Ran Dumb In Sights

> Driving around Korea was unnerving at first but I got the hang of it pretty quickly. Basically, the blinker is only a suggestion. Like "please?... maybe?... may I lane change right now because if I miss this exit I will end up with a 10 minute detour?" Of course, the answer I get is always Heck No. This is the land of Burger King. You better have it your way and make your own path even if it means causing a 5 car combo collision in another lane cuz ain't nobody spoon feedin' you nothin.' After almost 3 hours of driving south of Seoul I was in the countryside where people were either color blind or interpreting red lights to mean 'go-whenever-you-feel-like-going.' I admit, I ran some red lights too, but that was only because everyone was doing it. gosh. What would they think of me if I followed the rules like some ignorant foreigner. And you know what they say, "When in Rome..."

> Speaking of driving, you cannot go anywhere in Korea without a navi (navigation system). You die in Korea without a navi. Like, you just die... as you pay for unknown speeding tickets from hidden cameras, which the navi magically reveals 700 meters before you can say "What's that camera doing there?" They say there are 3 women that a Korean man must listen to for his own survival: his mother, his wife, and his navi.

> Visiting my cousins' houses (not apartments) I noticed that Korea is the perfect playground to hardcore parkour. It seems like everyone's roof, which is more like an outdoor attic, is intricately connected somehow. Standing there looking across the landscape with my hands on my waist and my cape furiously blowing in the wind I was so tempted to just run and jump from building to building and shoot webs out of my hands while smashing pots full of bean paste... trust me you just have to be there.

> I have taken trash cans for granted. Here, you basically need to use google maps to find trash cans. I spent way too much time looking for trash cans than I should in a life time. I ended up emptying out a handful of trash from my pockets at the end of each day... and even then I had to search around the house for one.

> Rest stops along the freeway are mini-oases and I actually look forward to the bowl of 우동 (udon) and bag of 호두과자 (hodoo gwaja) and 아이스크림 (ah-ee-sss-ku-reem) that you can find at each rest stop. Also, I tried my hand at the crane game for 100 won (~10 cents) and I KNOW I had that angry bird doll in my grip, but the crane suddenly "slipped"  and let go while coming back up. Lamesauce.

> I thank God for whoever invented the air conditioner. The AC has been my best friend this summer. Also, my dad.

> Shopping in Korea... is the same. Shopping is shopping. Boring and tiring, but a little more... 'colorful' here than in the States. As usual, my relatives spoil me. I might have to start my own shopping haul youtube channel. It'll be called "Korea is the Fabulous!"

> I gained more than 5 kgs in Korea (sorry I can't do the math and google is too many mouse spaces away). Ever since I escaped from my mother's womb with a 6 pack I've never had a belly, but I found myself sucking in my stomach when they had me try on a suit at the Lotte department store ("Can you even button up thYES I CAN!") and also whenever someone "important" was walking by... lolwut? why? Natural instinct? Not so sure. Imagine a skinny guy slouching over and hanging down his arms with his butt sticking out and flexing and tucking in his stomach causing a constipated look on his face saying, "heyyy.... lady." 

> Last Sunday, I visited Full Gospel church in Yeoido, which is the largest church in the world with over 1,000,000 church members (2007). And wow, it was a sight to behold. I don't even... I can't even put into words the sheer amount of people gathered together to worship and this was only the 4th service out of 7. There were staff members and ushers everywhere bowing 90 degrees as we entered. ATM-like machines to give offering via credit card along with personalized envelopes for offering receipts. Cameras to broadcast live on the big screens. Buses to transport people coming from all over Seoul. English, Japanese, and Chinese lyrics to all the songs. Full orchestra and choir. And that particular day a college group from Germany and China had come to visit and so the church welcomed them. The big boss himself, Pastor Yonggi Cho spoke that day as well. It was about giving thanks in all circumstances. I was reminded once again there's a vast ocean out there, outside this bubble, a whole spiritual landscape of saints called to worship in spirit and in truth. I am merely a drop in the ocean, a vapor in the mist, a flower quickly fading, but somehow when God's Words of living water are unleashed and sent forth through His faithful messengers these drops become infinitely precious and loved in His sight. The creations heart resonates with the Creator's voice. A picture perfect symphony. Can't wait for heaven.

> I translated for a group of foreign missionaries today and I think I have the gift... the gift of making up stuff when I have no idea what to say as if I really know what I'm saying... all that with a big, confident, million dollar smile on my face. In moments like these I think it would be nice if everyone had the gift of tongues and interpretation. No translators necessary. (Curse you, wretched men of Babel Tower!) The conference held about 600-700 people, who are all pastors, Sunday school teachers, missionaries, MKs, student volunteer missionaries, board members of missions organizations, businessmen who devote their time and money, and Jesus freaks. I was incredibly challenged by the pure and holy devotion and commitment that each of them had for His kingdom. That unshakable, pioneer spirit that steps out by faith into the unknown and unreached. That untouchable will that counts death as mere child's play and life worth nothing but rubbish, only to know Christ and make Him known. Dang. I'm humbled.

> This trip feels like that blank page between chapters in a book. Overlooked but necessary. It's a distinguishing mark, a checkpoint, that refreshes the mind as it reflects on the story and sets the stage for the following act. If anything I have grown so so so super duper so much more mature through this experience...

> But I'm still Batman.

Motherland

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

It's time for some Seoul searchin'.

Handshake

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

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

Fixed

He had a bone, he gave it to a woman

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

But he desired to be the one in command

because he had his eyes fixed on his own master plan

The Master counted his folly as mortal transgression

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

He had a home, but he became a nomad

He pitched his tents in no man's land

But it didn't matter when the times got bad

because he had his eyes fixed on the Passover Lamb.

The Provider counted his faith as righteousness,

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

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

He had no tent, no home, and no land

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

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

The Father counted his obedience as a pleasing sacrifice

and there he became the Savior, Redeemer

Author and Perfecter of our faith, Jesus Christ.

I Know Why the Songbird Sings

The songbird is caught in its own melody

black ink lures her with perfect harmony

Five lines now vertical

behind bars now vertigo

Pulse is measured and time is anonymous

One and three become synonymous

The lock's in place and the key's on G

Dots and flags become the ball and chain

You see,

Songbirds are meant to sing

of the freedom of spring

Nature abandoned on the back of her wings

awakens the Symphony

Sun rays spotlight the conductor of winds

weaving red quilts and separation from sins

The blue opens up and her expression begins

to make way for Epiphany

But when the songbird is mocked

and her song is imitated

clouds become chalk

synthetically created

Though heaven and earth will always be debated

truth and its parody can never be related

Feather the heaviness and let the voice be

Ears see the vision of joy and pain

You see,

Songbirds are meant to sing

of the freedom of spring

Nature abandoned on the back of her wings

awakens the Symphony

Sun rays spotlight the conductor of winds

weaving red quilts and separation from sins

The blue opens up and her expression begins

to make way for Epiphany

Peace of Me

They say that the longest distance in the universe is from the head to the heart. We say we know in whole but behave like we only know in part. Vague like abstract art. We are all bobbleheads living in a world of walking deads. We know so much but we never get ahead. So much to do and so little commitment.

We try to separate revelation from salvation with the injection of the poison of false hope and human determination. "How much do you want it?" Wrong question. "What's the point?" Pay no attention because by our own definition, picking up the cross and sharing in Christ's affliction means that by the sweat of our own brow we will build our heavenly mansion. It's a combination of worldly passion and selfish ambition whitewashed with a thick layer of pious conviction.

Look around and see the myriad of laws surrounding us under the guise of dealing with the flaws pertaining to us. The same ones we've built up in the name of loving Jesus. We call it the house of prayer but really it's become a house of mirrors with no way to correct our own errors. There must be a hand somewhere to wipe the dirt. Blood to wash the sin-stained shirt. And yet, we're still caught up in the activities of yesteryear except maybe this time around we add one more day of prayer and replace the pews with detachable chairs. Traditionally modern. Newly ancient. Old is not better. New is not newer. Do's and dont's like we're machines during lent. Lots of Movements but no improvement.

So it seems we hit the snooze button as much as we hit up our old "friends." It's obviously easier to stop when you reach a dead end. Then the familiar becomes comfortable, the comfortable becomes lovable, and the lovable becomes impossible to forsake and repent. And even in the moments of clarity, the cold winds of change and the premature fears of the brain convince us otherwise, to stay warm inside, to stay there and hide, to stay where you're filled with lies, least alive, passion dies, until we realize we will never arrive no matter how hard we try. It's the classic case of a seed sown among thorns. Choked up yet never fully mourned because when it comes time to choose "whom you will serve" we're rarely torn. Perhaps we've lost sight of our born-again identity; spiritual amnesia a la Jason Bourne.

When everything is not what it seems and seems to be out of order, it's not enough to simply redefine words and redraw the borders, especially when the preacher's got a chip on his shoulder. It's not enough to flex every spiritual muscle just to raise a hand in a place full of grace instead of using the same energy to give a hand to those who really need grace. It's not enough. It'll never be enough even if we're actually determined to run this race based on faith. We might as well huff and puff. Transform ourselves, built Ford tough. Fight off all crime and sin like we're Scruff McGruff. But how quickly we forget that His grace is sufficient and that He is more than enough.

And we're back in the house of mirrors. Only this time around I'm on my knees in desperate prayer. I've seen enough of me and my will. I need these shiny walls to shatter to see the blood of Christ that covers me. No more building, it's time to start breaking. It's time to be broken. There is absolutely nothing I have done to come to this point in this journey of knowing and loving Christ more. Dead men can't choose life, let alone choose to obey Christ to somehow obtain everlasting life. Any sign of life in me is Christ in me. Any sign of obedience is the Spirit in me. Any love reflects the Father who loves me. We begin by grace and so we end by grace. My disgrace covered by His grace to be exact. I used to be on fire for Jesus and ready to do His will, but grace amazing found me and led me to the Good News of Jesus Christ, how He did it already and said, "It is finished." Now I'm enjoying HIS passion and all consuming fire and HIS will is being done in me. HE is that link from the head to the heart, not my own efforts or hours of meditation. HE is that piece that completes the picture, not my own skills or hours of perfection. In other words, less of me and more of Jesus. In other words, I become nothing and Jesus becomes everything.

In other words, Jesus is my everything.

Final Stretch

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!