How to Solve Racism

We, as Americans, have no power to solve our own race issues between blacks and whites.  In a court trial between an abused person and the abuser which person gets to determine the verdict? Neither, they are both intrinsically biased, the judge gets to decide.  When a football player stretches out for the touchdown and thinks he scores but the other team says it wasn't quite enough, who settles the ensuing disagreement?  Someone who is on neither team, someone who doesn't care who wins, someone who they both trust - a referee.  In a history as dark and convoluted as ours in the States who gets to speak what is true?  Who gets to decide what is just?  Who gets to voice the motives of the parties involved?  Well. How about Indian immigrants? 

Ajay on center stage

Last week I started tearing up (as in crying, not ruining a dance floor).   I was at a church planting conference in Orlando Florida.  I was one of a few white people among 70 second generation immigrants from India.  "We have this beautiful opportunity," said the speaker, "to speak truth into the race issues here in the States.  We are neither black nor white.  We don't share their history or their issues, we have our own set of different issues."  Thinking of people coming from a different country  with all the hardships of being a foreigner, taking on the responsibility and complexity of involving themselves in our personal disputes made me feel like crying.  How beautiful.  How selfless.  Sounds like something Jesus would do.  Sounds like something Jesus is doing.  We need them.  We need some Indian missionaries.  Because we can't do this by ourselves.

Chic-Filet catered our lunch

It gets me excited to be an American moving to India.  Who knows what kind of cultural issues and debates that I will have the privilege of being bi-partisan to, what kind of truths I will be able to speak that can only be accepted if it's me speaking them; just by living in a foreign country and getting to know those around me and seeking to love them.  Maybe I am the answer to racism in India. 

Happy Birthday Mom!

Ruth's.  Even now that possessive name instantly brings a sense of dread.  Ruth was this old lady from our church who used to give us the worst fruitcake ever made.  I would hide it in my shirt and then dump it in an inconspicuous place like behind a couch or dresser when I got the chance.  She was nice but her house was pretty much a tortuous jail cell for a 10 year old that had plenty of energy to spare until it was time to do chores. We would go over once a week or so and mow her grass and clean her house because she lived all alone.  She had the thickest grass I had ever seen.  I would have to unclog the mower every twelve steps.  The only upside was that it could conceal an incredible amount of fruitcake. 

And then there was Janet.  She smoked about a hundred packs of cigarettes a day and owned a whole generation of cats.  My nose is still recovering.  We would go over once a week or so and try to help clean her mobile home, but she mostly just wanted to talk.  She would send us home with Disney movies on VHS she had run off for us from a cable station.  I appreciated being able to watch The Swiss Family Robinson every day but it definitely wasn't worth the weekly visit. 

I also have a few suppressed memories from volunteering at the Salvation Army, which despite the perk of being able to price toys at an affordable rate and shelve them behind mounds of clothes for an improved shopping experience later, was mostly just two hours of mind numbing boredom.  And the food kitchen where I would have to carry boxes all morning.  And Pete's.  And there are probably more that are escaping my memory. 

Ungrateful as I was for these opportunities to grow in character and help the elderly in the process, I think something deep down knew that what my Mom was doing, entirely voluntarily out of the good of her heart, was inherently fulfilling.  It wasn't until much much later in life though that I could look back and see that it was shaping me into someone who had a deep rooted faith in God.  Because I saw that the Gospel made a difference, that church wasn't just a room of hypocrisy, that God did actively love his created beings.  It was showing me what true religion looked like.  So thanks Mom.  Thanks for following out your convictions with deeds.  Thanks for taking the time and effort on top of all your loads of responsibilities to esteem others above yourself.  Thanks for visiting Ruth and Janet in their afflictions.  And thanks for dragging along your whiny son, even when he carefully dropped his mouth of fruitcake into his hand and inconspicuously pushed it deep under the couch. 

 - Love Brant

Why I Choose to Live in a Trailer Home

Why would I, as a 29 year old retired engineer/missionary to India choose to live in a trailer park with 700 Mexican immigrants?  Good question, thank you for asking.  Given the choice between a big lake-house with a boat dock and manicured lawn or a dilapidated trailer in a claustrophobic trailer park, which would you choose?  Yeah, me too.  I'll take the trailer every time.  One our first days coming to see the trailer before we moved in, my roommate Drea met one of the neighbors, Carlos.  After a short conversation he looked at her with a kind of awkward expression on his face and said, "um, so this neighborhood is preddy much all Latino."  "Yeah I know," she responded with a smile.

Last night we hosted a house-warming party.  We had over a hundred people show up.  It was raining so you can imagine the kind of overwhelming amount of personal space invasion that was happening in our double-wide.  It was a mix of white privileged 20-somethings, middle aged stay-at-home Mexican moms, and wild middle-schoolers.  It was a party to remember.  At one point I was wedged between a few people, waiting for space to grab some nachos, and I saw right in the middle of everything, with blaring music and nay-nay dancing on one side and hordes of people shouting over the noise to have a conversation on the other side, one of my co-workers with her hand on an older lady's shoulder, her eyes shut tight in prayer.  This is the kind of beautiful thing that can happen when two cultures clash. 

Drea excited to move in

It's awkward when people don't obey the unspoken social norms.  In a small lake-town in Georgia white people generally live in large, spaced out double-story homes with beautiful trees separating them from their neighbors, and brown people live hidden in trailer courts and working in chicken factories.  Most people probably don't even know that hardly any of the people from the trailer homes will graduate from their segregated high schools; or that 700 people live in a 160-trailer community.  Alcohol abuse, teen pregnancy, and hopelessness run rampant.  So when some of those white hipsters move into a trailer park it gets awkward for everyone.  Things can't change as long as they are ignored. 

Housewarming party

Do we really believe that all were created equal?  Do we really believe that race has no bearing on worth?  Do we really believe that our identity is unrelated to our material possessions and personal level of comfort?  Then why are we so segregated?  Shouldn't the fact that rent is cheaper be enough motivation to live in a trailer home?  Or the potential to have interesting conversations with people of a different culture?  Or to be able to help out a couple middle-aged moms with their English lessons?  I think those are all great reasons to move into a trailer park.  I moved here to play tag with Junior and shake hands with Carlos. 

Just a Little Inspiration

I'm sitting in Inman Perk Coffee on the square looking for some inspiration.  I love writing but lately I've been having trouble finding something I really want to write about.  So I glance up at the art on the wall beside me.  A dead tree filled with birds, the painting overflowing onto the picture frame.  I sip on my chai latte and feel the crisp autumn air come through the door as someone walks in.  On the opposite wall is a chalk drawing of a distorted feminine face crying and a caption that says "I only ever wanted love."  Inspiration. 

So I turn to the book of Philippians.  "One thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead… do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.  Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. What you have learned and received and heard and seen in me—practice these things, and the God of peace will be with you."

Well I'm not having any problem thinking about what lies ahead right now.  Tomorrow begins a four day backpacking trip through the wilderness of the blue mountains in South Carolina.  There will be 40 people split into 5 groups on five different remote trails.  I am responsible for the planning and facilitation of everything.  I hope nobody dies.  After that I will be moving into my trailer home with 5 other people as an AIM CGA "House mentor".  At the same time I'll be getting everything ready to move to India, recruiting two or three more people for the India team, and helping with church planting and trailer park ministry here in GA.  Plus I need to be at 90% of my monthly fundraising goal of $1500.  And now I'm wondering where the line between "straining forward" and "anxious" is. 

But seriously, as I think about what lies ahead; all the things in my future that God is bringing, all the truth, justice, purity, loveliness, and excellence; the excitement of planting churches in India and watching Jesus transform lives and bring peace and honor to destitute places, I feel like God is with me.  And I guess even without a ridiculous story, or crazy breakthrough, or life-changing chalk art, I feel inspired. 

7.5th Annual DHMH: Olympic National Park

"You literally saved my marriage" he said as tears rolled down his face.  Everyone in the circle was crying as Dan stood up and embraced him.  It was well after sunset and a chilly wind had begun to blow down from the jagged, glacier strewn mountain peaks.  Blisters, sore knees, chafing, and paralyzing beef jerky aftermath caused most of the men to sit in awkward postures on their bear canisters or log seats.  Around the circle a small gathering of ultralight tents were shaking lightly in the wind, behind those an icy cold mountain stream gurgled over a bed of white rocks, and behind that thousand foot cliffs rose up steeply and framed a star-studded night sky.  However, none of the 12 men in the circle seemed to be aware of anything in that moment except the people standing up telling their stories. 

Michael sharing some Dan stories as night approaches 

It was the 7.5th annual Dan Hoffman Memorial Hike and this was a special year because two days after the hike ended Dan Hoffman was getting married.  This year the hike was his bachelor party.  In typical DHMH fashion we had arrived at the trailhead six hours late with way too much food and not nearly enough physical training.  Two hard-earned days later we found ourselves nestled in the appropriately named Enchanted Valley of Olympic National Forest in the northwest corner of Washington state, surrounded by redwood-sized trees draped in green moss and jungle vines.  As we sat in a circle and shared how our friend Dan Hoffman had impacted each of our lives, doubled-over laughter and legitimate tears accompanied every set of stories.  "Remember that year you worked for Starbucks and couldn't pay rent?" "Remember when you helped me propose to my wife on top of a mountain in the dark?" "Remember that time we drove around Morocco together?" "You specifically showed me what family was" "You talked me off a ledge" "You sent me peanut butter when I was trapped in the Peace Corps" "You sat up and prayed with me all night" "Dan, you realize it's not normal for twelve people to all consider you their best friend right?"  You see, this isn't just an annual hike, it's a brotherhood. 

Entering Enchanted Valley

Day two I was hiking along with Clint, making conversation to keep my mind off of my sore feet, and I asked the question, "Why do we do this?"  Why do we abandon the shelter, running water, and toilet paper that we've worked so hard for to go out and walk on dirt paths with 40 lb (or in Clint's case 52 lb) packs?  I wasn't asking that because I was questioning the stunning beauty that surrounded me that is only available by foot.  I wasn't asking because I thought the blisters, sore feet, terrible trail food, and absence of showers detracted from rather than added to the experience.  And I wasn't asking because I thought that the risk of death or injury outweighed the sense of accomplishment.  I was asking because it was more than worth a hundred times the pain, risk, and discomfort.  What inexplicable value did I feel in my soul, so invigorating that I actually rejoiced at so low a cost?  It was the brotherhood and forced dependence, it was the overcoming of deliberate and strenuous circumstances, it was the sense of the very presence of God, it was the feeling that this is what I was made to do.  To meet once a year with men like Dan Hoffman, who had intentionally walked beside me during some of my greatest times of need, on a muddy mountain trail surrounded by forests of mythical proportions and bears of mythical existence, and once again walk beside him and share another experience impossible to forget.  To take part in the very essence of life.  The 2015 7.5th annual DHMH of Olympic National Forest; another epic success. 

Some of the guys drove thousands of miles for this week

Finally on the trail 

My morning coffee 

Probably talking about how many minutes of sleep each one got last night

This year Dan's dad Peter came. He was a trooper!

Despite being guaranteed to see a bear, we saw not a single one

Ryan and Kevin

We all snacked on wild raspberries and blueberries throughout the 35 mile hike

Thad poses for an epic shot

Capturing the peaks poking through the clouds

Starting dinner.  That big black canister is a bear can.

We actually heard two of these giant trees collapse 

Fishing break

A little mossy waterfall is on the right

glaciers

Tim gives a little perspective to this fallen tree

Wanna read last years DHMH blog? 

Interesting Facts about India

• India is the largest democracy in the world, the 7th largest Country in the world, and one of the most ancient civilizations.
• Until 1896, India was the only source of diamonds in the world 
• India never invaded any country in her last 100000 years of history.
• The Persian invaders converted it into Hindu. The name 'Hindustan' combines Sindhu and Hindu and thus refers to the land of the Hindus.
• Chess was invented in India.
• Algebra, Trigonometry and Calculus are studies which originated in India.
• The 'Place Value System' and the 'Decimal System' were developed in India in 100 B.C.
• The largest employer in India is the Indian Railways, employing over a million people.
• The world's first university was established in Takshila in 700 BC. More than 10,500 students from all over the world studied more than 60 subjects. The University of Nalanda built in the 4th century was one of the greatest achievements of ancient India in the field of education.
• Ayurveda is the earliest school of medicine known to mankind. The Father of Medicine, Charaka, consolidated Ayurveda 2500 years ago.
• India was one of the richest countries till the time of British rule in the early 17th Century. Christopher Columbus, attracted by India's wealth, had come looking for a sea route to India when he discovered America by mistake.
• The Art of Navigation & Navigating was born in the river Sindh over 6000 years ago. The very word Navigation is derived from the Sanskrit word 'NAVGATIH'. The word navy is also derived from the Sanskrit word 'Nou'.
• Bhaskaracharya rightly calculated the time taken by the earth to orbit the Sun hundreds of years before the astronomer Smart. According to his calculation, the time taken by the Earth to orbit the Sun was 365.258756484 days.
• The value of "pi" was first calculated by the Indian Mathematician Budhayana, and he explained the concept of what is known as the Pythagorean Theorem. He discovered this in the 6th century, long before the European mathematicians.
• Algebra, Trigonometry and Calculus also originated in India. Quadratic Equations were used by Sridharacharya in the 11th century. The largest numbers the Greeks and the Romans used were 106 whereas Hindus used numbers as big as 10*53 (i.e. 10 to the power of 53) with specific names as early as 5000 B.C.during the Vedic period.Even today, the largest used number is Terra: 10*12(10 to the power of 12).

• Varanasi, also known as Benaras, was called "the Ancient City" when Lord Buddha visited it in 500 B.C., and is the oldest, continuously inhabited city in the world today.
• 2.5% of Indians claim Christianity 
• GDP per capita is $1,630 (as a point of reference in the US it is $54,600)

Source = www.KnowIndia.gov.In

How to Train for Long-Term Missions

How do you prepare to move long-term to India?  Well, it's Sunday afternoon, it is pouring rain, and I find myself sitting in the only hip coffee shop in downtown Gainesville Georgia with two empty cappuccino mugs sitting on the table in front of me.  I have been here all morning sending emails, typing specific combinations of words into my google search bar, calling various people, and now writing this blog.  Does that answer your question?  Yes.  Surprisingly, it does.

And just how does that answer your question?  Well, it tells you that I didn't attend church this morning.  Not because "not attending church" is part of my training to prepare for a place where there is no church to attend, but because I already attended church every day this week.  I worked there 9 to 5 each day, I slept there every night, worshipped with them Monday morning, and played ultimate frisbee with them on Wednesday.  Possibly the biggest part of my training is to take part in the community, or church, here at AIM headquarters.  It is important to understand the sending agencies' vision, expectations, and culture and to build relationships within the organization before I run off to India.  The way that AIM represents the diverse body of Christ as the church is exactly what I want to replicate in Hyderabad with my own team.

It also tells you that I don't have time during the work week to write a blog or research the "top ten reasons missionaries leave the field" or call my friend at EastWest Ministries to ask what kind of language training her team leader is putting her through before she leaves.  That is because my time during the work week is taken up by classes on cultural lenses and conflict resolution, discipleship meetings, and following around the CEO of AIM to get an understanding of how he runs things.  Life stays very busy here in Georgia. 

This little snippet of my life this Sunday afternoon also communicates one of my top priorities: research.  I am continually interviewing and reading about how to train a team, how to lead, how to be a missionary, what my Indian contacts' expectations are, how to be useful overseas, how to plant a church and feed hungry children and not file for bankruptcy in the process, and a myriad of other things.  There are a lot of things to think about when you are starting up a new ministry. 

So how do you prepare for long term missions?  Well let me just say it takes lots of cappuccinos. 

Church? 

PS. Thank you so much everyone who has begun to support me monthly!  I now have about $180 per month coming in, so I am beginning to build up to my goal of $1000 monthly.  I am going to automatically add my supporters to a prayer-request email but if anyone else would also like to partner though prayer just send me a message. Dios le bendiga!