It’s a Blessing to be a Child?

Playing some games with the youth from PHA.

It's a blessing to be a child. For most kids that is true. For most it means that you get lots of candy, Christmas presents, birthday presents, play all-day, are secure and safe at night…yeah…it’s a blessing.

Today I was involved in another situation that I am having a hard time processing.

I was invited to speak at a monthly youth meeting that takes place at Potter’s House. 30 kids, age 12-20 filled one of the classrooms at Potter’s House. The theme of the day was “It’s a Blessing to be a Child.” I feel so ill equipped to speak to these situations. What do I know of their struggle? What do I know of their plight? Even now, I’m writing this on my MacBook reclined on a new couch. My parents are still alive, still married, and faithfully serving God. I’ve received a great education and am capable of generating an income that few from the garbage dump communities will ever realize.

So, when I say “it’s a blessing to be a child,” I clearly have had much different experience.

I spoke from 1 Timothy 4:12 where Paul tells Timothy to not let anyone despise his youth, but to be an example instead. I’m sure I butchered the Spanish language in a number of ways, but at least I do so with confidence.

At the end of our meeting the students had an opportunity to share memories from their childhood. Some shared of their favorite games that they played, or funny stories about their siblings. However, time stood still when one girl started sharing her favorite childhood memory: it was her father. Unfortunately, many of these students don’t have a father, they just have a memory. Some of their memories are good, as was the case for this girl. Others have had alcoholic, draug-addicted, abusive fathers. Some have had their father’s murdered or incarcerated. Within moments of laughing hysterically at some childhood story, there was not a dry eye in the room. Almost every child in the room had been deeply affected by the absence of their father.

I could hardly contain my own emotion. Rage tempered with compassion, sadness seasoned with a desire to enact revenge on the juvenile men who considered themselves mature enough to start a family. Instead of responsibly accepting their life’s decisions, they walked away leaving a wake of battered and wounded adolescents who all wandered into Potter’s House this morning.

I have no words for what I felt this morning. It was raw emotion. I’m grateful they have each other. I’m grateful we are here for whatever reason. Honestly, I often wrestle with the sufficiency of the gospel to the complexity of these situations. Fortunately, there is nothing simple about the gospel either. Simple clichés don't make sense. "Pray this prayer by repeating after me" means nothing.  These communities need nothing less than a robust, complex gospel that confronts and opposes the oppression and injustice of their life.

Since leaving this morning I’ve been a wreck. My only solace has been these two verses:

Matthew 19:14

Jesus said, "Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these."

Luke 17:2

It would be better for them to be thrown into the sea with a millstone tied around their neck than to cause one of these little ones to stumble.

I’m grateful that God hates injustice. I’m grateful that God hates oppression, abuse, and neglect. He hates them so much that He sacrificed the fellowship that He had with His own Son so that these little children could come to Him, their true Father. He will never leave them, abuse them, or forsake them. 

The Hardest Decision I've Ever Made

You would think that moving to another country was the hardest decision that I’ve ever made. You’d be wrong.

Deciding where we were going to live was, undoubtedly, the single-most difficult decision that I’ve ever made. Remember, we’re ministering to the poorest of poor of Latin America. Most live on $2/day, few have running water, and some have electricity. Violence, abuse, turmoil of all kinds plagues their daily life. How then does a missionary make a wise living choice when the nature of their ministry is such?

I have faced head on every possible angle. I have been yanked in all directions. I have spent hours in prayer laboring over this decision and still find no clarity.  

1.  Proximity and Security

These were the two main ideals we settled on. We wanted to live close and safe. As one Guatemalan puts it, “you can find surveillance in a neighborhood, but security, only with God.” We wanted a neighborhood where Jenny could go outside with the forthcoming baby and not have to worry about safety. We also wanted a place where I (Justin) didn’t have to sit in the car for hours every day. Many Guatemalans spend 3-5 hours in the car every day driving to and from work. This, too, is a stewardship issue. I want to have as much time to devote to my family as I can. Sitting in traffic is a waste.

2.  Missiological Principles

At the same time, we battled missiological principles. Would it be possible for us to live in a way that was appropriate to our ministry context? Could we possibly identify with the people of the garbage dump in our manner of living? I strongly doubt that we could, even if we lived among them, but does that lessen the impact or necessity?

We can always leave. They can’t. Even our home would have amenities that many of them don’t, such as internet, my computer, cell phones. I wrestled with how my new paternal duties intersect with my missionary duties. Surely this decision would have been easier if it was just me and Jenny.

3. My Paternal Duty

This has, without a doubt, been the most complex aspect to this decision. It is not just my paternal duty to protect my family, it is also my paternal duty to clearly articulate and express the gospel. The gospel came at great risk to God. How can I teach my children of this great, risk-taking God when we stay behind our security-guarded doors, averting any possible contact with that wretched outside world? It’s foolish. The gospel shines the brightest in the darkness, and God has called us into the darkness, to shine the light of the gospel.

However, if something ever happened to my daughter, or Jenny, or me, then what happens to our ministry? How can I guard and protect the longevity, and future of our ministry and still share my life with those whom I’m serving? However, it’s self-defeating, because the nature of serving them threatens the longevity of my ministry, right? Where is the line between protecting my family, and sharing the gospel through my family in a broken world? If you find it, let me know.

4. What About Respite?

This is a concept that our Guatemalan friends believe in dearly. They want to completely inundate themselves and serve the people of the garbage dump. However, to best do that, they have to be able to have a place of respite that they go back to every day. Work in the garbage dump is taxing emotionally, physically, and spiritually. Just today a 14-year-old boy, while nonchalantly explaining his family dynamics, says, “I had an older brother, but he was shot 2 years ago” as if that was all too typical.

I’m not accustomed to this world of violence, abuse, addiction and so forth. If I inundated myself, apart from the grace of God, I’d probably burn out. Do I need a place of respite? Or is God my source of respite? I know that I should “rest,” but does that require certain commodities that others don’t have?

5.  The Gospel Issue

The much deeper issue, though, is my own heart. I am coming to realize this one HUGE, debilitating, weakness of mine. I have an inordinate amount of concern for how I am perceived. In all honesty, part of it is a good quality in a missionary. Missionaries should be relationally and culturally savvy, perceptive to how people are responding to them.

But, this can take an unhealthy turn fast and you can turn into…well…me! Every decision, crippled by the weight of supposed onlookers from all walks of life assessing and assuming things about me based upon my decisions. Do they think I’m being wise? Do they think I’m stuck up? Do they think I’m a typical, arrogant American? Am I making sense in Spanish? What if I can’t fulfill their expectations? Am I dressed appropriately for the ministry I’m doing? If I get a smaller house am I condescending?

At every corner, I feel the need to defend the decisions I’ve made, because I am terrified that I will lose respect in someone’s eyes.

This decision was so difficult for me, because, it feels like it comes with great potential for shame and rejection. What if people think my house is too nice? What if other missionaries think my house is too nice?

Why do I feel the need to alter some perception of myself that I think people have? Why do I care?

And the big, enormous, million-dollar question is “what if people find out that I’m not what they think I am?” Or, maybe even worse, “what if people think of me differently than I want them to?”

We don’t like to face such questions. They require grave amounts of vulnerability.

That’s the blessed news of the gospel. No matter what people think I am, I am a million times worse. God knows every last nook and cranny of my heart and loves me still. I don’t have to keep up appearances. I don’t have to worry about what God thinks. I know what God thinks. He told me, on the cross. His approval of me is beyond certain, and not because of the house that I live in or the car I drive.

I wanted to share this, with great honesty, because I imagine that many of you wrestle with this same thing. You so desperately want to be liked or loved that you go to great lengths to ensure that every decision is insulated against any possibility of criticism. And, if you’re like me, your insulation is never enough.

Every person that I have talked to about this has had the same advice that is truly a bulls-eye: “Justin, you’ll never please everyone.” Even as I write this, I fear how people will respond. Will they like it? Will they think “wow, Justin, you’re so honest and thoughtful.” Will they find some fatal flaw in my thinking that I didn’t see?

For my own sake, I have to say this: I don’t care what you think.

The funny thing about this decision is that, before this, there was some other “single-most difficult decision that I’d ever made.” And, before that, and before that, and before that. Because, as long as I am carried along by every possible assumption or judgment that someone has, I will never actually fulfill what God has called me to. I will merely spend my days battling in the darkness of my own mind, fighting to prove myself worthy or respectable, when God has already said “based upon the sacrifice of Christ, you are worthy and respectable. Stop trying to prove yourself to all these people; the God of the universe has accepted you as you are.”

10 days down

It is wild to think that we have already been here for 1.5 weeks. Some days it feels like we’ve been here for a year, and other days it feels like we just got here yesterday. We have packed these last 10 days as full as we can. We have looked at houses and cars galore. We have purchased our appliances, couches, bed and most of what we need to get started. There is lots of news, thoughts, lessons to share, so to keep it brief I will employ the ever-so-boring list form.

    1.  We have a house.

Praise God, we have a house. It took us a while, and was a much more difficult decision than we previously thought. We are in a house that is secure, probably a bit big for us, but only 15 minutes from Potters House.

    2.  We have a car.

Anyone who has bought a used care understands the risk. Even more, buying a used car in Latin America…well you don’t really know what you’re getting. We had a mechanic look it over, and are really hoping that it will last us a long time.

         3.  We will make mistakes.

What has become clear is that every missionary makes mistakes. We have already made lots of them. We seem to find more of the language mistakes because we already speak Spanish, yet continue to find dialectical differences.

For Example: In some places you can use the word sosten for support. We were talking about our financial support and I used that word. However, in Guatemala sosten means “bra.” People were just a little confused that I would speak so openly about the strength of our bra.

We will make much worse mistakes than just language mistakes. What is beautiful, is that we are learning that it is in the midst of those mistakes that God uses our honesty, gentleness, and ability to laugh it off! Even more, it alleviates some of the stereotypes that Americans think they have all the answers. We, too, are broken vessels that God must fill to use. We’re cracked clay in the Potter’s hands.

         4.  VBS for 2,000 kids

Yes, you read right! This Monday kicks off 4 straight weeks of VBS at Potters House. They are running about 5 VBS in the morning and 5 in the evening for the next 4 weeks. They are being hosted in a variety of community centers, and buildings in the area. I (Justin) am running one (or a handful?) of them.

We would ask that you would pray that God would manifest Himself powerfully in the lives of these children. There comes a moment where these kids face the hopelessness of their life situation, yet we know that the cross of Christ supersedes even the most dire situations. Christ came to conquer sin and ALL of it’s effects and establish His Kingdom. Christ’s Kingdom is not concerned with one’s house, clothes, cars, etc., yet the hope of Christ can be found when those are not present.

It is our prayer that children, this week would learn to “Seek first the Kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all of these things will be given to you as well.”  

As the King, Christ, takes root in the heart of these children, may His Kingdom come in this community.

For His Kingdom,

The Burkholders

October Prayer Letter

In 2011 I "ran" the marathon (it's in quotes on purpose). A good friend of mine (Mark Nerud) and I spent months training, running all through the week, and doing long runs on the weekends. On October 9^th of 2011 we piled into a van at 4:00 AM for the drive to downtown Chicago. At about 5:30 we were standing in our corral, waiting for the gun to blast to begin the event for which we had been preparing for months. 

Yesterday, the feeling was identical. Jenny and I have worked for months. We have prayed and prayed and prayed. We have had hundreds of great, educational conversations. We have been blessed by a myriad of supporters. We have been to training, raised all of our funds, got pregnant (yikes), purchased plane tickets, packed up our belongings, celebrated, laughed, cried, worshipped...and there we sat, in our corral, waiting for the gun to sound.

Today, at 6 AM, the gun sounded.

It's surreal. 

We have no idea what the marathon ahead is going to entail. The first leg of the first mile is just barely visible, what the other 25 hold, only God knows.

There are a couple things of which we are entirely certain.

1. God determined the course.

The future isn't a big question mark. It is decided, established. It may be a big, harry question mark to us, but it's not to God. He knows the end to every story and the resolution to every challenge. He sees the sun rise when we are in the midst of the darkness, and has steadfastly determined our future paths. It is mysterious how he does so while allowing us the freedom to live and love. Yet, we take great solace in His knowledge, His providence, and His sovereignty.

2.   We have support

Not like financial support. Sure, we have that. (shameless plug: if anyone would like to donate follow the "Donate Online" link above) We have been sent off by such a warm and loving church family. We have been prayed for, celebrated, encouraged, and energized by all of you.

I will never forget the first 3 miles of the marathon that I ran. There were thousands of people lined up 5 or 6 people deep to cheer on those of us running. Even though I was way back in the Losers corral, I felt like I could have run a million miles.

That's how Jenny and I feel right now. Because of your support, and the sovereign hand of God, we can face anything.

We have a long race ahead. There are many obstacles that we will face. We aren't naïve about that. We long to see great victories, and we know we will experience great turmoil. But one thing we know: Christ IS King. It's not a myth, or some fairy tale. He really IS King. That alone makes this a race worth running.

Prayer Requests:

1. PRAISE: We arrived in Guatemala City safe and sound with all of the bags that we brought with us!

2.This week we will be looking at houses, pray that we find something appropriate to our needs.

  

3. We also need a vehicle, which we will be shopping for this week as well.

4. This week we will also be viewing hospitals and finding a doctor for the baby and Jenny. Pray that we find one that we are comfortable with and can pick right up where we left off in the states.

Only God Knows

October  21^st is a date that I will never forget. It’s the day that we will board a plane, depart the U.S.A. and establish residency in Guatemala. I don’t want to be too melodramatic about this; everyone goes through transitions. Some transitions are planned, like ours. Other transitions flop themselves into the middle of our lives with no preparation or opportunity to positions ourselves.

As I've considered this change what is becoming crystal clear is that if I could have the attitude that I currently have, facing all transitions, even unplanned ones, my life would fill with far less anxiety. Many people have graciously asked us “what do you expect the transition to be like?” My response may seem a tad reductionist, “Only God knows…”  

To some it may seem like I’m dismissing their question and avoiding the “real deep conversation about my anxiety,” but, alas, I’m not.

I don’t think that there could be any more comforting response than “only God knows.” Every transition that we face, every crossroads or intersection, there are a litany of possibilities for how the situation ends. Those of us who love control examine every possibility filling our minds with a spider web of options, but to what end?

I’ve been able to plan for this transition. God has graciously given us insight and the freedom to choose the chaotic crossroads that is our move to Guatemala. However, life is a minefield of unplanned transitions. Some are small – a misbehaving child, tension at work, car problems. But some of these are WAY bigger, and we could never plan for them sufficiently – a dreaded call from the doctor saying “it’s terminal”, a child born with severe handicaps, a sudden death, divorce etc.

Nevertheless, the severity of the situation doesn’t change the fact that only God knows. We’ve all had one of those moments, that unplanned transition that lands on our chest like a Mack truck, but even in those situations God knows. God is not surprised. The sorts of earthy obstacles that we face do not faze him. He knows them, and they respond to His voice.

This means that I’m free. I don’t need to know the outcome because I know the Knower. You don’t need to know the outcome because you know the one who knows the outcome and who has determined the outcome.

Some of you may find yourself in the middle of an unplanned transition. Take solace; to God it was not unplanned.

Psalm 37:23-24

²³ The steps of a man are established by the Lord,
    when he delights in his way;
²⁴ though he fall, he shall not be cast headlong,
    for the Lord upholds his hand.

Bad Husband! Bad Husband!

Anyone who has been a husband can attest to this fact: I have said many things that I wish I could have back. It’s not so much that I am malicious with my words; rather, men and women speak different dialects. Most of the time it has been a breakdown in interpretation – my words have had implications that I didn’t mean or foresee.

But then there is that other time. That time that I meant exactly what I said, unashamed and unrelenting. Don’t worry; I’ve since relented. But, the following is a story that we experienced right at the beginning of our missions experience.

Early in May of 2012 we found out that due to a shortage of income we would have to move out of our apartment and move in with some friends (Praise JESUS for friends!). We were immediately faced with a decision – get rid of all that we own…or find a place to store it. Being the minimalist that I am, I always prefer getting rid of something to lugging it around. (You know, like the dozen things you still have in your closet or garage that you know you should probably get rid of but you can’t because “my kids got it for me after so and so happened and it’s just such a precious memory” and you’ll keep taking it with you everywhere you move!)

Well, being a third-culture kid (subsequent explanation blog to follow) I have very little sentiment towards physical memories. I’ve never really owned anything long-term. I’ve had different beds, houses, dressers, toys, friends, bicycles…you name it and it has changed!

We ended up deciding to liquidate our assets…meaning that we got rid of stuff. It was much more difficult for Jenny because, well, she has a heart and I’m a bit robotic. Everything that we had was a memory to her – a memory of her childhood, or our first year of marriage, or our time in youth ministry. I knew that we were going to have to get rid of all of it, but she needed some time and needed to get rid of things in phases.

Well, this wasn’t working for me. In an effort to get rid of as much as possible as quickly as possible, I coined a phrase that will go down in husband infamy. This was “that thing” that I said and meant it with all of its force.

Are you ready? I mean it is really bad…

“Jenny, memories take up space!”

And then I repeated it as often as I possibly could at any moment that I deemed necessary.

“Memories take up space!”

“Memories take up space!”

“Memories take up space!”

“Memories take up space!”

Now, again, before I lose all my dignity, that’s all that I have ever known. Any memory that I have is not physical but mental. One of my favorite things to do when I’m at home is watch home videos from our childhood, probably because I don’t have any other physical memories. That’s the life of a third-culture kid. Also, I like to make fun of my brother, Mark.

We drove away from our now empty apartment. We had scrubbed every last corner for any trace of us living there. The apartment was cold and sterile and as we shut the door I released a small sigh of victory.

We climbed into our car, that I was anxious to sell, and for some reason I decided to be sympathetic. “Jenny, how are you doing with all of this?”

Without hesitation Jenny began tearing up and let out a whimper

“MY POPPLE!”

“Your popple?”

“Yeah, my popple? I gave it away and I wish that I hadn’t!”

Feeling a bit guilty I asked, “Jenny, what in the world is a popple?” I had never seen this popple thing.

*Still crying “It’s like a care bear but kind of uglier. My parents gave it to me when I was 7.”

“Well, why did you give it away?”

“I wasn’t going to, but then I pictured you saying ‘Jenny, memories take up space’ so I put it in the Good-Will pile and now it’s probably gone.”

Really, it was a gut-wrenching conversation. Seeing your wife turn into the little girl that she once was and then realizing that you ripped that away from her is painful, to say the least.

Don’t worry; the story ends well. Jenny’s birthday was a couple of months away. I quickly hopped onto eBay and found 3 different popples, one of them being identical to the one she got rid of. I will never be able to live this down, but finding the popple was a small gesture towards redemption.

The reason that I share this story is because there are so many tests and trials to this transition that I can’t even begin to explain – some of them humorous, and others not. Our marriage has been tried and galvanized. Our faith has been tested and strengthened. We are soon entering into the most difficult part – the actual transition. Your prayers have carried us through thus far, and we ask that you continue to pray for us as we move forward.

Also, may I encourage you, get rid of that stuff in your closet, someone else could use it!