Running in the (un)dark

I’m learning to trust.

Again and again and again and again.

Yesterday I was to pick up my visa from the Brazilian Consulate in San Francisco and I was even thinking about flying out then. A week and a half ago, I received word from the Consulate that my visa paperwork got sent to Brazil. When I asked if they had any rough idea or estimation of when I might receive it back, the answer given to me was, “I have no idea. We’ll call you.”

No date. No visa. No idea.

Just a word from God telling me to trust.

To plant my feet.

So I continue serving at the YWAM base here in Chico, involved in a variety of ministries while trying to figure out what it looks like to plant my feet right where I’m at, while at the same time prepare and be ready to go to Brazil. It’s a paradox of sorts… one that I haven’t quite got figured out. Yet.

Tonight, while leading worship for our DTS (Discipleship Training School), we began crying out to God for the people and the places he has put on our hearts. We cried out for family, for friends, for our nations, for Brazil.

After almost two hours of worshiping God in our native tongues (we have people from over 8 nations) I packed up my guitar and walked outside to talk to God.

I began to run. At one point I cried,

“I WANT TO GO TO BRASIL, GOD!”

I stopped, not wanting to run any farther, afraid of the dark road ahead and the creatures that live there.

“Keep running.” God told me.

“God, I’m scared. I can’t see.” I replied.

“I’m protecting you. I’ve gone before you.”

I looked back to where I had come from; the lights from our property could still be seen. I then looked forward, the road was dark and unknown.  

“Don’t look back. Keep on moving forward.” God said.

And so I ran until God told me to stop and turn around and begin walking back.

When I was running, it was dark. I didn’t know exactly where I was running to, or how long I would be running. I didn’t know exactly why I was running and I didn’t think it was exactly safe to be running.

But, God told me to run. This I did know.

And when I ran, I felt peace; I knew I was safe.

When it comes to what lies ahead of me, in this next season, I can’t see.

I don’t see the proverbial “light at the end of the tunnel” concerning my visa.

I can’t see what is going on “behind the scenes.”

And as much as I want to see, I know that I DO NOT NEED to see.

I can TRUST in my savior.

Because I know that HE sees.

For Freedom

My first 5k and I was running for Freedom.

Freedom is something dear to my heart- especially emotional and spiritual freedom. There’s something radical about people receiving freedom for the first time. Freedom brings life.

My friend Rachel and I decided, going into the race, that not only would we pay our entrance fee, participate, raise awareness, thus helping the organization (The Aruna Project) rescue the women being trafficked in India, but that we would go into the race having a heart to intercede.

Arriving at the site of the 5k, feeling a little out of it from lack of sleep and coffee, as well as trying to wrap my brain around and comprehend exactly what and who we were going into intercession for, we signed in and picked up our packets.

Each participant received a number and a piece of orange tape with a woman’s name on it. This was a name of a woman who is still enslaved in one of the largest red-light districts in India.

India. Another thing that is dear to my heart. It was the first country I spent a lengthy amount of time in and the first country I visited that became my home. With all my heart I want to go back. Some of “my kids” are there and there have been nights I have cried for them, wondering where they are, praying they’re safe and loved, and praying that I will see them again one day. Being able to run for a woman’s freedom from a country I love was sobering for me. It was also a privilege.

Looking down at the numbers we received, I thought it was quite random. 61 was what my bib read.

I really believe the importance of intercession is huge. The dictionary defines intercession as the act of intervening on another’s behalf. It is an intentional time of crying out (petitioning) for another person or situation with the goal of seeing things changed.

But you must defend those who are helpless and have no hope.

Proverbs 31:8

We began the race and we prayed, we cried out, we yelled (yes, we actually did) and we sang.

I looked down again at my number

61 

Isaiah 61 came to mind (which I thought was really neat as again, this is yet another thing dear to my heart and my life’s cry).

 "The Spirit of the Lord God is upon Me, Because the Lord has anointed Me To preach good tidings to the poor; He has sent Me to heal the brokenhearted, To proclaim liberty to the captives, And the opening of the prison to those who are bound; To proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord, And the day of vengeance of our God; To comfort all who mourn, To console those who mourn in Zion, To give them beauty for ashes, The oil of joy for mourning, The garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness; That they may be called trees of righteousness, The planting of the Lord, that He may be glorified."

Isaiah 61:1-3

I read this chapter out loud and verse 7 caught my attention:

Instead of shame you shall have double honor…

As we continued to walk, we prayed that shame would be lifted from these women.

We finished the race but really, this is just the beginning.

While I was running for the freedom of a woman who is located half the world away from me, there are women, men, and children needing freedom from sex trafficking located less than 30 minutes away from where I live. The statistics and the facts are sobering. This is happening in our very own cities and something needs to change.

What can we do? In such situations, I often times feel helpless. However, we are not helpless. We can do something, we will do something.

To be honest, this is just the beginning for me, so at the moment I don’t have a compilation of resources or ways to get involved. For the meantime I have a skeleton of a guide:

1. PRAY – there is power in prayer and intercession. Seriously. Get a group of friends together, dedicate a couple hours to cry out for those caught in sex trafficking.

2. ADVOCATE – raise awareness. We must do something once we have been made aware. We do not have the right to stay silent when we have a voice. Run a 5k, make a sign stating one of the many sobering statistics, talk to your friends, family, church, sports team, etc.

“Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.”

-Martin Luther King, Jr.

3. DO – get involved with an organization or ministry that is working with those who are being trafficked. A few of my friends just went through a training by SERT Ministries in which they actively fought this battle (check out their website).

Please, please, if you know of a site, organization, resource, anything, comment below.

Let us not remain silent when Freedom is to be had.

A Series of Unfortunate Events- Enjoying Life.

“I don’t want to get so caught up in doing life that I forget to really live.”

This is what I wrote in my journal just this morning. I had been in the middle of rushing around my house, putting things together, messaging and calling people and places, getting things in order when I felt God wanted me to s  l  o  w     d  o  w  n.

I sat down, tea in one hand, journal and pen in the other and I began to write, talking to God.

Back in my comfort zone of my home and being in familiar surroundings with a predictable schedule (for the most part), my “To Do” list came out with it’s never ending items (I like lists- sometimes too much).

“Slow Down.

Take a breath.

Enjoy life.”

Those were the last words I wrote in this morning’s entry. I went back to my computer to send out a few last messages before I left to run the few important errands I needed to run.

The internet wasn’t working.

I waited a few minutes to no avail and decided to continue on.

Getting in my car, ready to be gone the rest of the day, I input an address into my GPS and start my car.

Nothing.

Well, not nothing. There were a bunch of flashing lights on the dash.

Uh oh.

Long story short- forget all my errands I had planned for the morning and getting together with a friend for coffee, off to the shop my car and I go with the tow-truck driver.

I am now sitting in a coffee shop, waiting for my car and praying it doesn’t cost much to fix.

Strange how we can make plans and in a matter of a few minutes everything can go awry. Though sitting in a coffee shop was one of the things I was planning on doing, I certainly didn’t imagine it to be quite like this.  

Enjoy life.

Not gonna lie, it’s a little hard to do that, knowing that your plans aren’t going as planned and your budget is going to look a bit different.

But you know what?

There isn’t a thing I can do about it at the moment except to make the choice to

Slow down.

Take a breath

And regardless of my situation,

Enjoy Life.

Things I enjoy and am thankful for:

-wifi

-a city I know my way around (at least sort of)

-a shuttle at the auto shop

-friendly people

-being given money unexpectedly which I can put towards fixing my car

-Starbucks ;)

-LIFE.

Post-Blog Question for the Reader (that's YOU!) ;)

What does it mean to "really live"?

(comment below!)

I Can't Change the World

Last Friday night, a group of us went out to minister to some street kids. In DTS we read the book, A Cry from the Streets which was all about the YWAM ministry that got started here in Belo, working with children who lived on the streets. 

A former street kid, who now works with YWAM, by the name of Anderson led us. He spoke English well as he had been in the states (Elk Grove of all places) for 2 years. He was a real leader.

We had to go searching for the kids and once we found a few who were staying underneath some sort of business awning adjacent to a busy intersection, we invited them over to another spot so we could play soccer and worship and pray together.

When we first started, we only had about 5 kids/young people. Ages 13-19 I believe. We began with honoring their friend, Elisa, a 14 year old girl who had been killed the week before. She had been set on fire by another street kid. A lady from Holland named Annette, lead a song on the guitar, dedicating it to Elisa. Annette played and the girls sitting next to me cried.

Next, one of our team members got up to share. She cried as she told the kids how she knew what they were going through. A friend of hers had been murdered. “I am so sorry.”  She told the kids as tears fell down her face and Anderson translated.

Honestly, this whole situation- seeing these kids- seemed a bit surreal to me. A girl, Maya, who was the same age as my sister, dressed in a short, skin-tight, dress, sitting on the curb crying over a friend who had been burned to death.

How do you feel emotion for something like this when this is so outside of your perception of reality and life? How do you relate with someone when their way of living isn't even something you can comprehend?

They began a game of soccer, kicking off their sandals to use as goal markers along with halves of a coconut. I joined in and I wondered why we hadn’t started a game earlier. Language isn’t needed to kick a ball.

Eventually a few cameras came out and the kids were all over that. They loved having their pictures taken. In various poses, with various people, they paired up guys and girls and posed as “couples” and then for the next photo paired up with a different guy or girl. I couldn’t tell if any of them were actually “together.” I guess that didn’t matter much. Or, I don’t know… deep down I think it does. What is love to them? What is relationship? Does either hold any real value to these kids? Perhaps my ideas and reality of love and relationships are completely outside of their sphere of reality.

My emotions were pretty monotonous the entire night and as we walked away I wondered if we really had made any difference.

“Did you love?” God asked me.

“Yes.” I replied.

“Then you made a difference.”

I walked home thinking about how I cannot change the world. I can’t. But I can love.

And I can do all things through God cause he gives me strength. God has called me to make an impact on those around me. He has called me to change the world- with him. Though I feel helpless and as if I don’t even know where to begin, he has shown me and asked me and led me to LOVE. Of which I can only do with him.

There is truth in saying I can’t do it, because in all reality, I can’t. I need Jesus.

I cannot change the world. 

But I can love.

And together- you, me, and Jesus- we will change the world. 

9 Letters

God is good.

It’s something that gets said a lot.

I believe my life is a journey on which I continually learn and deepen my understanding of just how true the above statement is. It’s a continual process of realizing the depths of those 9 letters and what appears to be simple is simply so much more.

This last week I got to meet up with one of my dear friends from this country, Lidia.

 

We had met in Chico, two years ago, when I first did my DTS but didn’t interact much or come into contact much with one another. When I joined staff last March, I moved into the same dorm she lived in.

I can remember my first week of being on staff, Lidia was preparing a typical Brazilian meal of rice and beans when she stopped me and said, “Brittaney, I want to talk to you like an older sister.” She invited me to sit down with her for dinner and over the next 3-4 hours (which involved dessert as well- food plays a huge role in Brazilian culture) we talked; exchanging stories, visions for our lives, notes about our cultural and language differences, and whatever else came to mind.  

 

From that day forward, she really did become my older sister.

When my team and I arrived in Pitangui just over a week ago, it had been about a year and a half since I had last seen Lidia. As we talked (again, over food (: ) it really didn’t seem like that long, except for the fact that much had happened in both of our lives and we had a lot to share!

Over the following week, Lidia was one of the main translators for our team and once again we served alongside of one another, laughed, cried, and worshiped together. This time in her country.

 

One night a group of us climbed a hill that overlooked the small town. On one side, the few lights from the town could be seen, on the other side, it was the stars that took precedence. We built a bonfire, brought up a guitar and we worshipped and prayed. As we were praying, I was reminded of a night, last year, in Chico, when I stood next to Lidia and heard her literally cry out for my nation. That night in Pitangui, I got to cry out for hers.

Yesterday, as I was spending a last few minutes with Lidia before she left to be with her family for Christmas, we began to cry as we reflected on the goodness of God and all that he had done.

She had come to Chico to learn English so that she could use it for ministry. It wasn’t easy yet she pushed through and didn’t give up. She knew that God had asked her to do that and she obeyed.

Who knew that the very city she began learning English in would send a team to her city two years later for which she would translate for?

 

God did.

I’m beginning to realize, or realize even more, that what might seem to have a simple explanation and answer, to us at least, really goes far beyond our initial understanding.

God is good.

This statement is straight forward, but really holds so much more than what can be seen upfront.

As Lidia and I parted ways, the word “goodbye” never left my mouth.

Goodbye isn’t necessary when I know I will see her again. God has proven to me that there’s so much more to this than meets the eye, and I strongly believe that I haven’t even seen the half of it yet. Perhaps one day I will be the one translating for her back in my own country. Who knows?

God does.

And he is good.

A Cloudy Night

The other night, here in Pitangui (a small town in the state of Minas Gerais), I went outside to journal.

The night sky was covered with clouds and all that could be seen was the moon.

Penning my emotions and the thoughts in my head and heart out on the pages before me, God spoke,

“Look up at the stars.” He said.

I knew, before I even looked up, that I wouldn't see any.

“How do you know they’re there?” He asked me.

“Cause I’ve seen them before and it’s a fact that the stars come out at night.” I replied.

“It’s the same with my plans for you.” God said. “You may not see them just yet, but they are there. Do you trust me?”

“Well then, God, could you remove the clouds so I can see?” I said.

“I want you to learn to trust me first.” Was his reply.

You would think I had learned how to trust by now with the various things and experiences I have gone through and the lessons he’s taught me and while I have, what he said next showed me that I still have more to learn in this huge area.

“I can’t do all that I want to do in your life if you don’t trust me wholly.”

God told me to look up at the stars again. Honestly, I was scared to.

Why?

I was scared I would be disappointed. I knew the sky was covered with clouds, would I see any stars this time I looked?

“Do you trust me?” God asked again.

I opened my eyes and tilted my head back.

I saw clouds.

“What do you see?” God asked me.

“I see clouds.” I replied.

“Keep looking. What do you see?”

I looked around at the night sky. I still saw only clouds.

But then, I saw a small light.

It was either a star or an airplane.

The clouds began to shift…

Looking around, I saw one, then two, then 3.

STARS.

They were there. Hidden behind the clouds, and while I couldn’t see them, they were still there.

Trusting God, especially concerning future plans, can be hard.

But just as I know the stars are there, I know that his plans are there as well. God’s got great things ahead for me!

 

I just need to keep trusting and holding onto what is true.

God’s plans for my life are beautiful, they are good, and they are best.

In the cloudy night I will still trust.

Brittaney

São Paulo- A place for my toothbrush

“I was born for this.”

I thought as I carried myself through the day of traveling- one plane to the next and then landing in Brasil and breezing through immigration. I had never traveled alone before and was surprised by how easy it was.

Stepping off the plane, I was met by humidity. “Yup.” I thought to myself. I had arrived in the sub-tropics.

After getting through immigration and now holding a new stamp in my passport, I walked to the entrance of the airport. There were people milling about, some holding signs for the people they were waiting for. Quickly scanning my surroundings and the faces around me, looking for a familiar one, I saw no one.

I walked around for a little bit, my backpack weighing on my shoulders, and mumbled, “Well Brittaney, you’re only in the largest city of Brasil…” Still not seeing my people, I asked God what I should do. I moved over to a corner of the airport, set my backpack down and waited.

Looking around, thinking of how “out of place” I must look, yet trying to keep a confident smile on my face so that I wouldn’t show how confused I was, I wondered if I should move to a more obvious place or if I should keep walking around. I felt like I should stay right where I was. A few minutes later I saw a tall lady with red hair walking towards me, a smile on her face. It was Dayna, the woman I’m leading the team with. A shorter Brazilian man, Sergio, who is part of YWAM (or JOCUM as it is known in Portuguese) was with her.

Relieved, I walked over to her as fast as I could, exclaiming “Oi! I was wondering where you guys were.” They had just come from a church service and had gone to the wrong terminal at first. I was glad to see them.

It was lunch time so we grabbed a bite to eat at McDonalds. Yeah, that’s right, I’m in Brasil and what’s the first thing I eat? It was Sergio’s suggestion and I can now say I’ve eaten McDonalds in 4 different countries (not much of a bragging right).

Standing in line for Mickey D’s, one of the employees says something to me in Portuguese and ushers me along to the next available cashier. I am lost, having no idea what he said, feeling tired and having no idea of what to order (though it be McDonalds and shouldn’t be that difficult- the menu is pretty much the same), I felt overwhelmed.

One of the first thoughts I had, upon arriving in this country, came to me again:

“Am I experiencing culture-shock?”

You would think I would be used to this by now or at least expect it- I have traveled a couple different places, but in most cases I feel as if I’ve never truly experienced a sort of culture shock. For sure, there have been differences and things to get used to, but upon entering Brasil, something felt different.

I have never been in a country where:

1)      I don’t stand out like a sore thumb (Brasil is quite diverse) and

2)      Where English is not spoken. Or very rarely.

In the countries I have been in previously, while they have had their own national language, English is spoken by many and because I have stood out as the obvious foreigner, English has been the first language people speak to me in. To have automatically been spoken to in Portuguese and expected to understand, was a little mind-blowing for me. (Side note- made me think about how foreigners coming into America must feel).

Something one of our DTS speakers said, about learning a new language, came to mind,

“… It is hard, but if you set your heart on it, you will learn a language.”

I will learn Portuguese. I will speak it, breathe it, write it, understand it, and dream in it. I will.

Upon arriving at the JOCUM base, here in São Paulo, I greeted the team members I saw and brought my backpack to my room. Later in the day, the 3 year old on my team heard I was there and came up to see me, I gave him a big hug, apparently he refers to me as his “tiny Brittaney” to his parents- I love the kiddos. (:

I’m learning something about myself- I like to be “settled.” As much as I like to travel, I don’t want to live out of a backpack (unless maybe I’m backpacking). I want to have a “place” for my stuff, even if it’s just a little corner. Seeing my backpack sitting beside my bed, stuffed with my things and having no rhyme or reason seriously irks me. Not having a place to set my toothbrush makes me wonder if it’s all worth it.

 

Seriously.

However, after I’ve settled in and I have made a new “home”, I’m here. My feet are planted and I will imagine staying here for an undetermined amount of time. Even if, in all reality, it’s only a week.

It’s been a whole 24 hours in this new country, new city, and new place. Is it home yet? I can’t say that it is. I have no doubt however, that soon it will be.

I’m going to go make a place for my toothbrush now.

This is me,

Brittaney :)