How things get screwed up.

“Nine members of a Michigan-based Christian militia group have been indicted on sedition and weapons charges in connection with an alleged plot to murder law enforcement officers in hopes of setting off an antigovernment uprising.”

So I’m browsing the news as I sit here at work, and the first article I come across is one about the Hutaree, a far-right group that desires to use violence to spur rebellion. The catch? They claim to be doing this in the name of God. The article even kicks it off with a bang by immediately deeming them as Christians.

Things like this jacked up my idea of Christians all of the time. “Christians oppose gay marriage.” “Christians deride Muslims as ‘terrorists.'” “Christians support war in Iraq.” “Christians this,” “Christians that.”

And as I was reading this article, I realized, How many other people in the world are having their views of Christianity and God messed up by these things, too? Countless, I imagine.

My high school days found me surrounded by a respectable group of people who were more or less non-religious, save for one or two. We cursed, drank, smoked, drove dangerously (Okay, maybe that’s just me.), and didn’t care much for God or how He could affect our lives. What we had was not a dislike or an aversion, but a choice to not seek any sort of religious solace. We, for the most part, deemed ourselves as liberals, people who greatly disagreed with the status quo of America. We had varying opinions, but the for the most part, what we sought was change from what we believed was a fundamentally Christian nation that had instilled fundamentally Christian laws into place.

And in a way, we were correct in our assumption: America was built upon Christian foundations, and many of our laws have Christian roots. But in a large way, we were wrong. We were wrong to generalize our idea of Christians into people who were brutally opposed to anything besides what the Bible told them. We were wrong to believe that all Christians were the same. And (I say this with the greatest amount of love possible) those who were Christians among us supported our claims with their actions and ideals.

Even moreso, however, was how the media painted Christians. Every time the church appears in media, it’s around some sort of conflict that’s going on. How churches are exempt from certain taxes, how churches feel about the war in Iraq, how churches feel about same sex marriages. And despite having learned with great impression that the media is incredibly biased, we accepted what the televisions and radios spoon-fed us about them.

But remembering that media is, indeed, biased, and having gone through what I can only explain as an experience of Jesus this past quarter, I have to say: the media does not represent, in the least bit, the vast majority of the Christian community. You only ever hear from the Christians who “hate gays” and “want those Muslims to get what they deserve.” Or, if they’re not captured in such stern opinion, Christians who would say otherwise are certainly not affiliated with their church. Or maybe it’s because those with harsh opinions are prone to utilizing God or the Bible as their evidence against same sex marriage or for war.

In a country with a burgeoning population of Christians, one who is not might think, “Wow, those people are all the same.” However Christians are denominated — Catholic, Presbyterian, Baptist, Seventh Day Adventist; Intervarsity Bruin Christian Fellowship, Korean Campus Ministry, Grace on Campus — if one is not part of the church or the fellowship, Christians seem to get lumped into a giant mass in which individuals are indistinguishable from one another.

In a country where individuality and independence is prized, you’d think it wouldn’t be that way. But more often than not, it is.

This is what the Hutaree believes:
“Jesus wanted us to be ready to defend ourselves using the sword and stay alive using equipment. The Hutaree will one day see its enemy and meet him on the battlefield if so God wills it.”

First thought: Clearly, God did not will it. After all, you were arrested.

Second thought: If a class of thirty-seven high school students based their opinions about Christians on what they had read in news articles, seen on TV, heard on the radio, and experienced with their peers; how many people must think worse of Christians by reading this news article? I can imagine it making headline news; it must be getting tons of views as I type this out. Heck, I can even see the headline: “Christians plan to overthrow government.” Overexagerrated? Yes. But have headlines been overexagerrated before? You bet.

I won’t lie to you, I was pissed when I read this article. Pissed that not only had the Hutaree taken what was essentially an opposite path to what I’m learning with my fellowship, but that the media had taken that, reported it, and done nothing to distinguish them from me.

But in that moment, I also realized that what anger and rage I felt was probably similar to what drove the Hutaree to violence as their way of doing God’s work. They might be angry because they feel that this government, founded upon the ideals of Christianity, has strayed far from the path that they believe God set out for us. Or they might be angry just because they think the government screwed up. Far be it from me to deride opposition to authority; I’m all for that, but one thing I detest with utmost certainty is violence. One thing I’ve learned in life is that violence really isn’t the answer.

And as I write this, analyzing as my fingers move across the keyboard, I’ve had time to calm down. And think.

Once upon a time, not too long ago, Christianity and I were at ends with each other. I’ve had time to see that the reason for that was because I had been surrounded by Christians whose beliefs were on the other end of the spectrum from mine. See, I believe in pro-choice under certain circumstances, I believe that same sex marriage should be allowed, I believe that war is wrong, I don’t believe that any one religion is right or wrong, I believe that God loves indiscriminately, and I believe that love is the answer. It’s not that the Christians I grew up around were wrong; maybe they’re right. But they are different, and they never really gave chance to a teenage firl to explain her beliefs, understandably. And I can safely say that the reason that it’s possible for me to even remotely exist amongst Intervarsity is because they accept how I feel and what I believe. Because some of them believe similarly or they see validity in my belief or they work to understand it.

So, if you’ve made it this far, take one thing away from this oh-so-rant-like blog post of mine: not all Christians are the same. Because I, who am a Christian, do not believe in banning gay marriages or in instigating war or in using violence in the name of God. Because the people I’m surruonded by now, who are Christians, do not all believe in banning abortion or that everyone who isn’t Christian is wrong. Because there are hundreds of thousands, maybe millions or even more Christians out there who are not who you think they are. And so I tell you: we are not all the same.

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Spring!

I’m back! It’s been an interesting and adventurous spring break, but I guess it’s time to get back down to the nitty gritty.

That means school.

That means studying.

Now, anyone who knows me know my adversity to studying, but I’d like to think of this quarter as a comprehensive exploration of three different possibilities in my life. It goes like this:

Communications Studies 10
Sociology 1
Physiological Sciences 5

In all technicality, I’m still a Physiological Sciences major. And who knows? Even though I’m fairly determined to change majors to Communications Studies, things could turn around again by the time spring quarter of next year rolls around. Life happens, you know? And besides, I’d take a miraculous C- in Chemistry 14B as a “Get Out of Jail Free” card from God any day. The big man upstairs could be telling me to stick to it. Or he could just be redeeming my GPA so I never have to see chemistry again.

It’s all a big mystery; Lord, You sure work in strange ways.

So I find it necessary for me to do this whole “exploration thing.” I could end up liking Communications or Sociology or Physiological Sciences more than the others. Either way, I think of them as convergent paths; I still don’t think I’m going to medical school, but I like paramedic school as an alternative.

In the meanwhile, it was nice having a break from all the studying and stress. I’d like to think that my acne levels have gone down significantly in the past nine days. I find myself sorely missing all of my friends and experiences at Cerritos High School, but I can’t live in my little bubble forever, right? Besides, the bubble wasn’t that great. It really wasn’t. But the people were, and they’re the ones that make the experience count. We just have to remember that it takes effort to stay in touch and maintain the friendships that we’ve built. They say that you never really keep your high school friends, but there are always exceptions to every rule.

It’s even more interesting when two very separate parts of my life become intertwined. With my high school friends one day and with my fellowship the next; two things that are very different but both make me extremely happy. It’s odd when that happens. It makes me question whether this life is actually better. It certainly is different, but better?

But then I remember. Both lives are better because of who I am now. I don’t know if I’m any better, but I certainly am different. And I like myself better this way. And I am very much happier this way. And because of that, my life (singular) is better.

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Being the change with RECYCLEDinstincts.

Hey, everyone! How are your spring breaks going? Well? Good to hear.

I’ve been spending a good chunk of my time during break with my friends from high school. We watched Alice in Wonderland in 3-D in IMAX (my first IMAX experience!), frolicked around an empty Irvine Spectrum, went shopping… it’s been really good. I’ve truly been blessed by having these people around me over the past dozen years of my life.

Two of them in particular, Melody and Sarah, have been especially great friends to me, and I’m incredibly grateful for that. So in a time when they need my help, I figure, “Why not?”

These two chicas are starting up their own organization, called RECYCLEDinstincts, making their own eco-friendly jewelry and selling it to support a non-governmental organization of their choice. This year, they’re working on helping Invisible Children, a group dedicated to freeing children from military conflict in Uganda.

Even if you might not be into jewelry (like me), their bracelets are pretty bomb diggity in a non-girly way, and if you don’t want to wear those, you can buy it for someone who will. Just keep in mind that every purchase will help Invisible Children achieve their mandate.

All of the jewelry that they make is hand-crafted by each of them. Pretty crazy, eh? I thought they were just putting together a bunch of beads and stuff, but when I was chilling out at Melody’s place, I realized that they were actually making the beads themselves. It blew my mind; no wonder they were taking so much time to do it!

You can find them on Facebook or WordPress:
http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#!/group.php?gid=108670819152530&ref=ts
http://recycledinstincts.wordpress.com

These links are also in my links to the right!

Anyway, enough with my shameless plug for their business. You get the point.

Me? Well, I just like to put my money where my mouth is and go out there to provide for the causes that work towards what my heart goes out to.

Expect a bigger update on what’s been going on over break another time. For now, peace out, suckas.

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Finding the hero in me.

As I continue to long numerous hours playing Final Fantasy XIII in Earl’s room (Thanks, Dookie!), I keep thinking about the hero question. And, as promised, I’ll be exploring who heroes are in the Bible.

But don’t misinterpret that statement; I won’t go hero-hunting in the text, picking out every single mention of someone who does something great or saves someone or whatnot. It’d be wrong of me to do that. Many of you might think, “Wait, then, what’s the point? You’re not actually pulling this out of the Bible…” In a way, I’m not. But one thing I do believe is that if I were to go hero-hunting and pulling out instances that others had never heard of before, it’d never hit home. I don’t know who reads my blog, but I’d like to think that I cater to all sorts of audiences. I believe that elaborating on something that people already know about but haven’t gone in depth with (for instance, our college majors) is what interests them, right? Or so I’d like to think, at least part of the time. That’s not to say that I won’t be doing my research to find out some fact, but all of the stories will be easily recognizable.

Hero 1: The Obvious.
The story of David and Goliath is well-known, so much so that many people don’t even realize that it’s from the Bible. It’s simple: the Philistines and the Israelites face each other on the battlefield, and the Philistines, with their behemoth of a warrior, Goliath, are dominating. Goliath challenges any one of the Israelites to step out and face him, and King Saul offers a reward for whoever can strike down the enemy. Hearing this, David comes out onto the field with just a sling and five stones. Boom, headshot. Goliath goes down and the Philistines flee.

But who was David before all of this? He was a son of a servant (Jesse) to King Saul. Not a warrior or anything, just some kid who happened to be there to bring something to his brothers. There should be no way that David won this fight, yet his victory is one of the most celebrated in mankind, period. It proves that even the small can defeat the large, the weak can take down the powerful, the few can overcome the many. It’s a lesson that is well-received in society. But it’s not as if David had absolutely nothing on his side; it wasn’t just dumb luck that gave him the strength to win. He had…

Courage: David had previously killed a lion and a bear, something that tells us that he’s more than meets the eye. He certainly is brave; braver than all of the Israelites who took one good look at Goliath and went, “Oh, heck no.” He is an individual who stepped out beyond what his peers were willing to do and accomplished it himself.

Confidence: Can you imagine how crazy confident David was to step out before Goliath with no armor and just a sling (and a staff, right?) in hand? You don’t do that unless you already know that you’re going to win. Or you have a death wish. He was assured of his victory; there was no doubt in his mind that he had already won. If there was, he probably wouldn’t have been able to do it.

Faith: Before striking Goliath down, David proclaims that he does it so “that all on earth may know that there is a God in Israel.” Basically, he’s giving glory to God. Anyone, especially David himself, can see that he alone is no match for Goliath based solely on physical prowess, but with God’s strength, David was capable of putting his enemy down with a single shot.

David singlehandedly saved Israel, not because he was ultra powerful or anything (no Super Saiyan powers here…), but because he had these three qualities that permitted him to succeed. A slightly out of context quote to highlight the point: “It is not the equipped who are chosen, but the chosen who are equipped.”

Hero 2: Caw caw, caw caw, rawr!
Equally if not more well-known than the story of David and Goliath is the tale of Noah’s Ark. God sees world. God thinks world sucks. God decides to flood the world. God sees Noah. God thinks Noah is a pretty cool guy. God decides to give Noah the chance to save his family and the animals of the earth. Noah builds the ark. God floods world. Noah and company survive.

Before this (to my understanding, anyway) Noah was just a prophet. God judged him to be righteous and decided that he and his family were worth saving along with the animals of the corrupted world. What was he in the vocational sense? Dunno. Farmer? Fisher? News anchor? Whatever it was, I doubt that it gave him much preparation for the daunting task of building the ark. Can you imagine how huge that thing must’ve been to fit sets of all the animals on earth except for fish? Massive. Qualities of Noah…

Determination: As I was saying, this ark must’ve been insanely huge and difficult to construct. Time, resources, pure hard work — all of this pumped into something to save the future of every living species on earth. Talk about perseverance, right?

Will: A sort of conscious motivation/desire to do something, if you will (Hah, I’m punny). Noah’s will is to obey God and to save himself, his family, and the animals. In other words, he has a reason to do it. I mean, if God gave you a direct command, would you disobey it? Doubt it. Nobody really does something this epic without reason, either.

Faith: Just like David, Noah has a lot of faith in God’s work. He wouldn’t build the ark if he didn’t think that it would work, right? And besides, who else would you listen to if they told you to build a huge boat? He also has to believe that the Flood is actually for the benefit of all living beings, removing the corruption from the earth, otherwise God would just be setting them all up for a fall.

Unlike the Abraham and Isaac story (God tells Abraham to sacrifice his son, Isaac. Abraham intends to obey God without question. God stops him at the last second.), the Flood seriously occurs, but because Noah had the determination, will, and faith to construct the ark, his family and the creatures were saved.

Hero 3: The Savior
Jesus Christ, who else? Is born, grows up, is baptized, spreads the word, performs miracles, gathers disciples, is crucified, comes back, leaves for Heaven. In a nutshell, anyway. He was a carpenter until his baptism, after which He began His ministry. Crazy thing is:

Jesus’ ministry was only for a couple of years — three, tops. After that, he left it all in the hands of his disciples and took off for the big place in sky. People read about Jesus’ time and think, “Wow, that was crazy,” but who ever stops to think about what a short time he did this all in? I mean, what do we ourselves do in a matter of three years; what do the most brilliant, well-equipped people in the world even do in three years? In that amount of time, Jesus built the foundation for the biggest religious movement in the world today. Yeah, that crazy.

Purpose: Jesus entered those years of ministry very intentionally; he wanted to plant the seeds of the word which would then grow exponentially after he left. And that it did. He didn’t go around trying to get the whole world in one shot, but instead, he gave deep strength and faith to a select few people and told them to go and do the rest. Homie knew exactly what he was doing the whole time and exactly what was going to happen as a result. He was a genius!

Love: Jesus loved in a very indiscriminate way, and it’s a shame that many people misconceive that Jesus came for the good or the righteous or just the Christians. He purposefully went out and sought the people who were burdened by sin and ailed by sickness, then he took all of that away from them and changed their lives. And how deeply he loved was awesome, so much so that he gave himself as ransom for the lives of all the people of the earth.

Faith: Granted, Jesus did some amazing things: healing, driving out evil spirits, defying the laws of physics. And it’s not like by mere human power he could’ve done those things, otherwise we’d all be stomping around walking on water and stuff. Rather, he had God give him the power to do those things, and even later in the Bible, God gives those same abilities to the disciples who carry on Jesus’ ministry.

—–

So if you can’t tell, the common factor amongst these three is faith. The hero has to believe that what they’re doing will be right and that it will actually make a difference, and in their case, they do it with God. Courage, to face difficult times and trials. Confidence, the knowledge that the hero will succeed despite all obstacles. Determination, the ability to press onwards with great persistence. Will, the motivation and desire to do what has to be done. Purpose, a reason and a rhyme to everything that is done. Love, a word that is only defined by itself. A love for the people that the hero helps and a love and passion for what is being done.

All of these things probably work in conjunction with each other, all existing in a symbiosis that adds up to a drive to do what we believe is right. I won’t claim that this is a perfect grasp on what a hero should be like or that these seven characteristics alone make up a hero. Heroes are much more complex; each with a separate history that made them who they are and drove them to do what they do. And each of them does it in a different way, views themselves differently, has the world view them in different ways; they’re just different. Their paths neither converge nor diverge; you can probably say that they’re just parallel.

So maybe finding the hero in me is just finding what I have the courage, confidence, determination, will, purpose, love, and faith to do. In a checklist sort of way, if I’m lacking in any of these areas to do something, then maybe it’s not for me. But somewhere out there, there’s something that’s just calling my name, and God’s like, “Hey, homegirl, this is it.” And I’m assured that I’ll find it someday. Or maybe it’ll find me.

What an adventure.

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Heroes.

No, not the TV show.

I’ve been thinking about something lately. Or rather, someone. She’d be a senior in high school this year.

It’s been far too long.

In this time of seeing all of the high school seniors I know being accepted and rejected, rejoicing and crying, I’m just reminded of her. Where would she be right now? Would she be rejoicing, crying, comforting her friends?

I’m curious. I’ve been given peace over this, but I can’t help but wonder what would be going on right now. I sometimes still think about how she never got her chance to live and laugh and breathe and just be… Not really.

But everything I have now, it’s thanks to her. Because she brought me to Him. Because in those moments at that piano, I know that it was her, without a doubt. I’ve never been very superstitious; I’ve never believed in ghosts or spirits; I’d never experienced anything extraordinary before that point. But that was pretty extraordinary.

Still, where was her chance? I wonder.

It’s still been far too long.

But thanks.

Everything that you gave up, I have a chance to do now. I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do. But I don’t think I have to, anyway. After all, the journey’s just begun.

When I was younger, there was one thing I wanted to be: a hero. Video games, books, movies — everything I was into had a hero involved, someone who’d save the world or the one they loved or destroyed evil. There was magic and swords and fighting and companionship. It was great.

Playing Final Fantasy XIII reminds me of those times. I haven’t been playing enough games or reading enough books or watching enough movies to bring it up as often as before. I used to do those things a lot. Now… not so much. I’m occupied with other things. Like chillin’ out with my own personal hero, God.

But that’s not to say that being reminded isn’t kicking me into second gear and making me want to dive full force into the next part of my life, whatever that may be. I’m excited. I feel like I can do anything right now. And people say that video games are bad for you.

So, what kind of hero do I want to be? Wait, what is a hero anyway? I don’t particularly see myself as a badass crime fighter like Batman or a world saver like Frodo. I can’t do magic or leap across rooftops or — well, I can wield a sword, but people use guns these days.

But you always hear about the “real heroes” in society. The people who don’t do all the fiction stuff, but they actually go out in the world and do what they can. Setting slaves free, fighting for human rights, extinguishing fires, protecting innocents, putting away the bad guys, negotiating for peace, striving for change in a world so ridden by crap.

I think all that’s kind of cheesy.

What is a hero?

Just watch.

Preview for the next post: Heroes in the text– who they are, what defines them, what they do, why they do it, and the aftermath. I’m gonna dig deep on this one.

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Home.

This past weekend, I headed home for less than twenty-four hours with a mission in mind: tell my mom about my faith and about my decision to not go to medical school.

I was scared out of my pants.

Now, anyone from a strict Asian family can tell you that we’re all expected to grow up, become something big, get rich, support our parents in old age, and lead successful lives. But success is relative. It’s subjective, immeasurable, by all accounts, by anyone but the sole subject himself/herself.

My idea of success? Being able to help people. How? Dunno.

But I don’t plan on being rich in the process. I don’t like money. Money corrupts. Money’s probably already corrupted me pretty badly. I mean, I spend thirteen hours a week at work, right? There’s a lot more I could be doing with that time. It would’ve been easy to pass all of my classes, but I’m probably going to end up with an F and a C (Thanks, chemistry.).

And my mom, being the kidder that she is, suggested that I work thirty hours a week so that I could attend school basically for free. This was about five minutes into our drive away from UCLA. I groaned on the inside, wanting to smack her (working thirty hours isn’t even possible or legal as a work study student) and not tell her anything. I then proceeded to tell her about my summer plans, which consist of attending summer school for the first half and taking EMT training for three weeks afterwards. Immediately, she went on about how we “talked about not being a paramedic, but a doctor instead,” and I slyly explained to her how a lot of doctors work as paramedics initially. In my head, I wanted her to shut up; it’s true, a lot of doctors do work as paramedics at first to get a feel for the field, and she ranted on without even knowing what she was talking about.

Sometimes people just need to shut up when they don’t know what the hell they’re talking about.

If you can’t tell, my mom frustrates me a lot.

And of course, I wasn’t even planning to be a doctor, and I didn’t say that I was, either. Which my mom found out later after lunch the next day, amongst other things.

Two people that I’ve talked to recently have had difficult situations with their parents regarding their faiths and their futures. I easily heaped my mom into the grouping of parents that would freak out, especially over both. Would I get kicked out of the house? Would I be disowned? Would she cut off funding for school (not that it matters, she’s probably more broke than I am at this point)?

Nope.

She was fine with it.

Just like that.

I was relieved. It was like trying to dig up hot stones from inside my throat, and saying it was like pouring cold water down my esophagus and letting those stones dissolve.

She was fine with me being Christian. The explanation was that she wanted me to be old enough and strong enough to make that decision before I did, which is why she always disapproved of me going to church when I was younger. To me, it sounded pretty silly, but I wonder if I’ll feel that way about my kids in the future, if I have any.

And she was fine with me changing my major to Communications, though she immediately rushed to “Oh, you can be a psychologist then!” Mom, please learn when to shut it. I had dig into her mind that I didn’t plan on being rich; she accepted it with some disappointment. I told her that I didn’t know what I would do with a degree in Communications; maybe go on missions or something. “Well, you can still learn some medical things…” Mother, there are times to spew crap and there are times to not spew crap. “Well, as long as you’re proud of what you do, go ahead and do it.”

Relief. And then a tinge of anger. And then a bit more. You hypocrite! You spent fifteen years of my life literally beating school into me, and you’re fine with this? Am I supposed to be happy? What was all the yelling and screaming for, then? What was all the expectation to get A’s in school? What was the disappointment on your face when I was rejected from UCLA and the glee when I was accepted? What was it all the times when I asked to donate to a cause that I was working for and you blatantly said no? Why the hell would you say “no” when I asked you to drive my friends home and they’ve driven me home dozens of times because you weren’t there?

You piss me off.

Are you proud of what you’ve done with your life?

“Not really.”

Oh.

You hurt, too.

I didn’t know that.

I thought you could only hurt me.

Lesson learned: though my mom can be a class A doofus sometimes, she’s still human. She’s fifty-eight going on fifty-nine this year, more than three times the amount of life that I’ve had. I wonder what went on in the forty years that I wasn’t there? I still have a lot to learn and a lot to live.

So yes, my mom is fully okay with… everything. And to add to the good news, my grandma, who had a stroke this past summer, is learning how to walk again almost seven months later. She’s been in Taiwan for the past two months because the doctors here told her that she wouldn’t be improving anymore and took her out of the nursing home. Wrong, you are, doctors. There’s really only one possible explanation for this:

God answers prayers.

In the words of one Michael Eubanks, “Now, if you had told me just one of those things, that would’ve been pretty cool. But all three?” Yes, Mike, all three. In short, I’ve been praying for my mom’s acceptance for a couple of weeks and for my grandma’s healing for a couple of months.

And I could’ve found out that my grandma was learning to walk again a while ago, but my mom chose to be ambiguous via e-mail because, well, she’s a jerk like that. And God basically went, “Hey, I’m going to reveal to you three amazing things in your time at home, it’s going to be awesome, and you’re going to see me in it.” That, I did. Good job, big man.

Photos later, hopefully, and I’ll attempt to update the photos from a couple of posts ago. It’s been difficult keeping up, not even because of finals or anything. Photography funk, I guess. That’ll change over spring break, for sure.

This is me, stuck at a five hour work shift, saying, “I believe in miracles. (Where you from? You sexy thang!)”

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In truth.

I’ve been thinking recently that the world is full of “I love you” whores. People throw around possibly the most impactful phrase on earth like it’s a toy. You’ve dated someone for three weeks, and you love them. Someone gives you a gift, and you love them. You think someone’s incredibly cute, and you love them.

Everytime I use the phrase, I try to be very conscious of who I’m using it with and how I feel about that person. I admit that I’m guilty of misusing the phrase, and I sometimes even use it haphazardly without considering the consequences.

But I’d like to try something new. I’d like to try something a little OGDAD-ish centered around God: showing and telling people that I love them everyday. Contradictory, right? Here I am, griping about “I love you” whores and confessing my own abuse of the words, and now I want to use them everyday.

The difference? When I show and tell people I love them, I want it to be completely, one hundred percent true. I want my thought in that moment not to be “Wow, I really like this person and I think they are wonderful.” I want to think “God loves this person, and they are wonderful. And so I love them and desire for them to know just how wonderful they are.”

If I myself am aiming to discover the truth about God’s love for me, then I have to believe that God loves others as well. And that through me, He can show His love for them. Them meaning people from all walks of life, all religions, all races, all places, all beliefs, all sexualities, all genders, all lives. I have to believe that God doesn’t discriminate in the way that humans do.

Because for some people, the words “Jesus loves you.” mean nothing. But the words “I love you.” can mean everything.

I once promised my life to those I loved; I would have gone to the ends of the earth for them just to protect them from an ounce of harm. And I always felt in my heart that they didn’t think much of me, that when they saw me, they saw very little. And I always knew that I’d hurt them somehow, in ways that I never intended and that I’d carry with me for a very, very long time.

But now I promise my life to Jesus, to the things that He has to offer me and to others through me. He has love.

—–

Happy 1337 views!

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Processes/Redesign

Last night, our Hedrick small group (which I just recently starting partaking in) hosted a night of study, chillaxation, and creation for everyone. I spent a good seven hours, well beyond the time of the event, sewing, making origami, and fooling around with Play-doh. Needless to say, it was awesome. The result?

Well, I ended up with four heating packs and a giraffe. Two of the heating packs were for myself, but I think I’ll give one to my mom. She’ll be amused by the fact that there’s rice in a bag that I sewed.

Others ended up with heating packs, too, as well as lots of pandas and other origami animals. The guided animal origami paper I bought cheats, though. It has pre-cut perforations to make parts of the animals, which is totally unnecessary. Sarah and Sunjin Kim tried to make a heating pack that would wrap around a neck… but it ended up being bite-sized. At least an infant can use it!

Everything about last night was a process. Making a heating pack, for instance, is huge. Cut the fabric, sew the ends, turn it inside out, fill it with rice, close the open end. That’s a simplified version. The most difficult part? Threading the needle.

If you can’t thread the needle, you can’t sew. If you can’t sew, you’ve just got rice and cloth. It’s simple, but it’s difficult and important.

It’s kind of like planting a seed.

Or pulling out the book that you need for your homework.

Once you do these things, there’s a lot more work to be done. But the hard part’s over. You’ve already begun. It’s like riding a skateboard down a hill; once you start, you can’t really stop.

And when you finish, you’ve made something of your own accord. It might be something as simple as a heating pack, as beautiful as a flower garden, or as relieving as a complete homework assignment. Either way, it’s yours. As long as you tried your best with it, you should be satisfied with the result, no matter how many flaws there are to it. A misplaced stitch, a single weed, or an incorrect answer can’t really take away from the bigger picture. I, for one, am most certainly pleased with my heating packs.

I wonder if God feels that way about me.

“You are my Son, whom I love; with you I am well pleased.” -Mark 1:11

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Have you noticed the new theme I put up? It makes me quite happy. I like having color in my life, and I realized yesterday while looking over my blog that the brown and black just didn’t say enough about who I am.

So hopefully this does. Hopefully my blog will make people smile more just because it’s so gosh darn cute. Yeah, expect a different header picture. Expect as many photos as I can muster to take. Expect me to design this site for what I want it to do: to allow people to experience my walk with God alongside me and to see His grace and glory in my life. And sometimes just to tell people about what’s going on around me.

This redesign is like a launch-off pad for the next step in my faith:

God redesigning me.

(Photos later.)

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Kingdom.

Why not queendom?

Feminist wiles aside, this post is going to be an exploration of my role in the kingdom of God. What I think it is, what it is, what it might look like in the future.

What do I think my role is? Well, quite frankly, I have no idea. It’s kind of like being a newborn child of about two months old. The metaphor was fair enough to write an anecdote about, you can go look at that page on your own. Anyway, people kind of muse at babies and how they develop so quickly in the first stages of life. Physically, they begin walking and talking in just a couple of years; mentally, they begin to process the world around them and who the important people in their lives are; and emotionally, they’re a rollercoaster of crying, giggling, and pooping (frighteningly accurate of how I am).

In reality, the baby’s not doing anything but what comes naturally to them. But everyone’s still amazed by it anyway, because watching something grow is like seeing how we ourselves once were or seeing how good something can be.

Yeah, it’s kind of like that. I have no idea what I’m doing; I go by impulse and instinct. I get a lot of “Watching you grow…” and “It’s good that you…” statements, and they’re well appreciated. But I don’t think I’m doing anything too special, just whatever comes to me with each passing moment.

What’s actually going on is hard to to tell from my own perspective. But what other people recognize as happening I can’t deny; there is, in some scope or another, a modicum of effect that I’ve had. So I’d like to think, anyway.

People point out to me that having invited someone to Mark Study and to have that person commit to it and coming to Catalyst is pretty amazing. But I honestly don’t think much of it; I just brought it up one day, is all.

“Isn’t that what we did with you?”

It’s true. That’s pretty much where my journey started. Someone saw a need in me, and they decided to act on it. And they, as well as others, have been walking with me ever since. It’s been a pleasure.

So now, it’s my turn. But who am I, as that infant, to extend my hand to another? Too early? Too little? Too unknown? I’m not sure. But I know that there’s more that I could do. I’ve been distant; for that, I apologize.

Maybe it’s because we couldn’t go to Can This Wait. Maybe it’s because I’m not doing leadership next year. Maybe I feel displaced in my role, like it shouldn’t be this way. It’s not my place. I can’t do it right. I have failed.

But of course we’ll always believe that we could’ve done more, that there was a better action to take and a better result to be had. Retrospect is 20/20. But I think that my new glasses prove that we shouldn’t always be looking behind us, especially when we can barely see in front of ourselves.

But it is what it is. All I can change is what I do now and what I’ll do later. All I can do is offer you someone to talk to and a place to go. All I know is that I care about you, and I want you to experience the same awesomeness that I’ve experienced. Is it enough?

What the future might look like:
“He also said, ‘This is what the kingdom of God is like. A man scatters seed on the ground. Night and day, whether he sleeps or gets up, the seed sprouts and grows, though he does not know how. All by itself the soil produces grain—first the stalk, then the head, then the full kernel in the head. As soon as the grain is ripe, he puts the sickle to it, because the harvest has come.'” -Mark 4:26-29, NIV

Lesson? Trust God. All we can do is plant the seed, but we have no control over how it grows.

I won’t deny that one of my greatest challenges is trusting God. I’m the type of person who hates to sacrifice control and knowledge to just leave everything up in what seems like open air. But I’m trying to remember that trusting Him is just like allowing life to occur on its own, rolling with the punches, riding the wave. But also God-centered and prayerfully.

In times of my life when I don’t know what to do, I need to leave it to Him. In times when I don’t have any control to begin with, He does. And I have to trust that He will push me in the right direction, that where everything goes after that will be closer to what it is that He intends for me.

I don’t have to know the ending.

I just have to know that it’ll be right for me.

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Brace yourself…

For a very, very long post. If you’re one who cares to read through all of my posts (in which case I begin by thanking you wholeheartedly for bearing with me), I suggest that you grab a cup of tea or some other variety of drink, put a pillow under your butt or behind you, and maybe even some eyedrops for when your eyeballs feel like they’re going to fall out. And I shall do the same, because however long you’re sitting there reading, it’s probably taking me a decent amount of time longer to write.

I sit here this evening idling in a temporary peace that will soon be disrupted by the bane that is finals. To summarize my past few hours, I’ve been chatting, thinking, and reading. About what, I’ll allow you to deduce.

My heart feels like it’s being wrung out like a towel right now. Like everything that’s been happening in my life has suddenly hit me in full force like a freak tsunami. I was about to go to kendo, but it looks like I’ll be late or maybe not even going. Yeah, it’s that important for me to write about it. Because recently, as my mind has been processing different things, I’ve been forgetting very quickly about them. I haven’t been blogging as much in terms of posting about my thoughts, and I most certainly haven’t been writing in my journal as often. This has been apparent to me for some time, so I ask myself, “What’s happening?” Laundry list, go.

I’m failing classes right now. Literally failing. Granted, this doesn’t matter because I’m going to be moving into a different field of study and whatnot, but when have I ever failed? I’ve been on the verge of failing and was saved by some grace that was then unknown to me. I’ve been sick and tired of studying and refused to do so only to come out on top anyway. I’ve failed before only to gain something better later.

All uncontrollable circumstances. This time, I’m more or less sure that my failure is on behalf of myself. No worry, no effort, not even a hint of concern; not even now. Yes, this has helped to realize my disdain for all things scientific and mathematic and that the path I travel now is not the one that was paved for me. But I’m afraid that I’ll soon find that my disinterest is not only with this, but with other things as well. Other academic subjects, other activities in my daily life, other people, even.

But now I find that I’ve decided what isn’t for me, how do I discern what is? One common theme to these thoughts: leave it to Him. I can only look so far down a path, but whatever He has planned will be revealed to me in time. I can only do so much until I must give the rest to God. Yet after several nights spent concerned and talks and consultations, I find myself still unable to not worry. That in itself is worrying.

I desire to trust God with all my heart; to know that He does not lead me down a path to fail, but to succeed in the end. But as myself, I must admit with frustration that I am the type of person who needs proof. Even in seeking, I asked Him for proof, and He gave it to me. Even in letting go, I asked Him for proof, and He came through once again. Even in my doubts and fears, I asked Him for proof, and He opened my eyes.

So what’s holding me back? What leash of my former life reins me in and keeps me from lifting up my life to God?

Maybe it’s that nothing has ever really turned out “all right” for me. In the most literal sense, “all right” may be perceived as perfect. But I most certainly do not aspire for perfection. I aspire for content. I aspire for the slightest of smiles on my own face. I aspire for the good memories to flow in before the bad.

Some things have been great. Some things haven’t. I have been guided into letting go of my regret; I no longer wish to change my actions or things that have happened that were out of my control. But that doesn’t mean that things grew any better in retrospect. I am still constantly reminded of times when other people hurt me, and I, in turn, hurt them. And vice versa.

I aspire to be “good,” not “great.” I aspire to know what I want in life and to chase after it with passion. After all, that’s what aspiration is, right? But there’s distractions and doubts to be addressed, and I’m slowly working through those.

I’ve been focused ever since my break-up in January. Focused on never allowing someone to take my heart so fleetingly, never allowing myself to be fooled again, never allowing myself to fall to physical desires again. “Don’t date for a year.” “Don’t even think about guys as more than friends.” “Don’t present yourself in such a manner that would convince guys that you’re into them.” And for a while, it seemed perfect. It seemed simple. It was easy, and my mind did not waver in the least bit.

And suddenly, no more than two months after the end of my first college relationship, one that was damaging to me, I find myself thinking about a guy as more than just a friend or a brother. And I can’t fathom why this suddenly came upon me; I’ve just barely grasped that I like this person. I’ve battled with myself for a couple of days now: “No, he’s just a good friend.” “Stop that, you’re being silly.” “You’re confusing your feelings.” But right now, I give in.

I don’t know what to do about this. I feel like I should ignore my feelings and do nothing as I’ve learned to do. Because whenever I’ve revealed that my heart has longed for someone, the hurt begins.

There’s a joke that my family is cursed. My mother’s been divorced twice and my brothers are turning 31 and 34 this year and still aren’t married. My father… well, let’s just say he’s alone. My brothers’ father passed away in ’98. I don’t know about my other siblings, but I know that only two of them are married, tops. My grandma was married to a man who passed away at a young age and then was remarried to the man who I called my grandfather. And he passed away a few years ago. Basically, relationships don’t turn out well for us. I can only hope that one day I’ll break the mold.

Maybe God will give me the power to overcome that. I just have to pray about what this is all about right now, because I most certainly didn’t expect it. I didn’t expect to feel this way so soon, and I didn’t expect it to be for someone who I know doesn’t feel the same way about me.

I get scared sometimes that my relationships, too, will inevitably fail. Not because of some silly curse, but because in reality, I’m not good enough for the other person. I’ve spent a lot of my life believing that there’s someone out there for everyone, that love will find us someday. I’d still like to believe that, but history proves me wrong. Plenty of people live their entire lives without a significant other. Some do great, some don’t.

And what could I possible offer anyone else?

There’s the kicker.

Not just in romantic relationships, but in friendships or even just momentary interactions, too. I’ve been battling with my self-worth for a lifetime and bringing it to God for a week. And it’s brought me to a crossroads; here, I’ll either find that reflection that I’ve been looking for or remain in a world muddled by insults and offense.

Diagram time!

God
People
Animals
Plants
Dirt
Crap <======= Me.

Well, that's the basic gist of it. This is the diagram of how I feel about myself. Dramatic, I know. I feel like a high school student all over again.

"You're a mean person."
"You're worthless."
"You don't deserve it."
"You're not good enough."
"You're not worth it."
"You're so violent."
"You're ugly."
"You're depressing."
"You suck."
"You're an angry person."
"You're stupid."
"You're a bad friend."
"You hurt people."

I listened. This is what I heard. In experiencing listening prayer, I have stumbled across the pantheon of things that people have said about me, that I believe about myself, and that echo in my head. This is only the tip of the iceberg; I could go on with the list, but I think the point gets across.

I'm told that all of these things are lies and that I am worth so much more in God's eyes. There is a mirror that He holds that would reveal something unknown to me, but all of these things get in the way. There is something that He desires for me to see about myself, but I'm drowning in self-loathing.

I barely know my father. I've never really felt loved by my mother. I hate one of my own brothers. I hurt people without intending to. I hurt people intending to. How could anyone ever love me?

Jesus loves me.

I can only tell myself so many times until it begins to fall on deaf ears. I thought I knew this, but I didn't really. What would it look like for me to know and experience it? To not only allow God's love to pour into me, but to pour my love and God's love out to others?

Back to Catalyst last Thursday… what keeps us from loving others:
-Believing that we don't need God: I admit, the thought comes across my mind sometimes that I don't. I was content with life before Jesus, and only by experiencing Him do I know that this life leads to something much greater. And still, even in this life, I sometimes turn away and neglect my relationship with Him. Not sabbathing, not going to church on Sunday, not spending time with Him when I need to. I think that I don't need just take a day off or to hear more of the Word or to delve deeper into the things that my heart is on. I think that what I do is enough. But it's not just about growing in God, but also growing closer to God. I can learn to do this. I can learn to dedicate time to this.
-Believing that love must be earned: Originally stated as "God's love," but I eliminated God from the statement because it was a more universal statement for me. This, in particular, is causing me to question my acts of kindness; am I nice to people because I love them or because I want their love? I've only just realized how true this is for me; I'm constantly seeking the approval of others, to be better in someone else's eyes, not even my own. I find so much worth in what other people see me as that all I want is for them to love me, and maybe in the process I lose myself to a me that exists only to please others. It certainly is a fine line, and I'm trying to discern between the two sides. Maybe it's a mixture of both, but I do feel like seeking the love of others is a misplaced priority.
-Believing that we have nothing to offer: I'm human, so I can only do so much, right? At the end of the day, what kind of light do I bring into a world full of darkness? What kind of hope do I bring to the desolate? There is nothing that I can offer that someone else in the world can't. Comforting words and a shoulder to cry on, is all. No particularly great words or wisdom or brilliant insight; no talent or beauty; no guarantee that I will not someday hurt those whom I love. God has created us "fearfully and beautifully," uniquely and individually, perfectly. So why don't I know that?

Writing this out leaves so many more questions than it began with.

Who would ever want to hold these calloused hands?

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