Blind Business

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

In n Out

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.

Pleasing Aroma

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!