Essence

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

Today in Class

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

Counselor

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

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

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.