In 2013 my family and I moved to Brazil.
At that point, I had only ever lived in Kansas City. In fact, I’d only ever lived within a 5-mile radius of the prayer room at the International House of Prayer.
I had, however, traveled a lot for a 13-year-old kid. My family and I were incredibly fortunate to have traveled all over the world for ministry. It’s a huge highlight of my childhood.
In 2011 and 2012 we took month-long family trips to Brazil. We went all over the country, going to over 16 cities. Most people don’t realize how huge Brazil is. It’s a massive country with a pretty diverse culture and terrain.
Also, real quick. They speak Portuguese, not Spanish and yes they have roads and electricity (can you tell what some of my pet peeves are?)
During our trip to Brazil in 2012, we finally had a morning to ourselves as a family (possibly the only time we did during our month-long trip).
I remember sitting at a café in a beach town and having to use my then-non-existent Portuguese to get people to stop trying to sell us crap.
While we sat there, my dad looked at my mom and said something I didn’t understand in Dutch or Hungarian (they speak bits and pieces of both languages). Her face was shocked by whatever he said.
My dad proceeded to share with us that my parents were thinking about moving to Brazil.
To say I was shocked would be an understatement. I did not see that coming. My entire life had been in Kansas City and at IHOP.
I had finally gotten into a good rhythm at my school. We had a church family we loved. We lived in a great house in a great neighborhood. There was no reason to leave.
They shared how they had been feeling the nudging of the Holy Spirit towards Brazil. There’s a whole, long story about all that went into us moving. I’ll save that one for another time.
My mom said that she would not drag her 3 children to live in Brazil as missionaries, or anywhere overseas for that matter. If we were going to move there, then everyone had to be on board. Everyone had to say yes. I don’t think I appreciated how important that was that she said that. Most parents who go overseas don’t give their kids the option to say no. When we did move to Brazil it caused me to have real ownership about what we were doing there because I had said yes.
My first reaction to the news, and not a reaction that I kept to myself, was “no”.
No freaking way.
Sydney started crying and said, “I always hoped that our family would go back into the mission field.” Sydney was born in Budapest, Hungry while my parents were missionaries with YWAM and had the desire to go back into missions.
Elijah, who was about 9 at the time, said “Can we have a big goodbye party?”
While I was sitting there hearing them share what was on their hearts and how the Lord had spoken clearly, I remember saying to myself “I hate that I feel peace about this.”
12-year-old Chloe was smart enough to recognize the voice of the Lord at that moment.
She was also smart enough to negotiate. I quickly laid out my demands:
I want a Facebook account
I want an iPad
I want new IKEA furniture for my room
It was at that moment that Sydney realized she had said yes too fast and needed to get some stuff out of it.
I got my Facebook account. I got the iPad. And we all got new IKEA furniture that we threw into a 40-feet container and sent to Brazil.
A lot happened in the year between that café conversation and us leaving for Brazil. It was almost exactly a year apart.
As our official departure date was approaching we did get a massive goodbye party (thank you, Wes and Amanda Martin). After the goodbye party, people asked my dad if they could all say their final goodbye to us at the airport.
The answer we kids gave was clear. Heck no. Too painful.
So then they suggested, what if we come say goodbye at your house.
Again, heck no.
We all finally agreed to say our final goodbyes to the only home I’ve ever known at the back parking lot at IHOP on our way to the airport.
I can confidently say that was one of the most painful moments in my life. And that’s saying a lot.
I remember rolling up the back parking lot at IHOP and seeing all the people waiting to say goodbye. Probably around 40.
All of the leaders at IHOP, our friends, and our family all came to say goodbye as the first staff members at IHOP left to go start a praying church in Brazil.
I stepped out of the car and looked at everyone waiting there and suddenly could barely breathe. I had to step back behind the car to compose myself.
I cannot overstate how much love I felt from them at that moment. Which was quite rare for people leaving IHOP.
So many of the people I loved dearly had come to give us a final hug and say goodbye.
I cried. My family cried. A lot of our dear friends cried. A lot. It was excruciating. That memory for years still made me cry just thinking about it.
Ironically, we are now less loved than we were at that moment.
As we all piled into the car on the way to the airport I remember leaning against the car and crying like in a scene from a dramatic romance movie. Except I wasn’t being dramatic. I was leaving my entire life behind to go to a city I had never been to in another country.
I left everything I’d ever known because God called us to Brazil. In the following years, Brazil truly became my home. I don’t regret moving to Brazil for one second.
What I didn’t realize was that God called us to Brazil for more than one reason. It wasn’t just to start a praying church. He was rescuing us from IHOP.
Of course, we didn’t know that then.
My point in telling this story is to demonstrate how very complicated this situation is.
There was true love for my family at IHOP. I had a home. I had family and friends there. For the first few years in Brazil, we would always travel back to KC over the summer and it was so good to reconnect with those friends and family members.
However, as the years went on, our connection to IHOP started to diminish.
We would still visit every year. We would still go to the prayer room when we were in town. But things changed.
It wasn’t as exciting when we visited. People started to care less and less. I understand, we were gone a long time.
But Mike made a few bad moves towards us while we were in Brazil. Our hearts began to close off towards him. There were several times when we really needed Mike and IHOP’s support, but we didn’t get it. And it cost us dearly.
At several key moments, Mike slipped a dagger into our back. I don’t know his motivation. Not sure if he was being intentionally a jerk or just a moron, but he caused real pain and problems for us in Brazil. As if our life there wasn’t hard enough.
The Lord was preparing us for this moment. It was a lot easier to believe the truth about him having experienced tremendous pain at his hand.
A few photos from the day we left IHOP
Cover Photo by Isaac Smith
As a 60-something year old pastors kid, this hurts my heart so much. The abuse, the manipulation, the lying, the wounds. All of it. I'm so very sorry. I'm distant from IHOP - I've only attended an occasional service and spent time in the prayer room. But I've still felt the tidal waves of impact that have affected the whole Kingdom. Thank you for allowing us to grieve and process with you.