I caught a glimpse of the kingdom of God tonight. Ivan told me he loved me.
He was getting ready to leave church so I yelled bye and he turned, looked at me and started sprinting from halfway across the church at me. Right into my arms. I scooped him up and pulled him in close, giving him an extra long hug because tonight was a rough one for him.
Ivan's home life is pretty bad. Without going into too much detail, it is suffice to say that it is not a positive environment to raise a child. My guess is that no one tells him that he can do something or "good job!" or "I'm really proud of you" or even "I love you". So tonight when there were so many people encouraging him to try something new or "you can do it", he got overwhelmed and shut down. There was this specific moment, that I can still picture so vividly, where the basketball coach was encouraging and asking Ivan to come play. Ivan said, "no, no, I don't want to; I don't want to; no, no, no." The coach pushed until Ivan, in this state of raw panic cried out, "NO! I can't. I don't know how! I can't!" and buried his head in Dan's lap. Terror and confusion were engraved on Ivan's face as if to say, "who are you to tell me that I can do this? I'm not good enough. I can't, remember?" That look tore my innermost being and screamed at me.
All my development classes/any class having to do with kids have stressed the fact that much of our self-esteem is intact by the time we are three and that the most effective way to teach and help a child grow is by encouraging and praising a child. When Ivan reached that breaking point where the only response left is the core of who you are, the self you carry around and don't let others see, what came out was "I can't. I'm not good enough."
Needless to say we all tried to cheer Ivan up by making faces, joking, (I told him I needed a hug), and talking with him in Spanish (his first language). Slowly, the Ivan we know and love came back and by the end of the night, everything seemed normal. Till it was time to go home.
As I'm holding Ivan, giving him this extra squeeze, he leans in my ear and whispers, "I love you." I pull him back so we are face to face, look him straight in the eye and tell him," I love you too, Ivan." He pauses, gives me this giant smile, buries his face in my neck and whispers, "I love you so so much." One more squeeze just for good measure and I put him down and he's out the door like only boys can do.
The kingdom of God broke through the tattered pieces and hopelessness of this world. Ivan was able to feel Christ's love through my arms and know that he is good enough. He is worth it. He is loved. Not just by us that he can see, because we won't be here forever, but more importantly by his Father who died because Ivan is worth it.
Oh God that we may learn to live out your kingdom to those who don't think they can do it. Who don't believe they know how. Thank you, Lord, for shining through and reminding me again what a blessing it is to follow and obey you. Thank you for loving me even when I don't think I can handle the situation or don't know how to live a holy life or just don't know why anyone would give me the time of day. May I continue to be humbled and showered in your love so that those around me may catch more and more glimpses of you and your kingdom.
Oh yeah. Ivan is in kindergarten. He just learned his shapes. He turns five in a few weeks.
Friday, September 26, 2008
Sunday, September 21, 2008
our world
birthday wishes and midnight prayers
hurried walks and blood baths
forgotten hymns and goose feathers
pick, grate, stomp, wring, nail
swallow, but don't chew
melt, rise, twist, churn
hear, but don't listen
mend, drain, close
stare, but don't look
float, rest
hold, but don't feel
live?
torn pages and mud puddles
bruised hearts and dead leaves
concrete souls and weary bodies
listen: dead bodies with blood prayers
feel: weary hearts with midnight hymns
look: pages. puddles. walks.
live.
hurried walks and blood baths
forgotten hymns and goose feathers
pick, grate, stomp, wring, nail
swallow, but don't chew
melt, rise, twist, churn
hear, but don't listen
mend, drain, close
stare, but don't look
float, rest
hold, but don't feel
live?
torn pages and mud puddles
bruised hearts and dead leaves
concrete souls and weary bodies
listen: dead bodies with blood prayers
feel: weary hearts with midnight hymns
look: pages. puddles. walks.
live.
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
grace
do you ever get to a point where you just feel kind of numb? like nothing could really phase you or shock you or even really be all that interesting to you? how does one get out of that kind of rut? how does one get in that kind of rut? i mean, looking at my life, it is pretty good...i have a family that loves and supports me; i have a roof over my head and food on my table; i have an amazing boyfriend whom i love and he loves me; im in college pursuing an education that most people don't have the opportunity to attempt...why are my eyes so jaded? im so tired from day-in and day-out kinds of things. what do i need to do in order to get back to feeling something again?
o Lord, grant me the peace and patience to find you after the storms and fires and windstorms. meet me in the quiet that follows the explosions and earthquakes. i turn to you, our Father, and humbly rely on your grace once more.
o Lord, grant me the peace and patience to find you after the storms and fires and windstorms. meet me in the quiet that follows the explosions and earthquakes. i turn to you, our Father, and humbly rely on your grace once more.
Monday, June 16, 2008
i made an egg sandwich
Last week, a bunch of Point Loma kids were invited over to the Urban Term kids' house in City Heights. I was pretty stoked to go as some of my good friends are a part of this summer program and I'd been hearing lots of stories about how amazing and challenging and life-changing it was there. As soon as we got there, we were bombarded with hugs and smiles and "make yourself as home"s and "we're SO glad you could come over!"s. Needless to say, I felt welcomed and comfortable in this house in the middle of a neighborhood stereotypically not seen as hospitable.
We all brought something to contribute to the meal, which I think the best way to do things, and soon had way too many eager cooks in the kitchen. Someone suggested going to Azalea Park just down the street, so armed with a frisbee, volleyball, friends and strangers, we set off the quarter-mile walk to the park. It was so relaxing and envigorating to toss around a frisbee, chat about the tough and ridiculous things of life and munch down on some chips and salsa. Just being in the presence of fellow family members brings this indescribable sparkle in everyone's eyes and unwrinkles furrowed brows. Not to say it's any easier, but knowing we aren't going this thing they call life alone brings a fresh, new joy and hope.
Of course, as we don't live in a "happily ever after" book or sugar-coated Candy Land, problems arose. Dinner wasn't done when they expected it to be done; there was no cheese grater to be found; the oil got too hot in the pan and several people almost got burned; the beans weren't quite cocoked all the way, etc, etc, etc. But this joy and community I mentioned briefly earlier made these snafus endurable. The reassuring fact that we were all there to be in fellowship with each other belittled the otherwise terrifying dinner problems.
During dinner, I sat chatting with my friend, Josh. As is typical of conversations, I asked how his day was, expecting the polite, shallow- "fine" or "good" or I'm glad it's over." Not my friend Josh. He cocked his head a little to the left, squinted his eyes deep in thought, and replied, "I made an egg sandwich today." Initially, this caught me off guard and to cover my surprise, I commented something along the lines of, "oh really...how interesting..." He went on to explain that he had never made nor had an egg sandwich before and that was that. We carried on with our dinner and I dismissed the odd statement as we laughed over root beer floats and distributed multiple good-bye hugs all around. Walking down the Urban Term house's driveway, I reminised over our night, smiling at how peaceful and so right of an evening it had been. Josh's comment floated in and kind of got stuck between when to have coffee with Maddie and what I had to do the next day. It refused to budge.
Fast-forward to Thursday or Friday when I was telling my family about what an enjoyable time dinner Monday night was and for some unknown reason, Josh's statement came back into conscious thought. "I made an egg sandwich today." Maybe it was the brutal honesty of the statment. Maybe it was the joy taken in such a simple, everyday task. Or maybe it was the raw reality of what truely being a member of a family is like. Whatever the haunting reason behind Josh's statement, it has caused me to ponder all of the above. To contrast that simple declaration with the facades and barriers and walls we are constantly constructing and campaigning to destroy and rallying around. And conclude that Josh knows what it's like to be alive.
Who knows, maybe I'll make an egg sandwich today. And I don't even like eggs.
We all brought something to contribute to the meal, which I think the best way to do things, and soon had way too many eager cooks in the kitchen. Someone suggested going to Azalea Park just down the street, so armed with a frisbee, volleyball, friends and strangers, we set off the quarter-mile walk to the park. It was so relaxing and envigorating to toss around a frisbee, chat about the tough and ridiculous things of life and munch down on some chips and salsa. Just being in the presence of fellow family members brings this indescribable sparkle in everyone's eyes and unwrinkles furrowed brows. Not to say it's any easier, but knowing we aren't going this thing they call life alone brings a fresh, new joy and hope.
Of course, as we don't live in a "happily ever after" book or sugar-coated Candy Land, problems arose. Dinner wasn't done when they expected it to be done; there was no cheese grater to be found; the oil got too hot in the pan and several people almost got burned; the beans weren't quite cocoked all the way, etc, etc, etc. But this joy and community I mentioned briefly earlier made these snafus endurable. The reassuring fact that we were all there to be in fellowship with each other belittled the otherwise terrifying dinner problems.
During dinner, I sat chatting with my friend, Josh. As is typical of conversations, I asked how his day was, expecting the polite, shallow- "fine" or "good" or I'm glad it's over." Not my friend Josh. He cocked his head a little to the left, squinted his eyes deep in thought, and replied, "I made an egg sandwich today." Initially, this caught me off guard and to cover my surprise, I commented something along the lines of, "oh really...how interesting..." He went on to explain that he had never made nor had an egg sandwich before and that was that. We carried on with our dinner and I dismissed the odd statement as we laughed over root beer floats and distributed multiple good-bye hugs all around. Walking down the Urban Term house's driveway, I reminised over our night, smiling at how peaceful and so right of an evening it had been. Josh's comment floated in and kind of got stuck between when to have coffee with Maddie and what I had to do the next day. It refused to budge.
Fast-forward to Thursday or Friday when I was telling my family about what an enjoyable time dinner Monday night was and for some unknown reason, Josh's statement came back into conscious thought. "I made an egg sandwich today." Maybe it was the brutal honesty of the statment. Maybe it was the joy taken in such a simple, everyday task. Or maybe it was the raw reality of what truely being a member of a family is like. Whatever the haunting reason behind Josh's statement, it has caused me to ponder all of the above. To contrast that simple declaration with the facades and barriers and walls we are constantly constructing and campaigning to destroy and rallying around. And conclude that Josh knows what it's like to be alive.
Who knows, maybe I'll make an egg sandwich today. And I don't even like eggs.
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
blessed-take advantage of it
So many times I've heard, from my parents, peers, friends who visit, etc that "we are so blessed to be on this campus with this incredible view and take advantage of it now because you'll never have an opportunity to live in a place like this again, etc, etc, etc" I do agree, yes, that being on this campus is a unique opportunity and given the fact that I want to work in a social service agency in the middle of a city, no, I probably will never have this view again. It's the "take advantage" part that doesn't sit well with me.
I'm no theology major or biblical scholar, but from what I can understand and have heard preached from more knowledgable folk than I is that, as Christians, we are not called to be comfortable. I mean, Jesus tells us to pick up our cross and follow him. I'm pretty sure that carrying a giant wooden object can't be comfortable, no matter how you hold it...
jokes aside, I cannot come to a point where following God looks like soaking in his blessings and marinating in them forever. I'm not sure where I heard this, but it sums up what my feeble brain can gather from Scripture and studying Christ's life..."we are blessed to be a blessing." As soon as we recognize that we are blessed, we should create ways in which we are blessings to others. I can't help but look at the numerous times in chapel and Time-Out and in my bed where it's been, "God fill me up" and "we ask for your blessing here today" and "rain down your love on us" and... God has already sent his love; Jesus tells us who the blessed are- we're too busy looking West to see it.
Maybe we should stop sitting in our beach front rooms crying out for blessings and go be with those whom Christ has already called blessed. Maybe we shouldn't question whether we should drink alcohol "because it's legal and the people we hang out with don't struggle with alcohol addiction, so I won't be a stumbling block " but why we aren't hanging out with those who are struggling with alcohol dependency and walking in solidarity with them to help overcome their addiction. Maybe instead of looking at the "destitutedness" and "depravity" and "poverty" of places like Mexico and Uganda and _______ (fill in the blank) and thinking, "man, those poor people. I don't know what to do with the cognitive dissonance so I'm gonna chat it over with my buddies until I feel better," we follow their example of relying on God to provide more for us than the flowers of the field or the birds of the air.
Maybe it's time to get uncomfortable.
After all, dying on a cross can't beat the view out my window.
I'm no theology major or biblical scholar, but from what I can understand and have heard preached from more knowledgable folk than I is that, as Christians, we are not called to be comfortable. I mean, Jesus tells us to pick up our cross and follow him. I'm pretty sure that carrying a giant wooden object can't be comfortable, no matter how you hold it...
jokes aside, I cannot come to a point where following God looks like soaking in his blessings and marinating in them forever. I'm not sure where I heard this, but it sums up what my feeble brain can gather from Scripture and studying Christ's life..."we are blessed to be a blessing." As soon as we recognize that we are blessed, we should create ways in which we are blessings to others. I can't help but look at the numerous times in chapel and Time-Out and in my bed where it's been, "God fill me up" and "we ask for your blessing here today" and "rain down your love on us" and... God has already sent his love; Jesus tells us who the blessed are- we're too busy looking West to see it.
Maybe we should stop sitting in our beach front rooms crying out for blessings and go be with those whom Christ has already called blessed. Maybe we shouldn't question whether we should drink alcohol "because it's legal and the people we hang out with don't struggle with alcohol addiction, so I won't be a stumbling block " but why we aren't hanging out with those who are struggling with alcohol dependency and walking in solidarity with them to help overcome their addiction. Maybe instead of looking at the "destitutedness" and "depravity" and "poverty" of places like Mexico and Uganda and _______ (fill in the blank) and thinking, "man, those poor people. I don't know what to do with the cognitive dissonance so I'm gonna chat it over with my buddies until I feel better," we follow their example of relying on God to provide more for us than the flowers of the field or the birds of the air.
Maybe it's time to get uncomfortable.
After all, dying on a cross can't beat the view out my window.
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
love?
"and the problem it seems
is with you and me
not the love who came
to repair everything
and i don't know
what to do with a love like that
and i don't know
how to be a love like that
when all the love in the world
is right here among us and hatred too
so we must choose what our hands will do
where there is pain
let there be grace
where there is suffering
bring serenity
for those afraid
help them be brave
where there is misery
bring expectancy"
-david crowder band
I’m figuring out how to find my identity in Christ and define who I am by Him and the Gospel he calls us to follow instead of the love and joy the people of Southeast bring. In that way I am able to love them, and really everyone I come in contact with, in a manner that is not contingent upon whether or not that like me or love me back. It allows me to be emotionally objective enough to see that saying “no” sometimes is the best love and that when I inevitably fail them, there is a greater love that will never fail them; a greater God who knows the pain and situations they are going through that I don’t understand the half of. It allows me to be ok with the fact that they ultimately don’t need me. And it constantly reorients my life, my ministry, my purpose for being in Southeast, and the reason I invest so much time and energy into their lives-the love that Christ showed us.
oh Lord, forgive me, for i so often ignore your call to be obedient. be with us as we wrestle with this.
is with you and me
not the love who came
to repair everything
and i don't know
what to do with a love like that
and i don't know
how to be a love like that
when all the love in the world
is right here among us and hatred too
so we must choose what our hands will do
where there is pain
let there be grace
where there is suffering
bring serenity
for those afraid
help them be brave
where there is misery
bring expectancy"
-david crowder band
I’m figuring out how to find my identity in Christ and define who I am by Him and the Gospel he calls us to follow instead of the love and joy the people of Southeast bring. In that way I am able to love them, and really everyone I come in contact with, in a manner that is not contingent upon whether or not that like me or love me back. It allows me to be emotionally objective enough to see that saying “no” sometimes is the best love and that when I inevitably fail them, there is a greater love that will never fail them; a greater God who knows the pain and situations they are going through that I don’t understand the half of. It allows me to be ok with the fact that they ultimately don’t need me. And it constantly reorients my life, my ministry, my purpose for being in Southeast, and the reason I invest so much time and energy into their lives-the love that Christ showed us.
oh Lord, forgive me, for i so often ignore your call to be obedient. be with us as we wrestle with this.
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