Three years ago Braverly opened its doors for the first time. On this Fall day, life was business as usual for 99.9% of the world. Kids went to school. Government bodies met and argued about something. Somewhere a recent college grad moaned about the struggles of adulting. 

Life.as.usual. 

But a small group of people in a quirky Thailand border town felt a little anxious and excited and completely full of anticipation. Their hearts beat a little faster, and their steps held a little bit more purpose. On that day, a dream was stepping into reality and breathing its first few breaths on its own. 

Braverly was born. 

Braverly

A quick look at street view on Google Maps shows that simple, beautiful concrete building. From the street, you can see Braverly’s logo—that big, cursive B and the words “bikes. bagels. bags.” But once inside, you see that other word that pulses through the veins of this café and sewing center—brave.

Braverly came from the dream from an American who imagined a place that trained and empowered marginalized and oppressed women—moms, sisters, and aunties trying to build a better life for their family. From there, the idea of a café and sewing center slowly began to form. Not only would these spaces give women valuable business, life, and hands-on skills, they would provide opportunities to impact Mae Sot and possibly even the world. 

Etched on the back wall is the slogan and driving force—three simple lines that inspire everything.

Live brave.
Dream bravery.
Influence bravery.

Every day the women in the Braverly family are challenged to live with courage over fear. They are stretched to dream scary, big, difficult dreams for themselves, their families, and the world. And because of their courageous decisions, they encourage bravery in others.

For three years, this has been the mission, and it has begun to make a mark on Mae Sot. Yet, there is a longing for more. This dare toward courage, this challenge to choose bravery is for the world. It’s a message we all need to hear and be wrecked by and choose every day. So while the café became known in Mae Sot, the dream grew. 

What if Questions Inspire Bold Dreams

What if these beautiful handmade products—bags, wallets, clutches, and more—were sold across the world? What if these story-carrying products created by incredibly courageous women in Thailand found their way to the arms of women in the U.S., Spain, Kenya, and Mexico? What if a simple purse was a reminder for women all over the world to choose courage over fear every day, to dream intimidating dreams, and to encourage others to choose bravery? 

What if? 

It’s the question that seems to start every big and beautiful and terrifying adventure, doesn’t it? What if humans could fly through the sky and reach places we never imagined? What if we could connect the entire world through cables and satellites? What if we took a risk, a step out? What if we tried and failed? What if we tried and succeeded, and the world became a better place because of our courage?

What if?

For Braverly, the questions have always been simple—what if one woman found freedom, wholeness of heart, empowerment, and life in the Father? What if that one person became two became three became a whole family, community, a whole nation? 

Why it all Matters to You

Last week, the dream stepped a little closer to reality when Braverly’s online store launched. Yes, people of America, you can now buy beautiful products made by incredibly brave women in Mae Sot, Thailand. You can show off a unique headband crafted from beautiful Thai fabric. You can carry a one-of-a-kind clutch or bag created by someone you have more in common with than you know. 

The dream of Braverly was never just about Mae Sot, about the people who invest so much of their time and skills, heart and soul into this place. It was always about the world—about you and me. It was about all of us, because if we pause long enough, we just might see that we have more similarities than we ever could imagine. 

You get the opportunity to be part of the Braverly story. You get to choose courage over fear, bravery over insecurity. What if we became a people marked by courage? 

What if we were a people marked by Braverly?

Join the movement, and check out these handmade, story-carrying product here. 

The post Why a Café in Mae Sot, Thailand Matters to You appeared first on Kate Berkey.

Thanks pal. 

In the span of three months, the life I built, my dreams and goals and hopes for the future seemed to disappear–like dust flying through the air. Those days, everything seemed to collapse at breakneck speeds while the days passed painfully slowly, as if each minute was a reminder that life was going to move on whether I wanted it to or not.

In this season—one of pain and crumbling—the Father whispered to my soul, “Release.”

Release. Let go. Pry open your clenched fists and let your life simply sit there—your hopes, your dreams, your love, your longings. It was, quite possibly, one of the most vulnerable yet most freeing words the Father has ever said to me. It was the word that led me to where I am today—a writer in Thailand.

Release.

It’s a word of surrender, of submission. For the record, I loathe that word—submission. So much baggage is tied to it, and in today’s American culture, it feels like a fighting word.

I’ve been running from it for far too long, because submission to the Father, means release. It means letting go. It means acknowledging that I don’t have control over anything. I only have the illusion of control.

The word release has found its way to my soul once more, and I think I’m feeling a little bit of PTSD at the thought of it. To be clear, it’s not coming in a season of intense pain and grief. It’s coming in a season of transition, of trying to figure things out. These days, release still means opening my clenched fists. Inside the palms of my hands, I’m trying to hold my dreams and plans for the days ahead. I’m trying to hold things loosely so that when my very next step becomes clear, I’ll find the courage to take it. It feels deeply vulnerable but also so very necessary. 

These days, I find myself pulled back to the life of Joshua, and I find comfort in the words spoken to him by the Father.

“Be strong and courageous. Don’t be afraid or discouraged. The Lord your God is with you wherever you go.” 

I love that. Who doesn’t?

But this isn’t the part of the story the Father keeps reminding me of. These days, I’m camped out in the story of Jericho, and it’s throwing me off balance a bit. This story is crazy; it doesn’t make sense. It’s illogical. It seems unwise and utterly ridiculous.

I can just imagine Joshua saying, “Hey fam, tomorrow we will line up behind some priests carrying the Ark of the Covenant, and while they blow rams horns, we will march around Jericho once a day for six days. Don’t talk at all. Don’t make a noise. I don’t want to hear laughter or the faintest whisper. We will do this in silence. On the seventh day, we will walk around Jericho seven times, and when I give you the signal, we’ll shout really loud. That’ll show ‘em!”

Seriously? The Father wants His people to march around a towering city in complete silence for seven days, and a loud shout on the seventh day will make the walls crumble? Now I get why He told Joshua to be strong and courageous before they even saw the walls of Jericho.

Even still Joshua rallied Israel. He gave the orders and led the way. They marched day after day in silence, the only noise coming from the sound of their feet against the earth and the rams horns at the front of the pack. Day after day, those in Jericho probably looked out their windows at the caravan below. I’m sure it was a little eery at first and then probably just annoying. 

But then on the seventh day, they walked around that city seven times, and after the final lap, they let out a kind of roar that shook the walls of the city. That day, the Father made those walls crumble to the ground because of the trust and obedience of His people. 

Release even when things don’t make sense. 
Release even when the way forward isn’t clear. 
Release even when we have more questions than answers.
Release even when we’re waiting, waiting, waiting. 

Release and trust even when the Father tells us to do something that seems illogical and maybe even unwise. Release and trust when the Father asks us to walk in a space that feels dark and uncertain. Release it all. Pry open our clenched fists and let all we love sit vulnerably in the palms of our hands. Our Father can be trusted.

These days, I find myself looking for Jericho moments, Jericho commands, because those are big, bold, impossible dreams. They’re the kind only the Father can make happen, and aren’t those the kind we should chase anyway? I don’t want to settle for the kind I can make happen on my own, the ones that make sense in my mind. I want to pursue the ones that send ripples into the world around me because of the what the Father does. 

When people heard about Jericho, they said in hushed voices, “Only God could have done that.” 

This is what I want to be able to say. Only God could have done that. So I will release. We will release. 

Release and trust that the Father will do what only He can do.

The post Finding Jericho Moments When we Open our Clenched Fists appeared first on Kate Berkey.

If you’ve been in the church for a millisecond, you, most likely, have heard this verse. It’s simple, yet it is powerful. The promises in it sound too good to be true, and if I truly believed this verse 100% of the time, I would never be afraid.

But I have some things to work on.

I began to cling to this verse this past summer. As I thought about heading into my final year of college, the pressure reached a level that was unknown to me. In a few short months I would be finishing school forever. I would have to get a real person job. To make matters worse, I studied writing in college. We all know that’s a gold mine of a profession. The unspoken truth about writing is that it is actually terrifying. Many of my friends wouldn’t guess it, but writing is an incredibly vulnerable thing. Don’t believe me? How about you go into a room, spend a couple of hours writing about something that’s important to you, and post it on the internet. Then let me know how vulnerable you feel.

I have been ready to give up on writing before I truly began.

Because it’s risky and scary and makes my stomach feel weird.

If there is one thing I’ve been taught, though, it’s never to give up. So this past weekend, I went to the Indiana Faith and Writing Conference at Anderson University with other students from the Professional Writing department. I sat in fantastic lectures given by talented writers. I met people with incredible stories and visions. I found myself thankful that some of the tips sounded more like review because of the courses I’ve taken at Taylor.

And I found myself encouraged.

I’ve noticed a pattern in my life. I always feel closest to God when I am out of my element. When I found myself in a room with writers who seemed a million times more confident than me, I was out of my element. I felt like a blind person being led through a crowded room.

“Alright, God, I don’t know what you’re doing, but I feel like I’m about to hit a pole. Can you just make sure I don’t hit a pole?”

Guess what? He kept me from hitting a poll, and in the midst of it all, he handed me encouragement. Every speaker at the conference reiterated all of the things that my parents and friends have been telling me for years. “Just keep trying. You have a story, so write.” Sorry, Mom and Dad, but I guess I just needed authors like Ken Abraham to tell me that. At the end of the conference, as I sat in the final session, eyes glazed over and brain mussy, a clear thought formed in my mind. I know it was from God because I was no longer thinking in complete sentences at that point.

It was a simple phrase. “Stop writing what you think you should write. Write what you ought to write.”

Write what you ought to write.

Sometimes, I become so focused on what I think I should be doing, on what I should be writing. In those moments, I wonder if God shakes his head and wonders when I’ll realize that it’s not about what I think I should do. It’s about what I ought to do. Recently, James 4:17 has been kicking my butt because it’s harsh and sounds politically incorrect. But it’s a piece of truth nonetheless. “Remember, it is a sin to know what you ought to do and then not do it.” Attending the conference this past weekend reminded me of this truth. Sometimes I worry that I hide behind what I think I should write because writing what I ought to write is scary and risky.

Yet, God called me to write. He called me to trust. I believe this calling is still on my life.

So each day I’m choosing to wake up and write what I ought to write.

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