Obadiah

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.

Bubble Love

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