...AND WE"RE BACK!

Okay, well so much for keeping you guys posted throughout the trip. We’re back and have been back for more than a month. Woops. After the last blog, the internet in country was scarce and we found ourselves too tired to put much effort into finding it or paying for it. So, my sincere apologies. But here’s what you missed: 

After Vietnam, we went back to Bangkok to apply for visas to get into Burma/Myanmar. That was pretty uneventful and frankly boring for most of us as JC and Autumn were doing the bulk of the work. The man behind the counter asked what they were going to do in Myanmar. Autumn said we wanted to site see and spend money. And the man told them to make sure that’s all they did, and advised them not to take pictures or write articles. (I can only imagine that he simply didn’t want us to know how absolutely worthless the Burmese government is. Well I guess they’re not actually a government they’re just a few guys with guns. Mick described them as pirates. Their own people hate them and everyone is just waiting for this current system to self-destruct) Or maybe the guy just had to say that because it was his job. Anyway we left there and went to Mae Sot to wait for the visas. We stayed at a CFI school with a bunch of kids who were awesome. They were disciplined and polite and helpful and joyful. They were such a blessing. Not at all like American kids (that’s mostly a joke…half…we’ll say half a joke). It was awesome to see them pray together in the morning under no supervision…it was also a little surreal, but mainly awesome.  

While there we crossed the border twice and went into Burma once to visit soldiers and a school in an IDP camp. We set off only one land mine and no appendages were lost. Not even Mike got hurt! Then we played volleyball with people who were in much better shape than us. The school is where my true talents as a Simon revealed themselves. There wasn’t a kid that could go the distance with me in a game of Simon Says. Take that, foreign kids! Seriously though it’s harder than you would think. The next day we visited another IDP camp which was a three hour car ride across the windiest mounts I’ve ever been on and a 45 minute tractor ride. It was here that we had the grandest duck, duck, goose circle of all time with more ducks and geese than ever before seen by these western eyes. They did a Karen dance for us that we pretty stellar (particularly compared to another Karen dance we saw a few days later where the kids weren’t really quite sure what to do). This part of the trip was much less personal as we had less time to develop individual relationships. But there were a few brief connections made.  

Our last night at the CFI school, the kids put on a program for us. They sang for us and recited their testimonies. It seemed like both their songs and testimonies were all about suffering or some atrocities committed by the Burmese military, but about how there was hope in Jesus. They gave us all handmade cross necklaces. It was a beautiful moment. Then we sang for them…that moment was much less beautiful. We made up for it though I think. Afterwards, we had ice cream over sticky rice which was surprisingly delicious. And then we had free time with them and played games. I played ping pong with one particular boy who beat me many times. He’s twelve and it was embarrassing. A couple kids took it upon themselves to teach me their language and ironically enough called me “Teacher” as they did so (interesting note on names, they deemed Mick “Mr. Bean.”) They also had a particular fascination with my arm hair and I found myself frequently petted.  

The next day we went to Chiang Mai to buy the Bibles we were going to smuggle into Burma. Skip ahead to JC in Bangkok barely getting our passports and then on top of being sick having to push his taxi half a mile uphill. Nevertheless we made it to Myanmar, smuggled Bibles and all. Rangoon/Yangon was kind of a sad place. There were so many evidences that this was once a pretty city that the current condition was depressing. The government simply abandoned the city and left it to the care of the under paid people there. Consequently, everything was dirty and falling apart. After half-heartedly pretending to be tourists for a day, we went on to visit a seminary and an orphanage. We spoke with a class at the seminary. We asked them questions they asked us questions it seemed mutually encouraging. The orphans we visited that day were very bright and fun. We taught them a very noisy and obnoxious game called zip, zap, zop which, to the chagrin of the teachers, they loved. That was probably one of the saddest places to leave because they were so happy to see us. We gave some money (I’m not sure if I’m allowed to say how much) to the orphanage and a greater sum to be taken to the Delta region which was the hardest hit by the cyclone and the most neglected. There are still dead bodies floating around. The junta opted not to clean it up because there are a lot of Karen there and it’s easier to let them die of disease than to go kill them with their under-aged soldiers.  

Our last day in Burma, an Asian Jack Palance told me I looked like a girl. And then we spent the rest of the day at another orphanage where we saw more dances with dancers that weren’t quite sure about the dances they were doing. Many of them were animists, but were well on their way to becoming Christians. The seemed a little more skeptical about us than the other places we’d been but I think they enjoyed themselves anyway. 

All in all I’d say our time with the Karen was really about being fathers to the fatherless. We spent most of our time among the Karen with the kids just playing games and giving them little gifts. Check out Psalms 68: 5-6 

Like I said at the beginning of this Blog, we’re back. And for me this trip was really about God’s faithfulness. How it’s all about His faithfulness not mine, though I’m not to be without faith. Psalms 91:4.  

Please pray for the Karen and for the governments surrounding them (the Burmese, the Thai, and even ours… We relocate many of the Karen here but tend to neglect them once they’re here. That’s what I’ve heard anyway) Pray for the ministries of the Karen Baptist Theological Seminary students. Pray that no one got in trouble because of us (many confessed that they would questioned just for talking to us) Pray for Freedom in Burma. And please pray for us as we come back to this place to minister to our country and our people. 

Kahle

TRIP BLOG REDIRECTED - CLICK LINK!

Howdy - to make it easier for all to update the blog from anywhere, we have made a fresh one here....please visit for our trip updates!

http://teamsea2008.blogspot.com/

Meet J.C.

So...we're leaving in 3 hours.  Since we've gone before we think we can just wait until the last minute to pack... remind me not to do that next year.  Hence a short intro....

- jc

Mick 6/9

Lessons in faith even before I go…

This week at our SEA team meeting we watched a 10-minute video of a previous trip to SEA that members of our team took in 2005.

I was mesmerized.

I can't wait to see these people. Not in some pedantic "I'm American and you're not" kind of way, but truly to meet members of my family that I have never met.

There was footage of kids in the refugee camps singing songs and playing games and sharing in a joy that I take for granted here. It's easy to have joy in the states…we have little to no conflict. It's easy to go and play games or to sing songs about God, our churches aren't going anywhere any time soon.

But it's also easier to take these things for granted. If I were a Christian in Burma, for example, I may be singing praises and learning lessons one day and the next day, my church could be gone, or my pastor/leader could be arrested and taken away, or my parents could be killed in wartime violence.

How much I take for granted the life I live and the privileges I enjoy. Sure I've heard this message before and it has usually provoked guilt in me. But this time, it's real. It's no the guilt-manipulation of some far off deity telling me to clean my plate because there are children starving in China. I feel a sense of the preciousness of life in Christ: an appreciation for the mystery that God himself would make a way for me to partake in real moments with him and how tenuous that can become in a culture of affluence.

By our standards, I am not rich. I am lower middle-class at best. By SEA standards I own the cattle on a thousand hills. Yet, I am often dissatisfied. I lack. I want. I lust. I see my spiritual life like a consumer, looking for the next Costco-sized box of God that I can experience.

Oh, that God would change my heart and give me the courage to ask Him for the things I lack in my own spiritual poverty. So that I would not consume my faith or look for the next big thing in God, but that I would hunger and thirst for righteousness and therefore be satisfied.

Kahle 6/1/08

In case you’re curious…

I currently have the flu…and typhoid, Hepatitis A and B, and polio. That’s right, I’ve essentially paid the travel clinic of Santa Anna to inject me with the very diseases I was trying to avoid. Sure they‘re very weakened, something supposedly easy for my immune system to handle, BUT what if there’s a Rocky in the group. Some small but tenacious virus that is down for the count but is determined to go the distance with my immune system and makes a record come back that just wears it down and WHAM I’ve got polio. And then my very practical friends would say, “Well you asked for it.” And they would be right, I asked and paid for exactly that. 

Speaking of boxing, it feels like I got punched in the arm. Punched in the arm by a beefy guy with an equally beefy class ring. But I’m not complaining. I can take it. 

Guess what else I can take. Money. I’ve been wracking my brain lately looking for more relationships I can exploit for money for Jesus. It’s tricky. Support letters are tricky. You don’t want give too much detail because you want to respect people’s time, but you want them to know enough to be excited about it and to know what they’re getting into. You want to bring up the money part soon enough that they can glance at the email and know what you want, but you don’t want to just throw it out so soon that they think that you’re just another person asking for money. You want it to sound professional, but you don’t want to be impersonal. Hrmph. It’s just tricky.

Anyway that’s the trip related stuff I’ve been dealing with this week. So now you know and now you can feel in loop. You’re in! We’re in! We’re in this together, my pain is your pain. I hope that’s just as fulfilling for you as it is for me.

-mkm-

MEET Kahle

It is my understanding that this particular blog is to be an introduction. Be that as it may, I prefer to think of it as an outroduction. A: because I’m tempted to think that “outroduction” is a clever turn of the word, even though it’s not actually clever at all. And B: because if you put a little thought into it, it makes sense, though I’m sure you’d find if you put a lot of thought into it, it makes little or none. So for those of you less intellectually invested in this material, I propose the term “outroduction” as this time of getting to know us is in conjunction with seeing us off and sending us out.  

Now that that bit of silliness is out of the way. My name is Kahle (kāl). Among the passport photo’s you saw on the first page, I’m the one that looks like a fourteen-year-old that was just caught stealing a pack of gum. And I consider myself terribly blessed to be going on this trip; this adventure; this ministry; and this physical, emotional, and spiritual journey. And despite the sappiness of the sentiment I sincerely stand by it (three cheers for alliteration!). And not just for the going am I blessed but also for going with this particular team. For truly what other combination of people could more adequately present our Gospel of Freedom by such a testimony of facial hair? Mike with his traditional beard opposite Mick and his generally clean shave but for a hint of a shadow. And JC (perhaps the most liberated of us all) with his power chops and go-hawk complimented by his wife’s own very feminine lack of facial hair. And though I am currently sporting an unkempt beard, I will likely carry across the ocean only side burns of some moderate length. If that’s not an encouragement to the underground church in South East Asia, I’m not really sure what would be.

Speaking of encouragement, I can’t really explain how excited I am to meet brothers and sisters a world away. Family members who speak a different language, live a completely different live, and have extremely different trials and struggles, but share the same Faith. I should use and exclamation mark because I’m that excited… ! . I’m not sure if this will make you feel better or worse, but as much as I am looking forward to helping and serving and encouraging these people in such a surrealistically dire situation, I am aware (in some crude sense) that I will likely be far more helped and served and encouraged by them. That thought is both a humbling and invigorating one, and I am eager to share with you every good thing as such thoughts turn to experience. 

Be blessed.

Love, 

-mkm-

(“mkm?” you might be thinking. “What’s that?”… Those are my initials.  My middle name is Kahle and my first name, like my last and like the names of the other non-leaders of the team, starts with M. So now you know and should no longer be surprised to see those particular letters where one would expect my name to be)

MEET Mick

I'm Flying to South East Asia, & Boy Are My Arms Tired...

I got my first set of shots on Thursday and let me tell you, there are few things that leave you as sore in the shoulders as a typhoid injection.

Sitting and bearing the agony of injections is one way of me "taking one for the team" already. What do I mean? Well to be honest, the pain is not that bad. (unless of course you go home, like I did and get repeatedly socked in the arm on the injection site by a family member --thanks Grammy!) It's a little pin-prick; not even as bad as when I give blood. But there is something psychological about it for me. I see even that tiny little needle knowing it's for a shot and I get panicky. I get dry mouth and the room starts spinning...I immediately want to run and find the nearest exit. I can't explain it. It's like I'm a kid again and I'm dreading the anticipation of something awful; something painful; something that will surely kill me.

The good news is that though I got tense with anxiety before my shots this week, I was able to take it like like a man. I got through them without much whining and even smiled at the nurse, who looked like she wanted to be anywhere else besides the Pasadena Public Health Center that day.

You know, it's the little things that add up to spiritual growth. I am a firm believer that one will play out what one rehearses. This means that if I want to be strong in an area, I have to rehearse strength in that area. So, if I can take my shots without complaint; if I can stand trough my nerves and psychological mind games, then the next time I have to face it, it won't be as bad. If I can look at that minor action as "suffering for the Gospel," then when I really have to "suffer for the Gospel" I will be that much more ready to do so.

I'm not trying to over spiritualize here, I know full well that taking a few shots in the arm to keep myself healthy is nowhere near suffering. I just mean that if I can see unpleasant circumstances or inconveniences or pain in a new light and not try to run from them, I will be better ready to stand in the midst of bigger, more real trials where the stakes are higher. And that is something worth cultivating indeed.

-Mick