As people ask me these days how I'm doing my first thought is - "i've definitely been better." And it's true that this has been quite a challenging time for me, with long distance relationships, school woes, financial concerns and little things like my bike being stolen, illnesses, car accidents, etc. And it's really the first time I can remember thinking about DISAPPOINTMENT. I've never applied that word to my life but I'm really familiar with all its sister words - anxiety, stress, depression, regret, bitterness, apathy and hopelesseness.
As I dwelt on why I was struggling so much with disappointment, which in some ways was a rather novel struggle to me, God sent a bolt of His wisdom my way and I understood that it was because there was such little CELEBRATION in my life. And celebration is really an amazing thing - it's a word that seems to encompass all the good things like dancing & singing, rejoicing, thankfulness, excitement, appreciation and hope. I realize I need to celebrate all the wonderful things that are in my life and the enumerable blessings He's given me. So since I love writing, I decided to chronicle a unique celebration for everyday from now until Christmas. Hopefully my heart will change towards one of perpetual celebration and I'll grow further each day away from disappointment. Disappointment is to dwell on the past and worry about the future; celebration is to be grateful for the past, to rejoice in the present and to eagerly charge on to the future.
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Wednesday, October 20, 2010.
I celebrate where I am in life today. I celebrate all the steps in my life that have brought me into medical school and that have helped me survive M1 year to really begin my first steps into my clinical career. I've been given opportunities most of the world can only dream about, opportunities that I've not deserved or earned but were given to me by grace. To dwell on the ways UIC fails, to dwell on my low test scores, to despair at the long road ahead of me - these are all ways in which I neglect and spit upon the amazing grace of God in my life.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
I celebrate health. I played volleyball today and even during my cold or the aftermath of my salmonella poisoning or whatever I have, to be able to jump around and play my favorite sports is a very special blessing.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
What a great weekend: caught up briefly with Heidi thursday night, had a man-date in Chinatown with my roommate Friday, and spent Saturday catching up with two people from high school. Sure I was sick the whole time, but I'm extremely grateful for friends. Friendship has never been what I expected growing up, and still continues to be a really amorphous aspect of my life, but undeniably, God has blessed me with people in my life for the best and worst of times. I celebrate friends.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Clearly my plan to update this every single day failed. But my 60+ days of celebration continue. I celebrate the upbringing God has blessed me with. Nearly everyday I am reminded of how blessed I am to have lived in Korea. I grew up between many worlds and I carry the treasures I've found along the way with me wherever I go now. People ask me if I'd like to live in Korea again one day - but perhaps it's best to leave the future in the future; God only knows. For now, Korea don't change too much before I have my next chance to visit you again. I want to walk down your alleys, climb your hills, eat your street-food, gaze at your lights and live my childhood with you once more.
Stop, think. Don't speak.
Perspective. It's a million-dollar word we barely use in society. When's the last time you've heard that word in the news? On TV? Perhaps the reason it's rarely spoken of is because when everything is boiled down, we all share the same limited perspective. We're all people wandering more or less aimlessly on a hunk of rock in space attaching meaning arbitrarily to the fragmented shards of our life.
The perspective I speak of is one that transcends the limit of humanity, a perspective grasped only lightly and with great effort by wielding such powerful tools as imagination but bound by the steadfast promises of His Word. This perspective is most easily attained during the most momentous times of our lives: when those we love get engaged, when we graduate from school, with the passing of a loved one.. Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately), the vast majority of our life is spent in the mundane.
Too much of my time these past couple years has been spent feeling like this:
I've heard more these past couple years from my friends and family that I sigh a lot than I have the entire rest of my life. Why do I sigh? Sometimes I sigh with the regretful weight of pondering the misactions of my past. Sometimes I sigh when my expectations for something have been dashed. But those are the good sighs - those are the times that sighing provides some level of catharsis; it's the minimal catharsis we feel when we are sad but not sad enough to break into tears but when one tear will finally manage to push past the limits of our eyes almost as if this visible proof affirmed our right to be sad. No, my sighs belong in another category.
When we walk aimlessly for a while; when we catch ourselves in the act of having started to do something only to realize we don't know why we are doing it; when we've been starved for long enough from affirmation derived from true perspective - we sigh an empty sigh. These past couple years, there's been too much of that. Perspective.
So how do we maintain perspective? I think the key is in acknowledging the relevance of perspective in all we do. Some of the most useless Christianity out there is the Christianity of those who worship God in thanks for His cross only to return to a life devoid of relevance to the cross. We've all been there. I've both given and received the useless Christianity of talking in concern for a struggling brother or sister knowing full well that that concern stops well short of lifting that "loved one" in prayer. Christ's love is not evident, not relevant. And one of the reasons that relevance, and consequently, perspective, eludes us is because we've created our own means of explaining our lives. We've assigned our own math equations that provide the foundation and motivation for the direction of our lives, and so perspective, relevance - these things leave us. We sigh.
Thomas said to him, "Lord, we don't know where you are going, so how can we know the way?" -John 14:5
PURA VIDA (costa rica update #3)
Simplicity. I don't think anybody can doubt the utility of complexity - from sociology to technology, the more complex, the more sophisticated, the better. Yet wouldn't you agree that there is an intrinsic beauty to simplicity? Perhaps it awakens the part of ourselves that delights in rolling hills and babbling streams and peaceful quiet. Usher himself says "it's the simple things in life we forget." But take simplicity to an extreme and suddenly "simple" comes to mean "stupid" or "backwards". So then perhaps the perfect balance is to find complexity in utility and simplicity in beauty.
My Costa Rican updates have all been titled Pura Vida, and to anyone who's been to CR, it's a no-brainer. If ever a country has had a national motto (E pluribus unum?), this is it. I first heard Pura Vida in the conversations of two ticos waiting to board at Miami International. Pura vida! haha one exclaimed as they strutted into line. I don't know exactly what Pura Vida I was meant to experience in Costa Rica, and certainly I can only stab at it after a week there, but here's a go.
To me, Pura Vida is complexity in utility and simplicity in beauty. Arrive in CR and you'll find all the trappings of American extravagance: flat screen TV's, mp3 players, kids with cell phones. Escape the major city though, and nature takes over. Even the major highways in CR are one-lane as though to minimize Man's adulteration of the nature around them. Traffic? No traffic, not at least as long the weather cooperates. People travel in buses, buses that love to stop along nearly indiscriminate points along the highway. Jam-packed with people, the bus driver is in no vicious hurry - he waits for the pregnant woman to find her seat; he waves off the fare of an emaciated man fumbling for enough change. In one instance, the bus jolted violently as the driver swerved to avoid a motorcycle that had sped onto our lane and avoided death by inches - the jolt threw a sleeping woman from her seat in the back down the exit stairs. The entire time, my eyes were fixed upon the driver's through the rear-view mirror - not once did his expression contort in outrage. In the aftermath, every single person in the back half of the bus turned around to offer expressions or words of comfort for the injured woman. Her indignation evaporated almost as quickly as it had appeared. Pura vida.
Playas del Coco is exactly what you'd expect it to be (in retrospect). A city whose design was to be a city has names such as London, Seoul, Chicago; a city or town designed for one singular attraction is named for that attraction. My town was called Playas del Coco because the one and only attraction it boasted was the shoreline. There was one road from the highway that led to the beach and the entire town was constructed like the endothelial cells along this capillary, a near single line of buildings on either side of the road beginning about 1.5 miles from the beach. Welcome to Playas del Coco.
We woke each day without the need of an alarm clock at 8am. I realize that if you concentrate on the time you want to awake as you drift off to sleep, it's almost like setting your biological clock - 80% of the time, you'll wake up on the dot at the time you wanted. Try it! We'd return from diving at noon meaning we'd have a glorious 11 hours to figure out something to do.
Pura Vida Lesson: in the States, 11 hours = death by boredom. in Costa Rica, 11 hours is amazing.
The beach at Playas is a black-sand beach created by volcanic activity and coupled with an omnipresent stench of garbage, is not conducive to a good time. So after a simple meal of casados for lunch and Cocomangos Fruit shakes for dessert, the rest of our day would be spent with a 6 pack of delicious Costa Rican beer. Neither Steven nor I had a watch and our phones failed to receive their satellite time, so we'd go through the day painlessly oblivious of the time of day. More often than not, I'd find myself tracking time's progress by the sun's position in the sky - anyone read the Hatchet?
So if the Pura Vida way is the best way to live, why do we in the US seek complexity in everything? Bigger, better, newer. Your nose not the way you'd like? Plastics baby. Can't afford those shoes? Use plastic. I dread the day that I'll be so attached to the internet that I'll want it on my phone. Emails and chats can wait until I'm bored enough at home for me to check them.
Pura Vida Lesson: My theory is that everything in life, and I mean everything, will either augment your relationships or replace your relationships. It is why we tend to overpack when we go on vacations. On vacation, our primary focus is our relationship with those we vacation with - suddenly all the junk we fill our lives with back home lose meaning on vacation. Our mp3 players tune us away from the world around; our Facebooks define our sense of popularity and sociability by the activity of our walls - have you ever seen someone somewhere who is waiting for a friend? 99% of the time, that person is eating up the wait time by playing with their phone. Nowadays it's come to the point where all of us know those certain people in our lives who live on their phones even when out with friends.
Complexity for utility; simplicity for beauty. Pura Vida. Thanks Costa Rica
My Costa Rican updates have all been titled Pura Vida, and to anyone who's been to CR, it's a no-brainer. If ever a country has had a national motto (E pluribus unum?), this is it. I first heard Pura Vida in the conversations of two ticos waiting to board at Miami International. Pura vida! haha one exclaimed as they strutted into line. I don't know exactly what Pura Vida I was meant to experience in Costa Rica, and certainly I can only stab at it after a week there, but here's a go.
To me, Pura Vida is complexity in utility and simplicity in beauty. Arrive in CR and you'll find all the trappings of American extravagance: flat screen TV's, mp3 players, kids with cell phones. Escape the major city though, and nature takes over. Even the major highways in CR are one-lane as though to minimize Man's adulteration of the nature around them. Traffic? No traffic, not at least as long the weather cooperates. People travel in buses, buses that love to stop along nearly indiscriminate points along the highway. Jam-packed with people, the bus driver is in no vicious hurry - he waits for the pregnant woman to find her seat; he waves off the fare of an emaciated man fumbling for enough change. In one instance, the bus jolted violently as the driver swerved to avoid a motorcycle that had sped onto our lane and avoided death by inches - the jolt threw a sleeping woman from her seat in the back down the exit stairs. The entire time, my eyes were fixed upon the driver's through the rear-view mirror - not once did his expression contort in outrage. In the aftermath, every single person in the back half of the bus turned around to offer expressions or words of comfort for the injured woman. Her indignation evaporated almost as quickly as it had appeared. Pura vida.
Playas del Coco is exactly what you'd expect it to be (in retrospect). A city whose design was to be a city has names such as London, Seoul, Chicago; a city or town designed for one singular attraction is named for that attraction. My town was called Playas del Coco because the one and only attraction it boasted was the shoreline. There was one road from the highway that led to the beach and the entire town was constructed like the endothelial cells along this capillary, a near single line of buildings on either side of the road beginning about 1.5 miles from the beach. Welcome to Playas del Coco.We woke each day without the need of an alarm clock at 8am. I realize that if you concentrate on the time you want to awake as you drift off to sleep, it's almost like setting your biological clock - 80% of the time, you'll wake up on the dot at the time you wanted. Try it! We'd return from diving at noon meaning we'd have a glorious 11 hours to figure out something to do.
Pura Vida Lesson: in the States, 11 hours = death by boredom. in Costa Rica, 11 hours is amazing.
So if the Pura Vida way is the best way to live, why do we in the US seek complexity in everything? Bigger, better, newer. Your nose not the way you'd like? Plastics baby. Can't afford those shoes? Use plastic. I dread the day that I'll be so attached to the internet that I'll want it on my phone. Emails and chats can wait until I'm bored enough at home for me to check them.
Pura Vida Lesson: My theory is that everything in life, and I mean everything, will either augment your relationships or replace your relationships. It is why we tend to overpack when we go on vacations. On vacation, our primary focus is our relationship with those we vacation with - suddenly all the junk we fill our lives with back home lose meaning on vacation. Our mp3 players tune us away from the world around; our Facebooks define our sense of popularity and sociability by the activity of our walls - have you ever seen someone somewhere who is waiting for a friend? 99% of the time, that person is eating up the wait time by playing with their phone. Nowadays it's come to the point where all of us know those certain people in our lives who live on their phones even when out with friends.
Complexity for utility; simplicity for beauty. Pura Vida. Thanks Costa Rica
this is what my menu said.
PURA VIDA (costa rica update #2)
What is it really like to scuba dive? I can only begin to describe the sensation. Actually, my first thought as I began my certification class was that it seemed pretty primitive all the gear we had to equip simply to breathe underwater. Since the beginning of mankind, I imagine three of the greatest aspirations of Man were to fly through the air, soar among the stars and roam freely underwater. We've long since achieved the first, grasped at the roots of the second, but the water remains a largely elusive world.
To be perfectly honest, I've always found fish fairly dull. Beyond the fish I eat, my only encounters with the animals are through the glass of their tanks in the aquarium and let's set something straight - there's very little difference between staring at a fish through glass and staring at a fish projected on your TV. But it's one thing to see a fish swimming aimlessly around in a tank and another entirely to swim among fish in their natural habitats. It's another to see a Moray Eel lurking in its cave with its mouth wide open, eyes unblinking, waiting patiently for its next meal to swim a little too close. It's another to see tiny creatures half the size of the tip of your finger poking out of a reef, ducking away from your inquiring fingers like the many heads of a whack-a-mole game. As a lazy pufferfish floats on by seemingly oblivious to your obtrusive presence, you give its tail a quick pinch to cause it to swim indignantly away. It won't bother puffing up for you.
Three of the most amazing sights I witnessed under water:
1. A literal tornado of silvery fish from as high as I could see down to the bottom where I hovered, a frenzied cyclone of fish seemingly determined to bore a hole straight through the ground only to at the last minute turn perpendicular to the floor in a cool, sleek stream extending beyond your vision. What are they doing? Where are they going?
2. A hawksbill turtle. In direct defiance to the timid nature of most of the sea life you'll encounter, this turtle swam its long graceful spirals around us before the murky waters swallowed it up forever. How old was this turtle? What is it thinking?
3. An eagle ray. We swam and actually stumbled upon it directly below us, a couple feet away. It was sucking the floor below it vigorously, apparently too ravenous to bother to be bothered, an animal after my own heart. To be sure, a ray is one of the most graceful and awe-inspiring creatures you can ever hope to witness underwater. Rays are the swans of the ocean, the geese among the many ugly-ducklings of the sea.
PURA VIDA (costa rica update)
Friday, June 4
I sit anxiously in Miami International, the drum-drums of the rain upon the sloping windows doing nothing to ease my anxiety as I stare at the clock tick inexorably on past my departure time. American Airlines, I sigh with more than a hint of annoyance. My plane is delayed three times and I wonder each time what was going to happen if it were to be cancelled and if I were to have to miss my domestic connection. Ironically, from the very beginning of my vacation trip, my mind is in Type-A overtime.
My landing in Costa Rica is welcomed on the bridge by a blast of humid air that puts that of Miami's to shame. I am finally here. I meet with Steven, pack half of all the tourist brochures I find in the airport into my bag and we're off into the great unknown. We step out of tiny Juan Santamaria Airport to find the bus station we had read about on the internet, but..there is no bus station! We barely have enough time to decide there's nothing to panic about when we are approached by the first of millions of cab riders that week that would see us as walking USD. Following his advice (in retrospect, we were better to have stayed in Alajuela), we decide to go to a hostel in San Jose for it's "closer" (by a few minutes) to the domestic airport we need to get to early the next morning. He drops us off at a dirty looking hostel and while we check-in, he enjoys a smoke with the youngsters who run the hostel. Apparently they enjoy a good business attracting tourists to each other. Oops.
--
Saturday, June 5
Saturday morning! Finally now the real vacation can begin! Well, almost, first we must get from San Jose to our destination on the north Pacific coast - Playas del Coco. We had, in the States, decided against taking the 4.5 hour bus-ride from the notoriously shady Coca-Cola bus station in San Jose, so we had splurged on domestic tickets to the nearest airport - Liberia. Naive, and still thinking Costa Rica would be fairly cheap, I flex my rusty Spanish muscles to ask the hostel to call us up a cab to the airport. It is a slight relief that the cab driver is not the same over-eager man from the night before.
Once at the airport, our trip becomes largely uneventful. We board a craft that seats 7 people including the captain and take off into the Costa Rican air cutting through thick layers of rainclouds and soaring over miles of GREEN. And really, Costa Rica is GREEN. Sadly, if much of the Africa foreigners like me imagine is brown, then what color would I say the US is? I guess I'd say America is grey. You can only conceive of how electrifying it is then, to come upon a country that seems alive and connected with the earth sporting magnificent cholorophyllic greens as far as the eye can see (or as far as the conspicuous mountains in the horizon would allow).
We land in Liberia's Tobias Bolano airport expecting it to be a fairly vibrant terminal with bus stations and restaurants a la 서울역 or Union Station. Instead, 25 strides take us through the entire airport from the tarmac to the exit and there is nothing in site. I look at Steven and our expressions belie the same realization - So, this is what "the middle of nothing" really means. Uh-oh.
I sit anxiously in Miami International, the drum-drums of the rain upon the sloping windows doing nothing to ease my anxiety as I stare at the clock tick inexorably on past my departure time. American Airlines, I sigh with more than a hint of annoyance. My plane is delayed three times and I wonder each time what was going to happen if it were to be cancelled and if I were to have to miss my domestic connection. Ironically, from the very beginning of my vacation trip, my mind is in Type-A overtime.
My landing in Costa Rica is welcomed on the bridge by a blast of humid air that puts that of Miami's to shame. I am finally here. I meet with Steven, pack half of all the tourist brochures I find in the airport into my bag and we're off into the great unknown. We step out of tiny Juan Santamaria Airport to find the bus station we had read about on the internet, but..there is no bus station! We barely have enough time to decide there's nothing to panic about when we are approached by the first of millions of cab riders that week that would see us as walking USD. Following his advice (in retrospect, we were better to have stayed in Alajuela), we decide to go to a hostel in San Jose for it's "closer" (by a few minutes) to the domestic airport we need to get to early the next morning. He drops us off at a dirty looking hostel and while we check-in, he enjoys a smoke with the youngsters who run the hostel. Apparently they enjoy a good business attracting tourists to each other. Oops.
--
Saturday, June 5
Saturday morning! Finally now the real vacation can begin! Well, almost, first we must get from San Jose to our destination on the north Pacific coast - Playas del Coco. We had, in the States, decided against taking the 4.5 hour bus-ride from the notoriously shady Coca-Cola bus station in San Jose, so we had splurged on domestic tickets to the nearest airport - Liberia. Naive, and still thinking Costa Rica would be fairly cheap, I flex my rusty Spanish muscles to ask the hostel to call us up a cab to the airport. It is a slight relief that the cab driver is not the same over-eager man from the night before.
Once at the airport, our trip becomes largely uneventful. We board a craft that seats 7 people including the captain and take off into the Costa Rican air cutting through thick layers of rainclouds and soaring over miles of GREEN. And really, Costa Rica is GREEN. Sadly, if much of the Africa foreigners like me imagine is brown, then what color would I say the US is? I guess I'd say America is grey. You can only conceive of how electrifying it is then, to come upon a country that seems alive and connected with the earth sporting magnificent cholorophyllic greens as far as the eye can see (or as far as the conspicuous mountains in the horizon would allow).
We land in Liberia's Tobias Bolano airport expecting it to be a fairly vibrant terminal with bus stations and restaurants a la 서울역 or Union Station. Instead, 25 strides take us through the entire airport from the tarmac to the exit and there is nothing in site. I look at Steven and our expressions belie the same realization - So, this is what "the middle of nothing" really means. Uh-oh.
Eventually, we find our bus into the heart of Liberia and arrive at the bus terminal. (I really really wish I had taken a picture of this bus terminal for it's pretty memorable but I suppose I was too drained each time I arrived there) We wander around the bus terminal in fairly significant confusion as to which bus was ours fully conscious of the hundreds of eyes upon us, visually marking us as foreigners and thus to many, as obvious targets for exploitation. Cab drivers jingle their keys in front of us rattling off a stream of fast Spanish to which we shake our heads no and move on. We are the sick calves of a herd being picked out by lions and it is only a matter of time before...before..but then! A man approaches us saying in broken English, I work here, where do you need to go? Salvation. Destination - Playas del Coco.
Walk on Water
Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the Kingdom of Heaven belongs to such as these.
In Peter Pan, it was easy for the Lost Boys to fly. It was even easy for the baby Peter.. But if you've ever watched Hook, you'd have seen how difficult it was for the adult Peter to find the faith to fly. In the Chronicles of Narnia, beyond a certain age, you're forbidden to come back to Narnia. Or maybe it was more that they could no longer find their way back to Narnia. In fact, the entire kingdom of Narnia was ruled by..children.
I read just today that the king of Uganda turned 18 and for the first time, he can make decisions for his kingdom without consulting his advisers. He became king at age 3, and my first reaction as I read this article was "how ridiculous." But maybe I'm wrong - perhaps it takes a child's eyes and a child's dreams to realize the greatest aspirations into actuality.
When I was younger, I believed I could change the world. Somehow, someway, God would open the doors for me to become a mover and shaker of this world, even if just one neighborhood at a time. With time I threw that idea away as I realized I couldn't even change myself. When I was younger, I lived carefree. My life was secure in Christ, what could be more important? Yet, doesn't the world scream at me today that there are a million and one things more important?
You still don't have a girlfriend? Are you sure you're trying hard enough in school? Don't disappoint your family Eugene. Shouldn't you be studying? Do you really go around dressing like that? Why don't you try and make more friends? Are you going to end up in Korea one day? What kind of doctor will you be? Why can't you commit to your church? What happened to wanting to form a prayer group at school - became too busy? Eugene..are you worthy?
Quiet. quiet. You are my freedom, Jesus you're the reason I'm kneeling at Your throne. Where would I be without you here in my life? You're my freedom.
I'm getting older - that will not change. But doesn't His Word say: Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. And if with age, we are wasting away, can't I also inversely consider this to mean that inside, I am getting YOUNGER with renewal? That inwardly, I am becoming more like a child? And isn't my goal to:
Be imitators of God, therefore, as dearly loved CHILDREN. And forever, I have to picture that powerful image of a child who follows his father adoringly around, mimicking every action in hopes that he would be more and more like his dad with each motion. And so, with great excitement and with great gusto, we adore and imitate our Father in heaven.
And God's Word says that our inward child-ification is a consequence of FAITH - the same mighty faith through which we resound "I believed; therefore I have spoken."
So by faith then, I will walk on water; I might dare to even RUN as an eager child.
I have never walked on water, felt the waves beneath my feet,
but at your Word Lord, I'll receive Your Faith to walk on oceans deep.
And I remember how you found me:
In that very same place, all my failing surely would have DROWNED me
but YOU made a way.
Easter 2010
Easter Day Fast 2010
Dear Father, I'm hungry. It has been a while, a long while since I have fasted, even such a short fast as this. I've become so used to the habit of immediately satisfying my appetite that I have long forgotten true and sustained hunger, again, even hunger such as this.
How terrible is the noncommittal life; how tragic is the apathetic or lazy existence? I am reminded now of what you have said in Revelations:
Dear Father, I'm hungry. It has been a while, a long while since I have fasted, even such a short fast as this. I've become so used to the habit of immediately satisfying my appetite that I have long forgotten true and sustained hunger, again, even hunger such as this.
How terrible is the noncommittal life; how tragic is the apathetic or lazy existence? I am reminded now of what you have said in Revelations:
"so because you are lukewarm - neither hot nor cold - I am about to spit you out of my mouth."
By your MERCY alone, you have not spat me from your mouth.
When I'm hungry, I CANNOT concentrate on anything else. When I am hungry, the mere thought of food gets me salivating, and the anticipation of forthcoming food is near UNBEARABLE. The scent of eminent satiation strikes all other thoughts from my mind. When I am hungry, truly starving, my idol and foremost priority is food. I long for it - I feel as though I may perish without it.
Father, I hunger for you. Though at times, recently, my hunger for you has been like a quiet buzzing, I pray you fan it to be a savage lion, with a longing for you so fierce that I may declare as David once did that to spend just ONE day in your courts would be better than a THOUSAND elsewhere, that I may declare my very SOUL thirsts for you Lord. And all the while that I hunger for you, Father I know that "my soul will be satisfied as with the RICHEST of fare." And truly Lord, You are sweeter than the sweetest honey, more filling than the juiciest steak, more permanent and sustaining than anything I could partake of in this life.
Creator of the universe, Father of all nations, grant me a heart after yours - a heart that longs for the things YOU long for. My wants, my desires, my iniquities, my anxieties - what are they when You satisfy my soul?
Trust in the Lord with ALL your heart and lean not on your own understanding, and in ALL your ways acknowledge Him, and He WILL make your paths straight.
Delight yourself in the Lord and He WILL give you the desires of your heart.
Those who live according to the sinful nature have their minds set on what that nature desires; but those who live in accordance with the Spirit have their minds set on what the Spirit desires. - Romans 8:5
Thank you for the cross. Thank you for the resurrection. Thank you for all the hope I have. You are faithful.
Amen.
06 March, 2010
I've just gone through one of those experiences you only ever have one shot at living - my brother's wedding. It's really amazing at how far I've come with my brother in just a year's span. One year ago today, my relationship with him was no stranger or familiar than it was maybe 5 years ago, maybe even 10 years ago.
My brother was always a mysterious guy, and I bet I owe a lot of my own mysteriousness and reclusiveness to what I copied off of him growing up. There was once a time when I would have said I was close to my brother, but that time is long off. I remember the first time Kinsey went off for a whole winter break to the States without me - I cried and my parents laughed. They said "형이 있을떼는 그렇게 싸우고, 이제 형이 가니까 울어?" And of course I cried harder because my parents were making fun of me.
I wouldn't say my family is poor, but I would deny my family was by any means rich. I tell my American friends I lived in a tiny rented 빌라 (which I learned later was not the same as a "villa") in an alley I'd struggle to describe to you. In that small apartment, my brother and I would shoot BB guns at each other when my parents were away (one hit me square in the eye), we'd physically fight for fun (I broke his pinky finger) and we'd even play baseball with a plastic ball and bat - each "base" was a piece of furniture 2 feet apart in the living room. Then my brother entered high school, and I began to forget who he really was. I saw very little of him for those 4 years.
To some extent, I was eternally jealous of my brother. I got into a lot of trouble growing up, and my behavior worried my parents to no small end. I envied how my brother could laugh his way past any punishment. There were even times after I fought with my brother that I relished telling my parents what he did when they came home, but invariably, they laughed when he laughed, and I received the scolding of a lifetime. After a while, I realize I must have subconsciously begun to imitate my brother - I thought that if I was more like him, I could laugh my way through punishments, and if I were more like him, maybe my parents would love me more like the way they did him. And still, I did not know my brother.
Last summer, I met his fiancee in Korea. If I could have imagined my brother with someone, it would not have been a missionary kid from Sri Lanka more fluent in Korean than she was in English. And yet, wouldn't you know it, they were perfect for each other. That very first night I met her, I felt comfortable enough to ask Hana to help me grow closer with my brother and draw our family together, and she promised me she would. And because of that promise, because of Hana, 7 months later, Kinsey is still a mystery, but he is no longer a stranger to me. He is my brother, and I can say I love him.
Congratulations 형, 누나. 오래오래 행복하게 사세요.
Desert of This
I tread lightly upon these, the sands of despair
Lest I wake up the demons that slumber around,
Tired from the feast of their most recent fare,
The last poor soul’s stumbling they’d found.
The winds desperately destroy what my feet create
Until I forget how far I’ve come, if at all.
The sun dries me with thirst I barely sate
With tears demanded by fear’s stifling pall.
Still I know from the screams of my legs
And the growing insanity of my mind,
If I keep one foot ahead as the other begs,
I’m moving somewhere , just moving blind.
And in the dark recesses of my heart,
As the answer to my most urgent wish,
A light shines that these sands cannot part
To walk with me in the desert of this,
The desert of loneliness where soon I can rise
To walk hand in hand with Him to paradise
everything is meaningless
We're reading through Ecclesiastes in small group right now. The main theme: everything is meaningless. Under the sun, everything is meaningless.
And doesn't life really feel that way? We wake up, we do whatever we do, and by the end of the day, we sleep for another day. If life is one of the most precious gifts given us, then why do we find that days blur together? How come MOST days of my life are forgettable? I might as well have been asleep for half my life for all I got out of it...right? I love God, and I know God loves me, but too often, and all the more recently, that realization doesn't seem to be epic enough to answer the ultimate question of life: "how do i find meaning in it?"
Today, some profound things were uttered, and I began to understand how to answer that question. A brother shared this passage:
"I know how to live on almost nothing or with everything. I have learned the secret of living in every situation, whether it is with a full stomach or empty, with plenty or little"
Paul knew the answer. It will be an ongoing lesson to learn how to serve God in trials and through the most difficult of situations; yet I've found that I'm most in danger not when I am suffering, but when I am thriving. I am closer to knowing how to live on almost nothing than I am in knowing how to live with everything. And now, don't I have everything? I have people to talk to, more food than I can eat that I have to store things for later and keep leftovers, a bed with several layers to keep me warm, movies and books to keep me entertained, the Bible to read and believers with whom to fellowship with. If I keep studying and follow a program already laid out before me, then I will be a respected doctor with a salary. And what is my greatest problem? that I am bored.
And for now, the answer I have come up with is that I lack compassion. In my abundance, I am not giving. In my everything, I ignore those with nothing. Instead, my first thought is study. When 30 minutes pass by, I think to myself "that was 30 minutes I could have studied. or at least worked out." I study and forget to pray. Compassion. There is a small section in Matthew, a prelude to where Jesus sends out the Twelve. It reads:
"When he saw the crowds, he had compassion on them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd. Then he said to his disciples, 'The harvest is plentiful but the workers are few..'"
Jesus had compassion everyday for those he walked amongst. Who am I amongst? I don't walk among the hungry in Ethiopia or the oppressed in Indonesia. For now, I walk among secular medical students - but I have no compassion for them. Rather, the temptation to live a secular lifestyle, reinforced by the demands and motivations of the medical profession keep me actively trying to distance myself. And so, I don't have compassion. and I don't know how to live on a full stomach. and I am bored, and I question the meaning of each of my days.
The harvest is plentiful but the workers are few.
Doritos
I bought some doritos today. The Blazin' Buffalo & Ranch kind. They say that smell and taste are the most closely linked senses to memory (and now thanks to medical school, I know what tracts make this true), but as I was eating those Doritos, I had some major flashbacks.
Back when I was growing up in Korea, American food was RARE. Instead of skittles, I had these misshapen, slightly off-tasting Korean copies (Unfortunately, I cant remember the name). Instead of m&m's, I ate chocolate covered 해바라기씨 (sunflower seeds). Fruit rollups? Gushers? Get out of here, every blue moon, someone would bring some from their vacation in the States and they were everybody's best friends for all of the 30 minutes their stash lasted. I remember one time, I got punked into getting a free fruit-by-the-foot if I ate some "candy" this guy gave me. Turns out the candy was some bitter bitter medicine that numbed my taste buds and I couldn't taste the fruit-by-the-foot at all. Lucky for that person I don't remember who it was.
When I was feeling down, my mom would make an extra trip out to the base to get me the only New York style pizza you could find in Seoul - Anthony's Pizza on the base. She'd get me a fresh box of pizza and the only Taco Bell in the entire city - on the South Post. I'd sit at home until she'd call me, then I'd come out and help her balance the big Taco Bell cup on the pizza box as we climbed the stairs.
Life was simpler as a child - I think I felt America was such a bigger place than Korea, with much better snacks, more freedom and more opportunity. Every other summer, I'd go to America and spend an entire day sitting in the Barnes and Noble, catching up on my Redwall series and browsing through the comics. Then we'd get our annual Panda Express at the mall before I picked up my one Nintendo game that would last me the rest of the year until I came back to the States. and I was happy.
Now with everything that I wanted as a child, I'm living the paradox of wanting to return to being a child. I don't think its a matter of the grass being greener on the other side. I've seen a lot more of the world, and I've realized that there's fewer things as precious as the childhood I spent growing up in Korea, between two worlds, and between Doritos.
February 2010
It's already February of 2010. I find one of life's biggest ironies in just how much we can't wait for time to fly faster as kids, then when we're adults we only wish for a way to turn back time. What sparks that ironical transition? I guess I haven't experienced life enough to say for certain. Maybe right now I'm living that transition - a part of me wishes to return to halcyon college; another part of me can't wait until I'm a resident. Or maybe it's just the present at the moment that I'm having a hard time biding by.
Where was I 10 years ago? 2000. Wrapping up 8th grade year. That year actually signifies very little in my life beyond discipleship with Myong. It was probably my first time really studying the Bible as something of substance outside of sunday school. We spent all of 6 months studying the book of James - something of my time in that Bible Study gripped me, and I believe it to be the time I first became a real Christian. As I think upon it now, I think that finding some small semblance of community in that discipleship group after a socially rough past 2 years may have contributed a lot to my hunger for affirmation in God, and my finding Him in the book of James.
For some reason, I remember sitting in on a high school concert and asking Julian, do you think you'll do Psalms next year? And that very first morning psalms of 2008, my first week as a high school freshman, I stepped into the cave and sat down on the first of many mornings with Mr. Raatz and my Psalms upperclassmen. Psalms was a continuation of the community I felt a little of from 8th grade. The smelly carpet, the pictures of Jazz Band, AGAPE, I love you Charlie Brown, Fiddler on the Roof lining the walls, the closets of mysterious violins left overnights - I found much comfort and encouragement among them over the next three years.
But 10 years ago. I didn't think about my career - I didn't think about being a missionary, a doctor, a pastor. I sought friendship, social acceptance, emotional affirmation. And I waited on God. and God was faithful. Today, I seek much the same things. I seek friendship, social acceptance, emotional affirmation - I guess now I would call this community. God was faithful. I believe He is faithful still - I will wait on God, be it 2000, 2010 or 2050.
Where was I 10 years ago? 2000. Wrapping up 8th grade year. That year actually signifies very little in my life beyond discipleship with Myong. It was probably my first time really studying the Bible as something of substance outside of sunday school. We spent all of 6 months studying the book of James - something of my time in that Bible Study gripped me, and I believe it to be the time I first became a real Christian. As I think upon it now, I think that finding some small semblance of community in that discipleship group after a socially rough past 2 years may have contributed a lot to my hunger for affirmation in God, and my finding Him in the book of James.
For some reason, I remember sitting in on a high school concert and asking Julian, do you think you'll do Psalms next year? And that very first morning psalms of 2008, my first week as a high school freshman, I stepped into the cave and sat down on the first of many mornings with Mr. Raatz and my Psalms upperclassmen. Psalms was a continuation of the community I felt a little of from 8th grade. The smelly carpet, the pictures of Jazz Band, AGAPE, I love you Charlie Brown, Fiddler on the Roof lining the walls, the closets of mysterious violins left overnights - I found much comfort and encouragement among them over the next three years.
But 10 years ago. I didn't think about my career - I didn't think about being a missionary, a doctor, a pastor. I sought friendship, social acceptance, emotional affirmation. And I waited on God. and God was faithful. Today, I seek much the same things. I seek friendship, social acceptance, emotional affirmation - I guess now I would call this community. God was faithful. I believe He is faithful still - I will wait on God, be it 2000, 2010 or 2050.
골목길
These kinds of alleys were very familiar to me. In the neighborhood where I grew up, like most residences, my home was really in an indescribable location. Street numbers meant nothing in a neighborhood assembled upon a hillside, fed by the arboreal arteries that were these alleyways. How do you get to my house? The question I had was, "How do you not get there?" It seemed all the million paths I knew all eventually led to my house.
미국으로 이사온후로, 서울이 많이 그리웠다. 하지만, 자신에게도 의외였지많서도, 내가 제일 보고싶어했던것은 골목길이였다. 어느 겨울밤, 난 또 서울의 골목길을 다시 걷고싶다 - 어렸을떼 느껴젔던 위안을, 이렇게 바빠지고 다 자란 나는 다시 알고싶다.
Old Worship Team reflections
In my google documents history, I found a very nondescript file labeled Fall Quarter WT Reflections, and in it I found 4 entries I had apparently written the fall quarter of Senior year. I thought I'd put them here. It's funny how all those things I had expressed a couple years ago still resonates so strongly with me today, amidst such different circumstances.
Part 1
Mm. Interesting. I guess more than ever I feel as I leave the college bubble, that for the first time, the “battle” of living a counter-cultural life in this spiritual warzone makes sense. In the back of my mind, every time I encountered this analogy I understood it as applicable while perhaps entertaining the notion that it was an exaggeration for my life. Yet these past few months have seen me challenged with things that outstripped the mere temptations of my past – stealing, lying, honoring. I found myself dealing with issues of premarital sex, of seriously desiring a life of comfort and prosperity and rejecting a calling to live among the impoverished, of wanting to withdraw into my own ethnic circles and live in ignorance. And during these moments, I found myself for the first time seriously wondering if God was real. Yet, while these moments brought me into some of my darkest fear, that perhaps the faith I thought I had amounted to nothing, because they could so easily be shaken in such a short amount of time, I can look back on my life, and my life as it is today, and be blessed, because I can tell you of how God does not stand for me to waste His time. I know that there are times that God is patient with us as we veer in and out of the path He calls us to, and He waits for us to snap out of our misguided ways and He awaits us with outstretched arms a la the Prodigal Son, but in my life, so many times I feel that God is more the shepherd with the lost sheep, that he actively goes out to get me and slaps me really hard if need be for me to come back to my senses. I can almost feel God at these moments telling me, “Eugene, my plans are too great for you to be wasting my time, so wake up and let me use you.” I guess my greatest fears now, is fear of loss as I face the future. I’m really not worried about my future, in any kind of worry like I used to have about things – but sometimes when I think about my future, I’m afraid of losing things – I’m afraid of losing my family one day, I’m afraid of not having friends, I’m afraid of one day not being able to remember what it’s like to live in Korea…I’m afraid I’m preparing myself for a lifestyle I want to be able to handle, but I won’t be strong enough to survive. Yet my one reassuring thought amidst all this, is that God has revealed to me that He guides us in steps, only one at a time, without revealing to us our final destination, and the strength He provides is only enough to get us to that next step. So as it stands, I won’t be able to survive the life I will have in the future with the strength I have now – only enough for one day, one hour, one minute of my life – and that’s how we continue to walk without growing faint, run and not be weary, and sometimes we’ll soar on wings like eagles. I don’t worry like I used to, but often to escape my fears, I’ll choose not to think about things – I wish to one day be able to think about my future, to hear about the successes of medical students like me, to be confronted with what may lie ahead and NOT assume that future is mine, and know JOY without ignorance.
Part 2
I guess I’ve felt really inadequate this past quarter. I started out this summer really disappointed at how little vision team developed my initial idea of a prayer guide from way back in March and how little I had to start out with. I pushed on despite vision team’s warnings with a non-chapter specific prayer group, which ultimately fell apart because the dedicated leaders of IV in all 5 chapters are too over-taxed as it is. So I broke the group apart near the end of the quarter – I’m wondering how to lead a chapter in prayer, and how anything I do can make a lasting difference beyond this one school year. Barely anyone knows I’m the prayer ministry leader for MEIV and it discourages me that our weekly chapter meetings are by necessity during the daytime, when I have class. As a worship team member, I enjoy being on the team immensely. I wanted to grow musically, which I feel I am doing slowly, and I wanted to grow in my understanding of worship, which I also am doing slowly – my most memorable moment has to have been when I worshiped in Korean this quarter. Yet I feel inadequate, being the least musically able of the group, and often it doesn’t matter, though at times I’m reminded of this. I was reminded during Christmas LG, being the only member of the WT besides Rachel not to have participated – I know these thoughts are wrong and sometimes amount to nothing beyond selfishness, but accumulated, give me cause to stop and think about my continued role as a leader in MEIV – I know I shouldn’t limit God by what I perceive are my limitations, but I don’t know how to prioritize my two leadership calls, especially when I don’t know how to proceed at all with the former. I need guidance.
Part 3
What I think about from time to time is the flaky nature of the Christian commitment, especially in Asian-Americans. I know so many of my brothers and sisters from high school who seemed so on-fire, just die away when they came to college. I know so many more still of those that I know from college will go on to wither away after graduation. I know a big part of it has to do with the amount of Christian immersion we experience growing up, where our closest friends may be from church or IV and where in the workplace, these social surroundings change. Yet it doesn’t really explain everything. We’re so sure of our faith sometimes, but before we know it, we just care less and less, or the things we were so on fire for just seem to mean less and less, until before we know it the days have blurred so much together that we’re old. More and more, it seems less and less unlikely that after I graduate, this could perhaps be true of me. How do we keep our faith from seeming more and more childish as we enter the American workforce, and keep our ideals from the jadedness that is to follow? Find a good church? I just talked to a friend who works most on Sundays and can’t afford to go to church as a first year restaurant manager. Strong disciplines in prayer and bible study? Without community, these things are infinitely harder and much less rewarding than they were before. I don’t want to wait until I’m old enough to actually be living with the impoverished and being reminded every day of my choice to see and work against injustice for my faith to make more sense again. I want my faith to be stronger years later, when I’m drowsy with sleep competing with the top students of the nation for scores in medical school, or vying for a residency in the workforce as they are now. How?
Part 4
I love the worship team. I look forward to every Wednesday when I get to go down to Parkes to practice and lead with you guys. At the core of it, for me it’s a lot of fun and I think it should be. Bible study leading for me was fun last year, and so it grants me so much peace to reconcile what I’m doing with something that resonates so intimately with who I am. I love what we discuss at meetings, and I love how we’re pretty comfortable with each other and it’s only been a quarter. I love that everyone has a different personality and things are always going to be different with just one person missing – I hope. I want to see some of the stuff we talked about happening – I want to see the singing on the street, singing on the El, the body worship, the drawing – all that stuff we talked about. I fear we’ll be as busy next quarter with things as we were this past quarter and these things’ll be pushed to next year, or we’ll do them in a wishy-washy way if at all. I want to see the Winterfest/Cedar-ish chapter meetings for large group like we discussed, Barney and Phil, where things are relaxed and people discuss the vision and things together and it doesn’t matter who’s a leaders or who’s not. While I love the songs we sing, I’d love to branch out from the kinds of songs we do – the type that’s becoming classic MEIV. Maybe more traditional, maybe something more exotic – I feel we sing Te Alabare or Montana too often, and I know a little bit of it has to be that it’s logistically easier to repeat songs with some sets, particularly sets with new pieces. But it’s been very good. Lastly, I’d love to do a prayer concert again soon, but with elements of 05-06 Concert, where we had pure performance pieces. It’d be an opportunity to perform Christian pieces that are not as conducive to joint sing-along but still provide a powerful worship experience. There are many pieces I could suggest for those.
Prayer Requests – well. All this is me in a nutshell, maybe more dramatic than it really is, but you can garner hours of prayer from this . “Prayer Requests” often seem so fleeting because they’re already pre-processed and pre-packaged for us and we don’t have to think as much. But pray for my parents – for them to find God, for them to be healthy, for them to stop stressing and taxing themselves – for them to know Joy, Peace, and Rest in Him. Soon.
new year, new thoughts
This past weekend, two wonderful friends of mine were married. As I saw them dance on the floor, this thought kept occurring to me: God must be smiling down upon them now and saying, "These are my children. See how much I love them." I'd forgotten how much I had missed them, and I know I will continue to miss them all the more from here on out. But they are so blessed - God goes with them.
Since graduating, spirituality for me has been tough. No, let's not say that. Let's say, keeping my eyes fixed on Him has been increasingly difficult. I don't think it's because I left the college bubble or the MEIV bubble and found that life was all the more distracting and disturbingly real out there. I think that it's when I left community and left accountability and left corporate ministry - that's when I said "God, it's you and me out there now. Help me."
When I thought alone, then I was alone. And when you're alone, you can convince yourself of anything, and fill your time with a million things. And this is when life is easy. When life gets hard, it's another thing altogether - then you go from being delusionally preoccupied to being utterly and desperately lost. And when you're lost for too long, your mind becomes jaded, your heart becomes bitter and His Spirit becomes a flicker within.
I decided to name this blog that no one will read, "One Three Nine." Psalm 139 tells me God knows my every in and out. He knows my words before I speak them, knew all my days before I lived my first one. He knows my every thought. BUT, how precious...how precious are God's thoughts. How precious are His. And indeed, I hope that everyday I can strive forward to becoming that much closer to saying, my thoughts are becoming like His.
I will wait on the Lord. He is precious to me and I to Him.
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