It's that time again. Finals are done with, and students are pouring out. Commencement activities are in full swing. But in the midst of all the familiarities, there is something different about this year--at least for me. It's been eight years in the making (some would say four years overdue). It's time for me to begin saying goodbyes to those who have left an impression in my life at one point or another.
Throughout the next two or three months I have left in Ann Arbor, I wish to highlight those people who've made these past eight years memorable. At the very minimum, these entries will serve to remind me of how God faithfully placed these people during a crucial stretch of my young life.
SHIFT_
There was a good chance I would have never met these brothers and sisters. Last spring, I remember going back and forth whether I should stay in Ann Arbor one more year. I was a bit exhausted from serving as a small group leader, and I was beginning to doubt what God was doing in my life. But after much prayer and consultation with older brothers/sisters, I decided to dedicate one more year in serving the local church.
When I first found out about the make-up of the group, I was filled with trepidation because the group was so young. All along, I felt like I didn't have enough time and resources to minister to these brothers and sisters while doing a million other things that I had committed to. But that's when God spoke: "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness."
This year, by no means, has been easy. Every week, God was definitely showing me that I was weak. All the times I tried relying on my past experiences as a small group leader, God broke me. There were times when I wanted to quit as well as times when God was evidently moving. There were times when I questioned whether all the things that Mirae and I were doing were worth it. But in the end, I know that God is faithful.
Last night, as I was watching the video that these guys made for us, I was blown away. Here I was, expecting God to do things my way, but all along, He knew what He was doing in the lives of all the brothers and sisters in the group. And as each person shared on the video, I felt God whispering to me, "it wasn't you leading them. It was me." And it's so true. I didn't d o much. But God took what I offered, and He multiplied it. I see it in their lives. From day one to where they are now. I see the hand of God working in their lives. And I'm amazed. And I thank God for them.
I want to thank each member that's made my last small group a memorable one. Humphrey. Justin. Joel. Paul. Sam. Nina. Lisa. Sieun. Christine. So Yeon. Sarah. Donna. Daniel. Rachel. Nick. Gary. Katie. Mirae. We'll keep in touch. I'm excited to see what God will do in your lives in the years to come. =)
This past Tuesday, in small group, we reflected on the cross and what the cross means to us. And as I was meditating on Scripture, the question that kept coming to mind was, "How much is Jesus worth to you?"
In all four Gospels, there is a story of a woman (only John's account notes her name as Mary) who brings an expensive perfume made of pure nard in an alabaster jar and pours all of it on Jesus. The writers note the price of the perfume as being three hundred Greek Denarii, equivalent to a full year's worth of wages. In the Matthew account of the story (Matthew 26:6-16), Judas Iscariot, one of the Twelve and future betrayer of Christ, becomes disillusioned and immediately goes to the chief priests, agreeing to betray Jesus for the price of 30 silver coins.
Mary Magdalene came to Jesus, unsolicited, and willingly spent a year's wage on Jesus Christ. As much as the price of the perfume is incredulous, the manner in which she anointed Jesus topped it off. John 12:3 says that she poured the perfume on Jesus' feet and wiped His feet with her hair. In ancient Palestine, everyone walked in sandals, and thereby people's feet would get really dirty. So for anyone to wash someone's feet, it meant complete humility on the part of the washer and a sign of honoring the person whose feet was being washed. Mary not only washes Jesus' feet, she does so with her hair. And for her deed, Jesus says, "She has done a beautiful thing to me...I tell you the truth, wherever the gospel is preached throughout the world, what she has done will also be told, in memory of her" (Mark 14:6-9).
Judas Iscariot, on the other hand, agrees to hand Jesus over to the enemy for thirty silver coins. Some agree that the worth of these silver coins came out to a month's wage back in those days. I find it interesting that thirty silver coins was the price of a slave in Biblical times. Having spent three years under Jesus, Judas sees Jesus as worth nothing more than a slave whom he can keep or sell, depending on his disposition.
How much do I value Jesus Christ in my life? I can say that I treasure Him above anything else, but actions speak louder than words. Is He worth a full year's wage? Can I run to Him, unsolicited, and give Him everything I have to live on because He is who He is, the Son of God, the savior of the world? Or is he only worth the price of a slave? When Jesus becomes inconvenient or hard to follow, do I just sell Him out for chump change?
When I look at the cross of Christ, I see how much God valued us. He gave to the ultimate degree. And all I can do is fall on my knees in repentance because I know I don't give my ultimate to Him. I am unworthy to be called your son.
For God (the greatest lover) so loved (the greatest degree) the world (the greatest number) that he gave (the greatest act) his only begotten son (the greatest gift) that whosoever (the greatest invitation) believes (the greatest
simplicity) in him (the greatest person) shall not perish (the greatest deliverance) but (the greatest difference) have (the greatest certainty) everlasting life(the greatest possession). John 3:16 (Martin Luther)
March 9. 2008.
A few days earlier, at work, I received an email from the admissions office at the School of International and Public Affairs at Columbia University. It was a succinct letter denying me of admissions to my dream school. I can't say that I was bitter or upset. I saw it coming, even though I had held out for what little hope I had. But even foreseeing the denial, I could not keep myself from worrying about subsequent decisions from schools. I began to doubt and took matters into my own hands. I needed a fall-back plan and began job-searching at work. I went into HMCC's prayer gathering kind of dejected. I found it difficult to pray, difficult to worship as my mind was going back to the letter I had received from Columbia. Again, God was showing me how much I had not learned about surrender. I began to journal, and as words were being written, I felt God challenge me again and again with a simple question: Who do you say that I am? I responded like Peter. In my mind, I didn't understand why God would keep asking me this question. You are the Christ, the messiah. But God would not let it go. Almost as if He was not fully satisfied with my answer, He probed deeper. Am I really your Christ and Lord? The day's reading for the 40 Days to Destiny Campaign came alive. And God was searching my heart to see if I really believed that Jesus was Lord of my life. On the outside, I tried to appear cool and collected. Oh God will provide. I'm surrendered. I'll be okay if I don't get into any schools. But on the inside, I was anxious. I didn't want to re-apply and look for new jobs, etc. But at the end of the day, I resigned and lifted up a short prayer. God, if you've really convicted me the past four years of a certain direction in life, then I want to trust that you will make it happen. God teach me to surrender daily.
3.11.08
After a long and eventful weekend, I came back from church and passed out in the living room. With my friends from out-of-town visiting for another friend's proposal to his girlfriend, I had quickly forgotten about the anxieties of graduate schools. But after I woke up from the much needed Sunday afternoon nap, I had an urge to check my mailbox. After all, I was expecting a package pertaining to my laptop. But instead, I found a large packet that resembled an admissions package. I quickly tore open the envelope to find an admissions letter from American University. I was floored. I had to read and reread the letter.
American University was definitely one of my top choices. It is ranked in the top ten international relations programs in the country. So when I found out I got accepted, I knew it was all by the grace of God. My academic standings were not all that great and I'm sure there were hundreds of more qualified applicants than me. So for me to gain acceptance into one of the best programs in the country was by far a miracle. It was almost as if God was saying, I created the heavens and the earth. I can move mountains. I can shake the earth. I can do all things. Throughout the night and even all of yesterday, I reflected a lot. I was talking to a brother about the process that God had taken me. And I'm so amazed. Eight years in Ann Arbor. Falling away and rejecting God. Crawling back like the prodigal son. A trip out to Southeast Asia. A trip out to China. Four years of serving the local church through thick and thin. Engineering. Pre-med. History. English. Journalism? Public Policy? International Relations. And here I stand. Completely amazed. Completely broken by the grace of God. Completely thankful for all the experiences God put me through. And I know He's not finished with me just yet.
Since the Winter Retreat, I've been thinking about this a lot.
* * *
1992. Barcelona, Spain. 400-meters.
Derek Redmond's track-and-field career had come down to this one race that he had been training for his entire life. After shattering the British record for the 400m, his career took a downturn, marred with serious injuries and knocking him out of the 1988 Seoul Olympics and other international competitions. But he was healthy again for his last shot at Olympic glory.
He coasted through his first few heats. And then tragedy struck again. With about half the race to go, he hears a pop and comes up limping in pain. He hobbles for a few more yards and then crumples to the turf. And his dreams of medaling are shot again.
Jim Redmond has traveled with his son to Barcelona. He sits in the stands, nervously watching his son race. Then he sees his son pull up, an all-too-familiar scene. He rushes down the stadium aisles, running towards his injured son. Security guards chase after him, trying to stop him. But Jim won't be stopped.
The medical stretcher arrives. Derek brushes them aside, determined to finish the race. He gets up and begins to limp on one leg towards the finish line. He was going to finish.
Jim runs on to the track and grabs Derek. "I'm here, son," he says to Derek. "We'll finish together." In front of tens of thousands of live spectators and millions more around the world, father and son walked the rest of the hundred-some meters to the finish line.
"I'm the proudest father alive," Jim tells the media afterwards. "I'm prouder of him than I would have been if he had won the gold medal. It took a lot of guts for him to do what he did."
* * *
I can't say I have or have had the most perfect relationship with my dad. I still carry deep-rooted emotional, psychological, and even physical scars from my youth. And there was a time I hated him and thought I would be better off without him. I couldn't understand how God was good.
But God is in the business of restoration and redeeming mankind. I am living proof. Today, I thank my God everyday for my father. God has healed a lot of the wounds. He has turned my dad's life around. And through the evolving relationship with my earthly father, I see a glimpse of the Heavenly Father's love for His sons and daughters.
A father's love knows no bounds.
* * *
but while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him.
It's already been one year. He was supposed to have turned 21 yesterday. But I'm sure the party up there was matchless.
Some would say he was foolish. Foolish for cutting short his youth to enlist and put his neck on the line. Foolish for leaving his family and friends. Foolish for seemingly being reckless in wanting to serve the country. But in the words of a wise man, "He is no fool who gives up what he cannot keep to gain what he cannot lose."
Some would say his life was wasted. Only 20 years young, with an entire future ahead of him. But he did something that many fail to achieve in a lifetime. He found his purpose. That is hardly a wasted life.
All would say he left his mark. And his legacy continues.
Somewhere along the lines, I bought into lies. The only way God could use me was...
if I just prayed harder
if I just read the Bible more
if I just read more Christian books
if I just listened to holier songs
if I just went to more church activities
if I just spent more time with people
if I just knew everything of God
if I just more articulated in speech
if I just stopped lying
if I just fast and pray
if I just talk about God all the time
if I just clung to my Christian friends
Somewhere along the lines, I bought into more lies. God can't use me...
because I am shy
because I am skinny
because I am a poor speaker
because I'm not smart
because I have skeletons in my closet
because I am self-righteous
because I am proud
because I am stubborn
because I am average
because I lack self-confidence
because I am ugly.
But then God says...
it is by grace you have been saved, through faith, not by works
my grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness
you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a people belonging to God, that you may declare the praises of Him who called you out of darkness into His marvelous light
you are no longer a slave, but a son; and since you are a son, God has made you also an heir
you were once lost, but now you are found
there is a remnant chosen by grace. And if by grace, then it is no longer by works; if it were, grace would no longer be grace.
We are taught that humanity is intrinsically good, that the evil deeds people are prone to commit is a direct result of external circumstances. I'm sure external circumstances contribute to some of the worst atrocities the world will ever see. But I cannot agree that people are inherently good. All evidence points to the contrary, and we look towards blaming other things to remove the guilt from our conscience.
For instance, take a look at this article from the New York Times. There is an epidemic that is hitting the population of Congo. The rate of incidents of women being raped is escalating at an extraordinary pace. A group called the Rastas are "notorious for burning babies, kidnapping women and literally chopping up anybody who gets in their way." I wonder how many sociologists, anthropologists, and others would say that this is a product of culture, war, poverty, etc. I venture to guess that the majority of them would. And that is the sad thing. We have become too intellectually "superior" to admit our own depravity and justify the horrific, inhumane activities of mankind.
What good is a government that cannot protect its own citizens? The Congolese armed forces deserve to be put on trial for crimes against humanity and its participation in systematically terrorizing and raping women. No citizens should fear for their own safety by those that have been called to protect and serve the country. It is a sad story that these kinds of widespread stories are not received by outrage by the international community. Somewhere between the news of Brittany Spears losing custody of her children and Pamela Anderson's wedding in Las Vegas, real newsworthy stories are lost. How sad humanity is.
There was a good chance I would have never met these brothers and sisters. Last spring, I remember going back and forth whether I should stay in Ann Arbor one more year. I was a bit exhausted from serving as a small group leader, and I was beginning to doubt what God was doing in my life. But after much prayer and consultation with older brothers/sisters, I decided to dedicate one more year in serving the local church.
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