Category Archives: Personal

I’m Not a Boy, Not Yet a Man

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Okay, that was a horrible title for this post.
I thought that song was corny as heck when Britney Spears “sang” “I’m not a girl not yet a woman.” (Yes, that was a snarky commentary on Ms. Spears’ “singing” ability. Oops, I did it again.)

Anyway, we returned safely from a week stay at Hawaii, the first time I’ve been back since we moved out 5 years ago.
A lot has changed.
A lot has remained the same.

Throughout the week, there were many moments that reiterated the fact that time only moves in one direction.
I’m no longer the 16 year old that moved from Santa Barbara to Hawaii. Instead, I am the 32 year old that is visiting Hawaii from Santa Barbara.

Of course, through this decade there have been incidents that made me aware I’m getting older.
Me: It’s like… you know, Chandler Bing.
Youth: … who’s Chandler Bing?
Me:… Friends? The show? You know, Monica, Ross, Joey, Rachel, Phoebe, and Chandler?
Youth: … hmmm… I think my mom used to watch that or something…
Me: … go away.

Or during a hike while we were in Hawaii:
Student: Do you know any students still at your high school?
Me: No. Kid, it’s been 12 years since I graduated high school.
Student: …. wow. That’s… like a whole education cycle!
Me: … Thanks. Go away.

I got to meet up with a lot of my friends from high school. We got together for dinner at someone’s house, like we’ve done many of times before.
Except this time, instead of meeting at someone’s parents’ house. We met at one of my friend’s place.
And, my friends brought their kids.
So there I was, meeting all of my friends’ kids for the first time. Playing with them. Realizing, all the married couples have kids.
It was a surreal moment, considering 10 years ago, this gathering would’ve looked drastically different. My friends have kids! A few of them have more than 1.
But here we were. As grown ups. Talking about grown up things. Far removed from the gossips of high school drama.

On top of that, the purpose of this trip was for my brother’s wedding. I got to witness my brother, who’s 7 years younger, get married. My kid brother getting married… that was surreal, too, as I watched him and his, now, wife exchange their vows.

It was great seeing all my friends and the people who we left behind in Hawaii.
It was great eating all the great food we have missed.
It’s great to call a place like Hawaii my hometown — even though I moved there when I was 16. It’s the friends that I have gained and the people I have met in Hawaii that I can easily call Hawaii “home.”

Someone said that “Growing old is mandatory, growing up is optional.”

But it’s nice to know that I’m doing a little bit of both.

… I think…

Be Patient. God Knows What God’s Doing.

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Santa Barbara, looking east from above Santa B...

Some time in 2012, I knew that my time at my former church was coming to a close. I was sure of it, because my DS (District Superintendent) had told me so. I wasn’t in any trouble (that I know of) but, outside of what she had informed me, I also knew in my heart that a time of transition was coming. To where? I had no idea. The DS told me that she couldn’t say anything but to be in prayer and know that there is a plan.

So, I remained in prayer and tried to form my own plan, naturally.
I had it in me that I wanted to return to the Korean church. I had been (am still) so critical of the Korean church. It was time to shut up and put my money where my mouth is. I couldn’t help but think of the parable of the Prodigal Son, where I was playing the part of the son returning home — the Korean church. But instead of the father running towards with open arms ready to embrace and kiss me, I envisioned running towards, as Jesus put it, weeping and gnashing of teeth. I kid. Well, sort of. And yes, I realize how egotistical it was of me to think that way.

And then — a position at a Korean church opened. I thought that this was more than a coincidence. Intern Dae once asked, “Do you think you could ever go back to a Korean church?” At that time, I answered, “If I ever were to go back to the Korean church, I’d like it to be at [the Korean church mentioned at the beginning of this paragraph]. It’s never going to happen, though. I don’t think that pastor’s leaving any time soon.”

So, I figured this was God’s way of telling me that I may have to, for lack of a better
cliche´, put my money where my mouth is.

So I contacted the pastor. He wanted to meet. I drove out to meet him. We talked. I got excited. He got excited — except that the position I wanted was being filled, but they were looking for a college pastor and would I be interested. I always wanted to try college ministry, so I said yes. Then he told me to come to the church and meet with the SPRC.
So my wife and I drove to the church to see what the church was like. Secretly, I went there ready to say ‘yes.’ I figured, this was what God wanted me to do. All the door seemingly just opened.

Only, after the meeting and the tour of the church, something in my heart nagged at me saying, “What are you doing?”
That inner dialogue was echoed by my wife, “I don’t think this would be a good place for us.”
But something within me really wanted this to happen. I really thought this place would be the next chapter in my life. However, there was enough hesitation and resistance (something I didn’t expect) within me to realize that I needed to figure out what was going on and pray on it.

After much prayer, and many conversations with trusted friends and family, it was what my wife said. She wondered if I was trying to force my way into this church, for whatever reasons because it was me that initiated everything from day 1. I was letting the DS know what was going on, instead of waiting for the Cabinet. And I realized, perhaps, this was a good time to not be so proactive, but a good time to wait. To pray. And to trust.

So, I told the pastor of the Korean church that I couldn’t go.
I told the DS that I would pray for the Cabinet and be patient as I possibly could, sort of apologizing for hijacking the whole process.

After what felt like years, I was told that an introductory meeting was set up for me in Santa Barbara.
My initial reaction?
“Oh. Santa Barbara? Okay… Well. Yea. Thanks.”
I wasn’t too thrilled. I was paying attention to the possible appointments, and I secretly hoped that Santa Barbara wasn’t one of the places. Why? Because we lived there when I was in jr. high to early high school. I just wasn’t excited.
But, I wasn’t going to refuse this introduction meeting.

So my wife and I drove north to Santa Barbara. I was a bit apprehensive and went to the meeting expecting the worst. I just didn’t think I’d be a good fit for the church and for Santa Barbara.

But. As soon as I sat down. There was a strange warming in my heart. I wish I was making that up. I’m not saying that to be a good Methodist. There really was a strange warming within my heart. And everything felt …. right. 

After the meeting, the wife and I drove to State street to have dinner. We talked about the meeting and she asked, “What did you think?”
I told her that I think that this was it.
I also shared with her, had I felt any inkling of what I feel now for the Korean church, I would’ve jumped at the chance. But, I knew that I had dodged a bullet going to that Korean church. I’m not saying that the Korean church was a bad church or whatever. But, I knew that I would’ve made a huge mistake if I had gone to that church. Consider that my Tarsus, if you will.
I honestly think, the outcome would have been that both the church and I go our separate ways, both damaged, hurt and scarred.

Of course, that Korean church brought in great people for their ministry, which I think is a great fit for them.
And God brought me to Santa Barbara.
I am 100% certain of that. And, honestly, I’m glad that I’m 100% certain of that, because it’s that knowledge and faith that will pull me through when we encounter uncertainty in the process of ministry. And, I know that this is a great fit for both church and myself.

I have no idea what God intends to do with me and St. Mark UMC. But, I know that it’s going to be something great and amazing. And, there’s no other option, because God is involved — especially if we continue to have God lead us, instead of us dictating God.

There are so many times in my life where I just want things to happen on my time, in my way. More often than not, I want to say, “God, this is what I’m going to do. Please bless it.” And move on forward.

But I need to continually remind myself that God knows what he’s doing.
And, more importantly, that I’m not God.

While there are times where I need to be active in my faith and not just sit around and wait for things to happen, there are times where I need to be patient, wait, discern and pray that God’s will be mine, not the other way around.

I think it’s more than fair to say, life is a bit more manageable and makes a little bit more sense when we live out God’s will for us.

 

The New Year

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Happy New Year 2013

So, 2012 is about to be over. (Where does the time go?)
And it’s the time of the year where people start making their New Year’s resolutions. Usually in the matters of eating and exercising.
I read a study that claimed that 80% of people’s resolution don’t last through January.

A lot of it has to do with the person making the resolution not asking to be held accountable. When we share resolutions, it’s a matter-of-fact, this is what I’m gonna do type of sharing. Rarely, has anyone said to me (or have I said), “This is my resolution, and I’m telling you because I want you to hold me accountable.” Being held accountable is hard work. Shoot, holding someone accountable is hard work, too.

So resolutions are made. And broken. Then forgotten. Until the last week of December rolls around.

I am not immune to this, either. I’ve been thinking about resolutions that I need to make — for a better, happier, more meaningful and productive life.

In the past 2-3 weeks, I’ve been “researching” the effects of being a morning person. It all started with this blogpost from Michael Hyatt about making one’s self into a morning person.
There seems to be a correlation with being a morning person and being successful. Many, if not most, CEO’s seem to be morning people. The pastors that I read and …uh… “idolize” (ha!) all seem to be morning people, too.
Shoot, Jesus appeared to be a morning person, too. But I think everyone in that time were “morning people.”

I never thought of myself as a morning person. But, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to get more things accomplished in the morning. And, I was taking to heart the tips that Michael Hyatt was giving on becoming a morning person (the first being — change your story. Quit saying that you’re not a morning person, etc).

But in the midst of thinking and pondering, it hit me. Yes, becoming a morning person might be helpful, but it’s what I need to do with the time I have, being intentionally productive.

What it really comes down to is just not goof around so much. I spend way too much time watching TV, surfing the web (with no purpose), playing games (letterpress on the iOS has become my new obsession. I can’t get enough of it. And I love beating people. Hands down, the best $.99 I spent this year– it’s free, unless you want to play more than 2 games at a time. Which I do. I have about 15 games going at once. And usually win 12 of them. Go check it out. Then get it. Then find me on game center, I think my username is itssuperjoey, and then be frustrated as I beat you.)

I could spend a little less time doing things that aren’t so productive, and spend a little more time doing something that is productive and helpful. Don’t get me wrong — being mindless is important and good for you, I believe. But too much of one thing is never really good.

I think my trying to become a morning person will be for naught if I am not intentionally productive in the new found hours of the day (which is very plausible in my case).

So. My new year’s resolution is to become more productive. And try to become a morning person.

Here’s hoping that I last longer than January. And no, I don’t think I really want you to hold me accountable ;) .

What are your resolutions for 2013?

In Where Grace Trumps Theology

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There are moments in my life where I wish I was desperately intelligent and eloquent. Especially when I’m involved in debates.
In spoken conversations, I usually respond by stumbling over my words and can’t pronounce words correctly. There have been many times when the “L” sound is replaced with the “R” sound (i.e. “really” becomes “rearry” or in a sermon, instead of saying “children” I said, “chirdren”) — never intentional. 20+ years in this country, on top of that, my Korean is fading away – and I still, still have issues with my L’s and R’s (and many other aspects of the English language).

In written words, I don’t think that I’m that great either. Usually, (even with my double checking) there are many grammar and spelling mistakes that (often) take away from what I was trying to say. There’s always a part of me that is insecure about writing because of what teachers and college professors have told me before. Teachers, as helpful they mostly are, often don’t realize the impact of their unbelief in a person’s skill and how that can last a lifetime. You have people like Aaron Rodgers who still hold a “grudge” against a college professor who laughed at him when he told her that he was going to play in the NFL.

But that’s besides the point.

What I really wanted to say today is that there are times when grace needs to trump theology.

We’ve witnessed a horrific tragedy this past weekend. And many people are trying to find answers of how and why this has happened. And also, where was God in the midst of this tragedy.

Sometimes, we have the best of intentions in our responses. We don’t know what to say — so we dip into our bag of “go-to” theological responses and say things like, “This was part of God’s plan. We just have to trust and believe and have faith in God.”

I would imagine — after losing a loved one in a horrific incident, the last thing someone would want to hear is that God was behind all of this and to hold onto faith because we will see what God had planned all along after violently and horrifically taking away your loved one.

Then someone forwarded me a link that has a politician/news pundit explaining that we have spent the past 50 years or so of systematically removing God from — well, pretty much everything. Lawsuits that take away the name of Christ in public places, etc. etc. etc.

He also said great things, though. “Where was God?” He explained that God was with the children. God was with the teachers who sacrificed their safety and lives to protect those children. God was with the first responders.

And I wondered, why couldn’t he have just left it at that response?

Why did he have to go on saying that we are pushing God away from our country — and in our times of need are wanting God to be involved? Trying to answer for God, when the concept of God goes beyond human understanding and comprehension.

I don’t think the people who are mourning and grieving need to hear that, because we are systematically removing God from our country, God wasn’t there to protect the children. Or that things like these are more likely to happen.

Have we not read the Hebrew Bible (the Old Testament)?
Ever since leaving Egypt — the Israelites were consistently unfaithful to God. But God remained steadfast with God’s people.

God told the prophet Hosea to marry a prostitute to symbolize the unfaithfulness of Israel, then told Hosea to keep her as his wife to symbolize God’s unwavering love for God’s people.
In the book of Jeremiah, there were heavy things laid upon the Israelites. But God said that He would make a new covenant with Israel — where the law will be written in the hearts. God will be their God, and they will be God’s people and ending with,  ”If the heavens above could be measured and the foundation of the earth below could be fathomed, only then would I reject Israel’s descendants for what they have done.” (Jer 31:37)

Or how about the Ninevites, who Jonah was supposed to give a message of destruction? After living a Godless life as a culture, when they returned to God, God’s compassion and grace triumphed over God’s judgement of doom.

And that’s only the surface of the accounts of Israelites straying from God, pushing God out of their culture and country, and how God never went away nor abandoned the Israelites.

Sure, our country may have been actively pursuing removing God from public places. No 10 Commandments in a courthouse. No prayers in school. Happy Holidays instead of Merry Christmas. No nativity scene in public places.

But, C’mon. Really? Is God so limited that our frivolous lawsuits and bickering over where God is and is not really going to affect God’s presence in our lives and culture and country and world? Is God really going to adhere to our human-made laws?
If the law says, no prayer in public schools, is God not going to be present in public schools?
Has God become some sort of vampire where God cannot enter a place unless invited?

No matter how unfaithful Israel was — God remained faithful. God’s anger burned, often. But God’s grace, love, mercy and compassion often won out.
He forgave the people. He took them back. They pushed God away. God remained with the people, and when they cried out, God didn’t say, “Too late. Y’all had your chance. I found a new chosen people.” God sent deliverers. God sent prophets. Ultimately, God sent Godself.

Of course, this is what I believe and you can agree or vehemently disagree.

But, when our nation is mourning, we need to be there with hope, compassion, and love not with answers to questions that are beyond our comprehension.

My senior pastor at Mesa Verde once said to me, “There are times where grace trumps theology.”

In times like these, we need to share grace, love, hope, strength, compassion, peace and comfort with one another. Our theology and theodicy should (and needs to) be secondary.

 

5 Years and 10.8 Months Ago…

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January of 2013 will mark 6 years of having this blog. 6 years.

I don’t know why I started a blog, but I always had one throughout college with xanga and blogspot. But in January of 2007, I started this particular blog to… I guess more to reflect and hash out my thoughts and feelings. It was a new life for me. I was married and had my first full-time ministry gig. So, I figured I had lots to reflect about and lots of things to hash out. Regarding the full-time ministry gig– not the marriage.

My very first post was about my hesitation (which I realized, today, that the title of the post and, hence, the URL of the post is misspelled. “HESITIATION.” Go figure…) to go visit a 12 year old who had cancer — and ultimately died before I got to see her again, which I briefly shared in a post about the passing of a parishioner here at St. Mark.

The funny thing is, I hated writing all throughout my school career. I didn’t like English. I didn’t like all of my writing classes that I was forced to take. Couldn’t avoid grammar mistakes. Was told by one professor that I write the way I speak, and the way I speak is wrong. What can you do with that?

Yet, since the age of 12, I kept a personal journal. When I was 14 or so, I kept 2 separate journals, because I discovered that my parents were reading my journals. Tsk. Tsk. So I kept a dummy one out where anyone could find them, filled with mundane entries. “School was okay, but I don’t like school. I like seeing my friends and hanging out. And I like doodling in class. Here’s a picture of Mario.” I kept the real one hidden where no one could find it and in that one, I wrote my deepest and darkest of secrets. Not really. It was still the same as the dummy one. Except, with this one, I knew that no one was reading it but me and had the comfort of knowing that I could write something very secretive that no one would know. Oh. I would use expletives here and there. “School was okay, but I @#$&!*% hate school.”

I had no idea why I put in so much effort to maintain this blog. It was fun. It was a release, too. And there was this struggle within me — I wanted as many people to read it, but at the same time, I wanted to keep my anonymity as much as possible, therefore wanting no one to read it.

During the early days (years) I would obsessively keep track of the visits to the blog, all the while hoping that no one from church would discover it. I was frustrated that no one seeing this blog — and tried all the free ways to boost traffic. Blogging can be such a vain medium. I mean, really, what can I offer? What impact can my voice (writing) really have in the sea of millions of better bloggers? Even more in the early days when all I wanted was heavy traffic to my blog.

I’ve made mistakes here and there through these almost 6 years. Some posts — they remain private now– should have never been made public, particularly one about the events that took place at the end of my tenure at one church. My good friend who worked at the church had to call me and ask me to take it down because kids had found that post and were asking the leaders about certain things.

I don’t post as much as I used to. I don’t know why I tried to have one post per day during those early stages. Currently, I shoot for at least 2 a week. I read that consistency keeps the blog alive. Also the experts on blogging said that I should have a clear theme/purpose for this blog. Which I don’t have. It’s about my thoughts and experiences. And again, it’s vanity to think that people would want to read it.

I’ve also stop being obsessive about the traffic to my blog. It wasn’t helping. And I realized how narcissistic I was being. It also gave me a freedom to talk about whatever I want to talk about. Instead of fussing over traffic numbers, I used that energy to really think. (And that takes a lot of energy for me).

It’s been a nice hobby to have. I’ve never really been creative but always yearned to be. This blog has served as an outlet for whatever creativity I have. It also has been an outlet to think and reflect and document things that are happening in my life. But the real deep things — things that I don’t want public or might hurt people or incriminate me somehow, someway — I still have a personal journal for that. It has also open a few small doors and opportunities here and there, and every opportunity and doors opened, I am extremely grateful for.

Thanks for being part of this, rather vain and narcissistic, journey with me. I apologize for all those posts that made you think you wasted precious moments of your life. And I am grateful and humbled if any of my posts made you think and go, “huh, that was interesting.” Even if it was used in a negative way. And also, I should apologize for all the grammatical errors that run rampant on this blog. It happens when I speak, too. English just hasn’t been a good, good friend of mine.

But, really, honestly and truly — thanks for reading.

The Interchangeable Ethnicity

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I don't know why it bothers me so much when people assume I'm Chinese or Japanese. But it does. A lot.

I was at the Coffee Cat (great local coffee shop, btw) with my parents when this guy interrupted us.

“Are you guys from here?”

“Well, we are, but my parents aren't.”

“Where are they from?”

“Pomona.”

“Oh — is that in America?”

“…. It's in Southern California. Like 2 hours away. Near Cal-Poly Pomona.”

“Oh right, right. I knew that. Do you guys visit Chinatown frequently? I was just there. And I try to go all the time. It's so wonderful. You guys have such neat things…”

I mean, really? I had to bite my tongue so hard not to say something snarky back. After all, he was being really sincere. But, still… Why does one just go ahead an assume? They say that when you assume, it makes an ASS out of U and ME. But really, it just makes an ass out of you…

I read an article in Entertainment Weekly about the remake of Red Dawn. They originally made it about the Chinese invading the Northwest. But studios these days are trying to get their films to play in China, since it's such an untapped market. Studios have to be really careful because the Chinese government has strict control over what foreign movies are (legally) allowed into their country.

So, the studio that produce Red Dawn did not want to offend the China censors, so after the movie finished filming, they digitally altered all Chinese elements (uniforms, flags, etc) to North Korea. I read that and I said out loud, “Aw hellllll no!”

I don't know why it bothers me so much. I mean, you have Australians playing Americans. Americans playing Germans. The English playing American roles. An Irishman playing Abraham Lincoln.

But it bothers me when Zhang Ziyi (Chinese) played a geisha (Japanese). Or how Benjamin Kingsley (not Asian) is playing the Mandarin (an Asian character) in Iron Man 3. Actually the latter bothers me much more than the former. What? No Asian people to cast the roles of Goku (Dragonball) or Aang (The Last Air Bender)?

Or how about casting that reinforces the negative stereotypes of Asians? (Yes, 2 Broke Girls, I'm talking about you).

Or how about a Vacation Bible School study a couple of summers ago that was so racially insensitive to the all Asian cultures? Mixing pandas with geisha like clothing, with lanterns, rice field hats, chopsticks, karate chops and hiyas… I mean, really?

I know a lot of people don't understand the differences of Asian cultures. But each culture and country have rich and different histories. Sure, there are similarities, but there are big differences, as well.

In the end, there will be people who unintentionally and mistakingly think that there are similarities in the Asian cultures — thinking that it's all the same or interchangeable. And then there will be people who will continue to be ignorant and choose to bask in their ignorance.

When people (like the guy at the coffee shop) assume that I'm something other than Korean, know that I'll find a way to end the conversation ASAP, all the while politely smiling and biting my tongue so that I won't make the situation worse.

 

32

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Go 32

What an odd feeling: 32.

I remember being 13 or 14 and thinking just how old 30 was, even though it was less than 20 years away. I never thought that I’d be 30. Not in a morbid sense. My teenage mind just couldn’t think that far ahead. 30 was a distant, distant land.

 

And now, not only have I reached that distant land, but am setting up camp.

 

It’s amazing how much I haven’t grown or matured.
Poop jokes still make me laugh.
Comic books still get me excited.
I want nothing more than to see a great Superman movie and a very well-done Star Wars sequels.
There are days where I want to see how much I can annoy my wife — just for the hell of it.
Man-Child has been a very appropriate title to describe me.

 

But at the same time, it’s amazing of how much I did grow, mature and learned. Particularly in the past 5 years, since I was commissioned.

 

I learned the necessity of tact. I don’t have to always say things that are on my mind. And shockingly enough, I’m not always right. Nor do I have all the answers.
I’ve learned that it’s not worth fighting every fight. By spending all my strength, time and energy killing cockroaches, I won’t have strength, time and energy to tackle the real, big, important stuff.
I’ve learned the importance of saying “no” so that I can say “yes” to the things that really matter.

 

Most importantly, I learned the most about grace.

During this election season, I’ve seen and encountered very, very passionate people. They were passionate about their candidates and the issues.
Passion is important. Georg Wilhem Friedrich Hegel said, “Nothing great in the world has been accomplished without passion.”

 

Passion drives us. Motivates us. It’s what separates winners from quitters. Passion refuses to allow us to quit.
That’s why we want passionate people on our teams. That’s why we want passionate people for our ministries.

 

Going back to the election season, I also saw how divisive passion can be.
No one can say that Michael Jordan was not passionate about the game. His passion for the game made him the GOAT (greatest of all time). But, he was notorious for undermining his teammates, driving them crazy, driving them out of the league. The players feared Jordan, not the coach.

 

You had people on both sides so passionate about their issues and their loyalties for their party– it was (is) difficult to have a civil conversation with those passionate people, especially if you are on the other side/party.

 

People were (and are) so carried away by being right and supporting the right candidate, voting the right way.

But more than being concerned about being right, we should be more concerned about being grace-filled, especially if we claim to be Christians.

Sure, the Bible says things about certain issues, but where’s the grace in going up to people’s face and telling them they’re going to hell?
Where’s the grace in demonizing the other side?
Where’s the grace in placing the problems and decline of an entire country on the shoulders of one community, because God is punishing everyone because of that one community?

 

What can we learn from Jesus wishing that the Pharisees would go and learn the meaning of “I desire mercy not sacrifice?”

 

I think I’m a passionate person. And I want passionate people to be part of our team in ministry.
But I am learning that more than passion, grace is far more important.
Passion may drive our team, but grace will keep our team together, strong and healthy.
And if we as a church and people of God don’t practice grace, then what are we, really?

 

32. Such a weird number. And age to be.
I am excited to see what God has in store for me for this coming year.
How much will I grow?
How much more will I regress when it comes to potty humor and superheroes?

 

Either way, I’m thankful to be alive.
I’m thankful for the many, many blessings that are in my life, especially for my wife and family.
I’m thankful that God still finds purpose in me.

And I just pray that my life will reflect the love, grace and goodness of God.

 

A Hard Lesson to Learn

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Tom had gotten sick fairly soon after I arrived at St. Mark.
I stopped by the hospital to see him a couple of times. And I stopped by Hillside House, where Tom resides, a couple of times.

He had gotten better and was almost returning to a normal day schedule. So, one of our parishioners thought it would be a great idea to get him a Bible and present it to him when he arrived at church, and I read a short letter that he had written for the church.

But, he got sick again and wasn’t going out much.
So, we presented the Bible to the church and I asked that people sign the Bible and I was to deliver it to him.

I waited one more Sunday to collect whatever signatures that we may have not collected the previous Sunday.

I made a note to myself that on Thursday, I’ll go deliver the Bible to him.
Thursday came, and as I looked for the number to call Hillside House, I also saw that the program director from Hillside House had called, and requested that I call back.

A few members of our church were trying to figure out how we can serve at Hillside House, so I thought that was why the program director had called.
So I called her to see what she wanted and to see if Tom was available for me to swing by and see him.

When I got through to her, she had told me that Tom had passed two days earlier.

The room went completely still and silent. It really did feel like I had just gotten the wind knocked out of me.

I heard a “Hello? Pastor? Hello? You still there?”
I was. But, really, I wasn’t.
I told her I call her back in the next few days to figure out when to do a memorial celebration for Tom.

After the phone call, there were various emotions rolling around within me. But one of them were beating the others to the surface: guilt.

I felt (… feel) so small and so incompetent.
I don’t know why I decided to wait until Thursday, waiting a week and a half to get him the Bible.

I was (… am) angry at myself.

I couldn’t (… can’t) believe that I let this happen.

I took for granted that he was going to be okay and be around.

Now, all I have are empty excuses and a Bible full of loving messages that Tom never got to see.

Staring at Tom’s bible, my mind went back about 6 years ago, when I was living in Hawaii. When I got first full-time ministry job, there was a 12 year old girl who was in the hospital with cancer. It had spread and chances of her beating the cancer had grown slim.

I had swung by with “The Little Mermaid” and we had a small “date”, watching the movie, complaining about our parents, talking story, telling jokes, laughing.

At that time, Dominos Pizza was doing this big thin New York pizza deal and she was interested in trying that pizza. So, a few weeks later, I got a couple of my unpaid servants in our youth ministry and picked up two of the New York pizzas from Dominos and we had a small Pizza Party. Near the end, she said that she wanted to watch another movie with me, The Road to El Dorado, I think.

I told her that I’ll make it happen soon.
About a month and a half later, she had passed.

I remember how incredibly selfish I was being. I was 25 or 26. Never had to deal with death, let alone with a 12 year old’s mortality. I was absolutely scared. Terrified. It made it worse that after our pizza party, she had gotten worse. I didn’t know how to deal with it. I didn’t know what I’d say. How I would act. Or react. If I would make things better or worse. What if she had all sorts of questions about what happens next? I felt ill-equipped. The fear had paralyzed me from doing anything regarding her. And, the excuses kept pouring in. The fear allowed me to remain in my selfishness.

Then she passed. To say I felt like crap would be an understatement.
I was asked to say something at her service, because her parents felt that I could share about the fun moments we had together, since she really enjoyed it.
After the service, her nurses came up to me and told me how much that movie date meant to her, and how she couldn’t stop talking about the next one and how unfortunate it was that we never got to do it again.

I drove, somewhere. Maybe it was the Pali Lookout. Maybe it was the North Shore. It just wasn’t home. My wife was back in DC finishing up her seminary career. I had no one to go to.

Wherever I ended up, I sat there bawling. Thankfully, no one was around. I was crying because of the way I felt — it was still incredibly selfish.
And here’s the kicker. I promised myself that something like this would never happen again.

Here I am, six years later, not having learned from the first time I made this mistake.

I also know that I’m being a bit self-centered in the emotions that I feel. I just… well, I don’t know. I don’t know what to do next. I don’t know what to say. I just don’t know.

There’s a reminder in this lesson of how precious and short life may be and how not to take someone’s presence for granted.

I thought I learned that lesson 6 years ago…

I Pity Da Fool

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We recently started volunteering at a local rescue mission here in town.

On the 2nd Tuesdays of the month, we lead the chapel service at the rescue mission, where my wife shares the Gospel.

We've been there, now, 3-4 times and are slowly starting to get to know the people there — their names, their stories, etc.

The first time we volunteered, we got placed in the dinner line to serve food.

It was (and is) quite a sight seeing all the people getting food and eating in the cafeteria and then seeing them hanging out in the courtyard waiting for their turn to shower.

You see all sorts of people going through the food line. Some who were well dressed, some who looked like they were on the streets longer, some who were sharp as people come, some who look really broken, some who look like the toll of being on the street has become too much — a variety of folks.

As I was serving people food, exchanging small talks, and just observing and watching them pass by me, there was a feeling that was sinking deeper and deeper into my heart.

Yes, my heart was breaking for them, but I couldn't quite put a finger on what exactly I was feeling.

It wasn't until a few days ago where I was finally able to put an English word behind what I was feeling as I was hanging out with the folks, doing whatever I was told to do by the person in charge: “Pity.”

And I hated the fact that was what I was feeling; that I felt pity for them.

I know there are many ways to describe the word and emotion of “pity.” But the first thought comes to my mind when I think of “pity” is feeling sorry for someone else.

And there's truth in that. I felt a bit sorry for the folks there at the rescue mission.

But the reason why I hate that feeling is because, for me, if I feel pity for a person, if I feel sorry for that person, it is coming from a place where I am, for a lack of a better word, “better” than that person. I know more. I am at a different level– a higher level of life, education, career, etc.

For me to feel sorry for someone, it means that I am at a better point in life than they are.

Maybe that's a bit extreme. And perhaps you'd take a completely different approach to the word “pity.”

But, that's how I feel. And if that's how I feel, my actions and interactions with folks may come from the source of feeling pitiful for them. Which is not what I want. At all.

Besides, those men and women? They don't need my pity. Not at all.

I want to come from a place of compassion; a place of grace and love; a place of support.

I want to truly be their friend, as much as I possibly can. But, I don't think I can do that with the wall of pity shielding me from them. And there really shouldn't be a “me” and “them.” But an “us.”

I am their brother in Christ. And they are my brothers and sisters. And friends.

I am not loved any more by God than they are loved.

As someone once said or wrote, “the ground is level at the foot of the cross.”

I think a problem that some Christians and churches run into is that they are doing homeless folks and organizations a “favor” by “serving” (volunteering?) them. Maybe that comes from a feeling obligation or, perhaps, pity. Maybe that's why some folks will donate what they were originally going to throw away to the homeless, because they might need it. It being trash.

They are not an obligation. They do not need a favor from any of us. Nor do they need our pity.

But they are our friends. They are our brothers and sisters in Christ. They are the very ones Christ would be “caught” hanging out with. He'd hang out with them more than you or me, I presume. They are the ones who Christ said, Happy are they… for the Kingdom of God is theirs.

I should not volunteer because I feel obligated to, or feel like I'm doing someone a favor, or to check off a item on my “doing good” list and certainly not just out of pity but I (should) serve because I feel compelled by God's love to share the very grace and love God has graciously shown me; because I am called to serve the people God loves, not just those I love; because Christ modeled a servant leadership.

 

That’s Enough!

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It is quite possible that, we as a church as an institution, may have accidentally monopolized worship — when and where and how it should/can happen.

As a pastor, I fully believe the power and necessity of corporate worship happening as a body of Christ, coming together as one spirit to worship our One God.

But, as a follower of Christ, I fully believe that corporate worship is not enough. Personal and private worship is just as important — I may argue that it may be more important.

A part of me feels that worship should flow from us, that everything we do is an act of worship and prayer.
A part of me also feels that we need to stop what we are doing, and be fully intentional in worship.
And a bigger part of me feels that the previous 2 part of mes are both correct.

Anyway, hiking has always been a very spiritual experience for me — particularly since we moved to Santa Barbara.
Mainly because, as a 31 year old, I am woefully (woefully) out of shape. So, in those hikes, I am calling upon the name of Jesus to save me
A “Jesus, help me” here. A little, “Lord, save me” there. A few “O God, please help me make it.” And a few more, “Why, God, why?” That ends with a “Thank you JESUS!” when we reach the top.

These past two weeks have been difficult, for reasons I do not want to go into. And, unfortunately, as much as I hate to admit it, I think the stress has been weighing me down and worse, seeping into the things I do for my church.

So when my wife asked if I wanted to go on a hike, it was a welcomed change of pace. Though in retrospect, maybe it was not the best day to go. It was the hottest day of the week, during the hottest part of the day. On top of that, for some reason, we both forgot that there was a wildfire happening near by.

But off we went.
And I have to say, it was one of the easier times I had walking up that mountain.
Maybe it was because it was all the stress being sweated out of my body.
Maybe it was the fresh air.
Whatever it was, it was a real nice break from the previous week.
And I didn’t have to call upon the name of the Lord to make it up to the top.
But it was still a spiritual experience.

As we walked up, I felt closer and closer to God — or more Wesleyan, my heart grew warmer and warmer. Who knows? Maybe it was the hotness of the day because at the end, there was one big wet spot around my chest on my shirt.

But, it was such a welcomed break from the routine of the past few days.
To be away it from all; to be away from the clutter of life; to be away from all the noise; to be detached –even for an hour or so– from the world and just… be.

Of course, that quickly changed when we got to the top and saw the billows of smoke from the brush fire that wasn’t too terribly far away. We snapped a few quick pictures and started making our way down.

As we made our way down, I begin to reflect about faith.
As Hebrews says, Faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see.
If I don’t have faith, then what is it that I do have?

I have no idea what the next few days, weeks and months hold. But, one thing I do know: God is bigger than.

In the end, worship, to me, is simply being still and knowing God as Psalmist says in 46:10. Whether that’s on my own or with my church family or a different community of faith.

Recently, a friend gave me a copy of the CEB version and that version says:
“That’s enough! Now know that I am God!” And I really like that translation.

That’s enough… that’s enough of your complaining. That’s enough of your lack of trust and faith. That’s enough of your empty noise. That’s enough of your worries. That’s enough of all the things in your life that are pulling you away from me.

“That’s enough! Now know that I am God!”