First

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

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

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

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

via ggcem

Button

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

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.