grace in need of grace

the mind today.

       Imaginations of the idealistic and youthful person can be a source of drive for that person to pursue their dreams. I would say I am one of these people. For quite a while, I’ve struggled with making peace among thoughts of making a spectacular difference in the world, using my education and curiosity to conclude new and  profound epiphanies that would save mankind from its progress towards destruction; and the heart-sinking facts of the politics of everything, human nature, and our own human frailty. I saw myself, as I delved deeper into college—through what I learned, observed, and interpreted in my many environs—, as a naive and optimistic girl who had mighty big goals to save a world that had problems that only her finite mind could imagine, becoming in only a few years, a still passionate, still idealistic young woman who has somewhat lost a bit of the spryness as she faces the somewhat cold reality of life’s adversities as are observed in the lives of many people whom she interacts with.

       While imagination and idealism has its place, I am being pulled slowly— not without some kicking and screaming— into the consciousness of this reality that I see, and that I know. This is not to say that one person’s reality cannot be another person’s ideal. Suffice it to say, many in this world wish they had my life, and I, upon realizing this, am deeply grateful for this blessing that God has given me. But back to my point; of course there should not be an opposing dichotomy of “imagination”, “bad”, and “reality”, “good”, but learning to balance the two in my mind, and coming to grips with the “reality” portion —at least in my own life at this moment— is of utmost important in daily living. 

       In past year and this newly turned year, I have been pondering to myself about my future job and life situation after graduating college. The process of my pondering has most definitely been a roller coaster. I started with my usual idealistic imaginings of graduating from my undergraduate studies and immediately being thrust into the “real world”, as they call it, equipped and certain of my life’s destiny. This way of thinking was quickly subdued and disposed of as I asked alumni friends, family members, and simply put, ” all them the older people”, about their post-graduation experiences. Hearing their answers made my mind, and perhaps my actual face, frown in child-like defiance to this reality they spoke of. My busy and too-prideful mind tried to invent reasons for why they were wrong, or why their experience was only unique to them. But to no avail. Life is going to be hard, and you’re going to have to work at it one day at a time. Dang it. My insides twisted and turned as I began reflecting on how painless my life had been, and how I had so naively and lazily thought that I was going to cruise through life without experiencing blood, sweat, and tears, and at the end of it all, save the world. 

         This way of thinking about how I was going to go through life carried on into the way I thought I was going to spiritually grow: Pain, suffering, and trials were not going to be necessary in following Jesus. I would not have to stumble and fall hard, and learn to accept God’s grace. Realizing my sinfulness and inability to save myself would only be a mere reminder, an occasional thing to reflect on. And of course, when Jesus said “pick up your cross daily and follow me”, He was only exaggerating. When the Apostle Paul in Galatians 5 said to “walk in the Spirit”, it meant that I could just live life without spiritually exercising or pursuing holiness. My imagination and idealism had created for me a picture of how I was going to become, like in Delirious’s song, a history maker for Jesus. I was going to just wait for the opportune moment when God would give me a great revelation and I would go. I wanted it to be spectacular, like fireworks and supernatural miracles, absolute peace in my soul, absolute confidence that this was it.  In the meantime, while waiting, I would just enjoy the pleasures of life—of course moderately—, and live with the appearance of being a good Christian. Oh how God has broken and humbled me now. 

” It is easy to use the phrase “God’s will for my life” as an excuse for inaction or even disobedience. It’s much less demanding to think about God’s will for your future than it is to ask Him what He wants you to do in the next ten minutes. It’s safer to commit to following Him someday instead of this day…I believe part of the desire to “know God’s will for my life” is birthed in fear and results in paralysis. We are scared to make mistakes, so we fret over figuring out God’s will…We forget that we were never promised a twenty-year plan of action; instead, God promises multiple times in Scripture never to leave or forsake us”

 (Francis Chan in Forgotten God: Reversing Our Tragic Neglect of the Holy Spirit) 

         In a multitude of recent conversations with family and a close friend regarding the topic of my future, both in the secular and spiritual, God has been repeatedly teaching me over and over the same lessons. And the reason why I write this post now is because I am finally beginning—only beginning— to understand. The day to day living in step with the Holy Spirit does not always manifest itself in the fireworks display of supernatural miracles and supernatural leading. To clarify, when I say supernatural— I mean supernatural manifestations of the Holy Spirit’s work that occurred in the book of Acts. What “walking in the Spirit” really looks like in the day to day is the seemingly mundane acts of praying, studying the Word, going to class, going to fellowship, cooking, eating, sleeping, and so on. These acts don’t have any appearance of divine power moving inside of a person. BUT, inwardly, an incredible thing is happening. 

        Inside of me, as I do these things, I forget to acknowledge that it is a supernatural occurrence: that I am even saved by God in Christ; that I could even be indwelt by the Holy Spirit which leads me to apply biblical truths to my life; that I could be not only justified, despite my sinful soul before a holy and almighty God, but also adopted by the eternal Creator of the universe and subsequently being able to experience a perfect love and relationship that I could never fully have in this world; a relationship that is only ever so slightly tasted by the creme de la creme parts of the familial and platonic relationships I have here on earth. Furthermore, it is so supernatural that I could be transformed from my old self into a new creation that is no longer bound by the laws of sin. These are all things that I took and still take for granted. Things are changing in me. 

      This spiritual growth I had so envisioned before was most likely due to hearing stories about other people’s extraordinary stories about being used by God. I only saw and absorbed the sensational aspects of the stories, and never thought for one second that these experiences that people underwent were only one ancedote in their long spiritual journey. So in short, all the stories about the faithful and amazingly godly people were always so dramatic, full of extremes. But rarely had I heard or cared about hearing stories of the faithful and amazingly godly people that lead lives that I had thought to be mundane and void of the Spirit’s working because what they did was “boring” and “typical”.  These people—the “common Christian” who lived each day walking the Spirit, battling sins in full knowledge of Christ’s victory over sin; drinking deep of God’s grace daily; being submissive to Scripture, faithfully preaching the Gospel—somehow were placed, in the box that is my mind, under the category of “unimpressive”. I had only wanted to see the epic spiritual battles taking place—where the drug-addict and homeless man converted and became an urban pastor; where the atheist who had once stood at the bottom of Library walk yelling obscenities against Christianity was utterly convicted of her sin and became defender of Christianity. In reality I only wanted to see this because I saw this as the only way God moved—in extremes—, and the only proof that God was powerful. How blind I had been to God’s transforming power moving within the millions and millions of faithful Christians that lead normal lives—their faithfulness and devotion to God not necessarily declared to the entire world. My eyes had been fixed on high and lofty goals, they were blind to what was right in front of me. I am guilty of being lazy and disobedient to the calling of Christ: to daily pick up my cross and follow Him. I push aside the daily convictions of the Holy Spirit to spiritually exercise and grow in my spiritual disciplines. The “lesser” evil sins of pride, self-control, and patience are left not dealt with. 

      As a good friend said, when you look at the day to day life of a Christian, you may see a repetitive and unimpressive life, but when you step back and look at this Christian, from the time he or she began following Christ up until that point, you would be in utter amazement at the transformation—supernatural, I might add—that this person has undergone. Not only that, as a Christian builds up these spiritual disciplines, and is increasingly faithful in these “small” things, it would not be a surprise that God see his or her faithfulness and would hand the person a “big” task. 

       In the realm of my career future, things aren’t so different from the spiritual lessons learned here. Listening to how people ended up in their jobs that they are now in, I realize that it isn’t always going to be straight road, or even a smooth one for that matter. At this point, I need to be a good and joyful steward of the opportunities and tasks placed before me, take it one day at a time without always fearing failure and pain that comes along with it (because it will happen), and ultimately trust in complete confidence and joy that my sovereign God will lead me to where He wants me to be. 

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[Present]

Looking back on this post, I am so amazed at how much God has walked by my side, leading me, guiding, and teaching me how to lean on Him, literally, every minute of the day. My world looks very different compared to two years ago, but God never never changes. I love it. It seems like such a small detail in the development of the Christian life, but how vital and beautiful it is! 

the land of the living: activating the analytical cognitive system ain't everything

pearytale:

Higher education teaches us to idolize critical thinking. It tells us critical thinking is infallible and equal to truth-seeking, and that whatever does not fit within the bounds of our reason and logic is fantasy. Not only that, it teaches us to look down on people who don’t value critical…

Jazz. :) 

[27] “But I say to you who hear, Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, [28] bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. [29] To one who strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also, and from one who takes away your cloak do not withhold your tunic either. [30] Give to everyone who begs from you, and from one who takes away your goods do not demand them back. [31] And as you wish that others would do to you, do so to them. [32] “If you love those who love you, what benefit is that to you? For even sinners love those who love them. [33] And if you do good to those who do good to you, what benefit is that to you? For even sinners do the same. [34] And if you lend to those from whom you expect to receive, what credit is that to you? Even sinners lend to sinners, to get back the same amount. [35] But love your enemies, and do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return, and your reward will be great, and you will be sons of the Most High, for he is kind to the ungrateful and the evil. [36] Be merciful, even as your Father is merciful. (Luke 6:27-36 ESV)

Loving is an active posture towards another person/ other people. Ignoring or avoidance is not love. 

Photo credit

After having a back-to-back study marathon, I nestled myself onto a soft chair in the library. With my books out, I was going to pull another leg of cramming for a quiz in my next class. Out of no where, I heard a loud “thunk!” directly in front of me. I looked around, no one else seemed to take notice. And milliseconds later, after scanning the scene with my eyes, I saw a green thing falling to the ground onto an open patch nearby some viney bushes. To my horror, I saw a small delicate green bird seizing on the ground, its back to the dirt, its wings splayed out, and small feet pointed up into the air. I contemplated running outside and checking on it, but fear overcame me—what would I do if it was dead before I got there? 

Here’s a strange thing that people may or may not know about me, but I’m terrified of birds. Actually, I’m terrified of dead birds. If they’re living, I’m totally okay with it, but for some reason when I encounter dead birds—road-kill, natural death, taxidermic, or even in a big pot of soup with the head and feet still attached—my sympathetic nervous system kicks in and I’m short of breath, my heart rate shoots up, and I literally freeze up in fear. 

It seemed like bird was suspended between life and death. It laid still, then occasionally would turn its head, flutter its wings, attempting to get itself off the ground. However, five minutes into this horrible accident, it stopped moving altogether, despite the wind giving off the impression that its tail was still moving. I sat there, frozen in my seat, having just witnessed a fresh death. I couldn’t study anymore, because my eyes could not help but be fixated on this small bird that no one else seemed to see. 

I actually prayed for this little bird while it was spazzing around on the floor. And now I was praying for focus, the ability to ignore all that just happened. But it seemed as though God really wanted me to watch, despite my innards freezing up. After what seemed like 10 minutes, and with futile attempts to go back to studying the cardiopulmonary system, I saw the bird move. 

At first it was slow. It’s head slowly turned and looked up and to its right. It almost looked like it was asking itself “Where am I? How did I get here?” In my head, I said “YES! Go bird! You can do it!” Then, it slowly flopped over on its side and laid there looking bewildered. It rolled around, tried its wings, and eventually got onto its stomach. It scooted itself into the bushes, and disappeared. I was so elated to see that it had not died, and I didn’t need to do anything!

My mind began wandering and contemplating this rather strange occurrence. Inside my mind, I began thinking about death and accepting death as a normal event that happens to all of life—including animals, which I so hate to see die (why I’m not a vegetarian yet I do not know). Then I thought about the Matthew 6 passage that speaks about God taking care of the flowers and the sparrows, and how much more He takes care of us than the plants and animals on this earth. It is so incredible, that something so small like a bird, is physiologically able to recover (for the most part) from ramming headfirst into a massive glass window—and all of this is God’s design and doing. Being in an exercise physiology class, I realize how amazingly delicate, yet resilient our bodies are (especially amidst the abuses we commit against our own bodes) , and how quick things can go wrong with at a single microscopic deviation from the norm, yet God’s amazing design, and ever-present, active sovereignty preserves us. And even more so, God cares for our inner-beings just as much (I’d argue, even more so), as our physical beings. Thanks God! 

I don’t think I’ve really written a long honest post in a very long time. Probably for fear of. Fear of many things, really. But I want to confess. I am a struggling Christian. Struggling because my faith isn’t always the most steady thing, and because I know that if I were very honest to myself and the world, I could say that I even fall into disbelief and doubt at times regarding everything I’ve grown up to know about Christianity. I say struggling because it is now, in the present, that I struggle with so many things about everything. I see an unbelieving world and their lifestyle seems so much easier, so much more enjoyable. If only I didn’t have weekends booked I could go somewhere. If I didn’t have to think about when the times where I wronged someone with my mind, I could use my mental energy on more productive things where the result is clearly manifested. O my busy introverted mind, so rich in thoughts, but so poor in filtering those thoughts, causes me to clench my inner self’s fists and scream a silent scream of frustrated confusion! Things like feelings of tension between what is reality in my physical eyes and reality that is seen through eyes of faith. Wondering how to interprete real world events, controversial issues, the seemingly logical yet paradoxical patterns and progressions of current mainstream philosophy through these many pairs of eyes of my inner self. What should I think about this? Why do I feel different than what I know to be true? What is the truth? All of these questions and thoughts bombard me. And they leave me exhausted and tired. And I never know what to do. 

Much of my inner turmoil often times are catalyzed by things I read—the news, articles, blogs of all sorts of different people with all sorts of different opinons. And it is not hard to simply click an article and read. I find myself rolling my eyes and sighing a sigh of consignment to cheesy and shallow articles, Christian and non-Christian alike, while at other times, wrestling with surprisingly deep and thought-provoking articles, again, Christian and non-Christian alike. I realize that I have so many moments like these where I am straddling the line of one view point and another view point. I can always play the devil’s advocate. But the bottom line is that I am frustrated by the imperfection of both sides. Not just the imperfection of these articles and blogs,  but the imperfection of the whole world—the claims of the mainstream Christian culture declaring love to the world while living hypocritically, the highly exploited uses of words and symbols that water down the true meaning of words; and on the other side, the seemingly  tolerant world of people that are okay with everything, even when those “everythings”—when you think about it—completely contradict each other or make no logical progression with a beginning and and ending. I am an imperfect perfectionist, and that is what drives me to, at times, a temporary state of insomnia extreme physical fatigue. 

So what am I to do? I cannot think it out. I cannot try to meditate it out. Sometimes I feel like I can’t even pray it out. There is no remedy but only to strip all of these things away and come down to the root of it: how do you fix imperfection in everything? Can we think it away? Can we work towards perfection when every earthly component we have to work with is imperfect? No.

Sometimes I think that ignorance is bliss. The less you know, the less you have to think about things. And the more you know, well you are now accountable. People will say, why would you tell me  things like “we are imperfect, everything is wrong with the world, and we have really offended a holy God”, if I could just live in ignorance of it? Because it wouldn’t change the outcome regardless. Say, if you happened to miss out on a Facebook event, and you just never knew about it, it doesn’t mean the event never happened. It did. You just didn’t know about it. So really ignorance isn’t really bliss after all. Maybe only in your own head, but your own thoughts in your own head don’t change what constitutes reality. The event did take place, whether or not you believed it did or not. What is reality then? I think, well no, I know, that we are imperfect people trying to strive for some sort of perfection (whether we consciously think it about it or not), and we can’t attain it by ourselves. In fact, in our pursuit of perfection, we tend to dig ourselves into a deeper and deeper hole.

I don’t have it all together. Many times I feel guilt because I feel like I should have it all together, like if my faith were graphed, over a span of time, it should be constantly increasing. And I feel like people around me expect that of me. But it doesn’t feel that way, I know it is not that way, and makes me afraid. It doesn’t take much for me to start the questioning game that leads to thought storms. So please don’t think that Christians have it all together all the time. We struggle. We fail. We question and even doubt. No, those are not necessarily good things in and of itself. But these “seasons”, we like to call it, are important because they teach some very important things. 

One thing is that it teaches us that we really can’t save ourselves from ourselves. How can imperfection turn something into perfection? We just can’t do it. And running away or ignoring it will not help. We would only end up crouching there with our eyes closed and ears plugged with our fingers rocking back and forth saying to ourselves: “it’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not real!”. Interestingly enough, what I run away from or want to think away is actually really the opposite of the true message of the Gospel. The core of the Christian message isn’t “you try to be perfect on your own” nor “you must uphold this moral standard to get to heaven”, nor is it “you must be smiling 24/7 and make everyone believe that you are a always happy church going Christian”. What is the core message then? It is essentially this: We are far from perfection, in fact, we’ve all messed up big time, and before a holy God, we really deserve big time punishment. So someone else who is perfect needs to intervene. Quick. And that someone is Jesus the Christ. 

When we look at who Jesus is, past all of the pretty paintings of a blond-haired, blue-eyed Jesus and lambs, past the t-shirts of “Jesus is my Homeboy”, past the marbleized statues, enshrined and elaborate crucifixes, cool Hebrew or Greek tattoos, past the man-made traditions and cultures of the church with a steeple, past the attempts to make Jesus blend into the crowd of Generation Y, we find a Jesus that is real, radical, and very raw. 

He claims that God, YAWEH, is his Father. That he is the Son of God. Who does that?! He claims to fulfill prophecies from hundreds and thousands of years ago, including “proclaiming liberty to the captives and recover of sight to the blind, and to set at liberty those who are oppressed, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.” He is incredibly compassionate and gentle on those who are poor, broken, and weak. And He is surprisingly sharp and honestly blunt towards those who claim high social positions and strut around in their self-righteousness. He is patient to those who do not understand, and he calls ordinary men, ranging from religious zealots, to fishermen, to notoriously-hated tax collectors, to follow him and be a part of his inner circle. This Jesus is not isolated, but constantly followed by hundreds of thousands of people begging him to touch them so that they would be healed from their lifetime of diseases and disabilities. And he lets them come to him. He heals them and goes a step further and forgives them of their sin!  Not to brag or show off his power. But rather to give the glory to his Father in heaven. 

This Jesus, the one that I want to know and live for—despite my struggles and bouts of unbelief—is the one that, towards the end of his earthly life, suffered greatly. He was abandoned by his closest friends, one even swearing, cursing, and lying that he did not know Jesus. He was spat on by his enemies that accused him of false things. Yet he stayed silent. Silent not because he was powerless and had nothing to say. Silent because at that moment that they were shaking their heads and fists at him, spitting lies  at him, he was preparing to pay the price for their wrong doings. Not just their wrong doings, but the whole world’s wrong doings. The weight of the world’s sins dropped onto one perfect man. Divinity in human flesh. All so that we, human beings that were so deserving of this horrific end, could. go. free. This is love. 

My thoughts—and many of them wrong and offensive to God himself, my allowance of these thoughts to proliferate and go uncontrolled, my anger and spells of frustration against God, all have been put on Jesus. What should I do, then, when unbelief and stubbornness threaten to tear apart my faith? Knowing now that I can’t fix it with my own tape or glue of self righteousness, I run fast and run hard to Jesus, who has already saved me from myself, from God’s rightful punishment towards me. 

Easter is today. This is a celebration of Jesus and what he has done for us. It is a celebration of his rising from the dead after being nailed to those wooden planks and left for good. His rising from the dead proved that even death itself could not void what was done at the cross. His rising from the dead is also the hope for those that believe in Jesus and what he has done that we are no longer bound to our fleshly desires or the whims of Satan. We are free. Free and enabled by the Spirit to strive towards perfection and holiness, tasting the tip of the delights of knowing God, keeping in mind that in the end, we will be fully perfected and, really, ultimately, be able to fully delight in the company of God, who desires for us to have this incredibly intimate and enjoyable relationship with Him.  

For me, this is such good news. For a struggling Christian like me, I know this is my hope, the truth, and the reason why I cannot give up believing. 

so good. 

From BBC news

More than 8,000 people have been killed in Syria since the uprising began a year ago, and many more injured . Fearing ill-treatment at official hospitals, demonstrators have sought help at underground clinics. One Damascus surgeon tells his story.

” I was at home, looking out of the window, watching a demonstration, when I saw a car being driven very fast. Two men from the security forces leaned out and started shooting randomly at the demonstrators - shooting to kill.

The demonstrators were doing nothing, just shouting for freedom. There were a lot of dead and injured people on the ground.

The demonstrators ran inside a mosque, and some began shouting over the loud-speakers: “Stop killing us! We don’t have guns, we are peaceful! We have injured men, we have to treat them!” They asked for doctors, nurses, medical supplies and blood bags.

I took some medical equipment and went to the mosque, using side streets to avoid snipers. Inside it was terrible. There were no medical supplies, not many doctors, too many injured people… People were dying in front of my eyes.

Many of the injured in Homs have also been treated in makeshift clinics

We asked them to go to the hospital, but they said: ‘We can’t - yesterday people were taken to the hospitals and now we don’t know what has happened to them.’ Their friends had told them that going to hospital is basically a death sentence. The security forces might arrest you, torture you, or even kill you.

My colleague was working at a military hospital in Damascus. He said a lot of injured people came in - some with only minor injuries - and all of them were killed.

I asked him, ‘Are you sure about that?’ He said, ‘Yes I’m sure. All of them were dead.’

At the [civilian] government hospitals, they didn’t kill anyone, but they were beating them. One of the injured men I treated myself had a fracture in his hip bone where he’d been shot, and I asked him: ‘Why is this? A bullet does not make this kind of injury.’

How it began

“It started with one doctor then it became two, then six, then 12. This was the nucleus of our organisation.

Every doctor has his branches, and the branch has its own branches, so sometimes we are working in the same organisation but we don’t all know each other.

That way if someone gets caught and they force him to name names, not too many other doctors will be arrested too.

We set up field hospitals in basements, farms, abandoned building, even cars.

At the beginning of the uprising, we used to go out to the areas where the demonstrations take place the day before, and get a field hospital ready.

But after Ramadan it became more complicated, because there were demonstrations every day and killings was every day.”

He said someone in the security forces jumped on his leg at the hospital, and that’s how it was broken. He managed to escape, and came to us.

There are two kinds of injuries that we treat - from bullets, and from torture or beating. The most dangerous ones are the injuries from gunfire. We can treat injuries to the legs, the hands, the shoulders. But a gunshot in the chest or abdomen - we can’t do anything. The patients die.

We need morphine for those in acute pain, but we can’t get it. Sometimes we try to get it smuggled in through, but it’s risky. A lot of activists have been killed smuggling medicine.

Every few weeks, we hear that the security forces have come into a field hospital and taken all the supplies or arrested a doctor.

They have their own spies, even among us. You can’t trust everyone - sometimes the man who is carrying an injured demonstrator to a field hospital is a spy.

One of our doctors was arrested and the security forces showed him a video where he was helping demonstrators in the field hospital. So the video was made by a spy, who pretended he was with us. He had also given information and details about our field hospital’s location.

In the circumstances we are operating in, when we can’t do anything for the patients, it’s very disappointing.

We feel hopeless, because when you see that someone is dying between your hands, and the government hospital is just five minutes away from the location where you are… that hurts your heart. It hurts your humanity.

The only people who can get treated are those who support of the government. It’s inhumane.

In the beginning I was counting the number of people who I wasn’t able to save, but I’m not counting them anymore. It is written in your brain, in your head… The memories, the images, the blood, the shouting.

It is very dangerous. In the beginning we were afraid to work. But we need to know inside ourselves, in our hearts, that we are human. Our role, as doctors, is to treat the injured, whoever they are.

If a doctor is caught treating demonstrators, they might arrest him or even kill him. Two days ago a doctor in Homs was murdered with a knife through his neck. And five days ago, another doctor was also murdered with a knife, along with his wife and three children.

So far I believe 54 medical staff have been killed, including nurses, doctors and medical students.

What motivates me? My honour, my duty as a doctor.

When we graduated from medical school we took the Hippocratic oath. And the way that I was raised, my religion, everything. I’m part of the human race, and I need to honour this oath, as a doctor and as a human.”

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Let’s continue praying for Syria 

Forgiven and Loved 

Sano Babu Sunuwar, Lakpa Tsheri Sherpa, 2012 People's Choice Adventurers of the Year - Video -- National Geographic