. Planes consistently streamed over our heads, landing at O’Hare airport a few miles away. We still had to dodge terrible drivers and busy traffic. Chicago is still Chicago. 

Sometimes this city can feel like a machine—like something that is trying to produce as much as it can, slowly suffocating the humanness of its people. But on Wednesday, we ran into two old friends in a city with millions of people. We watched a group try to keep a volleyball in the air—diving and laughing. We listened to the sound of waves hit the beach and kids playing in the water. All around us were people meeting after work, families enjoying a picnic, friends passing a bag of chips.

After two years here, I’m remembering that contentment is a choice. It’s a posture rooted in gratitude. Sometimes it feels far, but it’s an idea the Father keeps revisiting day after day. I’m reminded of Philippians 4. I’ve learned to be content it all things, in all situations. Whether with plenty or with little, Paul tells the Philippians the beauty and freedom of contentment. This is where I’m trying to live, too, because I have plenty. 

So as silly as it may sound to someone who longs for the city, for the hustle and chaos and noise and life of these streets, I’m learning contentment here. I’m learning to see the beauty of this place—the beach, the airplanes, the families enjoying a picnic. And I’m learning to love the sounds of July—cicadas, kids in the park, music from the basketball courts, and waves hitting the shore moment after moment. 

The post Your Contentment is a Choice appeared first on Kate Berkey.

A few years ago, I found myself in a season of absolute exhaustion—striving, working, and desperately trying to prove myself to others and maybe to myself as well. Actually, as much as I’d like to pretend this happened years ago, it happens nearly every year. Almost like clockwork, the seasons change, life changes, and I find myself on that never-ending treadmill, sprinting to a finish line that always moves. 

It’s exhausting, and honestly, there’s not enough self-care in the world to pull me out of it. I don't think it's a self-care problem. It’s a heart issue. I wonder how many of our problems we’re trying to fix with self-care when we’re actually searching for rest in all the wrong places.

At a time when I was struggling with my never-ending battle, I cried out to the Father, desperate for Him to break through the voices screaming in my heart and mind telling me to be better, to work harder, to prove myself. That day, His still, small voice spoke to my weary soul, whispering, “The opposite of proving is resting in My extravagant love.”

His words hit me hard, like when you trip down a staircase and hit every step. In that season, I was involved in so many good things–working in full-time ministry, serving at my church, loving my family, pouring into my community, and doing a dozen other good things. But as so often happens, those good things weren’t the right things, and as much as I didn’t want to admit it, I was doing many of these things to prove that I could, that I was strong enough, that I was good enough. So when the Father told me that the opposite of proving was resting in His extravagant love, I desperately wanted to believe it was true. 

Molly Wilcox is an incredible writer with a heart to help readers encounter the Lord and grow in their relationship with Jesus! Check out her blog and subscribe to her newsletter for free weekly devos that will help you meet with the Lord!

The post Finding Life in the Resting Place of the Father’s Love appeared first on Kate Berkey.

I bought this wall hanging mostly because it fit it into my suitcase. When you’re packing your life away into two rolling suitcases, space is a premium, and this took up little space. But I also got it because I needed the wildflowers, the wildness of their arrangement, and the reminder: courage, dear heart.

Courage was the theme of that season. In fact, I moved to Thailand to write a book about courage. Our book, A Place Called Braverly centers on living and dreaming bravely and influencing bravery in others. So courage is a journey I’m well familiar with. 

Our Journey to A Place Called Braverly

Kristy and I wrote this book through prayer and conversation with Jesus. We wrote and rewrote and edited some more. Once we had finished nearly the entire book but scrapped most of it. These ideas of courage and bravery didn’t come from concepts we thought of on our own. They came from a journey with the Father—rediscovering His heart and learning how His love completely anchors our courage. 

The book was also inspired by Braverly—a place I’ve talked about a million times on this blog and in my life. I feel nothing but deep love, gratitude, and admiration for this place and the women who make it a living and breathing thing. In its basic form, Braverly is a place that trains women in culinary and sewing skills in Mae Sot, Thailand. In the café, our women make incredible coffee, tea, bagels, salads, and more. They make customers feel at home and learn customer service skills every day. In the sewing center, our women design bags, headbands, and clutches that reflect their personalities and cultures. They stitch together their ideas and designs, creating beautiful products sold in Thailand and the US.

Deeper than that, Braverly’s mission is to empower women from oppressed people groups on the Myanmar/Thailand border, to move past their fears and walk in confidence and truth. Braverly exists to draw women closer to the heart of the Father. We believe Jesus modeled a kind of wholeness of heart everyone can and should experience. So we don’t just train our women to do a job or grow in their skills. We strive to show them the person of Jesus Christ and help them develop their own relationship with Him.

The Heartbeat of Braverly

Each day in the café, we see the challenge to “Live brave. Dream bravely. Influence bravery.” It’s the slogan painted across our wall. By this, we mean that fear won’t stop us. We won’t let fear keep us from trying to learn new things. Fear doesn't stop us from dreaming with the Lord and saying, “Wherever you want me to go and whatever you want me to do, I’ll do!” We won’t let fear win.

From all this and more, A Place Called Braverly was born. The heartbeat of Braverly is so much bigger than Mae Sot, Thailand. It’s something the world needs to hear, to be reminded of, to be challenged by. 

Live brave. 
Dream bravely. 
Influence bravery. 

As we wrote A Place Called Braverly, Kristy and I realized that none of this could happen outside of the Father. All of our brave living, dreaming, and inspiring was shallow outside of who the Father is and who He says we are. Until we root our courage in His love, we will search for bravery in all the wrong places. 

A Book for You

This is the journey of A Place Called Braverly. It’s a book filled with Scripture and personal, vulnerable stories from Kristy and me. Our goal is not only to inspire you but also to challenge you, to push you, to call you higher, to help you step deeper into courageous lives. 

This book was a labor of love in so many ways, and when we wrote it, we thought of you, dear reader. We thought of your heart that needs courage in ways we can’t even understand. 

So, courage, dear heart. Take courage and go on this journey with us. Rediscover your Father’s heart and collide with a God who loves you more than you can even imagine. 

It’s not too late to pre-order your copy of A Place Called Braverly. It’s available at Barnes and Noble, Books a Million, Bookshop, and wherever books are sold. You can also pre-order a copy here! 

The post What is A Place Called Braverly? appeared first on Kate Berkey.

Most days I feel completely unqualified to run this center, especially when the kids pack it out, and I run from table to table, trying to help as many kids as possible. So much of my life in Chicago is an example of how the Lord will use us even when we feel completely unqualified or lacking or weak. All He wants is our “yes.” 

Despite my many inadequacies and shortcomings, this little homework center is a joy and a delight. Kids come even if they don’t have homework because they want to play games or get out of the house or just spend time with our teachers. This place humbles me in the most profound ways and delights me when I least expect it. 

A few months ago, a girl asked me if she could write a note on one of our white boards. She’s one of the most polite and thoughtful kids I’ve ever met, and when I saw what she had written, joy filled my entire body. 

This place is full of happyniss. 

My sweet friend is from a devote Muslim family. My team and I try to walk the fine line of being bold in sharing our faith while also fully respecting the decisions of many Muslim and Hindu families. Sometimes we get it right. Sometimes we fail and fall down. For me, this was a moment we got it right. 

We share verses from the Bible at homework center, but we don’t preach to the kids. We don’t turn people away because we belong to different faiths. My team welcomes everyone who walks through our doors, and we do our very best to love like Jesus did—constantly and without reservation.

So often all we can do is show up, love others, and carry the Holy Spirit. That’s it. That’s what we do every day at homework center, or at least that’s what we try to do. And even in our weaknesses and mistakes, the Holy Spirit used us, because this “happyniss” wasn’t from us. I believe it is the joy of the Lord, the moving and working of the Holy Spirit in our small space. And my prayer is that someday, my sweet friend would collide with this God—the God who made her and loves her and takes her as she is. 

I’m convinced that we need fewer words and more tangible actions that speak love to those around us. We need less preaching and more actions led by the Holy Spirit. Friend, if you are a follower of Jesus, you carry Him. You carry the Holy Spirit. Jesus said that the world would know we are His followers because of our love for others. May the fruit of our lives be the fruit of the Spirit—love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.

May you spread more than just “happyniss” today.
May you carry Jesus.
May you carry the Holy Spirit.
May you carry His love. 

The post On Cultivating Places of Happyniss appeared first on Kate Berkey.

In its best moments, I believe something rather sacred lives in these spaces. After all, Father God created out of nothing. He worked and built and fashioned humanity out of dust. Work isn’t our curse or burden to bear. I believe it’s a gift. Creating, making, contributing, building something wonderful is a gift.

But in its worst moments, all this working and striving and hustling can be broken and damaging. It’s exhausting and can leave you ragged and breathless in the cruelest of ways. We have a way of twisting what was made for our good. Work—I believe—is one of those things we bend and shift in so many ways.

We aren't Machines

And I am one of the worst offenders. Recently in a meeting with our wedding officiant, our pastor asked my fiancé and me how things were coming along for the wedding.

“Are you getting stuff done? How’s it coming together?”

These are the questions we’re getting asked almost weekly because in approximately one month, we’ll stand in front of family and friends and the Father and commit to forever. But in this meeting, Luke spoke up before I could.

“Kate is a machine,” he said with wide eyes filled with both awe and a little concern. At the same time, I saw our pastor nod his head. Having worked with me full-time in the church office, he knows enough about me to know the truth.

I had to tell my pride to take a back seat. We weren’t always made to be machines. The Father didn’t design us to work and produce and spit out lives of meaning through our doing and creating. More and more, I believe He invites us to create alongside Him, relying on Him, depending on Him—all for the joy of reflecting His image through our work.

You and I have limits and margins and capacities, and while I’m a firm believer that the Father can and does increase our capacity in every season, I have to remind myself that I’ve experienced this in the healthiest ways when I’ve relied on Him, depended on Him.

Invited to the Breakfast on the Beach

There’s this beautiful story in John 21 that moves me to tears and to my knees. After Jesus had risen from the dead and appeared to the disciples, they seemed to be in a wandering state. Their life went from the chaos and joy and excitement of following Jesus to a quiet, question-filled existence. I bet that had to feel jarring to say the least.

One night as they stood on the shore of the Sea of Galilee, Peter said, “I’m going fishing.”

I love Peter. I get Him. He gives me hope. In a moment of questions and maybe feeling antsy and wondering what was next, Peter decided to do something, to work. So he and his friends fished all night but caught nothing. Nothing. All that work—casting and recasting the nets—for nothing.

As the sun began to rise, they saw a man and a small fire on the shore. They didn’t know who He was, but He told them to throw in their nets once again. When they did, they caught over 150 fish. And their hearts suddenly remembered. This had happened before with Jesus.

Peter immediately jumped out of the boat and swam to shore. I imagine He laughed and wept and clung to Jesus. And out of the corner of his eyes, I bet he saw it then—fish roasting on the fire.

Jesus made breakfast for them on the beach with the very thing they couldn’t catch all night. No amount of working or striving or hustling made a single fish swim into their nets. But with one word, Jesus filled their nets to their breaking point. And on the shore, in the place of rest with Him, Jesus already had what their bodies so longed for—food, fish roasting on the fire.

The Invitation Still Stands

Whew. Maybe I’m the only one who needs this reminder today, but I doubt it. In our hustle culture, it’s easy to twist working and striving. I am all for working hard and building something beautiful out of nothing. After all, this is what the Father did, and we were made in His image.

But these days, I need the reminder of this story—that no matter how many times they threw their nets into the sea, the disciples didn’t catch anything. No amount of work brought what they so desperately wanted until they listened to Jesus and let Him do what they could not.

Friends, the same is true for us. Yes, go fishing and cast your net again and again. Show up and do the work, the things God has called you to do. But don’t give into hustle culture. Resist the temptation to rely on yourself. We serve a God who longs to make us breakfast on the beach and serve us there.

Today, maybe He longs for you to experience more rest even in your working. The disciples still cast their net one more time. They still rowed hard to keep their boats from sinking, but it was all because of Jesus’ work.

May we do the same.

And may we look up and see the beauty of a God who has already made us breakfast and longs to serve us.

The post You’re Invited to Breakfast on the Beach with jesus appeared first on Kate Berkey.

You were made for more. 

You were made for courage. You were made for abundance. You were made for peace. You were made for trust. You were made for relationship with your Creator. You were made for more. 

Stuck in Comfort

I live in a city obsessed with the American dream. So many in Chicago live for comfort, their paycheck, and all the things they think matter. I’m originally from a rural Midwest town, and similar desires exist there too—they just look a slightly different. Many people in my hometown live for comfort, stability, and tradition.

Hear me—none of these things are bad or wrong on their own. I also need a paycheck. Living outside my comfort zone every single moment of every single day isn’t sustainable or healthy. I crave comfort, too. I love tradition, but our Creator made us for more. 

Comfort is a deceptive friend. It lulls us to sleep where we stand, promising a fulfilled life, joy, and everything in between. It tells us that the bigger our paycheck, the more fulfilled we’ll be. Comfort tries to convince us that courage is overrated, that anything that fills us with fear or discomfort is the enemy. So, we live in this zombie-like trance, living one day to the next, never actually feeling fulfilled in anything. 

Friend, your Creator made you for more. 

Finding that Place of More

I think our souls long for a sense of purpose and fulfillment. We long for our true place of belonging, and each of us has our own way of finding this place. Here’s the problem—so many of us are trying to find this place outside of the One who created this world so long ago. 

I know not everyone believes the same as me. People from every major religion fill my neighborhood, and I count so many of them as friends. At this point, I have more Muslim friends than Christian, and I love them dearly. We don’t believe the same things, but our desires and the things we crave are so similar. 

Our Creator made us for more. 

More in Faith

I believe we’ll only find “more” in Jesus. In Him, our lives experience more fulfillment and joy and life and peace than we ever could in any other religion or paycheck or social status. Through Him, we encounter a God who delights when we call Him Abba, Father, and because of Him, we carry God with us through the Holy Spirit. 

He created us for more—more courage, fulfillment, peace, joy, more of the things that matter. Friend, I’ve been where you are. I’ve felt perfectly comfortable and safe but also entirely bored and unfulfilled in ways that truly matter. Maybe you follow Jesus, and you still feel this way. I’ve been there. I get it. Our world, culture, and those around us promise us much but deliver little. Maybe you have no desire to follow Jesus, but you somehow stumbled across this blog. You feel like something is missing in your heart of hearts. You’re searching and seeking but also incredibly turned off by religion and faith. 

I get it. Religion also promises a lot and usually delivers little. I’m not inviting you to religion. I’m inviting you to community, to a relationship with a God who sees you and knows you and loves you. 

Your Creator Made you for More

Friend, God made you for more, and in Him we experience more than we could ask or imagine. Would you join me on a journey to discover what more looks like? If you’ve been following Jesus for any time, would you allow the Lord to speak to you? Would you allow Him to change your heart bit by bit? If you don’t identify with any religion or feel skeptical of it, would you still come? I have nothing to gain from you choosing to follow Jesus. Only you do, and in Him, you just might experience that peace and belonging and joy you’ve sought after for so long. 

Friend, Abba Father created you for so much more. 
Let’s find this more.  

The post Did you Know You were Made for More? appeared first on Kate Berkey.

I think you and I have bought into a lie, and it’s crazy destructive. This lie says tells us we are behind, that everyone else’s life is perfect, that we need to catch up. We see perfectly curated photos and captions on social media or we hear the highlight reel of someone’s life over dinner or coffee or on a podcast, and the lie screams a little louder.

These days I feel this deeply. I’m preparing to launch a book into the world as this unknown author who is just trying to follow Jesus. All the advice I hear is about numbers—getting more social media followers, interviewing on more podcasts, booking more speaking engagements and book signings and everything in between. Comparison screams at me from its shadowy corner of my heart and tells me I’m so behind. I feel overwhelmed by where I am and where I’m supposed to be, and sometimes, I don’t know how to move forward.

I’m supposed to have thousands of social media followers.
I have 500.
I’m supposed to book dozens of publicity events or interviews.
I’ve done 5.
I’m supposed to have this massive buildup for a book that will launch with thousands of other books this year.
But I’m relatively unknown, and I’m not sure how to get from here to there. And on my worst days—which have happened more frequently than I care to admit—I do nothing.

On those days, I forget God calls us to the process—to the slow unfolding. He didn’t call us to achieve that huge dream today. He called us to this present moment, to say yes in the here and now. Every day, He asks us to start where we are.

That’s it. Start where you are. Where else could you?

The Beauty of the Process

This lie, this comparison game we play with everyone around us, is a disaster. When we play it, when we listen to the voices in our head that tell us we’re behind or can’t catch up or that we might as well never start, we’re playing right into the hand of an enemy who longs to confuse us and make us question the One who called and created us. I believe this is one area Satan wins the most—keeping the people of God stuck simply wishing or dreaming or talking about what God has called them to. So many of us live here because we’re afraid that where we are isn’t good enough, and we don’t really know if we trust the process.

I am a distance runner. I love the feeling of training for and running long races—half marathons and marathons. To me, running is the perfect picture of the process and of starting right where you are. Training for a long distance race—truly training for it—takes months. It means spending week after week putting in mile after mile. In the beginning, running 1 or 2 or 3 miles feels impossible, but on race day, I hardly notice them. This is the process—that slow unfolding. And the only way to get to race day, to the place where the little miles are bearable, is to start where you are. God didn’t design our bodies to run marathons on day one. He designed us to say yes in the little moments and to embrace all the little steps it takes to reach where we want to go.

Start Where You Are

So friend, keep dreaming and reaching and hoping for that big goal that feels impossible right now, but don’t let it suck you into the comparison game or feel overwhelmed by where you think you should be.

Start where you are.
Say yes to what the Father has given you right here.
Take one little step and trust the process He will unfold before you.

What about you?

Where do you feel fear or comparison has too loud of a voice in your life?
What’s something the Father has asked you to say yes to in this season?
What does starting where you are look like for you?

The post The Most Important Thing you can do today appeared first on Kate Berkey.

Every day I encounter people from different cultures and languages and countries. I’ve actually grown accustomed to being the minority on my streets. The other day I saw two white American women walking on Devon Avenue, and I actually wondered if they got lost. 

I wonder how many of my neighbors have the same reaction when they see me. 

My team and I serve refugees and immigrants from all over the world—Afghanistan, India, Pakistan, Iraq, Congo, Somalia, Syria, Ethiopia, Burma, Malaysia, Bangladesh, and more. We try to meet felt needs like giving diapers and rice and oil or fans in the summer or blankets in the winter. My team teaches English and helps kids with homework. We step into homes and build relationships with people.

The Beautiful, Awkward Work

It's a beautiful work, but it’s also incredibly awkward. No matter how many similarities we share as humans, we still speak totally different languages. We come from different backgrounds. We believe very different things, and although these differences are beautiful, they can make for some awkward moments.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve visited families in their homes only to endure 20 or 30 or 40 minutes of awkward and broken conversation. I ask a question. Someone gives a totally unrelated answer. I rephrase it. We sit in silence. Eventually, one of us gives up and sips quietly on our tea.

This work is beautiful, but it’s awkward.

Today, I sat with a friend from Afghanistan who has been in the States for seven years, but she still struggles to speak and understand English. Possibly my favorite moments are when she gives up on English completely and speaks to me in Uzbek. She nearly always raises her eyebrows as if to say, “It’s fun, right? Not knowing the language. Really fun.”

As I sat with my Afghani friend, I asked her a question, trying to understand more of her story. She gave me that look I’m coming to recognize and responded in Uzbek. Almost without thinking, I heard myself mumble, “Ok. That didn’t work.” I leaned forward and said, “Let’s try this again.”

Let’s Try Again

That didn’t work, but let’s try this again. I can’t tell you how many times each day I think that. 

Yikes, that explanation didn’t work. Let’s try again. 
That visit didn’t go well. Let’s try again. 
Lord knows we’re speaking different languages, but let’s try again. 
I still don’t understand you. Let’s try again. 
You still don’t understand me. Can we try again? 

Over the course of nearly two years in this neighborhood, this has become the unconscious beat of my heart. And I think it’s beautiful. What if our world had this posture? What if this is how we approached community and conversation?

Today, my friend and I stumbled through yet another awkward conversation together. We may not have fully understood the other, but we tried our best. We both leaned in. It didn’t work the first time. Honestly, it didn’t work the second or third, but we tried again and again and again. 

We must Lean in and try Again

I’ve found that some of my most profound relationships with people in the neighborhood come from those I struggle the most to understand. As we stumble and fumble through our words and their meanings, we lean into each other. We slow down. We pause. And we laugh, because trying to understand someone who speaks another language is hilarious. 

Friend, what could it look like for you to lean in, to say, “That didn’t work, so let’s try again”? Chances are, you may not interact with someone who speaks a different language, but you probably have people in your life you struggle to understand or who struggle to understand you. We must lean in and try again. It’s awkward and uncomfortable. It’s difficult, but I believe it’s a holy and sacred work. 

So would you lean in with me? 
Would you try again? 

Who are some people in your life you struggle to understand or who struggle to understand you? How can you lean in? 

The post Why You Should Try Again appeared first on Kate Berkey.