Thankful

Thanksgiving Day. There's much to be thankful for, regardless of external circumstances. Really.

A loving family. Supportive friends. God-fearing church.
Eyes to see. Ears to hear. Mouth to taste. Nose to smell. Hands to feel. Legs to walk.
A roof over my head. Food on the table. Money in the wallet. Clothes for the body.
Higher education. College education. Heck, ANY education.
Clean water. Hot water. Running water. Electricity. Heat.
A vision to pursue. A call to obey. A mission to fulfill.
Faith. Hope. Love. Grace. Mercy. Inspiration. Dreams. Goals.
Children frolicking without a care in the world. Friends and family tying the knot. Friends and family in love.
Hearty laughs. Deep talks. Powerful prayers. Good fellowship.
Timely convictions. Much needed rebukes. More needed encouragement.
A pat on the back. An arm around the shoulder.
And so much more.

As I write this, at least 101 are dead and hundreds more injured/missing in coordinated terrorist attacks in Mumbai, India. As I write this, the economy is tanking with virtually no end in sight with the housing market continuing to slide, unemployment continuing to rise, stock market continuing to rise and fall. As I write this, terrorist insurgencies continue to hamper development of Afghanistan and Iraq. As I write this, malaria, tuberculosis, smallpox, and other curable diseases ravage sub-Saharan Africa with inaccessibility to cheap medicine. As I write this, AIDS is killing off an entire generation of Africans, leaving orphans to fend for themselves. As I write this, modern day pirates board ships as a multimillion dollar enterprise conducted by a lawless society in Somalia. As I write this, modern day slave traders traffick men, women, and children to become forced laborers and prostitutes in the developing world. As I write this, food prices continue to rise and bread riots continue to be a global threat. As I write this, genocide continues in Darfur with little international action being taken while words like "not on our watch" become meaningless. As I write this, hundreds of thousands of North Koreans are locked away in concentration camps for life and millions more are starving while its leader gets fat off of choicest selection of food the world can offer, drives any one of his hundreds of exotic cars, drinks the most expensive liquor found on earth.

As I write this, I realize how ungrateful I've become. All the luxuries afforded to me by the grace of God I take for granted. But on this Thanksgiving Day, may I realize how blessed I am and how I am blessed to be a blessing to others.

Your Kindness Leads to Repentance

Harvest Mission Community Church had been my church for the last seven-plus years. It was the church that welcomed me, a sinner, into the arms of a mighty God. It was the church that showed me the full extent of God's love for all peoples. It was the church that taught me how to love the local body and to build up the body of Christ. And in the words of Paul, I thank my God every time I remember the church.

My relationship with the church, however, was not always rosy. I did not see eye-to-eye with the pastors all the time. I did not agree with some of the church's philosophy of ministry. I had issues with the structure of the organization. I questioned certain decisions. I took offense at comments directed at people. I definitely had many instances of bitterness, anger, and jadedness towards the church. I have definitely struggled in loving the church.

I tried to leave on a good note. I didn't want to leave on a bitter note like many of my friends. So I tried. And I thought I did a good job. But upon arriving in Washington D.C., God was revealing that I had not effectively dealt with the contentious issues I had with HMCC. I had merely bottled in the angst. I had not allowed God to heal me. Even as I got plugged into a church in the DC area, I took issues with the way the church in Ann Arbor operated, and it spilled over into arguments and debates with others.

It was only recently that God began the process of healing me. Hearing other people who had their own issues with the church share about their post-HMCC experience certainly helped. Visiting the Austin church also helped. But on the plane ride home from Austin, I listened to a sermon that was recommended by a friend. Pastor Mark Driscoll, lead pastor of Mars Hill Church, gave a sermon at a John Piper conference. He talks about the use of words in the church. One of the points he makes is that we need to pray for the shepherds. He says, "As ministers, we are far from being perfect. But many of us are doing our best. And we are grieved that the minds of our people should be more directed to our personal imperfections than to our divine message." Here I was, criticizing the weaknesses of the staff rather than focusing on the message of God and what it would have for me. Here I was, nitpicking on certain areas of minor disagreements that was preventing me from focusing on God and what He would have for me.

He also says, "Religious people preach repentance. They don't practice repentance. Religious people tell everyone to repent. They themselves fail to repent." I'm a bona fide pharisee. I had forgotten my roots as a sinner. I had gotten too caught up in the religiosity of serving in the church. I had become proud, somehow convincing myself that I knew better then anyone else and that what I had to say was worthy of an audience. I had neglected the Christian call to repentance, presuming a holier than though attitude. Other people should repent, not me. Through this sermon, God was revealing the magnitude of my sinfulness and how far from the cross I had swerved. And I found myself repenting on the plane and throughout the days to come.

I appreciate Harvest Mission Community Church. The church is composed of imperfect people who are trying their best to obey God. Do they have faults? Sure. But so do I. And that is the beauty of the grace of God. He uses imperfect people to proclaim the perfect love of God. Praise God.

If you are bitter or have issues with your church and/or others within the church, I highly recommend listening to this sermon. I pray that God would free you from the bondage of bitterness as He is doing in my life. Here is the link to the sermon. Feel free to drop a line or an email if you'd like to talk about the sermon and/or other issues.

Change is Coming

So I voted for the other guy. I'll get that off my chest right away. It was a hard fought election, a campaign in which we saw messages of hope mixed with sleeze. But in the end, the American people have spoken, and the country blazes a new path in its history.

I respect President-elect Barack Obama. His quick ascendency to national prominence is something to admire. But that he is the nation's first African-American President-to-be is something special. Despite the fundamental differences I have with his ideology, I am proud to see a minority be elected to the country's highest position. The jury will be out on how effective his four years will be in guiding this country through two wars, a global financial crisis, a fractured domestic political spectrum, and many other issues. But history has been made, and we'll see what the future holds in store for this country.

This election has been the outright rejection of the brand of politics that has been in power for the past two presidents. The spike in interest in the political affairs of this nation is a criticism of the divisive rancor wielded by Bush and co. And I'm glad for the shift. We are no better off as a people and a nation than eight years ago. The domestic partisanship is as extreme, if not more, than eight years ago. We are in one unpopular war in Iraq that has resulted in the deaths of thousands of young men and women for a cause that was fabricated. We are in another war understaffed and facing many challenges and insurgency movements that seem resilient in their ways. And we are in the most serious economic crisis since the Great Depression and policymakers are throwing everything at the problem hoping something sticks and begins to work.

It is fitting that John McCain lost in a landslide and Republicans in the Senate and House lost ground. It was hard to watch McCain deliver his classy concession speech. Many question where the John McCain of last night had been throughout the campaign when Americans were looking for answers instead of attacks. That was the real John McCain that I had learned to respect. The real McCain that stood for principles, that worked across party lines to work for America. But in the end, the John McCain of the past several months has been the John McCain that Barack Obama wanted to portray, the McCain of the right wing George W. Bush brand of the Republican Party. I'm not going to say that that is why he lost the election. But when he reached to the far right wing of the social conservative base and picked an unknown, inexperienced Alaskan governor who had only been in power for two whole years as his Vice Presidential nominee, he lost the moderate and independent vote.

It is time for a change. As a moderate Republican, I am fed up with a brand of politics that demonizes the other side, writes fear-mongering letters to sway electorates, and does anything and everything to keep power. Where is the integrity and morality, the willingness to work together for the good of the people, the leading by example, the call to serve the public good, the small government and empowerment of the people? Where is the Ronald Reagans and the Abraham Lincolns of the Grand Old Party these days? I'm tired of Karl Rove and Dick Cheney. I'm tired of Donald Rumseld and Paul Wolfowitz. I'm tired of Sarah Palin and Bill O'Reilly. It's time for change.

Two Years ii

Our church schedules a memorial service for a fallen hero. His name was Minhee Kim. Friends knew him better as Andy. He served his country. But he loved God and His people even more. Those who would gather at the service would serve as a living testament to the short life that our friend had lived. The room quickly fills up. Tissue boxes line the aisles. No one says a word to one another. Tears that flow like mighty rivers say enough. Andy lived well. He left a legacy.

Several days later, two friends and I go to visit his family. We bring comfort foods of sort so that they wouldn't have to cook in their time of great grief. We greet the parents and his brother. We try to console them. We tell them some stories about Andy. They grieve. We grieve alongside them. Words seem hallow at a time like this.

A few days later, the casket arrives in full procession. The body arrives at the airport from Dover, DE. There's a more formal open-casket funeral service. Local news reporters, officials, veterans of Operation Iraqi Freedom, veterans from other U.S.-involved wars, and the rest of the Ann Arbor community would cram in the sanctuary of Covenant Presbyterian Church. It's my first time experiencing a military funeral--bagpipes, bugle, the standing guards, etc. One of our pastors presides over the main service. Some of his closest friends and small group leaders give eulogies. A little sermon. Many tears. We pay our final respects. I approach the half-opened wooden casket draped in red, white, and blue. I see his lifeless body robed in full military garb. You did good kid, I whisper. You did good.

The pallbearers close the casket. The flag is draped over. The Marines do their ceremonious procession in carrying the body out and into the funeral car. The parents and his brother follow. It doesn't ease the pain. But at least he's in a better place, a place where there is no more tears and sorrow. I see friends in the arms of others, individuals in contemplation, old war veterans saluting their own. I see grown men cry, young college kids grow up, strangers pay homage and respect. It would be beautiful picture in any other circumstances. But not today. Today, I weep with those who weep, grieve with those who grieve.

I open my email to find the last correspondence I had with him. He last wrote to us on Oct. 16, 2006: "one verse thats been sticking out to me has been psalm 44:22. it brings [an] odd comfort that He calls us to die each day to many different things, physically or spiritually. i need to learn more to take my hands off situations, especially when i can't control who gets to come home in one piece and who doesn't." Psalm 44:22 says, "Yet for your sake we face death all day long; we are considered as sheep to be slaughtered." That verse now has new meaning.

People often ask how a loving God could allow tragedy to happen. In my youth, I would have tried to find the most articulate philosophical argument to that question. But these days, I just let God deal with those who ask. Who has known the mind of the Lord? Or who has been his counselor? Who has ever given to God that God should repay him? For from him and through him and to him are all things. To him be the glory forever. Amen.

Two Years

It's a cold and snowy November day. The day isn't any different than usual. I park at the same level of the same parking lot like any other day. I get to the office, turn on the lights, brew some coffee, open my email, and go about the routine. My supervisor comes at her usual time, and then the rest of the office trickles in. I don't remember what I was working on at the time. It's probably some travel/hosting report or something to that effect. My supervisor comes out of her office at around 12:30pm, asking when I'm taking lunch. I tell her, soon. I had no lunch plans that day. I was just going to go to one of the restaurants I usually take out from in days like that. I don't exactly remember why I didn't just go and get something earlier. I probably was gchatting with people. That probably is it.

Then, at 12:34pm, I get an email from my lead pastor. The subject headline says, "Important Information." And being on the leadership at the church, I am accustomed to receiving emails with such subjects. Nonchalantly, I open the email thinking it has something to do with one of our upcoming gatherings. But instead, I read the first line, and I feel like I've been punched in the stomach really hard. Blood drains from my face as I stare blankly at the monitor in front of me. My supervisor walks in and immediately senses something is not right. She asks if I'm okay. I tell her everything is fine. She doesn't buy it, but she walks back into her office. I re-read the short little email. A close friend ims me. He's read the email too. He asks if I'm alright. No, I say. Me neither, he says. We decide to meet up for lunch at Charleys in 15 minutes. In the meantime, I im some others. No one can believe it. This can't be, we tell ourselves. And then none of us can say much after that.

I tell my supervisor that I'm going to lunch. I zipper my jacket, put my hood on, place my hands inside my pockets and head downstairs. I see my friend at the corner of South U and East U. We walk silently towards Charleys. Silence has never been that loud before. We get inside, shake off the snow, take off our jackets, and sit in a booth. We take a look at the menu. Our appetite's gone, but our stomachs tell us to order. I'll have the swiss mushroom burger with fries, I tell the waiter. My friend orders something too. The waiter leaves. I look out the window overlooking the wintry Ann Arbor landscape. The snow is falling thicker and faster than before. None of us say much for the first few minutes. He breaks the tension. His voice cracks. He's cried before we met up. He starts sharing the last thing he remembers. Something at small group. I can't really remember the details. We smile. The food comes. I pick at the fries until he says he'll pray for the food. He prays. He sobs. He whimpers. He barely finishes with the traditional, amen. Little do I realize, tears are raining down on my cheeks as well. Two grown men crying in a public restaurant. Who gives a damn what people think.

I take a bite of my burger. I taste nothing. I chew a little bit, and then I offer a story. The first time I met the kid. Five, maybe six years ago. In a summer small group. When undergrads studied the Word and fellowshipped with high school students and graduate students. A quiet kid, but genuinely good-natured. He had a unique laugh. So did I. We connected. He reminded me of my own brother. I liked him. We got along well. He accepted Christ. Got involved with the church. Then off to college he went. Only to return a year later with plans to transfer. He began serving the church. Small group. Ministry team. His class. And then, out of nowhere one day, he tells me he's enlisting. USMC. I didn't know how to respond. What do you say to that? I thought he was joking. He wasn't. He went off to boot camp. He came back different. The same, but very different. He awaited deployment. Iraq. The Bush administration's flawed war. The search for WMD yielded nothing but an all-out civil war and anarchy. Good men were sent to bring peace. Many saw death. I prayed for a miracle. Somehow his company would not ship to Iraq. Maybe Korea. Japan. Somewhere far away from harm's reach. For awhile, my prayers seemed to be working. He kept getting delayed. Until September. He was finally being deployed. I got a chance to meet up with him. Again, what do you say in that situation? He laughed in his usual goofy form. This time, I only smiled. I could not laugh. I prayed for him. He asked me to. What do you want me to pray for, I asked. He said he wanted to be a witness to his company and to the people of Iraq. Anything else? No. I looked at him. I saw someone vastly different from the one I first met in that random small group. I just nodded my head. And I prayed. The day before he was to deploy, people at church gathered around him and said their good lucks. No goodbyes. He'll come back to us. I give him a hug. Come back safe, I whisper in his ear. He just nods. That's the last I saw of him.

to be continued...

Inadequacies

This is a confession from the heart. This is more so for me than anyone else, but I'm going public to be honest and vulnerable. Perhaps it'll be of help and encouragement to others who share similar stories.

I've grown up in a culture that demands perfection. Being the oldest son of Korean immigrants, there has always been an exceeding pressure to become "successful." Ever since I can remember, I've been taught that anything less than perfection is simply not enough, whether academically, athletically, artistically, etc. I consider myself a little bit more fortunate than some of my other peers whose parents were even more demanding than mine. All in all, as I look back, I realize that the environment in which I grew up fed a growing sense of insecurity and low self-esteem that has carried over to the present day. But with that being said, I refuse to play the blame game. Playing the victim and blaming my parents and the culture in which I grew up in would be the easy way out.

This has been something that's been on my heart for some time now. I've battled such feelings of inadequacies and insecurities for as long as I can remember. Why am I not smart enough? Why am I so shy and afraid of so many things? Why can't I do certain things? And the list could go on.

It's been a struggle that keeps coming up in different ways. Recently, graduate studies has been a source of much of this struggle. With every week and every class, I come out feeling like I've barely survived a ten-round boxing match. There are times when I genuinely have no idea what I've signed up for, considering every waking moment is spent on some school-related activity, mostly reading and writing papers. I feel like I'm barely staying afloat while it seems some of my peers are breezing by.

But God has been faithful beyond belief. Last week, I somehow endured my hell week where I had two papers, a presentation, and an exam all due on the same day. After that day, in all honesty without exaggeration, I thought I had failed everything. I was totally unprepared for my presentation, both my papers were pulled out of my butt, and the exam was questionable. I left for New York last weekend feeling dejected and needing a break. I didn't have a nervous or emotional breakdown or anything of that sort, but deep inside, I was battling the doubts that were ever so rapidly filling my heart and my mind. I began to believe the lies that I wasn't good enough, that I'd never become successful, that I will always be a failure.

After coming back to DC, I got my grades back for all of the things I had submitted, and once again, I was floored. Again, God was gently rebuking me that I was focusing too much on my circumstances rather than on God. As I was coming home from classes on Wednesday, I felt God was speaking to me through the words of Paul. God's grace is sufficient for me. His power is made perfect in weakness. Feelings of inadequacy and insecurity has kept me humble throughout these past few months. I could easily boast about my grades and my abilities in school. But God is reminding me that I'm not so good, that I don't deserve the grades that I've been getting.

This is a hard lesson for me. Overcoming feelings of inadequacies and insecurities will be a tough challenge for me, but I know that God is faithful. I'm just thankful to God for all that He's shown me, and all the more, I wish to say that He is able when I am not.

God's Sovereignty

It is the wee hours of the morning, and I have just completed my last piece of work as part of my first of presumably many hell weeks during grad school. In the past 24 hours, I have had 2 critical analysis papers to write, 1 presentation to do in class, and an econ exam. I have yet to touch my Chinese homework, but all I can think about is going home this weekend and relaxing.

Having loaded up on sugar and caffeine to stay awake, I decided to blog about something that's been on my mind recently: God's sovereignty. It is a term widely circulated in the Christian community. I've been wrestling with it for awhile now, an oft-repeated lingo in my prayers and discussions with other believers. What does that mean? Why do I keep saying it?

A few months ago, though I did not physically attend the conference, I listened to some of the sermons preached during AMI Revolution. The sermons that Dr. Steve Lee gave remarkably centered on the concept of sovereignty in the work of God as seen through the life of Esther. A familiar story: Esther, an orphaned Jewish girl, is chosen by a drunk Persian king, Xerxes, to be his queen. Xerxes is persuaded to issue an edict to kill all Jews. Mordecai, who had adopted Esther before, tells Esther that she must go and tell the king to annul the edict to which Esther replies that if she approaches the king without being summoned, she would surely die and that she cannot go. Mordecai responds and says, "For if you remain silent at this time, relief and deliverance for the Jews will arise from another place, but you and your father's family will perish. And who knows but that you have come to royal position for such a time as this?" And Esther responds by ordering Mordecai to gather all the Jews and fast for her. "When this is done, I will go to the king, even though it is against the law. And if I perish, I perish."

God's sovereignty rests in the knowledge that God's plan will prevail regardless of human participation. "Relief and deliverance will arise from another place..." Too often, I think to myself that my actions will ultimately dictate what happens in life. From important decisions like "what am I going to study", "where am I going to live" or "who am I going to marry" to little ones like "what am I going to eat for dinner", "how many hours of sleep will I get tonight?", I think that those decisions will forever alter my life and possibly lead me on a path that's different from where God intends me to be. But I'm learning this concept of God's sovereignty over and over again. God's plan is independent to my actions. God's plan will be done; He just invites me along for the ride.

A case in point is graduate school. I keep beating this over and over again, but I believe this is a lesson that is so fundamental that I wish to share. My first two years of undergrad were marked with constant failures and disillusionment. I had never seen grades that low in my life, so low that the probabilities of me being put on academic probation were high. Until the day I left Ann Arbor, I wore those two years as a sign of failure around my neck. After graduation, amazingly on time, I had trouble conceptualizing how God could use me with a transcript that was not at all attractive to employers and graduate schools. And even after years out of college, I still saw my academic failures as a tremendous source of insecurity and I kept delaying graduate school plans. During the summer or 2007, while in China, I felt that God was speaking to me on one of the many train rides we took. It was almost a calming voice that said, "Be still and know that I am God. Trust in me that I will make your paths straight." It was around this time when I was thinking about my future considerably, and later in that trip, God, once again, spoke words of confirmation. "This is why I brought you to China, to give you a glimpse of what I have called you to. Now do not fear and go." And I felt that command to go was a confirmation that God wanted me to pursue the convictions he had placed on my heart for awhile. And upon returning, I took my GREs and applied to several schools. I felt that if God really wanted me to go to graduate school and pursue this path, that only He could make it happen. My competitive standing alone would not get me in, and again, my insecurities came up and I began to listen to the lies of Satan, that I wasn't smart enough, wasn't good enough, etc. But when I got my acceptance letter to one of the top schools in my field, I knew that God is sovereign. If it is His will, He will make it possible. All He asks is for obedience and faith.

I'm learning that over and over again, each week of graduate school. In different experiences in class, in finding a church, in friendships, in other aspects of life, God is orchestrating things that I simply could not have done on my own. I'm learning to have more faith and worry less because God is in control. His will is going to prevail one way or another. It is up to me to respond in faith like Esther, "If I perish, I perish." I will do what I need to do because God is in control. And even if I make mistakes, God is in control. God is sovereign.