To the One who refreshes my soul

Hear my heart and its weariness. I offer up my praises and worries as offering to you, the one I trust with my entire life. I am a dumb sheep, vulnerable to traps, deception, and despair. Yet, you found me and kept me in your sights, so I will follow your precepts forever.

09-29-2012

Just as Phillip was obedient to God and evangelized to the Ethiopian Eunuch, Phillip could have disobeyed. He could’ve said, “God, this is a little weird. What are the chances someone would listen? What are the chances some heart would change?” But Phillip didn’t doubt God sovereignty in commanding. Phillip followed God’s calling and evangelized and shared the good news of Jesus, and baptized the Eunuch immediately! Man that was awesome. If Phillip chose to not respond, God could still have reached the Eunuch in different ways, but Phillip would’ve missed out in so much. It’s really God’s grace to be called to serve His kingdom. It’s grace to testify His mercy, this love. 

Shit Color

"Don't stand in the sun or you'll turn into a 黑鬼," said mom. Letting go of her side, I clenched my fists, widened my eyes, and walked in the sun through the streets of Hong Kong in rebellion to my mom's comment. I was a stubborn and prideful child. Growing up, I recollect many of the comments made about my skin which is tan like leather, beige like mud, brown like shit.

I am amazed and dumbfounded, because I just realized how ugly I am.

"You're so black, I thought you were Filipino. I can't believe you're Kelly's sister. I would never think you were Chinese, because you're so black."
"Why are you so black?"
"This one is so black."
"Why are you so black, is the sun hotter in America?"

All these comments, I've heard all my life and I received them as observations, because I am tan, I am dark. I know this and I have never tried to hide my skin color, nor have I ever been ashamed of it. I've always known that my Asian culture had a preference for light colored skin, but I just realized today my people think I am ugly because I am dark. They literally think I am ugly. They literally think I look like shit color and I am disgusting. I told my dad what I realized and he said yes, of course. I feel so shocked. I feel so angry. I feel so sorry for my people that they could be so wrong. I feel so stupid because, I had no idea that I am shit colored.

A Walk Through Memory Lane Pt. Nightmares

This weekend was like a blast of the past. I got home late from camp, and after getting cleaned up, I chatted with my mom. There is a terrible and dark nightmare that my mom has. Sometimes when she couldn't get the nightmare out of her mind, she would tell sis and me about it. Bits and pieces of the nightmare would haunt her in many occasions, slowly creeping into the fore thoughts of her subconscious. They were slyish lies that wrung so tightly around her soul, trying to suffocate and break her. The nightmare was actually not a dream; it was her life for many years. The neglect, the abuse, the cursing, the displeasure, the pain, the chaos,  even the time we met face to face with the point of no return. As we got older and more rude, whenever my mom would begin to tell us of the nightmare, sis and I would get impatient and tell her to forgive, forget, and move on. While her children told her to shut up, some called her a liar and many worse things, warping the truth and crushing her spirit.

Last night, mom told me parts of the nightmare again. She gave me a disclaimer that while she is not trying to hold a grudge against what the people have done to her, the nightmare was a part of her life that she couldn't ignore. This time the nightmare was different. I realized, the nightmare of her past has become her testimony. It is no longer chaining her down. The curse is broken. The redeeming good news of Jesus rendered those lies powerless. Her nightmare is no longer a nightmare, now, it is a testament to God's glory, God's good purposes.

As for you, you meant evil against me, but God meant it for good, to bring it about that many people should be kept alive, as they are today.     Genesis 50:20

Lord, cover my eyes and let them rest. Lord, close my wounds and let them heal. Lord, lift my feet and let them stand.

Dry Spell

For three weeks, after my very short missions trip to St. Louis, where I "encountered" God everyday in study, quiet time, service, worship, and just about every moment, I was in a season of utter "Bleh." Back to reality, like the Eminem song. Oh, there goes gravity. Numbness, again, because I fear that any abrupt movement might tear my fetal heart.  So I stay still, very still. Routinely going about the day. Sleepless nights, wakeless days. Sitting in class, looking forward to the light buzz I'll find at home to ease my nothing. Sitting in class, distracted, but hearing about addiction and depression and disorder like a stuck track. No I'm pretty sure I'm not addicted. Depression, it's the common cold of psychological illnesses anyways.

I was very quick to judge. I was defensive. I doubted people's genuine-ity and care. I wanted to be alone. I wanted people around me to drown the mosquito pangs of my rampant thoughts. I wanted to keep busy. I wanted to sleep. I couldn't sleep. I wanted this season to pass without going through the soul-purging process of taking sin out of my life.

I take a step back and look at my life and I can't help but think, 'What the eff' did I do?' Numbly, I go home for my mom's baptism. Dad tells me I'm throwing my life away in my major. We argue. I dared to say that he is disappointed in me as a daughter because I can't repay the debt I owe in exchange for everything he and mom had given me. I accused him of conditional love. I accused our relationship of being like that of a bank and a borrower. Return with interest. Return this debt with my own life. I told him the pressure of them giving me their everything is too much.

I am killing my parents. They are crying out, begging me, bargaining with me to at least double major in something 'worthwhile.' "What are you going to do with social work? Are you planning on marrying a rich doctor?" The more they ask, the more I feel tugging at me.. no I don't want to do social work, I want to do ministry. That would break their hearts even more, wouldn't it?

If I had an infinite amount of material wealth, my first thing to do is to pay off my parents' mortgage. I would pay off their debts. Then buy them nice things: house, car, hacky sacks, new clothes so mom doesn't have to wear hand-me-downs from our bourgeoisie relatives. So everyone in the family can shut the eff' up and stop looking down on others. Then I don't need any of the wealth. Just give it all to them, so I am free. I can live my life and they know that I have received their love and I am truly grateful. I can bring them early retirement, take the work from them. Oh how sweet. But the fact that my mom knows Jesus as savior is an infinite times better than that. So I'll choose that over infinite material wealth any day. And for my dad, too.

Spring Break Blues

Last year after a heart wrenching 10 days on my first overseas missions trip in the Dominican Republic, I went through a mild state of ceaseless crying and homesickness. I contemplated dropping out of college and moving back in with my parents. I instant messaged my dad saying "I love you" and with what little he knows about technology, he replied "me too". And I wept. I felt so far. Far from God. Far from dad and mom. Far from Kelly. Far from people who loved me and babied me. I was also coming more to grips with pathetic self-esteem after my confession that turned into a rejection. A broken car. A new roommate. A major I hated.

I still need closure. Memories of the two years I spent as a pilot still haunt me like a nightmare. The gossip. The accident. The night flight. The landings. The ground classes. The safety reports, hah.. The flight to evansville airport. I made so many mistakes. It was hard to look at myself.

Now I am back in the same room after a year and another spring break trip. I had a spontaneous trip to Chicago for two days right after I came back from the St. Louis missions trip. It was hard to leave, but not as hard as one year ago. Where I bawled and said I didn't want to go back [to Carbondale]. I cried while driving back, actually leaving several hours later than I planned. I prayed out loud to God until I felt like I lost my voice.. asking Him to help my heart. Oh Lord, I take pity on the person I was a year ago for the things I was feeling.

This spring break at City Lights was breathtakingly amazing. It was basically a week of manual labor and full on God through serving eyes. This post will not do it justice. After my first two days of laboring, I was frustrated and I felt so spiritually dry. I said to myself, I hope I won't have to do this kind of work in my future. While I was raking in the beating sun for 6 hours, I realized that the work I was doing was comparable to work I might do to get paid. Instead, I was giving money to work.. Having felt prompted with the song lyrics in my mind "I will go. Lord, send me. I will follow you.." A question protruding before all other thoughts "Will you really?" I was shocked by my own ugliness and I answered in my heart "Yes, my Lord Jesus. Yes!" Because you are the best thing for me.

My call to commitment:

Lord, help me say Yes to you everyday.