Small but Big

Snowflake now

But made to be a snowman

Rolling now

But made to press on

Silent now

But made to proclaim

Slow going

But still growing

Still knowing

There must be more than this

They say valleys lead to mountains

But that's assuming you will stay on the road

They say after the storm comes a calm

But that's assuming you will survive the storm

How do you stay grounded in this sea of knowledge

In a world that says

Your truth is your truth

And mine is mine

How do you keep yourself from the pattern of drifting

In and out of love and passion for God

There is an anchor for our faith

His name is Jesus

He is the Word of God

There is nothing more than Him

Word Up

via ggcem

Button

I spent a good 5 minutes trying to figure out how to turn on one these suckers:

I was writing my paper in a cubicle at Biola when the screen suddenly went blank... I frantically, and/but calmly traced the power plug and found out that the guy in the next cubicle had unplugged my line to plug in his laptop. I was like, "oh no you di'nt," with a growl but it came out like, "it's alright, good thing I saved right before" with a smile. Luckily, I really did save my paper, but unluckily, I didn't know how to turn the computer back on... My PC pride prevented me from asking anyone for help. Never surrender. I quickly realized that there was no mother brain (the standard computer tower for pc's). I never knew that was possible... an iScreen. So I began running my fingers all over the edges, the bottom, the top, in the back, but no luck (by this point, I had wiped all the dust off with my fingers. you're welcome). I even pressed and held down the big mac button in the front thinking it was a touch interface. Nothing. WTFrustration. So I finally reached back and swiveled the whole screen around and...

... are you serious. That button is embedded into the plastic like an ice cube in an iceberg. It's like trying to find that one special loose brick on a fireplace that opens up a hidden door that leads to a chamber of secrets. I am quite certain I unknowingly ran over the button with my finger multiple times when I went all TSA on it earlier. This ain't no iMac, this is an iSpy. "iSpy the audio jack! finally!"

Nevertheless, I'm writing this entry on the very same iSpy. We've overcome our differences, and I've found my new corner in the library.

Hm. It's been a good semester. It's the most amount of papers I've written for school in one semester/quarter. I feel like I haven't gotten any better at writing, instead I've only gotten better at pretending to have gotten better at writing. See, I could have just wrote, "write well," but I didn't because I wanted to pretend like I got better by using unnecessary, unconventional words and sentence structures... I lost me there.

But in the end, it's good to know that I love what I'm writing and learning. For example, the paper I turned into was a Meditative Project on Philippians 2:5-11. By the end of the 10 pages, I was convicted of the responsibility of having a humility that leads to the unity for the sake of the spiritual community looking to the joy in eternity in light of Christ's humility all for the Father's glory.

Now just one more paper left.

Let's go.

Cheetos

I love the hot ones.

In my younger days, I was so addicted that mom had to hide the bags from me so that I wouldn't eat them before dinner. It was my "cookie jar." I actually searched cabinets, kitchen drawers, closets, and even the garage, but she was good at hiding them... or I was bad at finding them. When I was finally allowed to have some ('some' as in, layout a napkin and mom pours couple pieces out) I would savor and treasure each piece by sucking the flavor dry to the point where I would not have to even take a bite. It was my crack-on-a-stick. The best part was the red fingers. mmm. Even after playing basketball or handball with that lumpy old dirty orange ball at recess that made my hands turn black and smell like sewage, I would make sure to clean off every and any red particle on my fingertips. hmm tastes like iron.

My flaming hot love for cheetos continued on through high school. When I realized that I could buy food at school, and that mom would never know what I had for snack time, I splurged on them like a pokemon splurges on rare candy. My usual 2 course snack in 9th grade was a bag of 99 cents hot cheetos (i just realized i don't have a 'cent' sign on my keyboard...) and a bottle of sprite for $1 or $1.50. I would make sure to buy it right before snack ended so I could have the whole bag all to myself during 3rd period AP Econ. People still asked for a piece or two, but compared to the floodgate of hungry pubescent hands at snack time this was a mere leak in the faucet. Man, I was so stingy smart. This one time some family friends came over and the two siblings each brought a bag of hot cheetI ate them all. Yes, even the children because they probably had hot cheetos in their system already.

In college, I matured and I grew up. Actually, the price matured and went up to $1.29. What's up with that? Messed up is what is up with that. And I barely had enough meal points to survive one school year so I had to cut back on junk food. Instead, I indulged on cheap (pronounced "chip") Korean chips, crackers, cookies, and... instant noodles. I even had instant dduk gook (rice cake). Mmhm. Can't get any better than that unless they make instant pho. Oh wait. I had those too! (btw, instant noodles are great stocking stuffers). But in the end, as much as I love Korean chips (the finger nail chips are my favorite), they can't make my mouth salivate like a $2.59 hot cheetos bag does. Word of the year: Self-control.

Wow. As I was typing in "hot cheetos" for my post label, it did an auto-complete, which means I already have a post dedicated to hot cheetos... that's kinda gluttonus maximus.

Finals week does wonders to my level of creativity. And by creativity I mean ADD.

But I don't believe in ADD.

I miss care packages...

...with hot cheetos.

Spoken

Good Night

I clicked "New Post" at 12:45. Let's see what I can do in 15 minutes.

I'm writing a research paper on the church vs. parachurch and how they both fit, or not fit, together in light of church as a family. What defines the two? Who is responsible for discipline and accountability? Who has the final say? Who has the authority? How do you tithe/give? Missionaries? Legal issues? Loyalty? Time? Fellowship? And the list goes on.

My life is based on a parachurch, namely, CEF. I know people who have strong opinions for and against parachurches. I already have my convictions and the paper will reflect that. By the way, my professor mentioned that apostle Paul and his group was like a church planting parachurch. das wassup. That is what is up.

I love it when it rains.

One more minute left.

I feel like I'm playing taboo.

I want to play chutes and ladders. That was the best board game ever created. Going up. Going down. Like a roller coaster. I like roller coasters because they are so scary. As I go up clunk* clunk* clunk* I go "be scared" "don't be scared" back and forth and the tension is super exciting. gahhh! intense! fire! It also helps to have a good imagination. That's why I love viking (the boat ride that swings back and forth). In fact, I can get the same effect when I'm on a normal swing. You just have to look down while you're falling and then think that you are falling! Mind over matter. Mind over mad hatter. Hats are kinda weird. Especially the sorting wizard hat. I wonder which house the magical sorting hat would put me in. Everyone wants Gryffindor, but I want them all. Slytherclawdorpuff. Or maybe I can rally some people and create my own house and it will be called Narnian. Okay actually that's a boring name for a house. You can't even cheer for that. "Nar-ni-an!" no. Speaking of cheer. Many people need to be cheered. This calls for a cheerio party. The yogurt ones. No milk please. I wish I was lactose tolerant. Tolerance reminds me of Torrance. Tornado. Torpedo. Torso. Torminator. Don't worry, I eat vitamins. Flintstones. I like turtles and Darkwing Duck. In China I ate duck tongue. I felt like I was kissing a duck. It didn't taste very good. Tongue of a duck. That sounds like a bad word. hahahah. You tongue of a duck! das right! That is right! Sometimes you gotta talk gansgta to sound normal. For example, you would not want to say, "Yes, I'm just chilling." No. That sounds like some high class British person living in London who is probably a writer of mystery novels who just got into his king size bed on a cold foggy night. If not, then it must be an ice cube having a conversation with his other ice cube friend in the freezer. See you gotta say it like, "ye, i'm just chillin'." Note the apostrophe that replaces the "g". That's how you be a G dawg. cat. bear. gorilla. donkey kong.

Now it's 1:35! oops I went a little overboard.

Good night world.

Objection

⁹ “As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Now remain in my love. ¹⁰ If you keep my commands, you will remain in my love, just as I have kept my Father’s commands and remain in his love. ¹¹ I have told you this so that my joy may be in you and that your joy may be complete. ¹² My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you. ¹³ Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. ¹⁴ You are my friends if you do what I command. ¹⁵ I no longer call you servants, because a servant does not know his master’s business. Instead, I have called you friends, for everything that I learned from my Father I have made known to you. ¹⁶ You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you so that you might go and bear fruit—fruit that will last—and so that whatever you ask in my name the Father will give you. ¹⁷ This is my command: Love each other.

John 15:9-17

Bump

Driving candid

Brakes landed

Rear ended

Bumpers blended

Fender bended

Unintended

Driver admitted

Numbers submitted

Right handed

Card branded

School attended

Time extended

Quiz aced it

Life like lead

Fleeting like thread

Thank God

I'm not dead

Now looking

Straight ahead

Fly

Y + B

Greek

I just got out from my Greek midterm. It was mega intense. Translating those sentences takes a heavy toll on my brainergy. There's a Greek word that's pronounced "hoti" and it means "that, because, or since." This is how I memorized it, "That one's a hoti because..." heheh. There's another word that's pronounced "apo" and it means "(away) from". So I said, "You broke my heart! 아퍼! Get away from me! haha. Another word is pronounced "ain" and it means "he/she/it was" so I memorized, "yea... she was my 애인..." ㅎㅎㅎㅎ (google actually translates that and this one too ㅋㅋㅋ).

Hm. I think I just wrote a script for a Korean drama in Greek.

I got a lot more mnemonic devices I came up with. Maybe I should write a book on how to memorize Greek vocab. It will have about 100 pages of college ruled paper and an introduction page that says: "Make your own! Be creative! =]" I would totally buy it.

Now I'm cooling down at the library and waiting for my next class. I've got my special spot and I like it. My little cubicle is hidden from all the windows because I'm a child of da....... daylight. It's also towards the middle section of the hall so that whenever I hear someone walking towards my secret bat cave I have time to close my youtube and naruto windows and open up a Word document filled with nonsense and half-finished papers. And if I really want to cover my tracks I open up a book (just off the center of the book so it won't look too perfect) and lay it in front of me. Great success!

But right now I won't be able to hear anyone coming because I have my earphones on, or I should say earphone on since I only have one ear, ya heard. I think earphones are amazingly innovative technology. It's like having sound come out of a peanut! It's crazy I tell ya. I am in awe every time I use one. I mean, nobody can hear what I hear! Secret service up in here. I was listening to Travis Cottrell to get ready to read my theo chapter on the goodness of God, but somehow I ended up bumpin some classic clazziquai. mmm. pleasant. let's be voice friends.

I'm glad I speak English, but I want to learn so many more languages. In the near future there will be these language booths and you go in like the matrix and then automatically learn the language. I call it Rosetta Stone: Reloaded. I wonder what language we will speak in heaven. Telepathy? Sing-talk (like living in a musical)? I grew up thinking that God only spoke Korean. So when I was really serious about praying I would pray in Korean. To this day, there are certain words that I can only say in Korean (as opposed to the direct English translation) that give the full impact of what I mean from the bottom of my sole and soul. "아빠"... that's it... I've forgotten all my Korean. ashamed*

I heard someone put it this way: God speaks to us in the language we know best - our circumstances. If only we would listen and get it the first time when He is speaking His very own Words through the Bible we wouldn't be so lost and so far from His will. "my people are destroyed from lack of knowledge"

I'm hungry now. I haven't had any solid food since I woke up this morning... and I thought I had graduated from college... I gotta eat healthy. Good parking : good shopping :: Good eating : good pooping? In any case, I'm off to the Talon. Curry sandwich. mmm.

Χαίρετε εν Κυρίω πάντοτε!

Melody

Got 'em... maybe.

There is the glance across the room, the peripheral vision encounter, and then the quick turn away as soon as the windows to the soul line up. One more time. And it's now confirmed - the fish is on the hook. So this time you change it up. Look to the wall. Scan for the clock. Pretend to check the time. Swivel your head back around. Dramatically squint your eyes and gaze beyond the target while you stretch out your neck here and there as if you're looking over an invisible wall in search of an invisible person. And you keep at it...

... until one day you realize you're the fishy; you're playing the same game you thought you were never going to play. We all live in a yellow submarine after all. Though at the moment, I'm up and away for some fresh air and new perspective because in short, what I see is not what I get. What I see is not what it seems.

I'm noticing more each day that what I see is not matching up with what I know and the growing disconnect between knowing and doing. Everyone knows how to speak right. They know how to soothe the mind. But preacher, 'teach me how to live when the tongue is done.' What I want is the real deal, not a mere projection of what should be, could be real. Movement. I want someone to divide soul and spirit, joints and marrow. Oh wait, that sounds familiar, and yet so foreign.

When I don't move, they say go. When I move, they say stop. This is the definition of messin' with yo mind. I laid my heart out, put it on the table, and bled in front of them, and all I got was an analysis of the state of my mind - a thousand miles away from the border of my heart. The one thing I learned is that my communication skills need much improvement because I know their intentions were good and pure. But good intentions don't provide food on the table. Likewise, poor communication is no excuse to miss breaking bread together.

This one was up in the clouds, I know. But there will be a rainy day soon enough.

Rain

There's a moment when the full moon hides

Where the ready waters reside

Ready to scatter worldwide

Where the high tides rise

And the high rises collide

There's a power in the silver light

As it free flows in flight

Free to fall despite

Gravity

Fall to free write

Depravity

There's a source of that reflection

Which highlights the imperfections

Then covers them in redemption

And gives light and gives direction

There's a time and a place and a reason to shine

And the same reasons not to

Too early, you're blind

Too late, you're behind

So listen and wait

To illuminate

Listen and wait

To illuminate

Middle

I am almost at the midpoint. This semester is going by quicker than the last one even though I'm on campus a lot more. From the beginning I knew that living far away was going to be a blessing for me since it forces me to study throughout the day, all day. I'm definitely counting my blessings. No, my blessings are way too numerous to count. Every single thing I do points to His provision. The 40 cent color copy I made today was God's provision. The 50 dollar gas on the way home from school was God's provision. Having a good working arm to wash my windshield was God's provision. Coming home to a hot meal from mom was God's provision. And that was only a fraction of today's events. It's a miracle that I'm going to school learning what I want to learn. It's a miracle that I am able to keep up with the workload. It's a miracle that I am filled with His joy despite my circumstances. It's a miracle that the valleys cause me to lift my eyes up to the mountains. It's a miracle even to desire to seek Him, let alone pursue and obey Him! It's a miracle that I was known before time began. It's a miracle that I live and breathe and move. It's a miracle that my Jesus knows me and loves me and has made a way for me to know Him. I'm a walking ball of miracles!... or... a miracle ball? Hm. That sounds more like a bathroom cleaning product from an infomercial or one of those "wellbeing" products from Home Shopping...

It's times like these where I can more readily lay down my own agendas and let God have His way in me like it was meant to be. Looking back at my sorry track record, that's rare. I've proclaimed, announced, and projected my lofty goals to many people and at times to groups of people and whole congregations, and every single time I think - not in doubt, but in expectation - "Really?"

Well, really, if the Lord is willing. If not, then it wasn't meant to be. Easy said, easier done.

Interestingly enough, people still genuinely ask me what I'm going to do when I grow up (more specifically, after I graduate). As a kid I used to automatically say Nascar driver. I always thought that was hilarious... I still don't know why. Nowadays, I kinda freeze up when I'm asked that question. I mean it's easy to say "missions" or "ministry" and I could easily put up a front by going into the details of what I would like to do, which usually makes it look like I got everything down and I know exactly what I'm going to do. But I don't. Actually it's more like wondering if I really mean what I say. That same "Really?" begins to see doubt.

"I don't know why John is staying with us when he could go somewhere else."

I thought I was over that hill. I thought all the gray clouds had rolled on by and my days of confusion were long gone. I thought the grueling decisions were already made. But here I am again standing at the crossroads.

In light of all the blessings and miracles I've recounted above, I would be contradicting myself if I thought God was not in control and that somehow He has left me alone to stumble through my own decisions. At the same time, the silence I hear is piercing, the darkness I see is clear, and the emptiness I feel is concrete. It may be only for a moment, but the quantity in no way diminishes the reality. The good news is that this is the equation and the framework in which God moves: in the places where my back is against the wall, in my weakness and confusion, and in my longing to seek Him for deliverance and guidance. In humility.

If I really heard from God clearly and effortlessly and I knew which paths to take without a second guess, I wonder how far I would go or how long I'll take before I become like the 1 leper (out of 10) who returned to thank Jesus. Again, my track record testifies against me. Perhaps for others it's not even a problem to hear and to obey, but as for me, I would most likely be working hard for the "godly" services and tasks laid before me with only a nod to the taskmaster who has "provided" for my career and given me a "purpose" in what I am called to do. I would be the King Saul who does royal business with no respect to the One who gave him the royalty in the first place.

It's amazing, overwhelming even, to know that God loves us for who we are in Jesus Christ, not for what we can do for Jesus Christ. In the same way, God desires His children to love Him for who He is, not for what He can do for us because in Christ, He has already done all we ever need. We may or may not have what we want, but until God takes us to a place where we are seeking His face and not His hands, we will find ourselves in the dark, so to speak, because in the end God Himself is the only light we ever need. His people can only truly be at peace and have joy in all circumstances when they love God for God's sake, not for love's sake. And as an added bonus, if I may, it makes us grateful and humble servants in the presence of the great and humble King.

All I can do now is wait in the Word.

Mantle

This morning dad came in the room to print out his sermon notes. I rolled over to my phone alarm and saw that I had 1 more hour in dream land. I pretended to go back to sleep, but then he asked me to print them out for him as he got ready. So now I was on my desk with my sleepy head resting in my arms waiting for the laptop to startup. (I definitely can't handle sleeping past 12 anymore.) I got the notes printed, handed them to dad, and saw him off at the door. "Hwaeeting!" What he didn't know was as soon as he left I quickly ate breakfast, got ready for church, and made my way to Lighthouse Mission Church where he was invited as a guest speaker. I sneaked in and sat near the back. Dad was preaching from Galatians 2:20.

I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.

As he was preaching I was secretly rooting for him and praying for him as if he was playing some sport and I was on the bleachers cheering him on. The congregation was responding passionately to God's Word and I was blessed as well. I even learned something completely new about our family background and how God perfectly provides for us. He saves the good stories for his sermons. No fair. But I must say it makes it that much better. I always knew dad was a fiery evangelist, but today was different. Today, I felt the fire. It was the first time I actually thought of and realized the spiritual lineage and how the gospel has been passed down from generation to generation, and somehow, by God's grace, it has reached someone so undeserving like me. Spiritual heirs. Truly, I am standing in the harvest field of those who sowed with their tears. I am standing on the shoulders of giants, as they say. From the saints of old to the saints who are still bold, we are all connected, simply passing the baton and continuing the preaching of the Gospel to all nations. "one Lord, one faith, one baptism..." It's time to pick up the pace because we never know - we might be on the last lap.

After the sermon, I sneaked out and went to church. I thought I was all types of slick, but when dad came home he said he spotted me in the back. Of course. What was I thinking? I was practically on fire when I assumed my father's mantle.

Luckily I had extra tissues in my car.

Food

"My food," said Jesus, "is to do the will of him who sent me and to finish his work. Do you not say, 'Four months more and then the harvest'? I tell you, open your eyes and look at the fields! They are ripe for harvest."

Matthew 4:34-35

Bread

"Honey, I'll get it for you....... later," the pastor said to his wife, who was pointing at a set of colorful plates with cute cartoon cat faces drawn into them. It was the running joke whenever they passed by a mall vendor. Whether they were in the Jacksonville countryside or now in the Los Angeles city, they knew their place, or rather they were reminded by their circumstance of God's calling in their lives. Reformed or not, theology was now in motion. As for the title "missionary" in a foreign land they fit every letter perfectly, both in speech and in action.

I was sitting in the leasing office yesterday waiting for the pastor and his wife to finish the application. The three of us had spent the afternoon looking for an apartment for the family to live in. They finally decided on the street side room; they valued sunlight more than quietude. The location was perfect because right across the street was the church he was going to serve at beginning in September. The apartment was small, the rooms were cozy, and the dining area was the awkward space where the living room morphed into a kitchen. In one word, it was cheap. Their humble beginnings were admirable and clearly visible enough for the land owner to express in numbers her financial sympathy for them (bless her soul), but their boldness and courage caused them to appear like warriors stepping into a battlefield, and their faith outweighed the circumstantial walls of Jericho. Some call that foolishness. Others call that trusting in the Lord. It was another gentle reminder of the path set before me. Outside looking in it's like I'm hanging by tattered threads over a deep, dark, endless pit - unsure of what is beyond and doubtful of what is at hand. But the view from above looking down, I'm safe and secure in His mighty hands.

I sat back in the armchair to relax realizing that the application process would take a while. I was musing over the grace of God in the pastor's life when suddenly it began to growl. I was hungry, but the growl missed my stomach. It had resonated from my heart and I was hungry for God. My body ached to hear the still small voice. please speak speak speak speak please. At that moment nothing else mattered except to hear God's voice, to seek His face with all I am, to taste and see how good He is, to know God more, and to love Him more than anything, more than everything. At that moment it didn't matter if I was rich or poor, healthy or sick, full or empty. It only mattered if I was filled with spiritual Bread.

broken and poured out all for love.

That's when it became clear that I would rather starve physically than starve spiritually. It became clearer as to why anyone would do what this pastor is doing - why anyone would have the world behind them and the cross before them - why anyone would choose the hard way of life for the benefit of others. "Man does not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God."

And it was One Man who was broken

for us to hear what was spoken...

"It is finished."

Jesus is all I need and Jesus is all I have.

Sound

Today I went to the Walt Disney Concert Hall to see noon accompany Kim Tae Woo of the late g.o.d....

No big deal... right?

The main performances of the benefit concert were by classical musicians (orchestra, quartet, pianist, haegum soloist). One thing I noticed in these youth musicians is that the majority of them looked so unhappy. Every sequence of notes they play seems to translate "mom made me do it." When the pianist came out and the orchestra was waiting for their part to come in there was one guy in the front row violin section who sat back all the way in his chair (sagaj style) and sighed loudly enough for everyone in the terrace level to hear. I give them some sympathy though because they are the ones who weren't strong-willed, independent-minded, and stubbornly disobedient enough, like me, to defile and resist every piano lesson their parents threw at them. Yea. No regrets. Baby. Just ignore the salty discharge from my eye.

After the orchestra was done, this kpop star pops out and brings out the storm after the calm while working the crowd in all its 1 and 3 beat, ahjuma clapping glory. I heard noon's piano clearly throughout the first two songs, but when he (and the whole orchestra) busted out "I Believe I Can Fly" noon was lost in the sound waves and unable to reach the terrace where I was sitting. He was quite good. He came out for an encore performance, which by the way was more like a "2nd Movement" because he had prepared 3 whole tracks along with 3 background rent-a-rappers rapping along side him to 90's kpop. I actually did enjoy this strange raucous crossover in such a pristine, classically ambient concert hall, but I must admit that I couldn't help but cringe a little at times knowing that mom, dad, and our guest pastor's family from hip town Jacksonville, Mississippi were sitting on the opposite side of the hall.

Mr. Kpop left the stage on a high note with people (mostly those youngsters dressed and ready to go clubbing after the concert) out of their seats dancing and groovin' (not grooving) to the catchy beats. The concert hall was now full of energy but what everyone forgot was that the youth orchestra had their final piece to play. The hall suddenly became uncomfortably silent as the conductor came back on stage and the orchestra began to play Symphony No. 9, a fairly upbeat piece in classical music standards, but definitely not as upbeat as Mr. Kpop's runs. To "kill it" even more they did an encore piece (no one asked) called "Arirang" a Korean traditional folk song.

In short, the whole concert was like listening to someone's ipod shuffle. Enjoyable yet incoherent in my humble opinion. At least I got in for free and at least I get some bragging rights that my very own sister was on stage with... Mr. Kim.

On the way back home, I was left with one question:

When all is said and done, to whom does the glory go to?

Ear

"He who has ears, let him hear"

My eardrum couldn't handle the rhythm this time. The beat of the elemental forces stepped out of line. Thundering silence and constant ringing. Uncontrolled balance and inaudible singing. I thought a simple drainage would be fine but the doctor told me otherwise. When I heard the news I said "God is good, God is good" about 10 times. He told me to pray as he gave me the supplies. So I am out for missions and currently immobilized. I'm itching to move, but it itches when I move. I know time will tell if I get well, but I believe my God will tell the cells to get well.

It is well with my soul.

All I ask is that I hear His voice clearly.

"Speak, for your servant is listening"

Be My

Everything

Father

This morning the family woke up super early and drove down to Torrance. We visited some places and met with some people and ate a hearty breakfast at Ruby's near the pier. Then we walked past a huge yacht parking lot into a nice luxury hotel lobby to digest while watching a bunch of seals sunbathing on a big ol' raft. We also spotted some baby sting rays the size of my hand (가오리 "ga-o-ri" - definitely sounds cuter in Korean) and a swarm of righteous baby crabs standing on the rock(s). I would have had sea food tonight if mom didn't stop me from jumping the fence all three times. The weather was breezy and good times were easy. Mom, noon, and the deacon left early so I was left with dad.

We went to eat at the deacon's restaurant where we talked a lot about the future and the soon and coming events/decisions that may change many lives. Hope in the midst of uncertainty. And I thought this was the moment I can finally show him that I had become a man. A mature, reliable, trustworthy man. So I placed my hands on my lap, kung fu style, looked him in the eye and said, "Appa, you can count on me." Then he gave me a puzzled looked and said, "Why would I count you?" (sounds funnier in Konglish). I didn't even bother explaining it. Mission not accomplished.

Recently, I've had the blessing of teaching (or leading as some nakers insist) a group of six elementary kids at church. During one prayer service we went around as a group to share prayer requests, as many as they wanted to share. When we were done, I learned that 4 out of 6 of them come from a divorced background and live with single mothers or step dads. During night service where any child could lift up a prayer request, 5 out 7 prayer requests were prayers for their fathers. I was more shocked than heart-broken. I realized that having both a loving mother and a loving father under one loving household was a minority, and even then there were always cracks in the walls. Having taken my family for granted, it never occurred to me that I was actually outnumbered among my peers and my students.

I've heard people say that the relationship between a child and the father affects how a child relates to and approaches God. Unfortunately, there is no such thing as a perfect man, a perfect father. More and more I'm learning how sensitive of a topic it is for many people to talk about their daddy, even for Russell in Up, and even for myself. It seems overlooked at first only because beneath the surface there's a pain that is deeper and darker that many try to hide and forget.

"But because of his great love for us, God..."

Fortunately, we have a heavenly Father who loves us with an unconditional, never ending, perfect love. Just as our lives have been and are affected (good or bad) by our relationships with people, we are healed and restored by our relationship with Him. This is redemption. He gives us His Son Jesus Christ. He gives us everlasting life. He forgives our sins. He clothes us in His righteousness. He fills us with His Spirit. He secures us with His promise. He picks us up when we fall again and again. He catches us in His deep embrace. He carries us in our troubles. He heals us in our pain. He leads us into green pastures. He counsels us in our confusion. He beckons us when we're tired. He delights in us regardless. He gives us the hope of eternity with Him. He gives us eternity with Him. period. He meets us where our fathers cannot. He is what the world is not. And above all else, through Jesus, we hear our Father say to us, "This is my child, whom I love."

How deep the Father's love for us

How vast beyond all measure

That He should give His only Son

To make a wretch His treasure

via davegibbons

In My Tummy

"so yummy! so yummy, yummy!"

Yummy

Ever since I introduced the 'trust game' to the kids, they've been lining up to have me catch them. For some of them their level of trust in me is almost frightening; it's on the verge of faith. Others step back every time they begin to fall just in case I drop them. To them I give the "full trust" treatment where I purposely catch them at the last second. "You don't trust me?" Sometimes the little ones turn their backs to me and just start falling when I'm near them hoping, or trusting, that I would catch them... of course, I always do *flex*... but I don't think they understand what's going on. One word: dumbbells.

All I'm going to say is that parents these days must be buff and muscular.

Okay, that was a little too cryptic. Let's try that again. Kids these days are... healthy.

Speaking of (or looking at?) Pixar, the Wall-E scenario doesn't seem too sci-fi anymore, and it starts with me. Based on at least 2 faulty scales I gained nearly 20 pounds immediately after graduating. What can I say, mom's cooking is the best. But I'm willing to bet all the coins found in my car that it's all muscle weight. Then again, according to another faulty scale I dropped 10 pounds in one week, which actually was the average amount I fluctuated in college in between the Tuesday fish tacos and the Wednesday McNuggets. Wait, that's only one day apart. Yikes. This is when I turn to biology. Looking at dad's side, my uncles and male cousins are built ford tough, so I'm hoping my genes lean (punny) more towards mom's side (which seems to be the case judging by my Vegeta hairline) along with my lanky cousins. I can't rely on them genes all the time though because interestingly enough I've heard that many people "let go" after "tying the knot." Well, I guess they gotta be "one flesh" somehow. "Here honey, you can take half of my stomach and we'll call it even." So what's my solution to containing the jelly in mah belly you ask? Just hope that the wife doesn't cook well. Sometimes. 40 day fast is on my bucket list anyway.

I'm just wondering, is there such a thing as spiritual obesity? Having been raised in a family that greeted each other with "No Bread, no bread" instead of "good morning", I've always connected physical food (rice and kimchi) to spiritual food (the Word). One time I remember waking up hungry and following the smell of spam and eggs frying in the kitchen only to find dad reading the newspaper in the living room and blocking my path. "No Bread, no bread." Disgruntled and discontent, I dragged myself back to my room and pulled out my bible. Then a spark of genius. I had recently discovered the shortest chapter in the Bible during Sunday school (instead of paying attention to the sermon) and so I turned to my newfound treasure and read it like Naruto reading the forbidden kage bunshin scroll. I ran back to dad in triumph as if I had beaten him at his own game and boldly declared that I had had my Bread: Psalm 117.

Dad: "What was it about?"

Me: "Praise the Lord!"

He made me go back and read one more chapter. I think I cried or something, but I don't want to can't remember.

What was I talking about? Oh right. Spiritual phatness. I can imagine spiritual depravity when you deprive yourself of God's Word and become a poster child for the spiritual World Vision and get KO'ed by the devil every time, but I can't imagine having too much of the Word and becoming... lazy? You would just get more buff. I think. buffer? health? trust game? what? (this is my cue to stop and go to sleep).

Praise the Lord.

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Currently listening to the new ratatat album. thx ted.

Fishing

Watch this if you're hot because I get the chills every time.

Please

Luther: As a Christian you can do whatever you please.

Student: Really?

Luther: Yes, but the question is, "What pleases you?"

Grace

amazing.

[thanks lindajames]

Lifeline

This is the kind of night where I can picture myself on a timeline called Life. Though it is quite strange that whenever I picture it I'm always in the middle, right at the midpoint of the line... hopefully, there is some kind of progression. I usually try to shake off these thoughts as soon as they appear hoping that the image would dissolve like an etch-a-sketch. I know deep down, I don't want to see my future projection because I long for something better, something greater than what I currently see. At the same time, it's also the fear that if I tarry too long on my hopes, they would prove to be false. So instead of replacing the good with the great and taking appropriate measures to fix, mend, and follow through, I secretly outline a bad projection so that way I wouldn't feel so bad if I don't end up receiving the Nobel Peace Prize. And then of course I shake all of it off because procrastination convinces me to deal with it later. "Life just happens," he would say.

But if I know where I want to be and I know what I have to do to get there, then why is it that I don't do it all the time, and even if I end up doing what is necessary and good it's not done willingly with joy every single time? What does that make me? Human, I guess, but I'm not satisfied. I'm not satisfied that what I hear from the pulpit and the Word is not what I do when I step outside the walls. Whenever I am reminded that I am a new creation I am also reminded that Christians still have a tendency to "leak out" sin as long as they are in the body and as long as they "have not been made perfect yet." However, too many times the ever-encouraging, never-discouraging emphasis on the process of sanctification feels like the ultimate plea to excuse sins as inevitable under a banner that reads "Press on!" or less biblically put, "Just do it!" I mean, wouldn't it be great if after hearing/reading, "do nothing out of selfish ambition... your attitude should be the same as that of Christ" bam! you actually do nothing out of selfish ambition from that point on? Is that too crazy, too radical?

Put another way, everyone wants an A in school. Everyone, unless... no, no exceptions. And like the rest of my peers, I wanted A's in college. I know for a fact that if I had spent at least 3-4 hours consistently every single day to study for my classes (not including homework time), I would have gotten straight A's. Arbitrary numbers aside, it's simply because I know, either through first or second hand experience, that studying leads to good grades. That makes sense and there wouldn't be anything "crazy" or out of the norm if I actually followed through and got my A's. But my actions, as my gpa unfortunately testifies, don't reflect my knowledge of what makes sense. In terms of desire and how much I want it, I may be willing with the strongest of wills, but the bite trumps the appetite.

Knowing is not enough. Knowledge is overrated. Knowledge isn't even half the battle; knowledge only lets you know you're in a battle. It's the action that follows that counts for the loss or the victory. Ironically, knowing that is still knowledge and gets you nowhere. So now what? Well usually, this is when the verses take aim and rapid fire. "You are more than a conqueror"; "who can be against you?"; "confess he is faithful and just to forgive"; "Flee from desires of youth"; "Resist the devil"; "do not conform to the world"; "keep the unity"; "fight the good fight of faith"; "walk in the light"; "run the race"; "Holy Spirit helps you in your weakness"; "faith without works is dead"; "saved by grace"; "nothing can separate you from God's love," etc. I can nod, say amen, get chills, be convicted, and be 'blessed' by all this, but none of it does any good if I don't move. In fact, I'm at a worse state than before if I know, but don't act. The more I know, the deeper the hole gets, and the more I realize how stuck I am. Eventually, there comes a time when I must come to grips with myself and admit my limit.

The truth is, there is nothing I can do to get out. There is no such thing as digging up; that would be like beating the air. Any and all progress in climbing up are marred by just one failed attempt. It's quite funny, and sad, how all my good efforts have brought me deeper into a certain kind of despair. I say certain because it's the kind that leads to hope - because hope shines the brightest and is felt the strongest in the midst of true hopelessness.

My own projections of who I am, what I will do, where I will be in history seem to slowly fade away as Jesus Christ is lifter higher and higher, far above my heart, far above my head, and far above the full length of my arms in surrender. I drop the strategies, drop the defenses; fly to the cross and drop to my knees. Yea it hurts, it's difficult and seems nearly impossible, but I must decrease and Jesus must increase. Less of me, more of Jesus. None of me, all of Jesus. There must be a reason why God calls His children to be holy as He is holy and calls us to "press on!" There must be a reason why sorrow may last for the night but joy comes in the morning. There must be a reason for this relationship in Jesus.

Life surely does happen, but it doesn't "just happen." Life has been given and I am called to be a good steward of what has been given to me. It's not mine to make, take, or break. It's not mine to procrastinate and waste away. It's not mine at all. It's all His because Christ has given me all of Him, and He is more than enough.

Summer

I finished my last final on Thursday. I can honestly say that this was one of my most favorite semesters of any school ever (not including grade school because nothing is better than recess). I loved the material that I was learning. In fact, I was blessed by the lectures, the professors who taught them, and even the times I spent studying the material. During lecture, I would sometimes get those chills because I would suddenly be reminded of the truth of God's mighty powerful, magnificent, awesome, sovereign grace and mercy and love. Ok fine, I can only remember one time. It was when my reformation professor told us the story about how right before John Hus was burned at the stake in 1415 (with Wycliffe's manuscript bible used as fuel), he prophesied, "in a hundred years, God will raise up a man whose call for reform cannot be suppressed." Lo and behold, exactly 102 years later in 1517, a man with a hammer nailed the 95 thesis on a church door in Wittenburg. His name was Neo, or better known as Martin Luther.

Mm mm mm.

Learning what I wanted to learn was definitely surreal, and of course exciting. Now, that doesn't mean I was a perfect student (or on time all the time), but compared to the old general biology student, this new kid had something called [divine] motivation. It goes something like this:

The Voice: "Why. Why are you playing Mario Kart right now? You do NOT need to get 3 stars for every race."

John: "C'mon, I just need to finish 4 more in mirror cup and I'm done."

The Voice: "Don't make me say it."

John: "No. No no no."

The Voice: "You're in GOD SCHOOL!

John: "Ahhhhhhh!!!"

The Voice: "You're getting PROVIDED for this! Change the world my BUTT! What happened to picking up your cross and following DAILY?!"

John: "Ah dang it. Fiiiiine!"

The Voice: "That's more like it. Go do your Daily Scripture Interpretations..."

John: "Oh ohhh. I'm almost at the finish line!"

The Voice: "NOW!!!!"

Hm. Indeed.

But as much as I loved school, summer. And yes, that right there was a complete sentence because any sentence with "summer" is complete in my grammar book. Summer. I was summer. I'm gonna go summer. Summer breeze is. If summer, then. Why yes, summer. Summer really is something else. It's so liberating, at least when you're in school because (as d.drum.c reminded me) summer for people without school is business as usual... wow. That's unthinkable, but I know it's coming soon for me so I better sit back, relax, and cherish these moments while they la...

Welcome to New Life Children's Bible Camp!

Where your kids will have new life at a bible camp!

Welcome to the High Seas Expedition!

Where your kids will experience the deep, rolling waters of God's love.

Welcome to Summer Missions!

Welcome to Summer Retreat!

Welcome to Summer Festival!

Welcome to Summer Jobs!

Welcome to a full summer of service!

Welcome to Dongmakgol!

Welcome HOME!

... oh. right.

And so it begins...... matey!

Contemporavant

Contemporary + Relevant = Contemproavant

"brilliant parody"

via Worship Matters

on a totally related note,

spam + rice + seaweed = spariceweed

or spam musubi (mmm~)

.

sorry mr き, i win. =]

Cowaballin'

So I was ballin' up some foos at my high school courts recently. Then a couple of guys they were up to................ about my height, maybe a little taller, and they challenged me and jcha to 2 on 2. "Alright. Ya'll look like you missed Valentines... cuz I'mma crush you!" said the inner yeoman. First game: We lost 6 to 11. whatevers. I wasn't even trying, but I admit, I was furiously disappointed that we lost. So we ran it back. Second game: We were up 10 to 6 and I was like"YEEEE game point SUUUCKKAAAAS!!!"

thenwelost.

Assuming that there is not another game right after, usually what happens is the winning team lingers on the court and shoots around like they just claimed mad monopoly territory. It also proves that they still have so much energy left (but really they're barely hanging by a thread called pride). It's the street ball version of dog pee pee. It stinks. The losing team, on the other hand, drags their sorry bottoms to the sidelines to drink from the one pity-bottle that one guy brought for himself, but now has no choice but to share the shame with his fellow non-winners.

All this to say,

I hate losing (basketball games especially) with a passion. It might be because of the traumatic loss in my little league finals in middle school, but that's another story for anever time. The only difference between me and the guy hurling the ball across the court is I'm hurling my heart across my chest - I hold it all inside. I say the guy doing the hulk smash is more honest in a strange, twisted way. Really, I do, but in the end, both end up as sore losers. No one likes to admit it, but the things we get most worked up and passionate about tend to be the things we put most our value and worth into - whether it's a win or lose or neutral. "If I'm good at this, then people will acknowledge me or acknowledge me more."

But there's a golden lining in the clouds because losing (in most cases) leads to a strong desire to win (hopefully, unless you like losing... you lewser). "I hate losing! I'm going to win next time! BERSERKER BARRAGE!*" This is why the word comeback resonates with so many people, nay, everyone because everyone has lost at one point in their lives. Yes, even Chuck. wut.

There is an overall sense of resolve to do something about not losing next time if there even is a next time to pwn those kids on the court, or wherever/whatever you consider your "court" to be. "I'm gonna run more and build up Superman stamina. I'm gonna work out like 300 and then squish them with my evil eye. I'm gonna ownage pwnage fo shonage!" Or for students, "I'm gonna go to every lecture 2 hours early and stay behind 2 hours after! I'm gonna destroy the makers of facebook and tetris friends! I'm gonna make a 9th floor in Geisel library with just my brain p-p-p-p-powerrrr!" Or of course if you were thinking what I was thinking, "I don't want to lose to that temptation again! I'm gonna read my bible 366 times this year! [Insert spiritual discipline here!]" etc.

Looking back at my track record, however, "I'm going to do better" is like saying "I'm going to fly." (Even as I write this, my strong resolve to win next time around is beginning to relax its muscles compared to right after the game when I wanted to run laps on the track). Of course, there is a way to fly but only with HS Airlines. My own efforts at improvement are like splashes in a puddle or a chasing after the wind, while his words alone calm the raging storms into stillness. Transformation happens only when the puddle is totally imbibed by the storm and wholly captivated by the stillness - when my will is surrendered to his will. So I take my loss to the cross because my identity is not found in my loss but in the One who carried the cross.

In short, fiery resolve doesn't have to involve whipping out the claws and ripping off heads. Rather, true resolve flows steadily with the river and carves grand canyons on the way to its destination. Next stop, ocean. Slow and steady does it.

-------

I like turtles

or tortoises.

Stay Tuned

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I thought I had already been here before, but I couldn't be sure. No, I didn't want to be sure. I only wanted to know if I had moved forward, not in circles.

"Am I there yet?"

Dark gray slabs of concrete made up the walls around me. Dark gray clouds of confusion made up the air above me. The rhythm of my untied shoelaces slowed down to a lull and the ringing in my ear finally seemed to fade away just as gradually as it had come. My deep unsettling frustration was muted by the grinding of my firmly clenched teeth. The endless hall was silent once again. I had arrived at another crossroad.

"left... or right..."

And there I was, contemplating life in a labyrinth. Then I heard a voice erupt from the podium and flood my inner stadium:

"God is invisible so that we would look for him."

Amen, professor. Amen.

Stay tuned. Commercials only last a moment.

Dirty Jazz

I realized why I like jazz.

Ever since I graduated from Super Mario Piano Academy with a double major in Chopsticks and Rugrats, jam sessions with noon have been rare. We had completely mastered that one song everyone knows from birth and suddenly remembers whenever two people get on a piano (just googled it and it's fittingly called "Heart and Soul"). We even created a techno version of that other minor sounding duet song. That's right. Acoustic techno.

I always say, "I taught her well" whenever someone compliments noon, but really, I taught her well... (good thing she doesn't read this blog, I think). One of the minor reasons why I quit piano lessons was because I didn't like the idea of losing to noon at an instrument, so my solution was to be awesome at the guitar. Unfortunately, I lose to myself in that as well. The major reason for quitting? Collecting stars in Super Mario 64 > Collecting star stickers for practicing piano. woo-hoo! I got it!

Then I met jazz. It was love at first sound. More technically, it was the blues (King Jesus is All) and in this context I'm referring more to the improvising aspect of jazz (that'll calm the jazz enthusiasts). When I heard improvisation for the first time, it was just... weird in a good way! I was so drawn to the idea of making music on the fly that I wanted in immediately. Reason? I didn't have to read a single note to play! (duh!) and of course the freedom I would have in that! So I learned the blues scale and forced my way into the circle and began to learn more riffs and styles to expand my limited sound. Though I admit more than half the time, no, 99% of the time, I don't know what the funk I'm playing, but with the scales as the tracks I can keep up with the groove all day. choo choo. Even as I play predetermined chords in a sequence and notes in a scale, there is an infinite possibility of patterns and syncopations. This is what I like to call dirty jazz - unpolished, unlearned, low level, newbie improvisation (but it still sounds kinda cool).

Now fast forward to last Saturday: Noon and I were at tfpc last Saturday helping out with dad's seminar. During lunch time, we sneaked into the main sanctuary to jam on the grand piano. I sat on the right as usual. "Play something." She began playing this brightly syncopated, upbeat counter-melody and added in a catchy, funky 3 note riff on the spot. Then that spark of genius landed on my hands and I was now setting off firecrackin' melodies based on the 3 note riff as noon continued to comp on the lower ends. After a few minutes we had a smooth pattern down. We looked at each other and said, "Record this, now." We both took our phones out to record and ended up recording (maximum recording time on my phone: 1 minute), more than 5 times. What I realized was that every single time we recorded, it was different. Like way different. And it was perfectly fine that it was different.

And that's when I realized - I absolutely love how there is no way of reproducing that same improvised sequence and vibe (and repeating everything perfectly is different from being able to reproduce that exact moment in time, the thoughts and the emotions you have, etc.). Some runs you like. Other ones you don't. Sometimes only a measure of one recording is good or one bad note seems to kill the whole recording. It makes that moment that much more special. It makes it one of those "you had to be there" moments. It makes the world go around.

In short, I like jazz because I'm a slacker who can get away without any practice not because I'm good (seriously), but because I can pretend and make stuff up.

doo doo beep boop boppity doo!

Just wait for the album.

/poorly written SAT essay

Lift Your Name on High

Lord I Lift Your Name on High was the first praise song I ever learned on guitar and piano. I always thought it was such a simple song to play (chords = G, C, D).

This guy takes it to a whole 'nother scale.

Too legit.

The lyrics, all the more:

Lord I lift Your name on high

Lord I love to sing Your praises

I'm so glad You're in my life

I'm so glad You came to save us

You came from heaven to earth, to show the way

From the earth to the cross, my sins to pay

From the cross to the grave, from the grave to the sky

Lord I lift Your name on high

Life In 3D, pt. 2

"Jesus is risen!"

In my freshman year of college I visited the Rock church in San Diego on Easter. I remember as soon as I got out of the car, a man in a highlighted traffic vest greeted me saying, "Jesus is risen!" He pumped his fists, gave a huge smile, and shook my hand. My response was, "Hi-... He-.... You-... We-... Ame-.........." and unable to find a proper reply in my ESL database, I simply smiled and nodded enthusiastically like a tourist who wanted to desperately prove that he understood. Then he went right back to directing traffic and greeting people in the parking lot. For some reason, that made such a lasting impression on me. He is risen indeed.

-------

Therefore, I urge you brothers, in view of God's mercy, to offer your bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God - this is your spiritual act of worship. Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is - his good, pleasing and perfect will.

It begins with the mind. Certainly, we aim for the heart to give birth to godly action which then matures into a God-pleasing life style. If we were to look back to what the early Christians might have had on their minds, perhaps these reminders are not too far from reality:

Live as if Jesus died yesterday. Last year at children's camp, a kid asked, "If Jesus died a long time ago, why do we have to believe in him now?" It's easy to lose the significance of an event that happened 2000 years ago, especially if it is supposed to affect our lives today. When we truly remember that Jesus lived the life we should have lived and died the death we should have died, the godly sorrow will produce a life of repentance. By God's unconditional Love and Grace, the price for our sins has been paid and we have been bought with His blood. We wouldn't think twice about doing something Jesus had to die for. Conviction would be word. He died for you so live for Him.

Live as if Jesus rose again today. Imagine that you were one of the first people to come back from Jesus' empty tomb just this morning. omG. When we realize that Jesus has conquered all our sins, risen above death, and has made us holy and righteous before God, the godly joy will surely lead to a life of thanksgiving and praise. We wouldn't wait a day, a second, to tell the closest person about Jesus coming back to life! The Good News will be so real in our lives that we would share it with everyone we knew. He is risen so be His witness.

Live as if Jesus is coming back tomorrow. Many of us have read and heard about Jesus' return so many times, even encouraging us at times, but again, our lives seem to say, "What are the chances that it's tomorrow, or this year, or maybe even my lifetime?" A friend of mine once told me that the first thing he prays and thinks about when he wakes up is, "If tomorrow was my last day on earth, what would I do differently today?" (similar to my homie Eddie's resolution #7. crazy). Lifestyle. When we live our lives in expectancy for Jesus to return and take us Home, the godly hope will bear a life of perseverance. No amount of suffering will compare to the glory yet to be seen. No matter how tough it gets, no matter how heavy our cross may seem to be, we will be able to follow Him, "forgetting what lies behind and straining toward what lies ahead." He is coming back so press on.

"And what I say to you I say to all: Stay awake."

If this sounds impossible, it's because it is - on our own, that is. But praise be to God who has made us alive with Jesus Christ and has given us His Holy Spirit to live out life like it was meant to be lived.

"Check the History book, He's the One to do it.

Lived, died, rose, got the holes to prove it."

And that's Life in 3 days.

Life In 3D, pt. 1

Last night during dinner, dad told me about a sermon he heard recently. I stayed at the table after dinner and 2 whole sets of desserts (first strawberries, then Veggie Straws) because he was so inspired by it that he was pretty much "passionately speaking" (coughpreachingcough) in between mouthfuls - not uncommon at the table. So here is the same inspiration chewed and digested and processed in my system. Hopefully it's not shhhhhhhhheer nonsense:

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There's a difference between words and actions. We might say we believe one thing, but many times our actions reveal true unbelief. The in-yo-face way of putting it is, "inaction is unbelief." The kumbaya way of saying it is "It's a process so chin up and keep trying. It takes time to believe." Pick your weapon(s). I'm the last person to talk about a Christian's tendency to become complacent and comfortable especially in a Goldilocks environment that is just right - one foot in the Word and the other in the world. It has been hammered out by fiery men like John Piper, and Christians have all at one point been called out to "pick up the cross and follow." Unfortunately, the chasm between words (where I should be) and actions (where I am), or "sanctification gap" as some in academia call it, is embedded into the psyche of all who desire to obey, but find themselves pulling out the same list of resolutions at the end of the year, or worse, find themselves with new lists, ambitions, and priorities that fit their lifestyles perfectly, or rather, too conveniently.

What will it take for Christians in the 21st century to fully and radically (compared to their peers) live for God alone just as the followers of Jesus Christ did spreading the Gospel like wildfire in the 1st century? Ultimately, the Holy Spirit must stir, shape, and send the living sacrifices set apart for Him to submit to God's plan and purpose in this life and in all of creation. It will take many biblical truths, much obedience in them, and complete reliance on the HS to break, soften, and mold the calloused hearts of the "disciples" in a generation that has 21 more things that try to steal the heart away. It will take more than mere words, aspirations, or inspirations. It will take life in its entirety.

To be continued...

Tick Tock

The sun is out like summer time. I got my long sleeves on but my feet are still cold. So I sit with my legs folded with my feet near the heaters - made in thigh-land. I want to be outside, but I keep dodging the beams that attack through the defenseless window. Beam no more, Scotty. You win.

Lazy Saturdays are too costly these days. Back then, it was much needed; I had all the time in the world. Nowadays, it's still needed, but I find myself catching up to all the responsibilities that were pushed aside during the week. Somebody get me a crane. Must know kung fu.

It's true. I hold priorities with butterfingers and finish them like Easter candy, slow and never. Time management is an unsolvable mystery even by the standards of Scooby and the gang. Studying is like crossing a freeway; just wait for it. Don't worry though, I'm just getting ready for my counseling session at school, which by the way I'm looking forward to. Oh, wait, what was that? You're more worried about my strangely awesome analogies? Well, here's one to worry about:

The difference between quality and quantity time is like the difference between an ant-sized piece of filet mignon and a whole plate of filet mignon. One cannot be satisfied with little no matter how big the taste is.

If I'm not spending time with God all day, I can't help but think I'm using him as a means to my end even for godly things.

Bring it on Lazy Saturday. I'll beat you up when I get around to it.

And in light of the previous entry:

Happy Day

Classic.

Tune

[So this week is Missions Week at Biola. In light of that, I will [not] post a Mission Monday this week. In fact, I have three more episodes left, but they are mad fire - passion oozes out of the pages like honey from a dead bear. I've decided to pull the plug on the series until our sponsors give us the green light. This, however, does not mean the end of all mission talks. yadda yadda. roll the credits*]

.

Today after lunch, I heard a conversation between two men of God:

MoG 1: "So what are your plans after you graduate?"

MoG 2: "I just wanna get outta here!"

His response resonated with me like a rusty piano string waking up to a tuning fork. It was a familiar feeling that had been tossed in the basement of forgotten ambitions. He had the mission field in mind. He had the passion for the Gospel in his heart. He had the immovable calling that thrust him toward a vision that was more grand than he could ever imagine. He not only had far away places, but also people near to him. It was only a brief moment for all the colors to fill in the picture, but that moment was long enough to shake off the heaviness of spiritual complacency.

Right when I thought that I missed the train, right when I was getting all comfortable with my spiritual "stand", I was startled awake, comforted, and reminded of God's calling for ALL, EVERY SINGLE ONE of His children.

"disciples"

"witness"

"'Not called!’ did you say? 'Not heard the call,' I think you should say. Put your ear down to the Bible, and hear Him bid you go and pull sinners out of the fire of sin. Put your ear down to the burdened, agonized heart of humanity, and listen to its pitiful wail for help. Go stand by the gates of hell, and hear the damned entreat you to go to their fathers’ houses and bid their brothers and sisters and servants and masters not to come there. Then look at Christ in the face - whose mercy you have professed to obey - and tell Him whether you will join heart and soul and body and circumstances in the march to publish His mercy to the world.”

William Booth, founder of the Salvation Army

And yet, I'm prone to go out of tune.

So let it sink deep in my heart.

Fighting Dreamer

In Field Education, my professor told us to write down our lifelong dreams/goals, then dreams within the next 5 years, and finally our goals if we had just 6 months to live - all these with no regard to practical boundaries.

The class shared together. There were a handful who spoke of marriage and family, some mentioned planting and settling at churches, and still one said he wanted another kid and to eat all he ever desired (surely, he was on the 6 month plan). It was a good exercise for me. What I had written for myself in 5 minutes was eye opening, heart gripping, and mind blowing. Are you serious? Impossible.

The professor asked the class, "If what you want to accomplish in your last 6 months is that important, why aren't you doing it now?"

Ouch.

He mentioned how most of us have an enthusiasm, passion, and initial dream when we start something new. "Then as the program moves along and we get into the motion of things this vision fades, and we easily become lost and discouraged in the journey." And so we rekindle the fire by visiting and revisiting our First Love.

Even so, one with a vision without a mission is just a dreamer. It feels like up until now I've only been filling up the melting pot with knowledge and personal experience. Seeing all the pretty ingredients is pretty exciting, but as they begin to churn and turn, my paradigms are being shattered left and right. Fool's gold melts away as pure gold remains. I awake from my daydream and realize real life is happening. A rekindled passion is one thing, but a passion with no action goes nowhere. I hate to admit it, but I am not liking what I'm seeing as I come to grips with myself. Burning away all that dross and being refined in the fire is... how do I say it... aht ddeuguh! (ow, it's hot!). And yet, His name be praised for He is infinitely more precious than any gold.

In his heart a man plans his course,

but the LORD determines his steps.

Proverbs 16:9

Dream the unseen.

Do the extreme.

God provides the way

and everything in between.