It feels like the kind of moment we experience after vacation. We have pictures and stories of moments we love. All too eager, we sit down with friends or family and begin to relive these memories, and about two seconds in, we see that look—glazed eyes, disengagement, indifference. 

Listen, your friends and family, don’t really care about that smoothie bowl on day two…or maybe it was day three…no two, and they certainly don’t want to see a picture. C’mon. Let’s just face the facts. 

So, I’m a little afraid to tell this story, because it means so very much to me. Everything about it—the little girl, her family, the building she’s in. Everything. And I’m a little nervous because it’s hard to see glazed eyes and looks of indifference when you’re telling a story that means so very much to you. So give me space. Hear this story. Look at this picture, because I believe it should mean something to you too. 

When you see this picture, you see an absolutely adorable toddler. You’re not wrong. She is beautiful and mischievous and intelligent. She’s learning five languages as a four year old, so conversations with her can get a little tricky. She regularly jumps between Thai, Burmese, Karen, Chinese, and English and leaves me wondering what just happened. 

When I look at this picture, I see a story so much bigger than this girl. I see a story that wrecks me in the most beautiful of ways and inspires me to choose a life of bravery. 

I see her momma—a warrior, a woman of resilience and kindness, a woman who makes me laugh. I see the difficult parts of her story—living in the jungle for months at a time to escape the oppressive rule of Burma's military junta. I see the years she lived in Mae La refugee camp on the border of Thailand and Burma. I see the days she dared to dream about a future that was full of hope and life and light. I see the ways she models a kind of bravery for her children that I only aspire to. 

This girl’s momma strives and tries and sometimes fails, but she continues to strive and try and sometimes fail. Because of this, her daughters will know that fear doesn’t have to control them. They will know that they can try new things, even if they fail or make mistakes. They will know that they can dream for their future, and the Father will honor the desires He puts in their hearts. Her daughters will know a future that is full of hope, light, life, and community, because they have watched their mom pursue this first. 

I see a dare—live brave, dream bravely, influence bravery. Our world is full of catchy phrases, slogans sold on signs at Hobby Lobby, but when I read these words, I see something much deeper than a shallow tune. I see a real-life challenge given to a group of women on the Thailand/Burma border. So many of them come from histories of oppression, and fear becomes the currency through which others try to control them.

But in Jesus, we see another way—a way of courage, of love, of freedom. These women were created to live brave in the day-in-day-out routines and in the big risks. They were designed to dream bravely—to use their gifts and talents to impact their friends, families, communities, and world. And they influence and encourage bravery in those around them as they pursue this kind of life—a life of courage and confidence and wholeheartedness. Because of the way her community embraces this brave dare, this girl will know what it looks like to walk with courage. 

In this picture, I see a future—a little girl who is being taught even now to choose courage over fear, to walk in confidence and truth, to see Jesus in those around her, to honor her story and the stories she’s surrounded by. I see a girl who is a culture shaker, a world changer, a kingdom builder. I see a girl who gets to learn something so beautiful—how to bake cupcakes—because her mother first had a dream to learn how to bake. In this girl, I see a beautiful picture of investing in the generations—in the mommas and papas, sons and daughters, aunties and uncles. There is something so deeply beautiful about the way a whole family can change and transform and pursue the life the Father designed for them when everyone is invited to be part of this change. 

When you look at this picture, you probably just see a cute little girl and flour on a counter. But pause for a moment, and look again.

This girl’s mom has known the worst of the worst, but she has also known resilience, grit, perseverance. She is a woman of joy, a woman who teaches her daughters how to live with courage. This girl's father gave up his citizenship to move into the refugee camp, because he saw a need there. Through his life, his daughters have learned the most beautiful, sacrificial kind of love, empathy, and compassion. Her community comes from so many different backgrounds, but each of them is on a journey to live brave, dream bravely, and influence bravery in those around them. Because of their courage, she is learning and watching and trying and sometimes falling short. 

This beautiful girl—baking cupcakes in Thailand—is the present and the future. She is a representation of the people around us who are watching the way we live. May we be people who choose to live brave and dream bravely in our own lives so that we can encourage this kind of bravery in those around us.

The ripples of this decision have the power to change our families, our friends, our communities, our world. 

The post The Ripples I see in a Single Photograph and Why it Should Matter to You Too appeared first on Kate Berkey.

This yes led me to move to Mae Sot, Thailand. It led me to this team and to this work. It led me to a life that is beautiful and challenging and a million other adjectives. 

I’ve been thinking back to those decisions I made a year ago—to get on the airplane, to quit my job, to fundraise my salary, to move away from everything that was familiar and safe. I’ve been thinking about them a lot, because I think people have it wrong. I’ve heard others tell me over and over again how brave I am. They like to tell me that I’m courageous and bold, and that’s awesome. But in so many ways, I feel like I can’t quite carry the name “Courageous,” at least not by myself. 

This name feels really incomplete. If I’m courageous, it’s because I know what it’s like to walk in fear, and I don’t want to do that again. If I am daring, it’s because I know what it’s like to live in apathy, and I don’t want that life. If I’m bold, it’s because I know who I become when I’m timid, and I don’t want to be that person. 

And if I’m courageous, like truly, honestly, totally courageous, it’s because of the countless people and experiences and truths that have encouraged me to say, “Yes.” 

I have this 5x7 picture in a worn red frame that has followed me to every home I’ve lived in since that old dorm room at Taylor. The scene is nearly five years old, taken on a random weekend when I happened to be home from college. It’s a simple, beautiful moment of me teaching my oldest niece how to walk. That day, her tiny hands gripped my index fingers, and we took little step after little step. 

I love this picture; it just might be one of my most treasured possessions in the world. It made it into my suitcases to Thailand, after all, and space is a highly valuable thing when you’re trying to condense your life into 100 pounds. But I needed this picture, this actual printed out version, not because I couldn’t just reprint it once I got to Mae Sot or because I don’t have any updated photos of Finley and I. I needed this actual, physical copy because of the little note written on the back of it. 

My brother, Tim, took this picture on one of the last weekends we were home before he moved to L.A. for an internship, before we graduated from college, and before we began our crazy adult lives. He was and still is one of my best friends and my biggest fans, and one of the best gifts he has ever given me is this picture with a simple note on the back:

This girl believes in you! I do too. She loves you. Me too. She thinks you're the greatest buddy in the world. She’s right. You’re my person too.

Today, I pulled this picture from a shelf in my room and moved it to my desk, because I’m sick with a nasty sinus infection and feeling emotionally tired and missing my family a little bit more these days. I took it out of the frame and reread the note to remind myself to be courageous, because even after we say our big and scary, “yes,” we still need reminders of why we decided to walk this way in the first place.

These days, I need reminders like this and like Joshua 1:9.

Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or discouraged. For the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.

Like Isaiah 44:8.

Do not tremble; do not be afraid. Did I not proclaim my purposes for you long ago? 

Like Isaiah 43:18-19

But forget all that—it is nothing compared to what I am going to do. For I am about to do something new. See, I have already begun! Do you not see it? I will make a pathway through the wilderness. I will create rivers in the dry wasteland. 

Like Isaiah 26:3-4

You will keep in perfect peace all who trust in you, all whose thoughts are fixed on you! Trust in the Lord always, for the Lord God is the eternal Rock.

There are people next to you who need to borrow some courage. They need truth spoken over their lives. They need confidence injected into their souls. They need a note, a message, a kind word. They need truth, a simple reminder, encouragement. As the family of Christ, we have this insane opportunity to help each other say, “Yes.” Isn’t this beautiful? Isn’t it incredible that we get to walk alongside, encourage, and challenge each other? What a holy, sacred gift—lending courage, borrowing confidence, encouraging trust, and shouting our, “Yes,” together. 

A year ago, I said another, “Yes,” to the Lord. It wasn’t my first, and it certainly won’t be my last. It was a yes said with a tiny bit more courage than fear, a tiny bit more boldness than timidity, a tiny bit more audacity than apathy. This courage, this boldness, this audacity is borrowed from the Father, from His promises, from the people He’s put around me. 

This week, as I reflect on the year it has been, on where the Lord has taken me, I’m less impressed with my own journey. Instead, I am overwhelmed with gratitude for those who have chosen to walk this road with me, lending courage and confidence and kindness, helping me say my “yes” over and over and over again. 

The post Why We Need to Look for Ways to Lend Courage to One Another appeared first on Kate Berkey.