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.

-------

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.