Tag Archives: Love

Not Broken, Just Bent

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Within a month of my being at St. Mark UMC, this happened.
For those that don’t have time to read another post, a picture from that blog post in July:
photo

Yea. It hurt. A lot. I don’t know if it would’ve hurt less than a wasp sting. It was a lose-lose situation.

8 months later, my forehead looks like this:
Photo on 2-19-13 at 12.29 PM

The scar hasn’t gone away.
It may not be noticeable to anyone else (hence the red circle) but every time I look in the mirror, I notice it. I see it, and I am reminded of my encounter with a beam. And, with the question, “Why isn’t the scar going away? Is it permanent?”
I wish I didn’t see it. But that’s the first place my eyes now go to when I look in the mirror: my forehead.

But, that’s the thing about scars.
Our scars, both physical and emotional, may not be noticeable to anyone else. But we see it. Every day. All the time.
But I feel that our scars are only as big as we make them to be.

The bigger we make the scars to be, the more it interferes with our lives.

A physical scar can make us feel unattractive and ugly.
An emotional scar can make us feel unworthy.
So, we don’t give ourselves the best chance to “succeed.”
Someone once said, “We accept the love that we think we deserve.”
And sometimes our “scars” seemingly dictates what kind of love we think we deserve.

The truth is — you’re beautiful. We are all beautiful, for we are made in the image of God. Wonderfully and fearfully made.

The scars in our lives do not dictate how broken we may be. And even if it did, God finds beauty in the broken.

God has found us worthy enough to call us God’s children.

We shouldn’t let our scars define us. Instead, we should let the love of God define us.

For “scars remind us where we have been. They don’t have to dictate where we’re going.” (Oddly enough, that may be from a Criminal Minds episode)

In The Words of the Great Song Writers/Lyricists, the Black Eyed Peas, “Where Is The Love?”

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Okay. I hope you know that the title is rather sarcastic.
I feel like the Black Eye Pea lyrics can be taken from a 1st grade “write about your day” class. But that’s besides the point.

But seriously. Where is the love when it comes to us Christians?
I recently wrapped up the book of Romans for my devotions, and this time around, the parts that were embedded in my head comes from the latter half of chapter 12 and the latter half of chapter 13.
And, I ask the question “Where is the love” in my life and to me, first and foremost. There are areas where I need to work on. I’m still a working process. I know that this jar of clay often resists being molded by the Hands of the Creator. I know that I often turn a blind eye towards what God is showing me. And I often argue with God about who I am to  love.

With that said, I think anyone who claims to be of Christ… we all need to just take a step back and reevaluate our hearts, our lives and our actions.
There’s too much disagreement. And not many cordial ones, but disagreements that goes beyond resembling anything like love. Disagreements that lead to fisticuffs or condemnation.

And we have lost our way, when non-Christian see us and the last thing they see is love.

Here’s what have been sticking in my heart from Paul’s letter to the Romans.

Be devoted to one another in brotherly love. Honor one another above yourselves.

Hmm. But sometimes, I want others to be devoted more to me in love and to honor me over themselves…

Share with God’s people who are in need. Practice hospitality.

Ah. Have you notice that there is no qualification to the people who are in need? What bothers me is when we have prerequisites before helping someone. “Are they Christian?” “Are they going to come to our church every week?” “Are they willing to be baptized before we do this for them?” Etc. No. It simply says share with God’s people. And who are God’s people? Anyone and everyone. And yes. That includes gay people. And yes, that includes (shock) Muslims, even the extremists. Yes, that includes people of the Westboro Baptist Church. That includes illegal immigrants and day laborers. I mean, God’s people is everyone. But yet, we try to put boundaries on where boundaries shouldn’t exist.

Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse

Don’t we find it easier to just curse. And condemn.It’s easier to label someone a heretic, rather than trying to listen to their hearts and their stories. I’m willing to bet we have more in common with people than we’d like. If only we gave each other a chance…

If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone.

I like that verse because Paul left a HUGE loop hole. “If possible” and “as far as  it depends on you”… We can say that we are trying, without really trying at all. Because it all depends on me to live at peace…

And finally

Love does no harm to its neighbor

Wesley’s first general rule is “Do No Harm.”
I’m embarrassed to admit (even think about) all the harm I may have caused. Even if it was unintentional.

I always get a chuckle when someone comes up to me complaining that Christianity is hard. (And am always surprised too).
Where have we (as leaders and pastors) gone wrong in leading people to think about Christianity?
Those few verses I just recited, there is nothing easy about following those simple verses in of itself.

I think the thing that gets me the most especially about myself and my fellow sisters and brothers is that we don’t try.
We know. We see the path that we are to take. We see how hard it’s going to be. And we see how easy it is to not go down that way. And so, we say that we’re Christians, but we take the easier path. We say with our words, but not so much with our actions.

My wife’s been beating me up about this. Well actually, she said one comment that just stung (and it needed to).
I want to try. I want to try to be a better Christian. I want to try to be a better pastor. I want to try to be a better son, husband, brother, friend… person.
But, as the wise Yoda said, “Do or do not. There is no try.”

So here’s to me, stumbling along doing, and not just trying.
Here’s to all the failures I’ll run across in doing and not just thinking about trying.

But here’s to God, whose grace continues to surround me; continues to push me; continues to open my eyes and heart to really see and feel; continues to change me.

And here’s to the most absolute truth I can say, that no one can disagree with. God is so worth it.

Excuse me while I get rid of all the excuses that have filled my heart…

You Are Loved

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from our weekly emails to youth, parents and those who have a heart for youth ministry at Valencia UMC. If you want to receive these weekly updates, please email me at jyoo@umcv.org.

A couple of youth on facebook joined a fan page called “you are loved.” And the truth is, you are loved. Whether you feel like it or not; whether you feel you deserve it or not… you are loved!

Through my struggles and pain, I’ve been sort of coming to an understanding of how much God may actually love me.
Here’s the thing. Since I was in high school, for reasons unbeknownst to myself, I wanted to have kids. I knew that I wanted to be a dad with a litter of kids running around. I was weird and different like that.

So when we got married and moved to Hawaii, I  wanted to plan for a family right away. But with the wife having to go back to Washington, DC to finish her last semester of seminary, she wisely told me that we should wait for just a little bit.

Now it’s been about two or so years since we’ve been trying for a mini-me. And nothing.I’ve been frustrated with God on wondering why this isn’t happening for us. I find myself thinking like Hannah (1 Samuel chapter 1) and Rachel (Genesis 30:1). What’s worse is that everyone around us seems to be getting pregnant. Some weren’t even trying to get pregnant. So they call or email, and for a little while, my happiness for them is fake. Eventually, I do get really excited for my friends’ new chapter in their lives and look forward to meeting their ugly little kids. I’m kidding. About the ugly baby part.

But in this pain and frustration, I begin to sort of see a glimpse of God’s love for me.

This kid that I want, it’s not even born yet. At this point, I don’t know if the kid will ever be born. But I love it (him or her). I already do. I can’t explain it to you, but before the child is even in its existence, I love him or her. I know that s/he’s going to be born to a father and mother who will love him/her deeply and as best as we can.

Whether the kid will like it or not, s/he’ll be loved. She has no choice but to be loved by us. And there’s not a single thing that she can do about it.

I think that’s just a small glimpse of God’s love for me and you.
Before we were born, God knew us and loved us deeply.
We were born into the grace and love of God.
Whether we like it or not, God loves us.
Whether we feel we deserve it or not, God loves us.
And there’s nothing that can separate us from God. Paul writes in Romans 8:38-39 “For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor heights, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

So as you go about today and this week, just reflect on God’s love in your life. Take time to bask in God’s presence, love and grace. Reflect, also, on how God’s love is being displayed through you and your life/actions.

And always remember: you are loved. And there’s nothing you can do about it.


On The Basis Of Love

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I was reading Paul’s letter Philemon the other day and verse 9 hit me.
He writes to Phil (can I call him Phil?):
Though I am bold enough in Christ to command you to do your duty, yet I would rather appeal to you on the basis of love (8-9).

It’s probably the easier way to get things done around church, to command people to do their duty, to be the pastor that uses her authority to get things done his way.

The reason why it struck me is that as a pastor, we do have a lot of authority to get things done our way. And because we have this authority, because we have this power, sometimes a few pastors take advantage of it, and a few will even abuse it.

As Henri Nouwen wrote:
Maybe it is that power offers an easy substitute for the hard task of love. It seems easier to be God than to love God, easier to control people than to love people, easier to own life than to love life.

For me, reading this, Paul went from a pastor to a servant leader (and it’s a shame that there are a few of us out there who are pastors but not servant leaders), because instead of commanding Phil, he appealed to Phil and therefore place himself under (below) Phil.

This served as a great reminder to me, because it is easier to try to control people than to love people. There are moments when I think, “because I’m the pastor!” but am quickly reminded that’s the same thing as my parents saying “because I told you so!”
It’s imperative for me to remember that love is the most important aspect of my ministry, that love “binds everything together in perfect harmony.” (Col 3:14)
Let’s hope that I’ll always remember to appeal on the basis of love.

Have a blessed Easter tomorrow, everyone.

A Plea to All Christians and Churches

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My wife’s interfaith shelter received two donations of food last week, one from a church and one from a non-religious organization.

One donation was a bag of food per person. Each bag had a roast beef sandwich, a ham sandwich, 2 small cans of orange juice, a bag of cookies, a granola cereal bar, condiments, and a ziploc bag of napkins, plastic gloves, plastic untensils and salt and pepper.

Another donation was a box full of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. A couple of them with made from the butt ends.

Care to guess which one came from the church and which one came from the non-religious organization?

My wife said that the people at the shelter saw the PBJs being dropped off for their dinner. One person came up to her and said, “Christians just don’t understand. Just because we’re homeless, they think they could give us anything, and we should be grateful for it.”
The shelter has a pantry full of food, a fridge and freezer full of food. With all that food, it just didn’t seem right to give the people JUST PBJ sandwiches for their dinner.

I’m not saying ALL Christians do this, and I’m not saying your church or all churches are doing this, but there are too many of us who just miss the point.
If you are thinking, ‘well they’re in a shelter, and they should be thankful for whatever kind of food they get’ then, all I can say to you is, ‘that’s messed up that you think that way.’

Too many people have a box of stuff that they were going to throw away, but decided it could be better used for the homeless. While the people in need should be grateful that you thought of them, a shelter is not a place where you go to drop off your ‘trash.’

My wife had turn away donations from “Christians” who brought in old socks with holes, clothes with holes, pants that are falling apart, blankets that are ripped, toys with missing limbs, dolls with missing eyes, and so forth. Mind you, they’re not all from “Christians.” But many of the homeless people had bad experiences with Christians. Some of them say they feel like a charity case, and obligation that the Christians try to meet half-heartedly.

You know, when we go to heaven, God’s not going to ask us about our beliefs and our stance on issues. God’s not going to ask us whether we voted for or against Prop 8. God’s not going to ask us whether we were pro-life or pro-choice. But God’s going to ask us what we did in His name. How we loved. God’s going to ask, ‘what did you do?’

And I would hate for anyone to hear:
When I was hungry, instead of putting your heart into giving me a decent meal, you made me PBJ sandwiches.
When I was naked, you gave me socks with holes and pants that you were going to throw away.

All I’m saying is let’s truly care and love these people, with our actions, with our words and with our giving. We shouldn’t look at helping the poor as an obligation, but as a ministry that’s full of love, grace and mercy. And the kind of love that will warm someone’s heart on any given cold day.

They are people too. People in need. People that Jesus would spend more time with than the people in the church making PBJ sandwiches.

The American Dream

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I’m reading a book of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr’s sermons entitled A Knock at Midnight.
Today, I read his sermon called “The American Dream” and came across this section that inspired me, challenged me, motivated me, to see what love your enemies should really look like, and how love can conquer all. The excerpt after the jump Continue reading →

Thursday Night in Chinatown

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I thought about it over and over, whether if I should do this or not.
The idea came to me last Thursday, as I sat in reflected on what happened. I thought maybe this would be a bad idea, as if I’m trying to exploit the people, or maybe my motives were not genuine.
But the more I thought about it, the more it made sense to me, and thought that this might actually help the one or two who read the blog.. or the few that accidentally stumble upon it.

As I was walking around the streets tonight, I didn’t even know how to bring it up in the conversation. Actually, I still don’t know how to start a conversation.
It was funny. Tonight, this big guy called me over and without ever looking at me directly, whispers “Whatever you want. I got it. Just tell me what you want.” I told him I was perfectly fine and didn’t need anything. He told me that I must be looking for something if I’m just wandering around the street. I insisted that I didn’t need anything from him. He said he’ll be waiting for me if I changed my mind. I walked away, and he was sort of following me. I turned a corner, and another corner, and we ran into each other again. He said, “See. I told you I’m here for you. Now what you want? I gots it.” I replied, again, that I didn’t want anything from him. He then looked at me and said, “Then don’t run into me again or else.”
Got it. Understood. See ya. So I made sure I avoided this big guy for the rest of the night.

I came across Reid again. And his friend (who was sleeping last time), Tom. I asked them if they wanted anything to drink. They said beer. (Now before you go and complain or rebuke me for actually going and buying them a beer, tough. Okay, maybe I shouldn’t have done that. But I wanted them to be real with me and I wanted to be real with them. This allowed them to see me as a person more than some annoying Christian guy. If you disagree, I’m sorry. But I had no qualms in doing what I did.)

We talked about all sorts of things, how much they get from pan handling, where they get the cigarettes, how they got here, stories of previous lives, how they eat, what they need from churches who come around, police officers. Tom tried to teach me Korean.
At one point, Reid asked me, What church do you represent when you come here? I replied, no church at all. I’m just here. I couldn’t think of a better answer.

In the mean time, I had no idea how to bring out about what I wanted to do.
I didn’t know if they’d be offended or scared.
But I figured that was my goal for the night, and I can’t walk away without even asking.
So I looked at Reid and Tom and asked them if I could take their picture
I explained to them that I was going to post this up on my blog and also show the kids at my church. I wanted to raise awareness that the people on the streets are actually people. And to actually have someone “concrete” to pray for, instead of the generic “God, bless the homeless,” or such, prayer.
That these people have faces, problems, and are just like us.

For you who read this, I want you to know that I’m not doing this to exploit them or what not, but I want you to actually pray for these guys and not only that, for you to know that there are good and loving people just like Tom and Reid in your community.
I want everyone to start looking into people rather than at people.


Reid is the one on the left and Tom is the one on the right in his GQ pose.

They were ribbing each other all conversation long.
But here was the most coolest part (yes, I said ‘most coolest’): these guys share with one another. Whatever they make in pan handling, they share with one another. The most touching part was that Tom had a 40 in his backpack. And every time he took a sip from it, he’d hand it to Reid. And Reid had the shakes, a little, and Tom would make sure that Reid had the bottle fully in his hand before Tom let go.

So, I urge you. Go out and talk to some of the people in your community. You’d be surprised of how much they can teach you.

I pray that I would be able to get more pictures of people. I think that’ll be a nice conversation starter.
“Hey, can I take your picture?” (I’ve been attempting to save up for a camera, but so far no good. If anyone out there has an inkling to donate a camera with which I can take decent pictures, it’ll be greatly appreciated. [Hey... can't blame a guy for trying... *enter sheepish laugh*])
“What for?”
And then I can explain what I’m doing and hopefully open up a dialogue… (although, that’s how I wanted to start my conversation off today, but was too nervous to. How do you think the drug dealer would’ve replied if I asked to take his picture?)

Go and share a story with someone and start loving and looking into people.

God to Me: “There’s Hope For You Yet”

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I’ve been discontent this past week. Angry even.
At myself. At my church. At the Church. Disillusioned a little.
But mostly at myself. And it was eating at me to no end.
I couldn’t bear to look at myself as a Christian. Actually, I just got tired of the label “Christian.”
Comfortable and lazy. That’s what I have become. And really, many of us have become comfortable and lazy in our faith.

Recently, my heart has been breaking for the homeless and the poor. But I didn’t do anything about it. Sure, I started a sandwich patrol program where we made sandwiches on a Saturday and handed them out to the homeless. I knew that wasn’t enough, but I forced myself to settle and be content.

Comfortable and lazy.
But something stirred up in me that I couldn’t deny.
In preparation of my sermon series on discipleship, “your goal is to be like Christ” came into mind. It wasn’t loud, audible voice, but it was so clear that it couldn’t be ignored.
I pondered over it. And because I pondered, there was a struggle and tension that ensued in my heart.

How am I like Christ?
Nothing at all. And I began to ask, would Jesus look at me and call me his follower? I begin to doubt. To be a follower, I should be following Jesus. But I wasn’t.
Jesus went to the poor and needy.
I stayed afar and prayed for them in my comfort zone.

And this drove me crazy today. At my usual Starbucks. So much so, I escaped to the bathroom to just breathe and catch my thoughts.
I’m a Christian. But, so is everyone else, it seems like. People go to church once a week and call themselves Christian. People refuse to acknowledge the poor, and they call them Christians. People refused to attempt to love their enemies, let alone their neighbors, and they call themselves Christian. And I’m include myself amongst these people.

I was tired. I was tired of preaching on Sunday. Then come Monday, just sit there and prepare for the following sermon. I was tired of guiding people but guiding them with words and not actions.
I was tired of being one of those “Christians” I wrote in the paragraph above.
I was tired of not putting my money where my mouth is, tired of not practicing what I preach, tired of not following Christ.

This had to stop. Now!

Which led to a peculiar night, where I traded in 3 dollars for so much more.
Like I said, recently, my heart went out to the homeless. But I didn’t do much.
But tonight was different.

We had a Sunday School teacher’s training that I had to lead. The lesson I prepared was a rather angry, because I still angry at myself and my recent discoveries about me.
As soon as I got home, I told my wife I had to take care of something real important, I’ll try to be back in an hour or so. She tried to find out where I was going, and I told her I couldn’t tell her. At least not at that moment. With a promise that everything will be explained when I got back, she allowed me to go.

So I got in my car and drove to Chinatown. Where many homeless people reside. I parked my car. And walked to the park that we hand out sandwiches. I had no idea what I was doing or why I was even here.
I begin to wish I left my iPod and wallet at home, just in case something happened. But the fear of being mugged paled in comparison to the fear of what I felt I needed to do: strike a conversation with a stranger.

So I walked around the park for about 10 minutes. Not knowing what to do, what to say, how to say it, who to say it to… wandering. At night. By myself. In Chinatown. Circling the park.

I decided to walk up the street just to see what it felt like, looked like, smelled like to be in Chinatown at night.
Many of the homeless people were sleeping on the street. What was I supposed to do?

I’m walking, and this man looked at me and asked for 90 cents. I got out my wallet and saw that I only had 3 dollars in cash. I told him, I’ll give him $3.00, but in exchange, he has to talk to me. So he told me to sit. I did. And I talked.
His name was Reid. He was a veteran that was waiting for the government to give him money that they owe. He’s been waiting 11 months. He had a heart attack and open heart surgery, which was the main reason he was out on the street.
Then out of nowhere, without me even realizing I was saying this, I asked “Do you believe in God?”
He said, of course and I desperately asked “why?”

He couldn’t get through the day without believing in God. He said right now, life is not good, but good things will happen. And that he can wait until they do. But he never doubts God’s presence.
He asked me if I believed in God. I told him I was a pastor who is struggling with the idea of following Jesus’ teachings and actions. I told him all what I just shared with you.
He smiled. He told me not to be hard on myself, not to doubt myself. I told him it’s hard not to.

I realized that Rahel might be really worried about me. I told him that I needed to go. He thanked me for the three dollars. I thanked him for the life lesson.
“It may or may not mean much to you,” I said. “But I will be praying for you, Mr. Reid. Know that.” And he looked at me and asked, “Why don’t you pray for me before you go?”

So there I was. In Chinatown. At night. By myself. Talking to a stranger. Holding his hand. And praying for him.
I thanked him again for this life lesson. He thanked me again for the three bucks. I wanted to hug him, but I don’t think he was a hugging guy. Holding hands was enough.

I walked away. I wasn’t satisfied or proud of myself. That’s almost… inappropriate and arrogant maybe.
But I felt that I was moving forward.
I could picture God looking at me, throwing His hands in the air and say, “Finally! That idiot finally is getting it!” My wife’s sentiment was similar.

The anger has passed away. A sense of hope has emerged inside of me. This is a huge step for me. I never talk to strangers, let alone evangelize. And I didn’t even evangelize. He preached to me. He taught me!

But.
I plan to do this next Thursday too. And the Thursday after that. And after that. I’m going to start practicing what I am preaching. Then maybe I can get those who listen to my sermons start practicing what they hear too. Change always begins with me.
As I was going home, digesting what just happened, John Wesley came to mind.
“The world is my parish” he said.
And I’m starting to understand and realize that more.