Motherland

Here in the motherland. Father and son. Missionary hostel room 601. Humidity: Sticky. A/C: Blessing. Late-night grocery shopping. Ice cream eating. 2% drinking. Still sticky. Olympic watching. Judo fighting. Kim Jae Bum rooting. How is it that we can root for a complete stranger simply based on a common nationality. Citizens of heaven. Great cloud of witnesses. Pass the baton. Beautiful cycle.

It's time for some Seoul searchin'.

Handshake

As I was walking past the VIP door on my way back to the dorms I saw him being escorted down the hall. My heart skipped two beats.  I gasped. I waited. The moment he stepped out, I split his two escorts and reached out my hand saying, "Pastor John! Thank you, I needed that message." He shook my hand, smiled, and then he was gone. I turned back towards the dorms with one piercing thought in mind: holy ambition.

Also, I didn't want to wash my hands...

Fixed

He had a bone, he gave it to a woman

He didn't need a tent for the Garden was grand

But he desired to be the one in command

because he had his eyes fixed on his own master plan

The Master counted his folly as mortal transgression

and there he became the father of the fallen, Adam.

He had a home, but he became a nomad

He pitched his tents in no man's land

But it didn't matter when the times got bad

because he had his eyes fixed on the Passover Lamb.

The Provider counted his faith as righteousness,

and there he became the father of the faithful, Abraham.

He had a throne, but he became a mere man.

He had no tent, no home, and no land

But he endured the scorn, shame, and scheme of man

because he had his eyes fixed on the joy at the Father's right hand

The Father counted his obedience as a pleasing sacrifice

and there he became the Savior, Redeemer

Author and Perfecter of our faith, Jesus Christ.