It was just supposed to be a work trip to the north side of Chicago, but since that day in 2015, a piece of my heart seemed to be forever stuck on the corner of Devon and Western Avenue. 

I think it happened somewhere between walking the streets that made me feel like I was in India or Nairobi or anywhere else but America. Or maybe it happened as I heard story after story of the refugee families who lived in the neighborhood. Quite possibly, though, it was that one phrase that completely captured my heart and made me dream a little differently with the Father. 

“God has brought the world to us.” 

Seven miles from the posh of Michigan Avenue and the tourists in Millennium Park lies an incredibly diverse community with well over 100 languages represented in just a few square miles. Nearly half of the residents here were born outside of the United States—many of them are refugees from countries devastated by violence against minorities or marginalized people, places Americans don’t have easy access too.

Afghanistan
Pakistan
Iraq
Somalia
Sudan
Burma
Just to name a few

God has brought the world to us—even in the heartland of America.

Bob Andrews, director of an organization in the community called the Devon Oasis Center, said that phrase time and again, trying desperately to help us see the opportunities in his neighborhood. 

Devon Oasis evolved from Bob and Lynne’s missional life, from the way they engaged their neighborhood, from the way they loved on and were Jesus to refugees. They didn’t set out to start a ministry. They were simply called to love their neighbors.

Today at the Center, they host English classes for adults, homework center for kids, and more, in one space. But communicating the love and life of Jesus is so much more than structured programs. It requires relationship—time together, grace and love shown time and again in friendship. So their team prioritizes going and being. They knock on people’s doors and stay for awhile. They build friendships—that all-important community. They give and they take. They serve and are served. They teach and are taught. 

And as that trust builds and relationships blossom, they encounter opportunities to love people more fully by sharing Jesus with them. It’s not a forced conversation. They’re not looking for quick converts. They’re simply desperate for people to experience the life, freedom, and love that Jesus offers us—His people made in His image. 

This—all of this—is what captured my heart four years ago. It’s what made me tell my friend in 2016, “I think the Lord is calling me to move to Chicago and work with Devon Oasis, but I don’t know why or when or what that would even look like.”

And now, four years later, it seems like the Father has said one word, and it is beautifully clear—Go. 

So, friend, I am doing just that! In March 2020, your girl plans to move to Chicago. I am being sent as a missionary by my home church, Nappanee Missionary Church, and will carry the official title of Missionary in Residence. Honestly, this is just a fancy way of saying that I will live and do support-raised ministry among the people I get to serve. They will be my neighbors, and I will be theirs. My days will look like joining Bob and his team in what they are already doing—teaching English, helping with homework, etc—as well as meeting one-on-one with women and discipling those who are seeking Jesus.

And I am so excited! 

This isn’t taking the place of Thailand. In fact, I will continue to work alongside Braverly and make annual trips to Mae Sot. This is simply in addition to the work the Father has called me to. In so many ways, it feels like He’s brought me to a mini Mae Sot of sorts. Right now many of the refugees flooding Chicago are from Burma, and in Mae Sot, many of the people I had the opportunity to love on were from Burma. When we finish the book, we hope to translate it into Burmese which will make it an incredible tool in Mae Sot and Chicago. This place, this community, this city only two hours away from my hometown is filled with opportunities to bridge the gap between ministry happening in Thailand and America.

Somedays I felt like Thailand was a detour from what the Father was calling me to, but in so many ways, it seems like it was just another step in the journey—just like Chicago is another step. Because we never quite arrive, do we? As followers of Jesus, we’re constantly asking the Father to lead us. Sometimes He takes us halfway across the world. Other times, right outside our front door. And it’s always so good. 

So how can you help me on this journey? 

• Give: Chicago isn't cheap, and I will need to raise nearly 3x what I raised for Thailand! This number feels so daunting to me, but I am trusting Jesus to provide in ways that only He can. Would you consider being part of the answer to this prayer? To give, click here and write "Kate Berkey" next to Missionary Support. 
• Pray: More and more, I am humbled by my own limitations and so grateful for those who are covering me in prayer. In the midst of another transition and lots of new, I need prayer warriors on my team!
• Follow the journey: I would love to stay connected to you on Instagram and Facebook.

Thanks for being part of my journey, whether it’s simply by reading my blog or joining my support or prayer teams. You are amazing, and I couldn’t do this without you!

The post A Life Update: Just a 2 Hour Drive but a Whole World Away appeared first on Kate Berkey.

The Church is messy and deeply imperfect. We are a mosaic of broken people attempting to represent a good and perfect God to a watching and wondering world. Sometimes we forget that we’re not a place or a physical building, and we don’t exist for ourselves.

There’s a lot that could be said about our mistakes, our shortcomings, and our failings. Certainly, there’s also plenty to be said on the other side—our kindness and grace and love that help make this world better. But these days, I don’t think the good is the first to come to people’s minds. 

To many, the Church represents judgement and exclusion. It represents this idea of not being good enough or hypocrisy, and this breaks my heart. This wasn’t who Jesus designed us to be. In His final moments with His friends, Jesus told them that the watching world would know they were His disciples by their love. 

By their love. 

Not programs or services or pastors or size, because that’s not what’s most important. 

In the last few weeks, I’ve had the absolute gift of being welcomed into the homes of refugees in Chicago. I’ve been to this particular neighborhood so many times, and every interaction with the families there molds my heart a little bit more into something more beautiful and holy. 

These families remind me that while our stories and histories might be very different, we’re more similar than might seem. And that incredibly humbling position they find themselves in isn’t something they asked for. It’s simply their reality, and they’re trying to hold onto joy in the midst of a whole lot of change—like our friends who moved from a village in Burma to a small basement apartment in Chicago.

When I first visited this sweet family, I almost missed their door. My friend, Bob led me down a flight of stairs to their basement home. Their living room was small, cramped, and dark. Although plants and flowers littered the space, there was very little natural light, and I couldn’t help but think of how different their new home was compared to the almost constant sun and heat of Burma. 

Our visit was a sweet time of encouraging and praying with a family who finds themselves in the trenches day after day, but the greatest act of love came later when we were in the car. From the front seat, I heard my friend on the phone with another refugee who is an incredible artist. 

“I want you to paint something for her apartment,” Bob said. “Her home needs a little beauty. It’s dark and needs the light that your paintings bring."

As I listened to the conversation, I was overcome with this simple yet extraordinary act of love. Is there a holier picture of the Church than what unfolded that night? 

The world will know you by your love. 

Our friends from Burma don’t need this painting. They need food and a stable income to pay the bills, and people are walking with them in these needs. But our friends’ souls need beauty. They need joy. They need light and life. They need hope.

They need reminders that they are not forgotten. 
They need reminders that they are remembered and seen.
On the hardest of days, they need reminders that they are loved.

On our hardest days, we all need these reminders. We are not forgotten. We are remembered and seen. We are loved. This is the heart beat of the Church isn’t it—to remind people, to remember and see people, to love people at their very worst and their best.

More and more I am convinced that this is the role of the Church—the beautifully imperfect group the Father designed so very long ago. The Church looks like visiting the homes of the hurting and marginalized around us. It looks like bringing bags of rice and bottles of oil or a plate of cookies. It looks like pausing long enough to find out how our neighbor is really doing. It looks like filling their home with conversation and prayer. 

And it also looks like bringing all of our gifts and talents to the table—like painting a picture of flowers for our neighbor. Because these Holy Spirit given gifts have an incredible power to bring light and life. These gifts are how we love. And the world will know we are followers of Jesus by our love. 

This is the way the Church was meant to be.

“So now I am giving you a new commandment: Love each other. Just as I have loved you, you should love each other. Your love for one another will prove to the world that you are my disciples.”
John 13:34-35

The post The World Will Know You by Your Love appeared first on Kate Berkey.