yeoman

Final Stretch

2011-12-13T12:33:00.000-08:00

I was coming out of Feinberg Hall when the ninja in me was suddenly awakened. Forget about being a grad student who had just turned in a Greek exegesis paper on the finer points of remaining in Christ found in the 15th chapter of the Gospel of John, I just had to jump the 6 foot wall and climb up the hill to my freedom, or the sidewalk. A shortcut, no doubt, but quite a dangerous ~~and unnecessary~~ one at that. And before I knew it I was already on the wall. I decided to use the momentum to run up the hill, ignoring the red flags in my mind warning me of what happens to mud after rain. After all, I was equipped with level 5 feather legs. I took two quick steps up the steep hill when my feet slipped under me like I was on a treadmill on max speed. I instinctively grabbed on to the ledge on my left and tried to pull myself up, but it was too late. My feet flailed under me at least 7 times in less than a second as if I had come straight out of ~~Compton~~ a cartoon. I might as well have yelled out "meep meep!" or something. The dramatic battle ended with me on all fours on the side of a hill underneath Calvary chapel with thick, gooey, wet mud all over my hands, sweater, and shoes. The first thing I did was to look around to see if anyone else saw my awesome ninja moves, and to prepare myself to look like I was "researching" the various mud patterns left by the recent, uh, cloudbursts... in the sky. At that point my tainted pride mattered more than my painted hands. In defeat, I jumped down the wall and swiftly made my way to the nearest restroom, and luckily, or unfortunately, no one asked about my muddy hands and the big trail of mud I left behind. I ended up spending a good 10 minutes just cleaning myself up in the restroom.

And that, my friends, is a pretty accurate picture of my finals week.

Nevertheless, I decided to reward myself for completing one of my toughest semesters ever by checking out the Lord of the Rings trilogy from the library. Just a bit of light reading for the holidays.

Too bad I have 3 more finals to go.

aiyaaaaa!

Going

2011-11-02T23:33:00.000-07:00

Woke up today to clattering windows. Even the wind grows restless at my prolonged slumber. Maybe it's because I indulged myself last night to taste and see, or see then taste, the candies I undeservedly amassed on Monday. But then, how can you say no to mini-Crunch bars? You can't, unless you are about to go to sleep... but I did anyway. I'm a rebel like that. I eat the candies and go to sleep right away. I also eat the foods and go swimming right away. Take that, mother! But of course I would forget to cover up my wrapper trail, and I vaguely remember mom waking me up in the middle of the night and making me brush my teeth. I think the battle lasted a good 10 minutes, but in the end I ran out of bed sheets to hide under, and resistance was futile.

As I lay there on my bed, thinking of my busy day ahead, I realize my life is a running contradiction. I am constantly restless, but I get plenty of rest. I am passionate, but I am also apathetic about the same things. I have plenty, but I desire more. I never remember songs, but I am always singing. I am always learning, but I am not learned. I am always growing, but I am already a grown-up. I am never satisfied (in my circumstances), but I am satisfied (in Christ). I am full, but I am still hungry. I don't want much, but I want much more. I am in need, but I don't need anything. I am a bottomless cup that is overflowing. I am a flying fish or a swimming bird. I don't belong, but I am always belonging. I am already, but not yet.

My passion and my views remain the same, but I guess now my channels are changing. A part of me says, "Relax, God loves you" but another part of me says, "I know. That's why there must be more." The result of this clash is a long list of 'could-haves' and 'should-haves' and barely any 'been-there-done-thats'. I cannot say for certain if it is merely a contradiction or a lack of conviction. Both are troublesome and undesirable, but one thing is for certain, as the great theologian Yoda once said, "Do or do not. There is no try."

It's the end of the day now. I went to school to learn about God and His Word, not to mention in the original languages. I went to church to learn about God and His Word and to fellowship with brothers and sisters. But these questions still remain: What did I do today that required complete, total faith in Jesus? Have I become more like Christ today than yesterday? Am I loving God more and walking closer with Him as a result of whatever may have happened today?

In any case, I'm eating another mini-Crunch bar. Not to worry though, I'll make sure to brush my teeth tonight. Tomorrow, well, tomorrow is tomorrow. For now, I'm just learning to be faithful in the small things.

In his heart a man plans his course, but the LORD determines his steps.
Proverbs 16:9

Not Punny

2011-11-01T10:13:00.000-07:00

So I was in the lounge at school and a girl walks over to where a bunch of guys are sitting. Then I overheard a conversation that went something like this:

Girl: Hey, your name was... Mark right?
Guy: ReMARKable, you got it right!
Girl: Hahaha!
Guy: You seem like you get good MARKS in class.
Girl: Hahah
(the room grows more silent as he continues)
Guy: Well you should MARK that on your calendar.
Girl: Hahah
Guy: With a MARKer.
Girl: Haha
Guy: MARK my words.
Girl: Hah
Guy: They will put that in hallMARKS.
Girl: Ha...
Guy: Or on a bookMARK.
Girl: H...
Guy: And you can buy it at the MARKet.
(by this point, the room is completely, absolutely silent)
Girl: This is gonna go on for a while huh.
Guy: Ok, I'll stop now. I'll make no more reMARKS.
(the most awkwardest silence ever known to mankind permeates the room, choking everyone to despair)
Girl: ooookaaaay... soooo.... yeaaaa.....

That's when I learned a very important lesson in life:
I will never name my son Mark.

Limits

2011-10-29T13:42:00.000-07:00

It's time
And the time is now

Bright lights
Stage fright
Ready to show the world my first flight

Fall asleep
Sow and reap
Crash and burn into the deep

Deeper still

Deeper 'til

I hit rock bottom and I've lost my will

Introspect

Self-reflect

Look beyond myself to reality check

Readjust the frame

Reclaim the Name

Look up now and I'm unashamed

Get ready

Get steady

Get to my destination already

Climbing higher

Frequent flier

Breakthrough the limits and catch the fire

Wind breaker
Earth shaker
All the elements say it's now or never

It's time again
And the time is now

Trailer

2011-10-18T11:20:00.000-07:00

I had a dream that I was having sushi with some good company and I said, "This must be a dream."

Then I woke up.

Level 2

I found myself at the front desk paying the bill which came out to be $3000. Yea. I'm high roller like that.

... but I couldn't pay because I only had $1000.

And IN my dream I thought to myself, "Please let this be a dream."

Then I woke up again.

Level 3

I was suddenly at an ATM machine and as I was taking money out my card got stuck and the machine broke. "No way, this has to be a dream."

Then I woke up.

"wow"

Limbo

[theme music plays in the background]

RECESSION

A film by john yeo

Robots

2011-09-27T23:15:00.000-07:00

squeeeeeeel!

Going

2011-09-24T23:26:00.000-07:00

I'm living life in transit, a sojourner with a stake in the ground. Next move is unknown, but the next move must be made somehow. Whether it's go or stay, it's never stay for a long time. Fleeting and temporary. Such is life. That is, life on earth. A good reminder that there is an eternity ahead of us. No, eternity has already begun. It only makes sense to invest in and sow into whatever makes an impact in eternity, the things that last forever.

This year is the year of the octopus. I got my feet stuck in too many things. Naturally, it looks quite ridiculous to serve in more than 3 different ministries plus full time school and TA. Yes, this is boasting in myself, more specifically, boasting in my lack of discernment and self control. They all began with an innocent open door of opportunity, but now I can't even concentrate fully on a single one. Ironically, in my attempt to overcome the fear of being "stuck" and making no true impact in my life, I stuck my feet in too many things and now the impact is too thin, too shallow, and too short to satisfy this hungry soul. Jack of all trades, but master of none. Or so it seems.

At the end of the day, there is only one thing that keeps me going: calling. People can play devil's advocate all they want or perhaps even genuinely doubt the call in my life, but that's like trying to convince me that the sun will not rise in the morning. If this sounds like I'm in denial, you are right, I am. I am in denial of mediocre mentality, lukewarm living, and compromised Christianity. My goal is not to be heard or seen or recognized; rather, my goal is to live. Really live. Truly live. To the full potential of what God has for me. I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live but Christ lives in me. I will do anything and everything to find out what this looks like in my life even if it takes a lifetime. I only live because He lives. Though I may lose sight of it at times, His calling - knowing that He wants to use someone as inadequate, incompetent, and undeserving like me - is what always brings me back to cling on to a Life with Purpose.

Simply put, when I look to the cross of Jesus Christ my King, I want to live and die by it, not merely sit and be moved by it.

Folding up my tents and folding up my legs. It's the year of the fish.

Biblical Insult #29

2011-08-30T11:13:00.000-07:00

Your eyes are weak!

translation:

"Foo, you uggggly~!"

ref. Genesis 29:17

Hope

2011-06-21T15:00:00.000-07:00

Gravity is not a feeling, but the heaviness is always the same. The weight of doubt and the doubt of waiting for what lies ahead looms over my head like a dark cloud crowding in to clutter up the coming forecast of fading, curtailed clarity. I'm deep inside a well of opportunity as well as a steep, shadowy quicksand valley; it all depends on perspective, really. If I don't move, I know I'll keep on sinking. If I do make a move, I either come up on top or I sink deeper still. Sleep and chill or take the red pill. Follow the herd and your sheep get killed. This is what I call a quarter life crisis. You realize you don't fully know what your life is. You realize you've been living off quarters not benjamins. You realize there's been no changes and all you've been saying is, "Don't cry sis." There is definitely more than this.

If the end is clear then the means are clearer. If the means are not clear then I know my end is unclear. In other words, if I'm running a race and I clearly see the finish line before me, the way I get there will be clear. But if the finish line is hidden from view or too blurry in the distance, the path I take will be full of zigzags, uncertain choices, staying in place for too long, waiting on the wrong things and wrong people, and ultimately "pressing on" to no avail. In further words, if the hope of heaven and Christ in me, the hope of glory, is not heavily and completely impacting the way I live on earth, then I must admit and acknowledge that I have not fully grasped what it means to hope in Christ as a citizen of heaven. A "hope" of heaven that does not affect the everyday life on earth is merely a excuse to escape the realities of said life on earth. This kind of false hope gets me stuck. I get stuck doing things, even in, no, especially in a ministry setting, that portray the false "hope" - always running, but never leading; always turning, but never changing.

Hope without action is no hope at all. The kind of biblical hope that I'm looking to is not a personal wish or a whim. It is an expectation and a trust in Him. It is an "already."

Be my everything... once again.

Undignified

2011-06-20T22:51:00.000-07:00

I will become even more undignified than this, and I will be humiliated in my own eyes.

What are we dancing to, lifting our hands to, closing our eyes to, singing passionately to? Sometimes I feel like we're worshiping worship itself. It's like, "Who cares if God hears us or not? The show must go on." So what if the drums are missing? What if the singer is tone deaf? What if the sound system breaks? What if there are no instruments? What if there is no stage? no microphone? no lyrics? no hands? no feet? Could we still worship in spirit and in truth? Would God still be pleased?

Worshiping with songs is one thing, but what happens when the music stops, and the retreats and mission trips end? Can we be undignified in other areas of life or are we only called to be "abandoned" to God in praise?

I wonder what it means to be undignified in reading God's Word. Undignified in sharing God's Word. Undignified in talking about Jesus. Undignified in talking with a friend. Undignified in watching a movie. Undignified in a family meal. Undignified in a midterm exam. Undignified in heavy traffic. Undignified online. Undignified in the workplace. Undignified in everything.

Or if that's too much or too radical to think about, we can just play some chords, do some fancy double strums, roll a pretty fill-in, sing a perfect harmony, do an awesome offering song, perform a touching skit, chit chat in small groups, volunteer for all the conferences and mission trips, and call it a day.

And we get surprised when God actually does show up.

Hungry

2011-06-01T23:26:00.000-07:00

You say you're hungry for God.

I believe you. I really do.

But

You've fed yourself the world

and filled yourself with lies

instead of being fed up with the world

and filled up with the Word.

You simply cannot take it in.

You really have no excuse.

Essence

2011-04-25T12:19:00.000-07:00

What makes?

There's something behind the melody, behind the words, behind the actions, behind the life that pulls the strings that breathes purpose and gives meaning. On the outside, at the surface level, it looks the same, but with a keen eye and heartfelt perception, you can detect whether the spirit is dry and thirsty or wet and overflowing. You can see the strings and perhaps even the hand behind the strings. It's the same reason why one note sung by a famous Broadway singer in a sold out theater is different than the same note sung by a homeless drunkard on the empty streets. Who's got 'the soul'? Well every night is different.

When the show is over and the story has ended, there's more behind the curtains. When the lively music has finally stopped there are deadly voices behind the character played. The chatter, the laughter, the joys, the tears, the fears, the anger, the bitterness, the disappointment, the pain, the sorrow. And off the stage the drama follows. The line between acting and reacting becomes blurred.

What makes you, you? Parents, siblings, friends, race, genes, circumstances, choices? What are you? Who are you? Where are you from? Where are you headed? What are you doing? And why?

All this from a downcast face.

"Hello, I'm good." is all I hear.

And all I can say is, "You are His."

Risen

2011-04-24T21:35:00.000-07:00

Today in Class

2011-03-03T22:53:00.000-08:00

But what does it all mean? Asked Susan when they were somewhat calmer. “It means” said Aslan, “that though the Witch knew the Deep Magic, there is magic deeper still which she did not know. Her knowledge goes back only to the dawn of time. But if she could have looked a little further back, into the stillness and the darkness before time dawned, she would have read there was a different incantation. She would have known that when a willing victim who had committed no treachery was killed in a traitor’s stead, the Table would crack and Death itself would start working backwards....”

- The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, C.S. Lewis

Rain

2011-02-27T18:38:00.000-08:00

Counselor

2011-02-21T18:55:00.000-08:00

The volunteer went up and took the seat in front of the professor, who was also in a seat. She let out a deep breath to calm herself down and to take her mind off the eyes of her classmates. Then she spoke. Then the professor. Then back to her. The professor again. Now she had tears welling up. The professor pointed that out. And now she had her face in her hands and she was crying in front of 20 strangers.

"I don't want to waste my life."

10 years in ministry. Feeling stuck. Wanting to pursue more. Passion for God through another medium. Afraid to leave one. Uncertain whether to do two. Anxious to jump on three. Fearful of mediocrity in all. Life to count. Life to mean something. Life to be fulfilled. God's will in her life. No voice. No answer. Darkness. Loneliness. Don't want to live by man's expectations. She did not want to dishonor God.

The class applauded, the class prayed for her, and the volunteer went back to her seat.

The professor continued with the lesson and told the class to choose a topic to share and to do the same in groups of two or three. The volunteer was my partner. I thanked her for her courage and how much it resonated with me before going back to the assignment. "On a happier note," she said, she began sharing about her recent 10 year anniversary with her husband. She went on about how her marriage was the greatest thing that has happened in her life, second only to her salvation in Christ. She told me how even after walking out on big arguments where she was determined to win, she would secretly be giggly and happy because of how much her husband was determined to do whatever it took to work things out, to simply let her know how much he loved her. She was overflowing with so much joy that I could not help but be joyful myself.

Then I thought, like always, the thought that keeps me up at night, keeps me up in the clouds, keeps me never satisfied with what I see, and keeps me hungry and pressing on for more: there must be more than this. (oh no, here we go again). In this case, there seemed to be a disconnect between problem and solution, revelation and confirmation. The volunteer was still left with her tears. We stopped at the rejoicing and the smiles. Is that it? How do you really minister to someone in the midst of his or her sorrows and joys? Only by the Holy Spirit speaking God's Word in their life. Only by God's very own compassion through Jesus Christ............but how, how, how?

I'm beginning to feel the gravity of ministry, the weight of God's people, the burden of sharing in the sufferings and even the joys, and with all of that, I'm realizing more and more the absolute need for His power. And I mean Power. I'm still too green and unwise. I haven't even thought through or experienced an iota of what people go through, but one thing I do know is that my God is the Great Counselor, not the great therapist.

My message and my preaching were not with wise and persuasive words, but with a demonstration of the Spirit’s power, so that your faith might not rest on human wisdom, but on God’s power.

1 Corinthians 2:4-5

1 Corinthians 2

Preparation

2011-02-14T20:30:00.000-08:00

The squirrel came stealthily with a big green acorn in his mouth and started to dig. He placed the acorn neatly in the groove and covered it up with his tiny paws. Then he patted the dirt down to smoothen the ground and absconded the backyard as swiftly as he came leaving no trace behind... or so he thought. Mom had observed the whole burial service from the kitchen window, which is not a surprise considering her love for squirrel watching (she thinks their fluffy wiggly tails are the cutest things ever).

So she summoned me from the sweet, lazy comfort of my room and directed me outside to the location of the buried treasure. I dragged myself outside, in all my sweat pants and pajama shirt glory, while protesting and pleading mercy for the poor squirrel who is preparing food for the winter for his entire family... probably. But she ignored my false compassion and signaled through the window. "To the left, to the left! No, too far! A little forward... right there!" I spotted the small, barely noticeable mound of dirt, and I was now genuinely curious and interested. So I squatted down, and started digging/poking with a twig. And I could not believe what I found.

I've got it!

That's amazing! Just like dad said (in unbelief) when mom told him about our backyard ninja ~~scroll~~ squirrel, this only happens in fairy tales. After taking the picture I carefully put the acorn back just as I found it, covered it up, and patted down the dirt, not with my hands lest he sniff me out, but with twigs leaving no trace behind... or so he will think. haiya.

Then I went back to playing angry birds while sluggishly rolling around in my bed... only until I got my three stars...

Moral of the story: Proverbs 6:6-11

Dream On

2011-02-07T18:45:00.000-08:00

I love ice cream. Cold, smooth, sweet, fluffy, soft, creamy, melty, and magically delicious. Korean ice cream is always good, although, I'm not a big fan of anything with paht (red beans?). As a kid I loved Flintstones Push-Ups. I also had a Snicker bar ice cream phase in college. So good. You can never go wrong with McD's soft serves. But as yummy as these are, none of them compares to my favorite ice cream of all time:

Nestle Drumstick King Size Triple Chocolate

What shall I compare this kingdom of drumstick to? It is like Inception. [Spoiler alert] Multiple levels of excitement and constant questioning of reality. It's just too good to be true. First, you have the swirly creamy milk chocolate sprinkled with a rain of chocolate chips (or crunchy roasted peanuts) nestled in between the valleys of amazing. Then on the second level, you get more chocolatey smoothness lined with dark chocolate swirls as you encounter the hall of vanilla right before hitting the chocolate ring elevator. Now it gets real on the third level as you climb your way down the rocky mountains of waffle crisp layered deep in vanilla snow. And last but not least, you get to the final stage, the purely concentrated chocolate chip cone of limbo that makes the whole trip worth it in the end.

And there you have it.

Next time on "Please Don't Blog When You're Hungry": My favorite cereal.

First

2011-01-31T23:04:00.000-08:00

First day of school. Again. The wheels are slowly turning and the cogs are barely spinning. I still have Christmas lights in my head. Then again, I'm the type who leaves the decorations up all year long. California livin' has dulled my ability to discern between seasons. I simply categorize my seasons as cold, hot, or awkward... Cowabunga!

The conference this past weekend was much needed. If anything it brought back the reality of the intimate relationship and genuine fellowship with God. In college I used to doodle in class and I would scribble things like "I <3 HS" and people would ask me, "Who is that?" heh. I was crazy. Crazy in love. The late night skate runs in the underground parking structure were always thrilling adventures. Exploring secret corridors on the top floor of the apartment were quite memorable as well. I would say many major decisions in my life were made up there as I trusted in God to determine my footsteps. I don't like the word "less," but I must admit it is different now than before. The constant 24/7 interaction with those who were hungry for and desiring God was the perfect culture for that passion and fervor to grow, multiply, and infect others. The forest was dry and the trees were thirsty.

New setting, new map. The fire is the same, but now I'm in the ocean. I've had my share of Red Seas and Jordan Rivers and it's discouraging at times, but it's also exciting at the same time. "Take courage! It is I. Don't be afraid." It's the kind of wave that kindles the desire to ride it. Impossible? Absolutely. And that is precisely why I press on. "Not by might, nor by power, but by the Spirit of God."

The HS conference in one sentence: Be filled to be spilled.

Time

2011-01-11T18:52:00.000-08:00

Attack.

Speed is not everything. Speed will often times give the perception of diligence and direction, but it may well be rushed and reckless. "So that you many have great endurance and patience..." Whether it is a decision to make or an action to take, patience never fails. If we are ever wondering about or doubting the reason for a certain difficulty or difficult choice in our lives, we must begin to think about what we would be doing and where we would be without that hindrance or stumbling block. Would we still be seeking God with the same desperation and cry for deliverance? Would we rejoice in God and give thanks to Him if the road was always smooth? No matter the speed, as long as we have a GPS (God's Positioning System) we are always in good hands. Missed exits, traffic jams, and wrong turns give us another opportunity to hear from Him again, to become more intimate with Him so that next time around we could hear more clearly and obey more surely. "He guides me along the right paths for His name's sake." Speed should never be derived out of worry or fear of failure because in the end, He will make sure you get to your destination. He is the author and perfecter of our faith. The place where there is a need for speed is in our turning to Him. How quickly do we turn away from our circumstantial anxiety and turn to Him, the solid Rock of Salvation? That will depend on how well and how readily we remember God's promises in His Word. Godspeed on God's speed.

Trust in the Lord with all your heart,

And do not lean on your own understanding.

In all your ways acknowledge Him,

And He will make your paths straight.

Proverbs 3:5-6

Heart

2011-01-11T00:51:00.000-08:00

Attack.

If we truly knew how deeply we are loved and forgiven, we would be dangerous. We would be a threat to the devil and his demons. We would be at the throat of our circumstances telling them to back off and leave. We would not be phased by the words of man. We would love furiously those who are unlovable. We would admit openly and humbly how even more unlovable we are and yet Jesus Christ loved us and gave Himself up for us. We would be passionately offensive to apathy and the lack of concern for the lost and the abandoned. We would cause severe discomfort and disturbing awkwardness to our complacency of being satisfied with where we are to the point of being moved to being satisfied in Christ alone. We would pour godly salt on those sensitive wounds of habitual sins and secret shame and pull out the roots before they can bear any more fruit. We would shut up the roaring lion and make the enemy flee as we firmly dig our feet in solid rock and resist. We would ruthlessly beat down, knock out, bind up, and put into submission the useless affections that attempt to steal our first love. We would shoot down and take down whatever clouds our heavenly perspective and eternal values. We would boldly touch heaven and fearlessly change earth by God's dynamite power and fresh anointing. We would use bombs for alarms to wake up from spiritual slumber. We would swiftly and constantly reload and be ready and equipped with the sWORD of the Spirit so as to never grieve or quench the Holy Spirit. We would drop kick, rip out, and shatter our pride and humbly reconcile with our debtors just as He has reconciled us to Himself. We would desperately repent of and turn away from our prostitution with the world, and plead mercy for our whorish, unfaithful ways in our laziness, lust, lies, and love for conformity. We would have fervent, undying hope in the resurrection, in Christ who is our hope of glory. We would have absolutely no agenda or selfishness of our own except to do God's will and follow God's commands knowing that He, who has given us His own Son to be tortured and murdered on our behalf in order to deliver us from that same fate, knows what is best for us.

We would earnestly and diligently seek our Abba Father and spend every hour, every moment in sweet, comforting communion with Him. We would realize He is our breath, our life, our everything.

We would realize that without Him our hearts would stop beating physically and spiritually. We would be in anguish, sorrow, and pain. We would scream. We would panic. We would yell. We would call. We would cry out in desperation.

We would be on the floor.

On our knees.

Small but Big

2010-12-29T16:50:00.000-08:00

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

2010-12-21T00:41:00.000-08:00

via ggcem

Button

2010-12-16T21:21:00.000-08:00

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

2010-12-14T11:10:00.000-08:00

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

2010-11-20T13:58:00.000-08:00

Good Night

2010-11-20T00:44:00.000-08:00

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

2010-11-16T17:15:00.000-08:00

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

2010-11-11T11:39:00.001-08:00

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

2010-11-05T23:22:00.000-07:00

Y + B

Greek

2010-11-04T10:22:00.001-07:00

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

2010-11-01T12:40:00.000-07:00

Got 'em... maybe.

2010-10-31T23:44:00.000-07:00

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

2010-10-24T23:12:00.000-07:00

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

2010-10-15T00:24:00.000-07:00

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

2010-08-15T19:01:00.000-07:00

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

2010-08-08T19:21:00.000-07:00

"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

2010-08-07T22:08:00.000-07:00

"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

2010-08-06T00:29:00.000-07:00

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

2010-07-31T12:44:00.000-07:00

"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

2010-06-22T17:21:00.000-07:00

Everything

Father

2010-06-19T23:03:00.000-07:00

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

2010-06-19T01:37:00.000-07:00

"so yummy! so yummy, yummy!"

Yummy

2010-06-19T00:34:00.000-07:00

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

2010-06-09T00:42:00.000-07:00

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

Please

2010-06-05T01:11:00.000-07:00

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

Student: Really?

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

Grace

2010-06-01T02:40:00.000-07:00

amazing.

[thanks lindajames]

Lifeline

2010-06-01T02:32:00.000-07:00

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

2010-05-28T01:20:00.000-07:00

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

2010-05-21T01:28:00.000-07:00

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'

2010-05-13T13:38:00.000-07:00

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

2010-05-05T23:36:00.000-07:00

-------

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

2010-05-03T12:47:00.000-07:00

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

2010-04-05T21:25:00.001-07:00

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

2010-04-04T20:37:00.000-07:00

"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

2010-04-03T22:54:00.000-07:00

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:

-------

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

2010-03-20T14:21:00.000-07:00

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

2010-03-17T11:23:00.000-07:00

Classic.

Tune

2010-03-16T23:11:00.000-07:00

[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

2010-03-12T23:47:00.000-08:00

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.

Mission Monday VI

2010-03-09T00:23:00.000-08:00

08/07/2009

Speaker: Missionary Kang

Background: Central Asia/Ministry Director. Graduated from School of Dentistry in Seoul National University. Served in Uzbekistan for 10 years.

"The only way to change is to deny yourself."
He attended a huge missions conference recently for Chinese and Korean missionaries.
Many people had gathered to worship and pray together.
First, the Koreans were called to pray - they prayed standing up, some with hands raised, and in KM style
Next, the Chinese were called to pray - they prayed on their knees with tears; they prayed like their life was on the line
He was amazed at the difference in spirituality between those in the Chinese mission field and those elsewhere (what they've seen and experienced spiritually)

Man's thoughts vs. God's thoughts
After the fall, Adam was ashamed of being naked vs. God created him naked
Man begins to think things are sin, which were not before
Being weak is not a sin - "when I am weak, then I am strong"
God uses our weaknesses for His glory

Christians have a calling to abandon the world and be "life savers"

-------

He said many other things, but I was so into his storytelling (including some vague analogy to a Korean movie about a tsunami) that I didn't take good notes. I didn't fall asleep. I think.

...

The times they are a-changin'.

2010-03-04T22:40:00.000-08:00

It's coming back. The words that kept me running hard after Love. Before that though, I must paint the background of this marathon journey - this "journey of loving Him more."

There's a reason why the international student shed tears today when she listened to her English classmates share about the struggles, frustrations, and ultimately, the new-found joy and peace in their walk with God. All this was in a language that she was not familiar with in an environment that she is trying her best to adjust to yet she understood just enough. She understood not just in her mind, but in her soul. Something cried out, "Abba Father" within her as she listened to her siblings in Christ cry out, "Where are you, Father?" She couldn't explain why. Her only response was, "I listen... and... make me cry. Sorry."

There's the study of God, then there is God Himself. There's the study of self, then there is self itself. Amidst the meanings lost in translation, both can mean the same thing or total opposites of each other. Nevertheless, when all the discussions are in and the curtains are closed there is still that child with her heart in her hands seeking true love, seeking true rescue from all that causes drought in her soul. "Who will restore my broken heart?" This is the point of departure - the point where we find real skin and real blood. It is the point where God meets us where we are just as a father meets the child on his knees.

Echoing the cries of King David, sometimes I don't feel it. Sometimes I don't see it. But I look at His perfect track record and I see that His love is unfailing, His mercy is never ending, and His faithfulness is great. I will ask like King David, "Why are you downcast, O my soul? Why so disturbed within me?" and in the same breath I will say with him, "Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God."

This is no time to write out my own life story just to see how I'm doing and where I'm going. The scope is greater than that. And this brings me back to the words that kindled the fuel in me to run through the valley, past the Forrest, and up the mountain all to follow Love:

There must be more.

There must be more - more than me, me in the world, me in Christ, me in church, me in my family, me with friends, me as a student, me in a good school, me as a worker, me as a parent, me in six figures, me in my worries, me with a car, me with shoes on, me with cherry on top, me with do and sol, me in the middle, me as myself. There must be more than empty words and broken promises. More than cycles of lost and found. More than sorrows and joy. More than tears and smiles. More than weddings and funerals. More than life itself.

It's all about Him. This run is all about Jesus Christ and His righteousness. His tears for a world that is not familiar with Him among people who are hostile to Him are what causes the ark to rise above the flood. He doesn't understand just enough, he understands fully. He calls out every tear by its name and every smile by His name. And it's because of Him we approach "Abba" with freedom and confidence. Jesus is more than enough.

When you realize that Jesus is all you have you will soon discover that Jesus is all you need.
- Somebody Somewhere

All of You is more than enough for all of me

For every thirst and every need

You satisfy me with Your love

And all I have in you is more than enough

Superyeoman

2010-02-26T09:15:00.000-08:00

I had a dream...

I had superpowers. There was a gigantic piece of rectangular metal, 10 times bigger than a billboard, floating high up in the air right near the enemy's air base headquarters. I was in the heart of the city filled with high rises and packed with people in the streets. They were all staring at the shiny object in the sky, entranced. Then I looked up, gave a cool piercing stare at the billboard, and marched forward as I began to raise my hands up as if to control it. And control it I did. I swiveled my hands like I was molding ~~chakra~~ clay and the huge piece of metal moved accordingly in the air. I was like Yoda, but less eco-friendly. I tried to bring it down slowly, but suddenly I lost control and the billboard thingy was now free-falling straight toward the street. I waved my hands, flexed my fingers, and did whatever I could to keep it in control, but after a few failed attempts I knew it was over.

KAAAABOOOOOOOOM!

The piece of metal fell through one of the tallest buildings, splitting it in half, and exploded in the middle of the street. Car alarms. Screaming. Crying. Sirens. Smoke. Debris. The whole 9.9 yards. The building was catching fire and spreading quickly. I ran towards the building's entrance, breathed in as deep as I could, and then exhaled super cold air through the whole building. wooooosh* The fire was no more. Victory.

Then I went over to a house one block down and listened to someone play Amazing Grace on the piano.

And the rest is mystery.

Mission Monday V

2010-02-24T11:50:00.000-08:00

08/06/2009

"... persecuted, but not abandoned..."

Speaker: Chinese Missionary D**** X**** (via translator)

Background: the younger sister of P**** X**** who was the mentor to Brother Yun (Heavenly Man). Saved at the age of 17, she has endured persecution in the house churches in China.

Testimony: (as before, this is a cleaned up transfer of my notes)

In the 40's and 50's the C government tried to destroy Christianity
People were persecuted and put in prison
The government controlled churches and checked sermons to see that they were in line with the political movement
So then people began home churches
In 1958, all churches were closed, but they still met together
As a child she was sad because pastors were taken to prison
She wanted to be a bird - "fly to heaven and praise God"

1966-1976 - there was a cultural revolution in C
-> "there is no God", "church is now a museum"
Pastors were mocked and had to wear signs on their head and clothes
The church was cold.
There were many tears - "The house of my God is facing tragedy." like 1st generation of Israelites
She asked, "What can I do?" and decided,

"I will devote myself and my life for God's church."

yet she didn't know what to do.
Others warned her saying that a promise is important, but no one could persuade her

Her brother was a top criminal (Christian) according to C government.
She longed for the Living Word
They were listening to Christian radio on Christmas
The police caught them and tied them
A brother told her, "If the police finds you don't say a word even if they break your leg."
They escaped and ran away to another believer's house
However, the police came and she and her sister were caught again and put in jail
The jailer said, "Let's see how long you survive here."
She realized that her father was already there. (She was still a teenager)
She prayed, "Lord what's wrong?"

The next morning the jailer came, took her hand and slammed it against the door, but she didn't say anything
He got angry and beat her up until she was covered in blood
To this day, her tooth is sensitive
He said, "Who told you to preach this Gospel?"
At the time, she was worrying about her family, but realized she must focus her mind on God
Then suddenly peace came upon her ("like a baby") and she said, "I'm willing to stay here forever."

Eventually, the police took them out of jail to another place
Her father said, "When you hear the bang sound, we will go to heaven."
She thought, "Then I can't preach the Gospel anymore."
She remembered her father used to tell her to never shut out the work of the HS - if He tells you something, OBEY!
So with that in mind, she bravely marched forward (by God's grace) even when the police chased her down.
She didn't care.
She was praying and singing, "HALLELUJAH!" and kept at it for a long time as her voice grew louder and louder
Her father tried to close her mouth and stop her, but the HS rebuked him through other members.

Later, her sister carried her and took her home
She prayed, "God I want to preach the Gospel. I promised. But why is it so difficult every time?"
Then suddenly, she felt a cold feeling in her heart and in her feet and knew that if this continued then she would die.
Then she realized that if she died now, then she would have done nothing for the Gospel so she prayed,

"If it is because I am afraid of difficulties then please let me stay."

and the feeling disappeared.

She hid her criminal brother underground from the government
The neighbors helped her out
In the fields that she labored in the children were waiting for her to share the Gospel
And she thought, "Lord it's so easy when you work."
She went to other villages to share the Good News
When a man rebuked her and told her to stop preaching, his mouth moved to the side of his face and he couldn't talk...
(- _____-) <- [like this maybe? or maybe like] -> (- - __)
Then the elders rebuked him and told him to repent, and only then they will pray for him and he will be healed.
He was healed.

She was persecuted more than 40 times by comm. leader. Later, he died.
Throughout all this she realized,

"God's grace is sufficient.
Jesus' resurrected life overcame sin and death and defeated Satan.
We must realize this by completely denying ourselves to live in Christ.
Then you will become powerful soldiers for Christ."

She is now 63 years old and pressing on.

-------

Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.
2 Corinthians 4:16-18

Be my everything.

Jiffy Jam

2010-02-21T23:25:00.000-08:00

All day.

thanks jam.cha for the song

Baker

2010-02-18T23:38:00.000-08:00

I met this guy in class. He was very encouraging. On our way to the library he asked, "How's your personal time with God been like since starting seminary." I told him how excited I was and how what I'm learning is helping understand more of Scripture and its history and inspiration. In other words, I didn't quite answer his question. Then he stopped in his track and said he wanted to tell me two things.

First, he said, "Don't be a starving baker." I nodded slowly in confusion. He went on to explain that bakers, who bake all day, can sometimes have the sensation of feeling full even when they haven't eaten anything because they're constantly around food. Likewise, many seminary students have a high tendency to feel like they've gotten more than enough of Daily Bread because they are constantly having to study the Word and read about the Word. They hear it in class, they read it for homework, and they fill their heads with biblical knowledge, but in actuality, they're starving inside. The relationship with God is on hold and the Bible becomes an academic text book. He was speaking from many years of personal experience (transferred from another seminary). The words that stood out to me from his testimony were "dry" and "empty."

That was pretty dead on, right near the center of my heart. It didn't only apply to me in and for seminary, but in my daily walk, if I may, with God. Going to church, listening to sermons, praising 'up there', serving in various ministries, being in a small group, being a pastor's kid - all "Christian-y" areas had been infected (one way or another, minutely and unnoticeably) by the yeast of superficial merit derived from a whitewashed spiritual attendance chart. The relationship is there, but just covered in foolish self-righteous muck.

I liken this to a biology student studying his text book by using it as a pillow and calling it "learning by osmosis." Then he goes to class the next day for his final and shows the professor the red lined book mark (no pun intended but I tried) on his face and boasts with all the seriousness of an offended Harry Potter fan, "As you can see, by the marks on my forehead, I know my material. Therefore I don't need to take a test to prove my mastery of this subject." Unfortunately, physical proximity is not everything.

I'm learning. I'm learning a lot. The more I learn, the less I know. The less I know, the more I want to learn. It's a funny cycle.

By the way, I forgot the second thing he said as I was passionately recalling the first thing he said. Hopefully I'll remember later. I love the people. I love my classes. School is cool again. Praise God!

Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus, because through Christ Jesus the law of the Spirit of life set me free from the law of sin and death.
Romans 8:1-2

Eat it. Just eat it.

Mmmmm

2010-02-15T21:40:00.001-08:00

Psalm 19:7-10

The law of the LORD is perfect,

reviving the soul.

The statutes of the LORD are trustworthy,

making wise the simple.

The precepts of the LORD are right,

giving joy to the heart.

The commands of the LORD are radiant,

giving light to the eyes.

The fear of the LORD is pure,

enduring forever.

The ordinances of the LORD are sure

and altogether righteous.

They are more precious than gold,

than much pure gold;

they are sweeter than honey,

than honey from the comb.

Mission Monday IV

2010-02-15T13:27:00.000-08:00

(for this session, I will simply transfer my notes.)

08/06/2009

Speaker: Paul Park

There is a missions strategy to target major cities.
The idea is that you change the city, you change the nation.
Jerusalem is key.
The general path of the Gospel: Jerusalem -> Europe -> America -> Korea -> China -> ...
For a long time it has been stagnant within China.
All the world's biggest religion's are concentrated there.
There is a deep rooted history in the Middle East.
Islam was a local religion, but now it is all over the world.
Evangelism has a direction. It's not random. The Gospel is piercing through strongholds of the enemy. It's on its way back to Jerusalem (around the world). Once it does, history will end.
It's not about doing well or going out on your own. God works in community. Teamwork.
"Do something about it."
"Change history."

-------

And the world turns right side up.

Pop

2010-02-12T16:07:00.000-08:00

The Chinese missionary said,

"A vision without mission is just a dream."

And then my mouth dropped.

Word

2010-02-09T22:43:00.000-08:00

Show me a Bible that is falling apart, and I'll show you a man who isn't.
- D. L. Moody (something like that)

I am sitting in a comfortable lean-back chair. The table is just the right distance and has just the right amount of space for all my books to spread their wings. Travis Cottrell is playing in my ears through the netbook on which I am typing. I am contemplating whether I should finish chapter 4 of Introduction to Biblical Interpretation or call it a day and head home before my eyes shut down. I say biblical canon and translation is rather interesting, but not as interesting as my bed right now. We'll see how long I can keep up.

I was introduced today as "the excited freshman" and that pretty sums up what I am right now as well as where I am right now. To get straight to the point, there is only one reason why I'm so excited, and that's because I'm studying the WORD. As I begin to study more and more (it's only been a week and a half or 3 days of classes) I'm reminded of one thing clearer than before. READ THE BIBLE. The past few weeks, every sermon, every passage, every meeting, every small talk, and everything in between seemed to be screaming, "SHUT UP AND READ YOUR BIBLE FOO!" PT was telling me to read. PJ in his sermons all week long was telling me to read. Multiple sermons on the radio were telling me to read. The cef bible camp theme was finalized to be B2B, Back to Bible or Back to Basics. All my classes were telling me to read, read, and read again (unfortunately not just the Bible). And all that is in me was clawing at the whitewashed walls to escape the dry and thirsty well within me. Let it reign. I am convicted to my core at how little of the Scriptures I know, not as one whose profession depends on knowing the word, but as one who puts his faith in the Word that became flesh and the Word that gives me life eternal.

It takes only 3 chapters a day to read the whole bible in one year. If I say I'm a Christian, a child of God, a follower of Jesus Christ, and I can't even count how many times I've read His Word.... just think about it. I could go as far as saying, "I'm not willing to give God even 20 minutes (at most for 3 chapters) of my day by reading his Word."

To know the Bible is not an option for those who want to know true inwardness. No one stays at the table long who does not study Scripture. Mystics without study are only spiritual romantics who want relationship without effort.
- Calvin Miller

As PT put it, "If you're not addicted to the Word, then you're most definitely addicted to something else." True that. "The Bible will keep you from sin, or sin will keep you from the Bible," is what D.L. Moody would say. And finally, in the words of the psalmist, "How can a young man keep his way pure? By guarding it according to your word."

So here's to a Josiah moment. Here's to a wake up call. Here's to discovering and rediscovering the sweetness of Jesus Christ revealed. Here's to a rekindled passion for knowing and obeying God's Word. Here's to a life full of Life.

Reporting live from the Biola library.

P-ride to P-2

2010-02-05T22:41:00.000-08:00

It's like when the game asks me what level (speed) I want to start on. It's also like when I'm building up the tetris blocks all high and mighty and waiting for that one stick to clear it all. When it never comes, I'm left with a crumbling high rise with no elevator as I desperately try to climb down the stairs with "T"s and "L's." A sentence with no period. A clock with no hands. A table with no feet. A heart with no blood. A love with no sacrifice. "Putting your eggs in one basket" as they say. "Putting my worth in myself" as I say.

An incredible man once asked a boy on a tricycle, "Well, what are you waiting for?" Then the boy answered unnervingly, "I don't know. Something amazing, I guess."

Me too, kid. Me too. I'm waiting for amazing grace to sink deep and catch me once again. In the meantime, I'll have my daily bread.

Back to level 0.

This is a good place to start again.

Philippians 2:1-11

New Chap

2010-01-29T18:58:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, I took noon to the new students banquet at Talbot. Three course meal. Praise. Introduction. Student body. Faculty. Word. The dean gave us encouraging words to bear the marks of Christ. Be steadfast, immovable leaders who stay the course of the Gospel. The professors shared as well. My passion is in theology that moves the heart.

Walking through the new campus felt surreal. I was actually getting light-headed trying to process this new chapter in my walk with Jesus. It was a deep, profound, spiritual experience as I saw the new buildings and the new faces. I kept thinking: "Why are there so many Asians here?" No worries though. I'll fit right in whenever I play ball on campus.

On the way to school and back, the dread of commuting turned into joy of listening to sermons... hm. actually, I'm still dreading the commute. If you got good mixes, send 'em over please.

Simply said, ~~I am excited~~ God is good.

More than words.

More than life.

More than enough.

Mission Monday III - 2

2010-01-25T23:12:00.000-08:00

"Jesus Christ is more precious than life."

The world has its own standards for a qualified person. For example, at Samsung, one of the largest companies in Korea, applicants must meet certain qualifications that will place them well over their competition. They must be top in their class, be polite, be a quick thinker, and the list goes on. On the other hand, God's kingdom has just one qualification: humility in Jesus Christ. In fact, He lists this quality in 1 Corinthians 1:26-31.

"Not many of you were wise by human standards... But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise... so that no one may boast before him..."

Think back to when God calls out to Moses through a burning bush. What if God called Moses with something more impressive than a little bush such as... a giant red oak! In our worldly standard the red oak is a mighty symbol of strength and power. (Imagine a humongous burning red oak calling out, "MOSES! Get those rainbows off yo feet!") However, God chose the small bush to move Moses into changing the history of a nation. When Moses appeared before Pharaoh as a lowly shepherd there was a fire in him that didn't consume him but consumed the land of Egypt. There was a confidence in knowing that God is the One to receive all glory.

Now think back to when the Holy Spirit descends upon Jesus like a dove. What if God decided to show 'em up with something more impressive than a little dove such as... an eagle! In our worldly standard the eagle soars high above other animals and is a symbol of strength and power. (Imagine an eagle soaring down to Jesus, *eagle sound*). However, God chose a peaceful dove, which back in those days was the poor man's sacrifice (for those who couldn't afford the other animals). When Jesus appeared before His people as a carpenter and a Nazarene he was to be the Prince of Peace and bring redemption through his blood, forgiveness of sins, and true reconciliation between God and man. There was peace in knowing that God's will would be done.

The world will remind you of your looks, hair, height, materials, grades, money, success, your past, your unchanging present, your bleak future, lack of passion, how you cannot do it, how you have failed before, how you can live with no sacrifice, no cross. But God shows us through Jesus Christ the ultimate picture of humility. He uses the humble and contrite heart to reveal Himself so that no one may boast save in Christ alone.

Dying to the world and living in Christ. God didn't save us so that we can just be good church attenders. If that was true, then we would be living in our own wisdom. He saved us so we may serve Him and be a true witness of His love. Truly the small, humble fire he puts in our hearts has the power to change one forgiven sinner let alone a nation. If you follow Jesus, you'll lose the world. The one who can change the world is the one who has been abandoned by the world to be completely abandoned to God.

For the message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.

1 Corinthians 1:18

Dream King

2010-01-18T21:21:00.000-08:00

Mission Monday III - 1

2010-01-18T21:20:00.000-08:00

Be blessed and be a blessing!

The night was still young and the next speaker went up. His name was Ishmael Lim, a Korean missionary in his late 30s and the worship leader for the Intercp Korean ministry. His smile was natural and he looked younger than his age. His voice had the "prayer husk," the kind that you hear in those passionate pastors at old school Korean revival services. It always makes them sound more spiritual, and I'm working on mine....... Anyway, this is his sermon (divided in two parts), to the best of my notes and memory and with a little bit of my insight and my [needlessly redundant] comments.... better yet, this is more properly titled - what I learned from his sermon:

In every worship service, there are two kinds of people. First, there is the passionate worshiper. These are the ones who are deeply moved and make the "holy face" during worship sometimes shedding a tear or two These are the ones who actually raise their hands when singing "so we raise up holy hands." They are the ones who say, "Here am I, send me!"

Then there is the worshiper who is bored out of their minds. These are the ones who would rather not clap with the rest of the mindless clappers and would not mind sitting down at all during worship. These are the ones who nod like a gansta with a slightly pursed smirk and point both thumbs to themselves when singing, "prone to wander... prone to leave the God I love." They are the ones who say, "Well I guess I'll go. Nothing better to do anyway."

Out of these two, who do you think would make the better missionary? You guessed it. The bored worshiper by far would outlast the passionate worshiper. This is because in the mission field, especially in hostile regions, the passionate worshiper will stick out like a sore 8-1/2 x 11 inch study bible wherever they go. They will make the mistake of lifting up their hands in the public squares and shouting out praise from the rooftops. They will make every effort to seek and save the lost, and their testimony will be, "Look at my passion for Him." Even before the mission begins the devil will be all over them because they would be too holy of a spiritual force to deal with later. Go fight win!

On the other hand, the bored worshiper will blend right in with the pagans and find their true comfort zone in infiltrating the deepest darkest places of the temples, where they used to be during worship services. Connecting with the ones who do not know God will come naturally for them and they will say, "Look to Jesus Christ?" The devil will ignore them because these guys seem to have no passion for Jesus and will not be a threat to their Operation: Kingdom Down. In the end, as the passionate worshipers get deported back to their countries, the bored worshipers will be the ones to back stab the devil. He'll be like, "WTH?"

So next time you see a bored worshiper in service (or maybe it's you) don't lose hope, but rather thank the Lord and praise Him for preparing a secret weapon (you can pray for them too). And next time you find yourself with a log in your eye, know and remember that God does not look at the outside appearance; he looks at the heart.

Man looks at the outward appearance,

but the LORD looks at the heart.

1 Samuel 16:7b

to be continued...

Seek Love

2010-01-14T00:16:00.000-08:00

Seek
Seek my face
Seek my face with all your heart
Look into my eyes and tell me what you see
Closer now. Closer, until we are face to face
See your reflection in the apple of my eye
See the "little man in my eye"
If only you would see yourself the way I see you
You would be standing tall and walking forward
You would be pressing on and forgetting what is behind
You would be bold in prayer and strong in faith
You would be joyful always and filled with peace
You would be still in the storms and calm in the waves
You would be strong and courageous and never terrified
You would be steadfast and unshaken
You would be provided and protected
You would say, "Not my way but your way"
You would love me and love my people
You would love me
You would love
Love
Love me
Love me with all your heart
Look into my heart and tell me what you see
Closer now. Closer, until you feel my heartbeat
Feel your reflection in the center of my heart
Feel from the "bottom of my heart"
If you are after my own heart
I will be your shepherd and your guide
I will be your counselor and your healer
I will be your intercessor and mountain-mover
I will be your joy and strength
I will be your prince of peace
I will be your comforter and be with you always
I will be your firm foundation
I will be your daily bread and everlasting portion
I will say, "Seek and you will find"
I will love you and love my people
I will love you
I will love

Love

I am Love

If you will draw near to me

I will draw my love in your heart
I will allow yours to break for what breaks mine
I will show you through my son
You will know how much I love you

If you will come so close to me

I will fill you with my vision
I will allow you to see what I see in you
I will see you through my son
You will see that I love you
I love you, my child
I love you

Mission Monday II

2010-01-11T23:14:00.000-08:00

God is my provider!

After receiving my ticket into mission camp, I entered the English Ministry sanctuary (The camp was divided into adult, english, youth, children). I quickly and stealthily claimed a seat in the back as to not disturb the worship. Yes, sadly, I was late. When the lights came back on, my eyes were drawn to the many banners lining the wall of the sanctuary. these banners represented unreached people groups and nations in the world such as Turkey, Yemen, and Afghanistan. Also, there were multiple signs (and t-shirts) with the letters "BTJ" written on them. what? [Suspense]. After the introduction and announcements, the mc introduced the night's speaker who was Dr. Masahide Kanayama. This is his story:

Dr. K grew up in Japan where his mother was an artist. At the age of 5 he discovered a Western art book that his mother had in her collection. As he was flipping through the pages he stopped at a painting of the crucifixion of Jesus Christ. For some reason he was drawn by it, and just sat there staring at the picture for 20 minutes wondering, "Who is this man and why does he have to suffer so much?" Suddenly he felt a tap on his shoulder and a man in white robes appeared smiling at him. Then he felt an intense warmth about him and began to weep and cry out loud for nearly half an hour. His mother tried to calm him down and asked what was wrong, but he couldn't explain it. The man was gone.

When he was in high school his friend invited him to church. (Back in his day, and even now, Christians were a small minority and their reputation wasn't great). Right as he entered the front door of the church he saw the same man standing there to welcome him and the man said, "I've been waiting for you." And he was gone. He knew it was Jesus. At the church he learned of the God of the universe who loved the world and came to seek and save sinners and he accepted Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior. From then on God opened up his eyes to the spiritual world and he began to witness signs and wonders.

Through supernatural circumstances (an acceptance letter from the government for a prestigious foreign exchange student program) God led him to the US to study medicine. In the process of applying for medical schools, he had the opportunity to apply to John Hopkins. In his essay protion, God impressed upon his heart to write: "The future of medicine rests on the cross and blood of Jesus Christ. By His stripes we are healed" and he proceeded to copy and paste that sentence to fill up 2 pages.... He got the interview. There the interviewees mentioned his essay and asked if he could explain and elaborate. God led him to share the Gospel with the them. He didn't get accepted (which didn't surprise him), and so he decided to attend Medical College of Wisconsin.

After medical school, he began his residency at a hospital that was notorious for a strict head doctor who cut and kicked out newbies left and right. The first time Dr. K met him, the head doctor looked him up and down and told him that he wouldn't last more than 4 weeks. The first patient he was assigned to was a woman in emergency intensive care. She was in a car accident that tore off more than half of her abdomen (all her insides were showing) and she was barely surviving. Everyone in the hospital knew there was no hope, but on top of that the head doctor told Dr. K that if this patient isn't discharged from the hospital (meaning - if she dies), then he would kick Dr. K out of the program...

That's when he began to pray and fast and desperately cry out to God. He knew that God was the Healer because he had seen God heal the sick. On the 30th day, he went in and saw that God had created new flesh and the missing internal organs in the woman's body. It was a miracle indeed, but on top of that, this woman who had a medical history of depression and other mental ailments was completely cured and healed. This shocked the head doctor, but according to Dr. K, God allowed 5 more challenges such as this one throughout his residency to show the power of God. From there on he knew that God had called him to be a spiritual doctor as well as a physical doctor.

He is currently one of the top obstetrician and gynecologist in the world. He shares how during surgery God opens his eyes to exactly where and how much he has to excise to take out the cancerous and infected cells. God also opens his spiritual eyes to see the demons that many times cause the sickness in the patient and sometimes there are demons in certain parts of the body. When he cuts those parts, which coincide with the diseased cells, he can hear the demon crying and screaming (of course no one else around him can see or hear) as it comes out of the patient's body. Then he prays over them in Jesus name throughout and after the surgery. All his patients who are treated by him get well and are healed both physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. All glory to God!

Recently, God led him to Norway where he was supposed be a guest speaker for a big Christian conference that was to be broadcast all over the country. However, during the leaders' prayer meeting right before the conference he was asked to lead them in prayer, and when he did, the Holy Spirit moved him to pray for the sick. Right then and there, deaf ears were opened, broken bones were fixed, tumors were falling off, and people were being healed left and right. (He shares how God had already told him in advance that he was to get ready to share the Good News on national TV). After that, the event planners decided to make Dr. K the main speaker and put everything else on hold. As for him, he was just in awe and praising God that He would use a Japanese man with a thick accent to reach a foreign land that was not his own and share the love of God. Looking back now, the painting in the art book he was so drawn to and touched by was a picture of that Love - the Love of Jesus Christ.

But He was pierced for our transgressions;
He was crushed for our iniquities;
the punishment that brought us peace was upon Him,
and by his wounds we are healed.
Isaiah 53:5

Mission Monday

2010-01-04T23:48:00.000-08:00

Last summer, I went to a Mission Camp hosted by Intercp. I've been meaning to share what I learned from 3 intense days of sermons and testimonies, but I never got around to it. My plan is simply to recap my notes scribbles little by little on a weekly basis. Enjoy.
-

August 5th, 2009

I saw the pamphlet at the office and decided to stop by but not participate because the registration fee was almost $200. Glory Church of Jesus Christ was packed like belly jeans. I went to the registration table and told them my situation. I emphasized that (I think) dad knows someone important in Intercp and I represent some missionary non-profit organization and that I'm only here to "check it out yo." After going through three levels of Intercp authority and thirty minutes of broken Korean they finally granted me the super rare Badge of Visitor.

I am a hustlin' sojourner.

And so my adventure begins...

Journey the Journal

2010-01-01T15:09:00.000-08:00

From the Negev he went from place to place until he came to Bethel, to the place between Bethel and Ai where his tent had been earlier and where he had first built an altar. There Abram called on the name of the Lord.

Genesis 13:3-4

Sometimes God takes us through seasons where it seems like all our efforts and struggles have ended in full circle and we have not made any progress. Don't be discouraged because it's not about the journey. It's about the journal - the internal, personal heart's struggle with the Person of Jesus Christ. It's not about how many steps we take, but rather with whom we are taking those steps. And when we realize, just as Abraham did, that our walk and our intimacy with God is progress and growth itself we will begin to find ourselves "calling on the name of the Lord" perfectly satisfied in His presence. First Love. So the next time you find yourself between Bethel and Ai, simply look to Jesus, the author and perfecter of our salvation.

Happy One-More-Year-Closer-to-His-Return Year!

As the Bee Panteth for the Honey

2009-12-27T23:00:00.000-08:00

... or Nectar?

(What exactly did I learn in Animal Behaviors class?)

Dear Manjournal,

I taught dad how to play the saxophone. He blasted it all night long. The next morning he was playing it again, and this time he played the First Noel by ear. It was quite good. We all applauded. It's easier to teach an open heart. It's easier to learn with an open heart... (I probably shouldn't mention that he has perfect pitch). Christmas season was good this year.

"I don't believe in New Year's Resolutions. It's like saying on Thursday, 'I'm gonna go to the gym on Monday.' Why not go on Friday?" - brother M

Well you would believe in New Year's Resolutions if you were in need of one, and when people comment about you "my, my, how you've changed" you can just credit your resolution. "I know."

The only question to ask tonight is, "What is my New Year's Excuse?" Then maybe I'll be ready to lift them all up in the mountains this week, and I'll let Him know that I give it up all to Him. He's the only one in the business of changing hearts. I ain't messin widat. "If it weren't for you meddling kids, you would have turned the world upside down by now."

Change like a butterfly. Drink like a bee.

Very well, let's go. Good night.

Obadiah

2009-12-15T18:45:00.000-08:00

hello, my name is wookie.

"Look!"

I pointed excitedly towards the playground as soon as I spotted a row of tricycles parked near the fence. Dad led noon and me away into the main office of Monte Vista Elementary School where we waited in big uncomfortable chairs as he filled out some forms and chatted, in sign languish (sign language + sporadic grunts in English) with Vera the secretary. After many more bla blas and blur blurs I found myself standing in front of about ten intensely curious 5 year olds, sitting neatly in individual little boxes drawn on the floor with masking tape.

"Wook."

The secretary introduced me to my kindergarten class, and from there on my memory is vague and dreamy. I do remember riding the tricycle and racing around the track. I remember learning "Bubble gum, bubble gum" (and figuring out how to count ~~cards~~ people before they asked me, "How many pieces do you wish?"). I also remember a kid named Andy McSomething who called me by my kindergarten name up until middle school. We talked about basketball.

This blurry memory fast forwards itself to 13 years later. I remember a friend of mine in college, who invited his suitemate to a Christian club meeting. The suitemate lashed back and told him to stop trying to convert him. And that was the end of that. 1 Peter 4:16 I look back and I rejoice for my friend to the point my heart aches because I see the Father say, "Well done!"

Time tells the tale. I've been blessed with K-12 education and beyond x2. I'm done counting monetary greens. Now I'm being led to greener pastures. Life is moving quickly here and there's no time to even wish for diligence. Hard work comes to those who work hard. There may be trials now and they may only be training for more suffering to come, but Peter encourages me to lift my eyes from the footprints in the sand. He's got his eyes on something way beyond the horizon. Somewhere. Someone.

Rejoice in sharing in the sufferings of Christ. Rejoice. I do not lose hope for His joy is my strength. His joy is my joy. Again I say, rejoice.

Looking back at a seemingly linear flow of events transcended by what we call time, I'm beginning to see past the backdrop of tricycles, bubble gums, classrooms, and diplomas. There's another introduction to be made somewhere over the fence. And I wonder...

Perhaps joy comes when we simply step away from the frame and behold the Picture.

Blind Business

2009-11-25T21:48:00.000-08:00

To make a short story ridiculously long...

After a long day at dad's office I tagged along with the staff to get some cheap all-you-can-eat meat at O-Dae-San (I should get paid for this). As the others were being seated I decided to do some business (pronounced binness). On my way to the restroom I was looking down at my right foot and walking in big strides to avoid a shoelace that came untied. Right before the doorway into the bathroom I got down on one knee to tie my shoes, but right then I heard someone coming up behind me, and because I am such a gentleman who doesn't like clogging up narrow passages I quickly tucked my shoelaces into my shoe and went straight into the bathroom. The man followed behind me and I quickly claimed a stall. As niagra was falling I wondered why I hadn't seen any urinals because if I had, I would have preferred them over stalls (locking the door is a hassle). Suddenly, I heard high heels clip clop into the restroom and a surprised, shocked, disgusted female voice asking:

"Oppa? Why are you in here?"

And the man who had followed me into the bathroom said:

"Oh, I just... this g... oops, sorry, wrong bathroom... mumble mumble"

(niagra still falls mightily as the conversation goes on)

FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUNDRAISER!!!

The man left quickly for the right door, the man door. Although the man was 'sheepish' enough to follow me in he had enough fuzziness to save the face of a fellow stupid sheep. Thanks. for nothing. I stood in the stall, helpless, like baby Moses as his mother put him in a basket in the Nile river. But I couldn't flush yet because that would give it away. I was pretty relaxed given the predicament I was in because I planned to wait until she either got into a stall or left and then ninja my out of there. But then I thought, oh shoot. the female must know already because girls don't usually stand... omg there's a monster gap in between the hinges, and my shoes omg my shoes are showing and I'm facing the toilet, omg she could totally see me. So much for privacy in public restrooms. At that point, my delayed fight-or-flight senses kicked in and my thought process went something like - Fear. Freeze. Sweat. Pee. Ice. Heroes. Stop. Time. Invisible. Disappear. Ding. Southwest. Commercial. Laugh. Joke. Shut. Up. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Idiot. Moron. I'm. Scared. Jail. Die. Then I calmed myself down in between shallow breaths and regained my statue, yes, statue.

The problem now was waiting for the female to leave. My prayer was that no more females would enter into this public domain. I waited for her to enter into a stall, but she had other business in mind. All I heard was the ch-kunk ch-kunk of the paper towel dispenser, then the clip clop of her heels to (please... outside) the sink, then the pshhhh of the faucet, then silence (finally?), then the clip clop of her heels to (c'mon... this time) the paper towel dispenser, and repeat the same process 5 times (no exaggeration added). Now I was getting frustrated... What is she doing? Writing a message on the mirror with wet paper towels? (in which it would have read "pervert in restroom call 911"). The 6th deadly silence in her fixed action pattern ritual was unusually long and that convinced me she was finally out, and without a second guess I flushed the toilet, unlocked my stall and...

CLIPPITY CLOPPITY!

... my heart dropped as I saw the female, with only her back visible, leaving the restroom. She knew. My guess is she was actually at the sink (in the silence), but when she heard me flush and unlock the stall she didn't want to embarrass me so she quickly left without finishing her face painting. Aww how niCELEBRATIONVICTORY! I lagged behind a few seconds and finally escaped. The next second I found myself entering the right door into the men's restroom. I walked in, closed the door behind me and thought, "Why did I come in here again?" According to my post-analysis, my manliness subconsciously needed to right the wrong and do something manly even if it was too late.

something like that.

I went back to my seat and told the party of my folly and it instantly became comedy. But my concern is that the man and the feman might be having a comedy show at my expense: "Dude, lol, there was, lol, this guy... lol"

On the plus side, the meat was scrumptiously delicious!

Mood: Thankful.

Moral of the story: Read your bible.

"Leave them; they are blind guides.

If a man leads a blind man, both will fall into a pit."

M15:14

Pro Vision

2009-11-07T20:36:00.000-08:00

"We pray that your time here will be challenging, a blessing to you, and greatly useful for God's service."

It's been a while since the family knelt down together and prayed. Thanksgiving. It was coming though because today was just filled with God's grace. The fundraiser surely 'raised the funds' and many were blessed as many more were a blessing. Then I came home and got a letter of acceptance. Nostalgia is not exactly the word, but it's the closest expression of today in my limited vocabulary. The next closest word would be urgency. And finally, peace.

A little bit like this clip that noon sent me. Although, she might be trying to imply something... that starts with "mom's favorite" and ends with "you wish."

Also, something about getting back to the Root.

joy

If He gives you a vision
He will give you provision

Midnight Flight

2009-11-04T03:31:00.001-08:00

I am up because I need my medical meds

Today is the last day I take prescription pez

Two more pills and I'm out the door

Two more kills and the Strep steps no more

It's the red pill or the red pill

Catch 22 plus 6 more until

My wings grow back without the red bull

My strings go crack and become audible

Wake up at 6

Pick up the morning sticks

Eat again at 12

Lay down in my cell

Dinner at 6 again

My stomach is a pig pen

Then I stay up until the end

when I finally say amen

And repeat

Eat, eat, eat

Put it on my tweet

Wheat, wheat, wheat

and rice to be complete

I've learned a lesson

from all this special dining

Shut up and stop whining

Always give thanks

for the ultimate Healing

For faith is more than a

ipod touch

slide to power off

"How Bree Became a Wiser Horse"

2009-10-29T23:31:00.000-07:00

what up, neighhhhhbor?

Here's a little venture into the ink well. I would name this daring company... Ace, if I had the intellectual property to mine own (although it may be grammatically incorrect, it does sound more boozgjwahzi than "my own") but sadly I do not. It will, without my bidding, be rightfully called The Horse and His Boy. Ahem. I shall continue with my superior tone and my eyes half shut with no regard to the winds or loose eyelashes.

There is a peculiar aesthetic to be had, noticed and observed in the telling of metaphors, in particular, metaphors within stories (oh how I was tempted to be redundant and write 'within metaphors' again and again about 3 times, but I am currently in the process of refining myself and these long winded parenthesis are a former shadow of me self arr). They must be strictly observed, but never highlighted because to highlight means to set in stone, or paper, its meaning and interpretation solely for the highlighter and no one else. It is to select just one wavelength in an infinite array of white light. There is nothing wrong in that just as there is nothing wrong in eating only the red skittles in a bag and ignoring the rest. I say "balderdash" (because it is a fun word to say).

Only the one who shines the light knows exactly where, and thus the reason for, the light to shine where it shines. When an observer sees where it shines it is important to see the whole of the shining, rather than the limited portion in which he (assume "/she". I'm not sexy racist) wants to see. This is unlike a buffet, where one can choose to eat whatever he likes for the pleasure of his appetite. If he does not pick up the Honk-Kong-style-fried-noodle soup, the "preparer of the food" (I will refrain from using the word 'chef' for I may offend the 'food is art' crowd save John Mayer and little children in high chairs) will not be offended or thought to be misunderstood as to why the "eater of the food" didn't try the whole palette of prepared food. This is more like a painting. And you can fill in the parallel blanks I am mentally (not) making in my head. And if you are a child of the King of Kings...

Alright, alright. I've had horrible ratings for my transitions (the latest being 6/10).

[Meanwhile], the metaphor hidden in a story is quite unique. The one who pens the story wields the power of revelation. It is not a mere show and tell, but a touch and feel; not a shallow dip in the water, but a total immersion; not a picture of a stranger, but a reflection of one's self. The former(s) is for prideful, assuming eyes that will simply narrow in on personal gain (what's in it for me? what can I learn from this parable?) and either be content, or frustrated with seeing very little. The latter(s) is for humble, lowly eyes that will not only open wide to discover the masterpiece at the light's end, but also gaze upon the beauty of the Artist. What becomes naturally highlighted, or we might say spotlighted, then, is our humble star gazer who now stands in the light in order to see the Light. Now this becomes a proper paradox for it is now personal, yet not for the person on his own account or his aiming of the spotlight on himself, but in light, and in the light, of a greater Person who originates and receives the splendor of it all.

(KABOOM! that's the sound of all my brain cells self-destructing simultaneously)

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning... The Word became flesh and made His dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the One and Only, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.
John 1:1,14

The real peculiar thing is not all metaphors within stories are fiction.

[Finally], if you're wondering what's with all this bloody English talking, parenthetical nonsense?

Three words (interrupted by a single question word):

Chronic-WHAT-cles of Narnia!

Media

2009-10-25T18:22:00.000-07:00

The plural of medium.

I heard on the radio (99.5) the other day about Phil Vischer. He is the creator of Veggie Tales. He has created another franchise for children's ministry called JellyTelly. Check it out!

yo! move over gabba gabba!

Here is a quote by Phil Vischer:

"It's taken me 14 years to learn this lesson, I'm hoping I can save you a few. Do you dream of the work that you can do for God? Do you carry ambitions for changing the world in His name? When you're ready to put them on the altar, to kill them, to let them go, to live your whole life without them resting solely on your relationship with God, you're ready to be used by Him."

Trial after Victory

2009-10-20T23:38:00.000-07:00

hya hya!

Round 1

Last night I was sitting in on the Good News Club (GNC) teacher's training hosted by CEF. As the pastor was giving us a message, I was led to pray and praise and give thanks (in my seat, on my own). I was filled with His joy as every Word dropped like honey. Then...

"John! Why are you touching your lips like that?" whispered noon who was sitting right next to me. Before I knew it I was giving her the coldest stare in the universe of DC comics. Then I semi-rolled my eyes, took 3 scoots away from her chair, and started picking at my lips again (a bad habit I picked up from who knows where). I was angry at her for "ruining my moment" but I knew on the spot (as I was giving her the I-can't-see-you-from-the-corner-of-my-eye treatment), that it was completely my mistake. I was all worked up because of nothing she said, but because of my short comings and how I reacted to what she said. And only His Word will be the last word.

Round 2

After the GNC meeting I was driving home and once again I was giving God the praise and thanksgiving and having a revival service in my car (also for teaching me and correcting to me in round 1). I got off the freeway and I was going up the street when a bmw who was up to no good, started making trouble in my neighborhood. I was ahead on the right lane and signaled left, but for half a block this guy was teasing me (benefit of the doubt: he was probably hesitating whether to pass me or let me enter). Every time I sped up to make my move he would match my speed, and whenever I slowed down to get behind him he would also match my speed. He finally hit the gas and sped up to pass me. Right then, I stopped praying and glared to my left to freeze him with my eyes as he passed by. It was an old lady looking ahead without a care in the world...

Again, I realized what I had done as soon as the car passed me. haaaaaaaa (that's the sound of a deep mournful sigh). My prayers quickly turned into repentance. Only His Word will be the last word.

Round 3

This morning at church, I put my keys in the ignition to start my engine. kekekekekeke* =D kekekekekeke* =O kekekekekeke* =| kekekekeke*! -_- Helga wouldn't start. It was like she was snickering at me. kekeke. "Don't get me started Helga!" Since this was right after morning prayer, I got fired up and began to cry out and intercede for Helga while gripping the steering wheel super tightly like it was Lazarus' mummified head. kekekekeke* haaaaaaa. More than anything, I was frustrated at God thinking, "Why now? Why after a wonderful time at morning prayer? C'mon now!" honk*

This happened and that happened and finally PT jump started my car and suggested I go straight home or to a body shop because it's likely that the battery is out. I chose option two and got a new battery. And PT was right. At the body shop the mechanic switched the engine on and off about 4 times and Helga was out. That's right. If God had miraculously started my car when I prayed and I stopped my car again, I could have been stranded in a worse situation. He allowed me to take out the root of the problem instead of trimming for a temporary solution. If only I could have seen that, I would have been peacefully eating the fruit of patience instead of choking on whine and cheese.

Continue? 10. 9. 8. 7...

Lesson learned, get some more coins and keep on ~~playing~~ praying.

Jesus' Victory > my victory

My victory had blinded me.

My pride had destroyed me.

But His humility rescued me

from every trial and temptation.

So, if you think you are standing firm, be careful that you don't fall!

1 Corinthians 10:12

Morning

2009-10-15T08:56:00.000-07:00

The steadfast Love of the Lord never changes

His mercies never come to an end

They are new every morning

New every morning

Great is Thy faithfulness, O Lord

Great is Thy faithfulness

Light and Salt

2009-10-11T20:48:00.000-07:00

via NYT

After the game, Tebow hugged teammates with a wide smile. He was giving thanks, regardless of the circumstances.

He is a MK (missionary's kid). He is the man.

Bubble Love

2009-10-10T21:31:00.000-07:00

I was planning on going to Fresh 09, but ended up accompanying dad to "sharing festival." Our mission was to spy on them to see how they set up the event so we can use some ideas when we do ours for CEF next month. Unfortunately, we got there right at closing time when everyone was cleaning up. Fortunately, we still wandered around and observed. We realized YN has major man power (and now three whole blocks) and that ours is probably going to be 1/25 in scale. Though I still have my eyes on those inflatable jumping houses.

The church brought back memories. VBS, choir, Tijuana, seminars. Since then, they have further built and expanded their empire. It's incredible. I feel like I'm in the pyramids. Seriously, I even think the church asked the city to make a special green arrow left turn on their street, and that bridge into C-town is probably church property too, and those factory looking buildings nearby are where they hand make bread and wine for communion and research and develop vbs body worship and crank out bibles of every language and produce missionaries who will fulfill kingdom purposes. "I am Missionary T2000. He'll be back." The church has so many resources at the tip of their fingers. Unbelievable. How do you keep all that in check in the midst of (and on top of shepherding) thousands upon thousands in the flock? Hm.

bloop bloop

I'm thinking of bubbles. Its edges are fortified from within to keep things out. There is a sign in them that reads "Comfort Zone" right above a crossed out "Fellowship." Everyone inside is smiling, but everyone outside is not. The bubbles grow larger and invade new territories, but are never affected by outside forces, neither do they ever affect their foreign obstacles. The crowd around it grows like a cloud forming from vent up rain. Safe. Warning. Caution. Danger. Caution. Warning. Safe. Warning. Caution. Danger. Soon the inevitable. Inescapable. Needles drop and the bubbles pop. Suddenly there is no difference between outside and inside. Superficial rainbows kept the soapy spheres hardened with pride. Religion fades like distant tongues within evanescent smiles and what remains is an orphan, a widow, a compromised man. Who in the cold stream will have a heart of yielding clay? Who in the flood will have a heart to build an ark? Bubbles pop. Hearts stop. But Love never fails.

Does the Lord delight in burnt offerings and sacrifices

as much as in obeying the voice of the Lord?

To obey is better than sacrifice,

and to heed is better than the fat of rams.

1 Samuel 15:22

Door

2009-10-08T22:22:00.000-07:00

Unreal. It's like we're in a movie.

What people don't realize is the undermining masterplan to create something more than a lunar cheese crater.

Death Moon. I called it.

If I was the CEO of Arrowhead or any water company I would be crossing my caps for a positive.

20 bucks there's no water. I called it. Again.

But if there is, who would be the first one to be baptized on the moon? I was going to say Michael Jackson, but I take that back... way back to 1983.

And a voice from heaven said, "He is the one and the kid is my son, whom I love. With him I am well pleased."

(MJV)

Battle Bikes Baby!

2009-10-08T16:30:00.000-07:00

This is a Public Serve Announcement sponsored by Do-the-right-thing! Hyaa!

Folks, don't even think about it unless you are this guy:

or this guy:

In other words,

vroom vroom vroom vroom vroom vroom!

And if you still decide for it, make sure this happens - vroom vroom - so you realize sooner rather than later.

I mean, if you still want a thrill so badly, go get yourself a horse that can do this: neigh

Whatever sinks your boat. ^^

Milk and Coffee

2009-10-03T00:22:00.000-07:00

Taking out some money from the bank and going to Coffee Bean.

$40.00

Getting super cold and not having my sweater, which was probably

$39.99

Experimenting in the past to find out if I really am allergic to coffee.

$13.00

Ordering a small hot chocolate with the knowledge of that dark, bitter truth.

$2.20

But not paying that amount because I changed my mind to medium.

$2.80

Deliciously drinking it all then suddenly remembering I am lactose intolerant.

$@#!

Holding it in up to my rectal limit, then FOL (Farting Out Loud).

$0.00

Reading the Word like my life depended on it.

Priceless

and way sweeter than hot chocolate.

In n Out

2009-09-28T23:19:00.000-07:00

I was shivering in my basketball shorts and from the cooled sweat from my drenched t-shirt. The La Crescenta night breeze was refreshing and cool while running on the courts, but now at the outdoor benches of the restaurant it was getting chilly. It didn't help that I was sipping on ice cold pink lemonade. There was the usual small talk when dealing with a stranger, but all I could do was wait for someone to lose. I was stuck. Then the old man with the potty mouth asked, "You know Acts 2:38?" I was surprised at first that this unkempt, rancid, chess infatuated old man would recite a bible verse. Then I was disappointed at myself... "No."

"You got a bible on you? Where's your bible? You said you're going to seminary aren't ya? Maybe you can learn something tonight."

I didn't. I had left my bible at home after church that evening, but my pride took me to the small parking lot. I searched my car in panic and luckily found a Gideon pocket bible (which I didn't know I had) at the bottom of the middle compartment under all the trash and old receipts. "Holy Spirit, please give me wisdom." I took it back to the outdoor tables and the old man, focused on the game and without even a glance in my direction, said, "Read it out loud, nice and clear." He stopped me at Jesus Christ as he slammed down his rook to capture my friend's bishop. "hah!"

He turned to me, "Pastors are liars. You don't get baptized in the name of the Father, the Son, the Holy Spirit. You get baptized only in the name of Jesus Christ. Try telling your pastor that. Lost for words I tell ya. Don't worry kiddo it took me 30 years to figure that one out."

what?

Then he went on to talk about how he goes to an apostolic church and that they got the real deal - a real choir, and a real organ - not the fake worship with phony instruments. His response to my stuttering defense (full of 'well's and 'I think's) for the heart of worship was, "No no no no. Don't give me that."

what?

all I need to say is "Jesus Christ" right? all I need to recite is John 3:16 right? what the funnel cake do I say to all of that nonsense?

Checkmate. I sat in silence until the old man overtook my friend's king. We parted ways and went home, and in my state of defeat, only one thing was running through my head- WORD.

Read the WORD. Know the WORD.

"Preach the Word; be prepared IN season and OUT of season; correct, rebuke and encourage - with great patience and careful instruction."

2 Timothy 4:2

It wasn't mere coincidence that God humbled me at In n Out.

The season is right. The season is now.

Seeking

2009-09-26T17:10:00.000-07:00

Vibrissae

2009-09-23T16:27:00.000-07:00

This entry is rated M for Mucus.

Two days ago, I cut some nose hairs (like.. not a lot) because they were getting unruly and getting too excited whenever I smile real loud (and because I can never man up and just pluck 'em out, tear*). One hair in particular was about 1.5 centimeters long and as thick as a single bristle of a toothbrush. No, I did not measure it. 1.5 is just a good number.

Yesterday, I was sneezing like a panda. It was not the infectious kind since I have no cold, but the allergy kind where one sneeze opens the floodgates of the Ol' Factory Dam and costs 2 tissues (re)used wisely or about 7-8 squares of toilet paper.

Speaking of paper (and unexpected messes), I read in the news the other day about Egypt and her hasty solution to swine flu:

When the government killed all the pigs in Egypt this spring — in what public health experts said was a misguided attempt to combat swine flu — it was warned the city would be overwhelmed with trash.
The pigs used to eat tons of organic waste. Now the pigs are gone and the rotting food piles up on the streets of middle-class neighborhoods like Heliopolis and in the poor streets of communities like Imbaba.

What seems like a quick solution leads to yet another problem. I want to say "Hah! Serves you right!" but I would be pointing at myself. It's like taking pain killers for wounds that kill instead of running to a Doctor for healing. For wounds internal. For wounds invisible. Don't go for the quick fixes that never satisfy because true satisfaction is eternal. Holla~ "We want Jesus!"

"We want Jesus!"

Today I won't be picking my boogers (at least not in public). They are my last line of defense... the first, my windows...

ashes, ashes, we all fall...

ACHOOO!

... aftereffect - the true reason for my allergic reactions was due to the dormant ashes picked up by the winds that started up yesterday. Last night our house was covered in ashes and the kitchen floor was ashy and the culprit was Ash. (funny: 1.5/10). Even with the fires put out in our mountains in LCr, the ashes are still left to do airborne damage on top of the actual burn of fire damage. This is what you call consequence.

Sin and its consequence. PR6:27.28 "Can a man scoop fire into his lap without his clothes being burned? Can a man walk on hot coals without his feet being scorched?"

Hot dam~ Our own ashes from past mistakes may linger around, we may even have winds of circumstances that poke at our scars, but we must not be disheartened or downtrodden because God is the lifter of our heads. He is faithful and just. The day is coming when He will clear the air and we will breathe a new heaven and new earth. So look to Jesus and put faith only in Him who took on the heap of ashes and the ultimate Consequence of sin for you and for me.

"For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord."

EPHESIANS TWO! EPHESIANS TWO! EPHESIANS TWO! EPHESIANS TWO!

^, ,^

Nose hair 540 to Gospel 316!!!

Wow. That's a first.

Sharing is Loving 2

2009-09-22T09:52:00.000-07:00

"What would my Father in heaven say of me?" not "What would people think of me?"

We say with our mouths that God's mission is to seek and save the lost, but in our actions we keep hiding the lost from a faith that Jesus calls child-like. We go on and on about the rules and regulations of "hide n seek" when God simply says He will seek those who are lost and hidden. By the end of the foreword to the gospel message, salvation in Jesus Christ becomes merely an academic exercise that only the top scholars and instructors and scribes can share due to their knowledge and expertise and experience. Then out of a sense of duty we begin to rely on our own wisdom to lead someone to the true Wisdom of God. Versions of the word turn into diversions from the enemy to create divisions in theology that lead straight to secondaries, tertiaries, all the way down to the study of the bond between bone and marrow and its relationship to God without ever thinking of moving the muscle called "faith" that leads to the Author of the Word Himself. When it finally comes time to share the Good News, we (at least among my peers) do not feel ready enough or good enough or godly enough or experienced enough, and with all the discouragement wrapped up as a gift with yellow "caution" ribbons all over it every soul treads fearfully and cowardly as we share the news that is supposed to bring about the joy of salvation. By the end of the "presentation" the curtains close and the spectators are left without a way to present themselves before a holy God. The words spoken to them are cold and textbook-like. They leave with even more doubt or worse yet, a false sense of salvation.

"Do I care?" "Do I love?"

From God. By God. In terms of experience, the apostle Paul himself began to preach the Gospel only days after his conversion. "And immediately he proclaimed Jesus in the synagogues, saying, "He is the Son of God." I am of the opinion that sharing is not a skill we can hone and master, but rather an attitude we must choose to bear. In order to share, we must have, and what we have is the power of God for salvation. Sharing is simply extending out our arms out and giving to another. Sacrifice. When we share the free gift of salvation it's about freely giving what we have freely received. And to think/say that brother/sister so and so is not fit or ready already puts us in a seat of judgment, one that requires us to be the judge (or more accurately, the doubter) of their salvation because to share means to have what you share. And to think/say that "I" am not fit or ready requires a personal scrutiny of our relationship with God that goes beyond "I think God loves me." because believe or not, Christians are called to share the Gospel. Now that sounds radical. Too extreme. Too intense. Too hardcore. Too difficult. Too much sacrifice. Too passionate. Too much time. Too not-for-me-more-for-them. Too impossible. But God reminds us it is the Holy Spirit who lives in us who gives us the conviction, the courage, and the words to go out and become true witnesses for Christ. It's not about me. It's all about Jesus. Surely God will take care of the salvation of His children.

Great conviction. Great Compassion. Great Commission. I hold on dearly to these convictions so that next time there's not a single bit of uncertainty or guilt or man's opinion that disqualifies me for the mission of leading souls to Christ, which every child in His name is called to do. I also hold on dearly to the grace and mercy that God pours out upon me as I turn to Him with a heart of repentance, knowing that God is still faithful. I have a familiar feeling this won't be the end of it, but it's high time to put down the instruction manual and start following what it says.

I took Chris back to the pastor's wife. "He's good to go!"

I thanked her and thanked God for the second chance.

Sharing is Loving

Sharing is Loving 1

2009-09-21T18:07:00.000-07:00

"Did he accept Jesus Christ?"

That was the first thing she said to me.

And my heart was pierced and sunk to my stomach. I stared into her eyes as she wiped a tear from her cheek. I replied in hesitation. "Possibly." I looked at my student and then back at the pastor's wife and said, "Can you please give me 5 minutes?" She nodded.

I took Chris behind the basketball court away from the chaos of children in exile and began an excursion of our own into the depth of our hearts. I had my Wordless Book ready and I shared the message of salvation. He seemed familiar with the news, as if he had seen it in a church play once, but didn't know the details. When we got to the white page I asked, "Would you like to receive Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior?" he nodded quietly. When we prayed together my heart was gripped with a grace that moved my convictions, making them intense to the point of sorrowful guilt then making me sense the complete freedom from a guilty conscience.

Throughout the cef children's camp none of my students raised their hand to receive Christ at the end of the message. Assumptions were high and despite my years of experience at camp I lost sight of the importance of sharing the Gospel to every single child under my care. I truly know the Gospel was preached throughout the camp and through Pastor Daniel's messages - there was no doubt in that. There was doubt, however, in whether or not each child that God entrusted to me had an opportunity to ACCEPT Jesus Christ not just hear about Him. I felt my conscience roundhouse kicking me in the head even as I thought to myself "they're all from church so they'll probably get it someday." In light of "doing it right" I left out doing it Righteous, and that's where my true convictions lied.

In the end, I know it is up to God to grow the seed we have sown. But I also know that this isn't a license to go into battle halfheartedly then come out with an applause for every soldier for the sake of phony 'feel good encouragements' and 'keeping the peace' and 'ending on good notes.' What needs to be rooted out must be rooted out - no matter how painful and destructive and unpopular it is - before it spreads, infects, and stunts not only one person's growth but also his or her brothers and sisters in Christ. I can already imagine (and know of) a child growing up with everyone around him, including himself, assuming and learning that He is saved because he went to church or he went to camp and then later realizing he was never a child of God in the first place. "I never knew you."

Hiatus

2009-09-19T23:10:00.000-07:00

Hi...

atus.

"It's been a long time comin' up here now.
From the streets to the church - all in your ears now."

3 months. It's been 3 months of post college life. But I'll get to that later. I can describe it in full, and at the same time I can't say I know in full. It's like a puzzle. I see what the picture is on the puzzle box, but I would be lying to say I put it all together unless I connect the actual pieces.

As the words and sentences connect themselves...

Hm. I sound like I'm up in the clouds. I can feel it in my face. FYI here's a little secret: The face expression you have when you write is the feeling you will convey to the reader. (Just a small nugget of wisdom I discovered by reading what I write.) If ya don't know, now you know n. So in the first paragraph I looked all types of scholarly and high and mighty, but right now I look like a bum... J-bum... like one who is unable to take off the weights of oppression and rise above the race. H12. At the end of the day, your expression is your expression. Love or hate comes from your love or hate. You are you. Nobody else to sue. Makes it all the more hopeful and glad to be made in His view. I mean image.

Back in gear. Happy back to school! UCs are starting up this coming week, but you see, I will not be participating this time around, no, not I. This is the first September in 17 years of public education that I'm not going "back-to-school." I write this as I artfully dodge 10 pound text books and hosts of office supplies and Revelle (echo. echo. echo.) breakfast burritos and origami knives made out of class schedules and syllabi and virgin longboards launched from fort Peterson. Just a few words to all ya haterz still kickin' it old "school," if I may... na. nanana. nana. nana. canttouchthis.

It feels good and bad. Chorus is necessary. Though I am not physically going to school I still had to worry about school. After spending the majority of summer poring over the application process, I finally submitted my application to Talbot this week. Praise the Lord! It is all in His hands. (This paragraph was written with a big smile.)

Now on to the main dish. The title is a misnomer. (Yes! I finally used misnomer... always been on the look out for that one. *check* next word on the list is platitudinous). Hiatus would mean that there's been a break or gap in the process, but that is not entirely true. The writing process may have been stagnant, but the life behind the curtains has been filling the gap, so to speak. Filling the gap of this cavity. Being shaped and reshaped. Broken and remade. Molded and remodeled. JM18:4 It's amazing to know that our Father is always at work in us. J5:17. All glory to God.

This has been a trailer for more to come. Puzzle pieces are GO!

Don't blink.

Close your eyes. M6:33.

Pleasing Aroma

2009-07-10T23:19:00.000-07:00

I'm starting to smell again. It reminds me of my adolescent days. I used to put on this deodorant scent named "Spring breeze." I forgot the brand name though. I learned of deodorants and such in the locker rooms during p.e. I didn't think I needed it because I never smelled, but I noticed that whenever I play Super Smash Bros. (any console) my armpits become a spring of living water (lower case "l"). Sometimes it misses the sleeves of my t-shirt and trickles along my field of eves down to my pants. raging waters!

This one time during a piano lesson at my piano teacher's house my teenage hormones went haywire, or string. I was under a lot of pressure because I had crammed a week's worth of piano homework into 10 minutes right before my lesson. She was testing me on Für Elise for the upcoming recital. So I was pretty much sight-reading the piece, which I am horrible at, and as I nervously fumbled through the first couple measures I heard something drip. Drip... Drip... Drip... When I finally got to a break in the piece and came off my stress high I looked down and saw small puddles in the grooves of the piano chair between me and my teacher (by this point, she saw it too). I thought, "hmm, that's strange." And immediately, my teacher (who knew exactly what was going on) got up and went to the kitchen and came back with a paper towel. "Oh, don't worry, my... previous student... probably spilled some water." She wiped it clean and I didn't think much of it so I continued. Then it happened again. drip... drip... drip. And that's how I created the Southwest commercials. "Wanna get awahell yea."

Drip! You are now free to sweat profusely.

Right now my armpits smell like persimmons that are ripe and in season - the kind you eat with a spoon because it's mushy. I can't stop smelling it. It smells... kinda good. I just might make a perfume that contains the essence of my sweat in every bottle...

I can't stop smelling...

...and I can't stop thinking of how we are called to be the aroma of Christ. (transition: 6/10)

But thanks be to God, who always leads us in triumphal procession in Christ and through us spreads everywhere the fragrance of the knowledge of him. For we are to God the aroma of Christ among those who are being saved and those who are perishing. To the one we are the smell of death; to the other, the fragrance of life. And who is equal to such a task? Unlike so many, we do not peddle the word of God for profit. On the contrary, in Christ we speak before God with sincerity, like men sent from God.
2 Corinthians 2:14-17

Being a pleasing aroma to God means to perfectly submit and surrender to His will because we were created for His pleasure. Sniff sniff. When He smells us, does He smell rancid sin or the blood of Christ that washes our sins away? Would that all my brothers and sisters become fragrances whom God is pleased to spread everywhere. Yet like high quality perfume, this comes with a price. The price of Jesus becoming the sacrifice for our sins puts value to the price of His lovers to become living sacrifices, broken and undone, for God's purposes. This spiritual act of worship is what His people were created for and the perfect act that God has given us to follow is His Son Jesus Christ. As we know, His act of worship led Him to death, even death on the cross.

Worship bleeds out of the ones truly abandoned to God and truly stayed on His Word. "For in the midst of their physical and emotional pain, their loyalty to Christ grows pure and perfect. And in the face of persecutions, their love and worship toward God become all-consuming." The ones who will become this aroma are the ones who will lay it all down to become true worshipers of God. Flowers yield their strongest aroma when they are crushed, and God has more than a crush on His people. Undying love. It will undoubtedly be more difficult, but as Jesus says of Paul, "I will show him how much he must suffer for my name" we must pick up our cross daily and pursue our Lover just as He has pursued us. His joy is our strength. His pleasure is our pleasure because we are His pleasure forever.

Aroma backwards = amora = amor a = "love to" in spanish -> "love to" backwards = "to love"
Therefore, aroma = "to love"

thank you. thank you. I knew I should have majored in linguistics.

<3

I'll end with a poem I recently wrote (modified for general audience, rated G):

The Potter has fearfully and wonderfully created
a beautiful jar of clay
And has placed in you the aroma of Christ
which you unashamedly spray
Like a sweet, pleasant perfume exuding the fragrance of life
For me and everyone in Jesus Christ

May you forever be a pleasure to God
Fulfilling the Lord's purpose for your creation
And become a servant of God who embraces every crushed petal
Just as He has embraced your surrender and obedience
as a pleasing aroma unto Him

I want to smell like Jesus!

...please don't quote me on that...

sniff!