Her Name Is May, And We All Want What This Face Is Saying

For the vast majority of us, I'm thinking this Friday holds meaning.  When you woke up this morning, there was something you had to do, or perhaps wanted to do.  And it likely had a connection with how you want to make a difference on the planet, in all the big and little ways this happens. 

I'm doing a lot of that kind of thinking lately.  I am coming to a finish line of sorts, ending a time of ministry as a senior pastor to a vibrant, grace-filled, persistently loving community of faith that I cherish deeply.  It's impossible to approach the release of this kingdom assignment, which officially happens on May 27th (2018), without a heightened sense of awareness of all that I may or may not be leaving behind in my leadership wake.  (More reflections on all of that in a future blog.)

Even without the prompt of a significant life event, we don't have to go very far in a Google search to find countless articles about the spiritual and psychological importance of finding purpose and meaning through the intentionality of making a difference that matters in ways consistent with our resources, beliefs and passions.   

Whatever else I might be considering in my reflections right now, one place that provides tangible, obvious evidence to suggest this kind of difference-making, is the face of May.  And not just her, but the unique and spectacular family into which she has been embraced. 

I am of course talking about Hot Springs Children's Home, about 45 minutes north east of Chiang Mai in Thailand, where orphaned and other at risk children are cared for in a family led by two super heroes of compassion and grace, Pastors Suradet and Yupa.  Prompted by their own sense of calling and desire to make a difference that matters, they began welcoming children into their home about 11 years ago.  Highview came alongside in partnership a year later.  We've never been the same. 

It's in these two pictures of May that I make my point.  With shorter hair and in pink, this shot taken soon after her arrival depicts her undernourished condition as seen in her too-thin frame and the marks of impetigo on her face.  I'm glad she's smiling in the 'before' shot, because it was hard to get her to do that at the beginning.  She was timid and uncertain and, well tired, as malnutrition will do.

I was there last in January (2018), and the contrast is remarkable.  So much confidence!  So much spunk!  The picture above speaks volumes to the kind of difference the Hot Springs family, and May's Sponsors (monthly donations, twice a year packets, and love) have made in this little life.

Education is a big piece of this.  May would not have been able to go to school in her own village.  For girls, especially, but all of the mountain children, this puts them at risk for getting stuck in the cycle of poverty, human trafficking, criminal activity, and premature death.   

But not May.  

I invite you to share in this kind of difference-making.   

This year is full of new opportunities.  Come with me to Thailand and see for yourself (July 2018, Fall 2018, January 2019 are target dates).  Sign up to have your own life changed through sponsorship.  Be part of the establishment of a fund that will help ensure May can continue post secondary education if she so chooses.  Make a one time contribution to off set some cost of living increases Hot Springs is experiencing.  Get on board with a potential building project that's developing even as I write, either with financial contributions or by coming to do some of the labour yourself.  

I want what this face is saying.  I want to have lived a life that made a difference in important ways.  Not big and flashy ways, I left that desire behind a ways back.  But in smaller more spectacular ways.  Like this face. 

If you want something like that too, email me at rabreithaupt@hcckw.ca.  I'll even take you out for coffee.  Let's talk.

Happy Friday.
  

The Unspectacular Sermon

When it's something you do so much of, you notice it when it's this different.

I'm preaching on Sunday here at the Hot Springs Church.  This I am invited to do every time I come.  It's a courtesy I think. Let the guest have the pulpit.  Plus, in conversation, I've been told that there is a perception that Western Christians are just generally better educated in matters of faith, theology and Scripture.  Yes, there are good schools here to help train Christian pastors, but really nothing in comparison to the long traditions of Christian education so well established in Europe and North America.  At least that's why I've been told.

So I prepare a talk to serve these dear people.  But still.  I know it will be quite unspectacular.

At home we preachers strive to inspire and uplift, and, when necessary, correct and rebuke.  We do that in varying ways, depending on our congregation and our personalities.  Most of us though want the sermon to be great.  Not just good, and certainly not boring.  But great.  We want to teach in such a way that people will be inspired to move forward in their spiritual understanding and practice, to be encouraged to take next steps, to change old patterns for new, to experience the Divine in their everyday lives.

There's a process that leads to every sermon preached.  Reading and research and prayer that begins months before.  Word crafting and logical progression of thought that is written and refined and edited.  On rare occasion a sermon happens in a very tumbling-out-of-me kind of way.  But mostly it doesn't.  Maybe it's just me, but every sermon is hard work, that is, if I want to do it in the best way I know to honour the God I hope to point people to.

Here it's very different.  It's like everything I know about preparing a good sermon has to be dismantled, re-examined, rearranged.

First off, I am completely aware that there are people who will be listening who are far better qualified to speak to these people than I.  This is a tad unnerving.  Then, there is a language barrier that requires I use an interpreter.  And in every interpretation there is a loss.  It's just the nature of the game.  Here at Hot Springs where everything is beautifully simple, my interpreter is a very accomplished 12 year old girl named Bell, Suradet and Yupa's daughter, who attends a bilingual school.  We work together well, and she does a good job.  But the truth is she's twelve.  And some of the deeper concepts I might want to communicate are just not going to fly.  I have to choose simple words and short sentences.  Anyone listening in English would most likely be bored.  Likely so are the Thais.  No fancy word crafting here, nothing spectacular to keep your interest.  No little humorous story off to the side to keep things moving, although I might try.   Just the bare bones of the ideas I hope to convey.

Sunday's sermon is ready.  It's about pointing people to Jesus.  It's about John the Baptist's example.  Know Jesus, be humble and speak the good news.  That's it.  There's no alliteration in the title or any English based memory tools in my three points, because that wouldn't translate and I don't know Thai well enough to play with the language in that way.   It's short, because with being translated everything is twice as long.  I do have a power point because pictures don't need as much translation, although I'm still not sure that the images I chose to convey an idea quite match the understandings of my hearers.  So, the sermon is ready.  But it is what it is and no more.

So why?  When I know it's so unspectacular, why bother?

I have said before that every sermon is really just a small lunch of loaves and fishes.  We give all we've got and let Jesus feed the people with it, despite the glaring inadequacies.  I say that about my months-in-advance-prepared, word-crafted, passion-driven sermons at home.  I certainly must say it about the meager offerings I preach when I'm here.

So I guess it's an act of humble obedience.  A process of learning in a very accepting environment with the hope of serving more effectively as I go.  A reminder that I am simply a messenger, and that God's Word has a beauty and a life all on it's own.  And a way to serve in unspectacular ways that are good for my soul.

I know how to pray this in Thai, and I do it before every sermon I preach here.
Oh Father.
I do not speak Thai very well.
Would you please help me speak today.
Holy Spirit, would you be our translator.
In Jesus' Name,
Amen

I have no choice but to let God be spectacular in all the ways He loves to pursue us.  And in so doing feel His empowerment in different, but very honest ways.  

A Slower Start

 Finally, it is the alarm that wakes me up.

This is welcome even though the time is 4:15 a.m.  Jet lag has been particularly significant this time, and I am delighted to have been able to "sleep in" this long.  And not have been coughing.

It is Saturday and now a full eight days since our arrival, but in some ways, on this morning of sleeping in, it feels like things might just now be getting started.

Sam and Jaroen wait for service to begin.

Perhaps it's because we didn't go to the mountain for New Years, which admittedly was a huge let down.  Perhaps it's because the children went back to school on Wednesday, which admittedly makes things much quieter around here.  Perhaps it's because our visit to the local schools with ESL in hand is waiting, as scheduled, for the arrival of our third team member, Bill, which admittedly postpones some of the sense of 'purpose' for being here.   And to be honest, I think some of the slower start has been because I've been kinda sick with this nasty cough, and for the first day at least, with a fast but furious visit from the traveler's bug (and here's where I spare you the details) that has left me feeling just a tad cautious about going out too far still.  So slower and sticking close to home has suited me fine on that point.

On all points actually.

One of our 'graduates' Fruk was just 7 when we first came.

It's a slower way of life here anyways.  And I welcome this.  Even on a morning when the alarm finally wakes me at 4:15 a.m.  Slower is Thai.  Slower is good.

I've seen farangs here trying to speed things up.  Meetings or services don't start on time.  It takes forever to gather a group.  Going for a haircut can take an entire day.  People get impatient.  I've seen farangs lose composure, try to force things to a Western way of time-orientation, micromanage their Thai friends.  I've been that farang.  And I guess, at times, as much as I hate to admit it, I can still be.

But not right now.  Right now I embrace this slower start.  Slower start to the trip.  Slower start to the year.  Slower start to what I think might be a slower next step of my life.  (Oh there is so much more to write on that!)

Having said that, it's not like there's been nothing to do. 

Elephants celebrating Christmas.

Preached first Sunday here for New Year's Eve.  Preaching this coming Sunday.  And every evening there's the combined Bible and English lesson with no end of creative possibilities to make the learning both fun and logical.  Spent one day doing a thorough clean up of ESL teaching helps; cards and pictures and books etc.  And we've started our Hot Springs book club so there's no end of reading and being read to happening.  Work at home doesn't come to a complete standstill either, and there have been emails and schedules and updates to write.

But it's nothing like the reckless, what now feels insane pace of the four months that have preceded this.  This is slower.  This is Thai.  This is good.  And very badly needed.

And it strikes me again how badly I need this.  To be reminded of what being a human 'being' looks like, Thai style.  To let a little Thai style sink into my spirit more deeply again.

Here at the beginning of a slower start that's okay by me.

New Years' Pictures As Promised

Pounded Sticky Rice prepared in a hollowed out log, pounded with large sticks.

Sam was a natural.  It's harder than it looks.

The end result, served on a banana leaf.

Waiting for the countdown, watching Despicable Me 3 in Thai.

Ahjahn Jaroen doing technical checks before the Sunday morning service.

They are so thrilled to have Sam join the worship team.

Boy (who is finishing high school at a vocational school nearby) is here for worship!

    A beautiful expression of faith as so many came forward to receive prayer for 2018 and the "New Thing" God wants to do in their lives.

Of Washed Out Roads and Making New Plans

(More New Year's Pictures to Follow)

We didn't make it to the mountain for New Years.

Full story at Highview To Thailand.

All I Want for Christmas

His name is Mee-o and he needs braces.

And  that's all I want for Christmas.

I noticed it the last two times I visited Hot Springs.  Mee-o had stopped smiling.  Not always.  Not when he kind of can't help it, because something's funny or he's just made a spectacular score in football.  When he forgets about himself a little the wide grin returns and I remember the happy little guy who first came to live in this large and loving family 45 minutes east of Chaing Mai in northern Thailand.







He and his brother are originally from a remote mountain village without adequate schooling.  Their mother is alive, but as a single parent, she asked if her boys could come to live where they'd get a better education, improved nutrition and health care, and a chance at a better life overall.  They thrived at Hot Springs, and five years later Two, the older brother, has returned to live with his Mom, working to support her.  Mee-o remains to finish high school. 


He's becoming a man now.  In July when I was there, his voice was definitely changing.  His hands are large and strong, his jaw more defined.  But I noticed also an increasing self-consciousness that seems to keep him looking down, mouth closed over the one awkwardly twisted tooth right up front.  The only reason the picture above (green shirt) sports a smile is because I specifically asked him so I could get a picture of what needs to be done.

It's a small adjustment, and it estimates are it will be a total of about $1,500 for the entire course of correction.  But that's not in the budget, and most of the time, rural folks like Mee-o never have these cosmetics remedied.  It's just a luxury.

But it could also be a very cool Christmas present.  And really, it could make a world of difference for one young man's sense of confidence.

I'm headed back on December 27 and I'm hoping to bring Mee-o a gift.  And in fact, I'm just putting it out there, telling all my peeps, that whatever, if perhaps, you had in mind to wish me a Merry Christmas, the best way you could do that this year is to put a few dollars toward Mee-o's braces.

Hope it's not rude to say so.  But in truth, I have more than I need myself. 

Donations can be made in person at Highview Community Church, mailed to same at 295 Highview Drive, Kitchener, Ontario N2N 2K7, mark everything "Braces".  Or inquire at info@hcckw.ca and we'll do everything we can to make it simple. 

And can I just say, what an amazing thing it is to have so many of you participating in all things Hot Springs already.  Just, thank you. 

The View From Here

One of many lookout points along the Interstate, West Virginia

As much as I hate to admit it, I really need this.

To get my head up and out of, my cherished routines, as needful as they are.  To pull away, far away, for a little bit from all the thinking and doing.  To drive through the mountains and sometimes just stop and get out of the car and just make our eyes happy with how far they can see.  And not check that off a list.

New River Gorge, W. Virginia

This 'data-gathering' little drive down to North Carolina for the weekend does more than satisfy our curiosity about a particular project we have in mind.  It is a chance to be together and plan together and laugh together, and stop and be amazed together at the capacity of creation to show off.  And just to capture, and be captured by, the view from here.

They're beautiful, the mountains.  In brilliant sunlight or clutching wisps of clouds, early in the morning or as the sun is setting, all of it.   Especially this time of year. 

And I can't help but compare.  And sigh a little for mountains that capture me in similar ways, half way around the world.

Sunset en route to Suradet's Village, Fall 2015

 There too I find my eyes are hungry for this perspective.  Creation shows off a Mighty handiwork.  I am reminded of my need, and marvel again at the wonders of dignity and being raised up to stand on mountains beyond myself. 

November's flowers, close to Suradet's Village, Fall 2015

Who am I?  I ask it again but not in angst but wonder.  So small against this backdrop, yet lavished with this and other unspeakable graces.

 "Your love, O LORD, reaches to the heavens,

your faithfulness to the skies.

Your righteousness is like the highest mountains,

Your justice like the great deep."

Psalm 36:5-6

Morning Mist, Suradet's Village, Fall 2015