Ants in My Pants

Went for a walk this evening, thinking I've got to get out of this sedentary lifestyle I've slipped into. It turns chilly fast in the evenings, so I pulled a jacket over my fleece sweater, grabbed my sneakers from the shoe rack, and stepped outside. The gentle breeze and the foggy twilight did wonders for my soul. And yet I found my mind soon busy again with mental checklists: When I get back I have to print copies for tomorrow's lessons, write a journal for Korean class, write that email, and write on the blog if there's time (I ended up working backwards, eek).

And then I shifted to prayer. Just throwing out ideas and questions really. But aloud, of course, which often turns out to be embarrassing when I realize someone's working in the field right next to me. But anyway, tonight's dialogue was something as follows:

God, I'm ready to move on. Not from Korea, but from here. What do you want me to do? Where do you want me to go?

And the Holy Spirit brought to memory this morning's devotion:
Remember what Johanan and the other army leaders asked of Jeremiah: 'Pray that the LORD our God will show us the way we should go and what we should do.' (Jer.42:3) But they had to be obedient to whatever God told them: 'Whether it pleases us or not, we will obey the LORD our God, to whom we are asking you to pray. All will go well with us if we obey him.'" (Jer. 42:6)

Mm, right. OK, God. Then tell me what You want and give me the grace and faith to be obedient. It looks like Desire A is impossible right now. And Desire B has limitless options but I don't know which to pursue. . .And I've got these ants in my pants. This desire to get on with things that is hard to ignore. Couldn't this antsiness be from You? God, if you want me to halt my pursuit of A and B, then take the ants out of my pants and give me peace instead.

Then the Holy Spirit reminded me of the second part of today's meditation:
"If you are willing to go on living in this land, then I will build you up and not tear you down; I will plant you and not pull you up. . .But you...must not disobey the LORD your God and refuse to live in this land. You must not say, 'No, we will go and live in Egypt, where we won't face war any more or hear the call to battle or go hungry. . . If you are determined to go and live in Egypt, then the war that you fear will overtake you, and the hunger you dread will follow you, and you will die there in Egypt." (Jer. 42:10,13-16)

And I realized that antsiness doesn't mean I'm in the wrong place. Johanan, the other army leaders, and the prisoners of war in their charge were desperate to flee from the Babylonians and return to Egypt, and yet that was not God's way. God had a better finale in mind for them than they would find in Egypt, but it required their willingness to go on living in "this land" for a while longer. In fact, if they sought to avoid their present situation by going where the grass was greener, they were essentially choosing their own destruction.

All right, so I get it. My feelings or inclinations are not necessarily reflections of Your will, and sometimes (perhaps more often than not) the way we're supposed to go is counter-intuitive. But God, I keep thinking about time. Four years. Four years here seems like a healthy amount. Not too short, not too long. But five years? Do I want to make a career of it here? No, no I don't. I want to move on, to move forward, to develop my potential more. I've spent the prime of my life here. Before long I'll be thirty. God, can't we get a move on things? Whatever your bigger plan for me is, can't I get started on it now? You know, be efficient?

Without much hesitation, the Lord reminded me of His faithfulness and perfect timing in the past. Specifically, He reminded me of my desire to work with North Korean defectors. I can't remember exactly when that desire precipitated, but it felt like eons before it was realized. And, oh, how impatient I was to just get started already. About this time last year, I met someone involved in helping defectors and he encouraged me to volunteer time teaching them English. When the time felt right, I told him I was ready, but he never got back to me. I told him again, and still no response. Frustrated, I threw up my hands and thought, "Oh, well. I guess this isn't the time afterall." Soon after, he called and explained he'd been out of the country on business, and would I mind tutoring a 15-year-old boy? I've been tutoring Jordan for three months now and it's great how well we get along.

But the thing is, and this is what God reminded me of--had I gotten my heart's desire when I first desired it, I couldn't have enjoyed it at all. It goes without question that I need to use a lot of Korean when I talk to Jordan and his mother. There is absolutely no way I could have enjoyed the same quality of tutoring or relationships with them one or two years ago as I can now. And in God's grace, He didn't make me wait until I was fluent or totally qualified! He just waited until the fruit I desired was ripe for the picking, so I could savor it when sweetest. Had it been up to me, I would've picked too soon and been stuck with a sour fruit. I was reminded to Trust Him.

God wants me to trust His motives, too. When God withholds my desires, He's surely not doing it to drive me crazy. He's probably not even doing it just to build up my endurance (although that's what I often think). As in the example of needing to develop my Korean skills before I could effectively work with North Korean defectors, God is actively working for my good. Rather than dangling a prize just above my head out of arms' reach, is it possible He's building a step stool for me to reach it?

I've started to perceive my present situation as perseverance and patience training. I keep looking at the prize above my head and wondering when the timer will go off, so God will lower the string and let the prize drop into my hand. But God assured me tonight that He's not sitting idly by, playing some waiting game to test my endurance. He is actively engaged in working things out for my good. I can't see the details of how right now, but I can trust Him. I can trust His character. And that's what He wants from me now: to Trust Him.

Taste and See

“What would you like to drink—orange or grape?” she asks, pulling juice containers from the refrigerator. “Grape,” I answer. “I'd wanted to bring some for communion.” Not that we've ever done that before, but somehow I don't feel silly saying it.

I notice a basket of clementines on the table next to a neat row of brick-orange persimmons. “We hardly have an income, and yet we're eating so well.” Her words spill over with gratitude and awe as she recounts the list of givers who have brought fruit, kimchi, spaghetti, and so on. It's evening, nearly time for me to go home, but she tells me to sit down and eat some of that spaghetti that's in the fridge. She hands me the tongs and I dish some up on my plate. “More,” she says. I open the jar of homemade tomato sauce with onions, mushrooms, and red peppers. I ladle it onto the pasta. She sets out a loaf of homemade oatmeal bread next to a jar of nutella, a gift from an international guest. I eat spaghetti and we fix some slices of bread, and I muse at the communion we're sharing, right here at the table, with chocolate spread and all.

A neighbor knocks on the door. A co-worker, he's in the middle of fixing a cookout for the staff community. “Wondered if I could borrow some ingredients,” he asks. He practically makes out a shopping list, rattling off more than a half dozen items he needs. Yes, yes, yes, yes; it's all here for the taking. He goes and comes back a couple more times, and my friend stretches out her hands, her hospitality, without hesitation. She tells me of a guest from the previous week. She'd come from abroad with no plan of where to stay for the week, and so my friend took her in. In fact, it was that guest who'd made the spaghetti I was eating.

As I eat, I remember the puzzle I'd been trying to figure out and see the pieces coming together. I'd been pondering Paul's praise of the Macedonian church: "Out of the most severe trial, their overwhelming joy and their extreme poverty welled up in rich generosity" (2 Cor. 8:2).

I wondered how it could be. How joy and poverty could add up to generosity? I see my “just enough” and measure it precisely, always calculating this gain and that loss and figuring how far I can spread everything around. Could I really spare to be generous? How could the Macedonians give “as much as they were able, and even beyond their ability” (2 Cor. 8:3)? How could poverty plus joy add up to anything but contented lack? And yet—was that it? Contented lack—having nothing and yet having everything. Having joy so great it overwhelms you, overwhelms you to the point where extreme poverty can't get you down, and you're just compelled to give more.

I think of Brother Yun's testimony of impoverished believers in China who, when the offering plate was passed to them, would put it down on the ground and physically step inside, symbolizing the gift of their very lives. And here my friend was, demonstrating a testimony I could taste with my own tongue, see with my own eyes. I tell her how my sister and I had talked about money that week. And how I've started saving, because if I don't pay for my necessities, they'll burden someone else. Afterall, didn't Paul boast that he worked for his own living so he wouldn't be a burden to anyone? And yet, as a wise relative noted, when we insulate ourselves with money, we “take away God's chance to do miracles.” I start to tell her of a family that lives by faith, but we get interrupted and the conversation shifts.

It's just as well, really, because these matters of faith and obedience and wisdom won't be resolved in a conversation. The answers are in red letters, and Paul's letters, and the cross. Sometimes conversations become a tool to circumvent the answer you already know in your heart but don't want to admit. The more you discuss something the more complicated it becomes, and pretty soon there are so many reasonable viewpoints, you have no idea which way to go and any road seems just as valid.

Perhaps it boils down to the question another friend struggles to answer—perhaps the question at the heart of each of us: Does God really love me? And should I trust Him?

If we know God loves us, we have courage to trust Him with our lives—our whole lives: especially money, and also health, relationships, employment, and so on, until ultimately we trust Him to lead us into eternal life.

This week, it seems like God's been wooing me (with food and friendship—He knows what I go for!), convincing me that He really sees me, knows my hidden aches and pains, and holds all Power in His loving, able hands.

When I met my friend on Thursday, my heart felt empty of treasures and heavy with burdens. We sat in the park and I poured out the tears, and when it was time to go back home my heart was full again. The next day was a similar story... what grace that God's mercy is new every morning.

All throughout the week, God's been reminding me, persuading me, to “taste and see that the Lord is good” (Ps. 34:8).

Wednesday, a missionary gave me a loaf of raisin bread I've been munching on all week. Friday, another missionary took me out for lunch, filling not just my belly, but also my heart with good counsel and fellowship. Sunday, I received some fruit from the church's thanksgiving celebration. Monday, I started teaching English to a new friend and she brought a basketful of mocha buns (my favorite!!) and kiwis. The mocha buns really blew me away—only a couple people know I'm crazy about those. And today, I visited my Korean mom, and she sent me home with homemade pickled tomatoes and three loaves of fresh-baked panini. It didn't take long to finish off the first two loaves!

In all these gifts, I see God's love. I know that He sees me. I know that He knows me thoroughly, even the things I can't put into words. I know that He's got me covered.

“Taste and see that the Lord is good.”

Yes, I've been tasting. And I guess God knew I would be. Tomorrow He's lined up a free dentist appointment for me to get my teeth cleaned. =) Oh, me of little faith... how could I still doubt?

Taste and see... taste and see... the Lord is good.

Re-writing the Subway Signs

I'm amused by the signs I see when I ride the subway. Some promise success, others beauty, still others a lofty principle or mantra to live by. They are often dramatic, feel-good messages that promise something only God can really give. Some of the signs are so close to Truth and yet miss it by just one word. At the newly renovated Uijeongbu Station, there are signs emphasizing construction safety. One claims: “Safety! The key to protecting your life.” Another reads: “Happiness grows in safety.” Of course we want our subways to be safe, but as Christians we know that rather than safety, faith in Jesus is the bedrock of our well-being and joy. If this life is God's construction zone for our souls, perhaps the signs should read: “Faith! The key to protecting your life.” Or, “Happiness grows in faith.” The best the world can offer is superficial safety, but God offers unshakeable hope.

2011 has been a hard year for me. In the first four months, my best friend moved to another country, my grandmother passed away, and my parents got divorced. In the last four weeks, another close friend moved abroad, peers I graduated from high school with suddenly lost both of their parents to tragic violence, and my aunt was diagnosed with breast cancer. These difficult circumstances have revealed the inadequacy of “safety” and made me thankful for a house built on the Rock (Matt.7:24-25).

But how can we recognize God's grace in the darkest of times? How can we give thanks in everything? Regarding a recent event, I confessed to my friend Karen, “I just don't know how to be thankful for this. I know how to find a silver lining, but there must be a thankfulness that goes deeper than looking on the bright side. Or what about times when there is no bright side?” And God put the key in her hand and stretched it out to me: “Maybe we can be thankful just because Jesus goes with us through our hardships.”

Indeed, nothing can separate us from His love (Rom.8:38-39), and that is eternal grace, a reason to be joyful and thankful at all times!

These thoughts came back to me when I saw this sign on the subway a couple days ago: “Seoul, where we're all smiling; Seoul, where we're glad to see each other; Seoul, where we're always thankful.” I don't believe a worldly city can ever be like that, but the Church should be! Paul said it first: “Be joyful always... Give thanks in all circumstances” (1Thess.5:16,18). When we remember that Jesus is present with us, we always have a reason to smile, to be glad, and to give thanks. Perhaps in heaven, the banner reads like this: “The Kingdom of Heaven, where we're all smiling; The Kingdom of Heaven, where we're glad to see each other; The Kingdom of Heaven, where we're always thankful.” Could we hang that sign at our church, too?

(Note: I wrote this essay for today's edition of our church bulletin. Thanks to my talented friend Sungmi, there is a Korean translation available upon request. :))

Jirisan

Sitting here at Cafe Lu with a warm glass of sweet lemon citron tea is Part One of my treat for finishing the backpacking trip at Jirisan yesterday. Part Two will be at Burger King this evening when I use the gift certificate I've been holding on to since April. (Yay for finding long-forgotten birthday gifts!)

Three years ago on our school trip to Jirisan, we took the “easy” course and it about killed me. The second day, my legs were sore and the third day they were searing. I didn't know how I could keep climbing. This time we were supposed to take the “hard” course, which I heard even professional hikers stay away from. (What classifies a 'professional' hiker, anyway?) Anyway, I was pretty worried.

Each teacher was assigned to a group of eight or so students to hike and eat meals with. They assigned the best English speakers to my group, and the two girls did a great job keeping us on schedule and preparing the food, which consisted of rice and side dishes which the students brought with them. The choice side dishes for hikers here are SPAM, dried seaweed laver, and tuna. Entrees were instant you-name-it: curry, hamburger, teriyaki chicken, meatballs—and dry, pressed soup cubes that unraveled into seaweed strips or broke off into fish bits and were really the most real thing we ate besides the rice. For snacks and boosts of energy, we each had a bag of assorted candy and chocolate. I never thought I'd tire of sugar, but I was surprisingly envious of the man I saw eating a cucumber on day three. “Oh, to eat a real vegetable!”

Well, it turns out the “hard” course differed from the “easy” course only on day one, and only in that we hiked up to the trail head instead of driving to it. It was four strenuous hours of climbing rocks, sweating profusely, and breathing in noisy whooshes of hot air. But there was nothing about it that required professional skill, only perseverance and muscle.

The second and third days we followed the same course as a few years ago. It was fun to recognize all the lodges where we had previously eaten and slept.

On the fourth day, we got up bright and early at 4:30am, in time to see the sunrise over Cheonwangbong (천왕봉), the highest peak on the South Korean peninsula. It was hard climbing and I'd forgotten my flashlight so had to keep pace with the students ahead of me. The wind picked up when we got to the summit, so it was very cold but exciting to see the sunrise. Usually it's too cloudy to see it, but both years we were blessed with clear skies.

We came down by a steep route of rocks and boulders that looked like dirt-covered potatoes, some still half-buried and others fully snatched from the ground. If you see any photos of Jirisan trails that are not COMPLETELY covered with rocks, those photos are not representative. Here are a few, and you can find more on Facebook. Enjoy!

  

 

My favorite flower at Jirisan (지리바꽃, or Aconitum chiisanense Nakai)



*          *          *

If you've still got some time, scroll on down for an embarrassing story and some reflection. :-)

I have no idea how it happened—stepping from one rock, over an eighteen-inch gap, to another—did I look up and miss the second rock completely, or did I just step awkwardly, teeter and then fall? Anyway, I very suddenly found myself leaning backwards over a rock, facing the way I'd come, on my back, upside-down, with my legs straight up and my feet swinging aimlessly above my head. I let out a cry of surprise and started laughing from embarrassment and confusion, when Bom Jun, a boy ahead of me (fortunately, there was no one behind me!) ran back, yelling, “Teacher! Teacher! Are you OK?” I quickly sat up, relieving my backpack from its suffocating position between me and the rock. Bom Jun picked my Nalgene bottle up off the ground and wedged it back into the pouch on my pack and then handed me my hat, which had also fallen on the ground. After making sure I was OK, he started to hike on and then turned back and said, “Teacher, your bag is life.” I thought he meant it was like a good luck charm that had kept me from getting hurt and I chuckled agreeably. But when I replayed the incident, remembering me lying backwards over an unyielding rock, ponytail touching the ground, feet in the air, backpacking smashed beneath me, I realized what he meant—my backpack had greatly cushioned my fall and kept my back from being hurt. Even today it's not a bit sore.

As I mentioned in the last post, I've been reading this book, One Thousand Gifts, about being joyful in the grace all around you, and like the author, I tried to thank God for everything about the situation, believing it all to be grace, and mindful that it had all passed through God's hands before I experienced it. Thank you for my backpack, and for Bom Jun, and even for that embarrassing fall—Why not? It all turned out okay. And I was thankful and felt loved and blessed, knowing I'd been spared great injury. It all ended well and, yes, God is good. But then I questioned, as the author and so many others have, What if it hadn't been OK? What if I had not been spared? What if in a freak fall over a rock, I had cracked a vertebrae and been paralyzed? Would that still have been grace? What of God then? Is God still good? Is God still Love? These are not just hypothetical questions. It's easy to say God is good when things work out. But what about when they don't?

Perhaps it's like Bom Jun said: “Your bag is life.” That bag I'd carried over 6,283 feet of rocks and bridges to the top of a mountain and back down, that bag that made my shoulders ache with tension and my abs with strain, that bag that had been a burden to me, which I had so eagerly shrugged off at every chance, that very bag had saved me from much greater harm. It was God's grace to me for my journey.

I'm not sure just how that metaphor fits with the theology of laying your burdens down, but I believe the hard things we have to bear in this life—the things we have little, if any, control over—are opportunities for God to be glorified and us drawn closer to Him. That bitter weight hanging around your neck, the one that's bent your head heavy toward the ground, sling it around behind you, and let it be the weight that pulls your head up toward heaven.

Friendship & Extravagant Love

School's out, but I've got plenty to keep me occupied! Twice a week, I go to the neighbor's house (Sun-ju unni) and teach English to three young boys. Gi-hwan and Ju-hwan are Sun-ju unni's sons, and Yae-sun is my Korean tutor's son. So we have a nice language exchange worked out. :-) And it's much easier--and I daresay more enjoyable--than teaching at the elementary school, because both moms are there to take care of discipline issues... and provide snacks afterwards! :-) The kids love playing Go Fish with alphabet cards and clothing pictures, and I recently introduced them to a new Jenga game I found online--you label the blocks with numbers that correspond to questions. But the biggest excitement is the addition of the new BABY! She was born nearly 2 weeks ago but doesn't have a name yet. If I understood Sun-ju unni correctly, she will go to the nearby temple and inquire (either by prayer or to a monk) about what to name her daughter. Anyway, I love these kids! They're so sharp and full of life.



Sun-ju unni and her daughter at one-week old




Middle photo L-R: Yae-sun, Ju-hwan, Gi-hwan


In other news, the rainy season is over! It stopped abruptly on Saturday night, after one month of successively rainy days. I was actually a little sad to see it go. I enjoyed the cooler days and whisper of rain outside my window. But although the heat and humidity are back, it's sure nice to hang the laundry outside and have it dry in a few hours rather than a few days. We've entered a nice season of few mosquitoes and lots of butterflies!



Tutoring, social activities, and wasteful internet surfing take up a fair share of my free time, but most of it is spent reading this Korean book that is WAY above my level. Aunt Hannah gave it to me when I was home at Christmas, in hopes that I could help her translate it into English someday (help edit her translation, that is). Anyway, it is 250 pages of hard vocabulary, but the content is really inspiring. It's the story of Yan Bian University of Science and Technology, a school established in China in the late 1980's and early 90's, mostly by Korean Christians with a vision to love people to Christ through great acts of service and mercy. If the story wasn't so good, it would be hard to keep plowing through the field of untilled vocabulary. It took 7 hours for me to get through 14 pages today, but it felt good to reach the 200-page milestone! I'm determined to finish it before I go home. (Aunt Hannah's promised to buy me another book for every one I finish, hehe.)




"Easy" page on top; hard page on bottom. :-/

 

This week I have been really blessed by friendship. I think I got together with Sungmi, my next-door neighbor and Korean "mom," every other day! On Monday, we met at the National Museum in Seoul to see an exhibition from the Victoria and Albert Museum in London. I didn't know how exciting a "Princely Treasures" exhibit could be, but it was fabulous! The museum link doesn't do it justice, but maybe it's better than no pictures at all. I really felt like I'd spent the afternoon in Europe! Then we enjoyed a too-brief chat over grapefruit juice and an orange muffin at a cafe afterwards. Although the time was cut too short, we agreed it would be one of our favorite memories together. Yesterday afternoon I went over for our weekly language exchange and ended up baking oatmeal raisin cookies and staying for dinner. What a treat! After the sun went down we went for a 3-mile walk around the village. She sent me home with fresh green beans from her garden, a bag full of potatoes, and a big jar of homemade tomato sauce. :-) I am blessed, no doubt about it.



Sungmi's green-bean, fresh basil, olive, mushroom, and salami pizza from our dinner last Friday. Creative and delicious!


And now, I've gotta tell you one last story from today, because this lady boggles my mind. I first met Jin-su and Jin-su's oma, or mom, in March at the middle school's opening program. When they introduced themselves as a missionary family that had spent time in the U.S. and most recently in Russia, I made sure to make a beeline for them after the service. I don't know why, but ever since I was a little kid I've been really interested in missionaries. (And now that I'm in Korea I think I feel a foreigner kinship with them.) When I rushed over to meet Jin-su's mom, I expected a friendly smile and hello but certainly not a huge bear hug! (Koreans just don't do that!) She acted like she was my long-lost relative come from afar just to see me. And ever since that day she has surprised me more and more with her loving generosity. We've only seen each other randomly at church dinners or school events, and yet she usually seeks me out to give me gifts. At first it was snacks from Russia from when her husband came back for a visit. (It's not uncommon for Korean missionary families to live in separate countries like that). Then it was a pretty, Korean-style cosmetics bag she picked up at the airport because it "looked like" me. But today I was stunned to find her at my door with a bag of baked goods and a lovely, floral-print blouse! I tried it on for her to see that it fit and then she was out the door as quickly as she'd come.

Pretty shirt from Jin-su's oma

Later I sat at my desk puzzling over what kind of crazy love would make her do that. Why would she care about me so much? We don't know each other very well nor see each other very often and yet she thinks of me and shows her love in such tangible ways. I've heard it said that our Christian life should be so radical that people have to ask "Why?" and that there would be no plausible answer except Christ in us.

When's the last time I was such a blessing to someone that after I left they sat down in bewilderment, as I did today, and wondered, "Why on earth does she love me so much?"

I'm thankful to God for the ways He shows His love for me through people like Jin-su's oma. Who can you and I show extravagant love to today?

The Squeaky Rocker

"That baby's got strong lungs!" I marvelled as she wailed to their full capacity. Just a few months old, she was sleepy and ready for an after-lunch nap. A few minutes later, all I could hear was the squeaking of the glider chair as mother rocked baby to sleep.

Scrrreeech....crrreeeaaak....scrrrreeech.....crrreeeaaak....

It was dreadfully shrill and impossibly loud. "How can that baby sleep?!?" I wondered. (I can't even sleep through a clock ticking... hence, no clock in my room.) But she was sleeping soundly.

Scrrreeech....crrreeeaaak....scrrrreeech.....crrreeeaaak....

I was amazed the creaky rocker didn't make her cry louder. I wasn't sure how much more I could take! "How could she sleep through that ruckus?" I wondered again. There must be something greater and more powerful than that horrible screeching.

As I looked at the sleeping baby snuggled cozily at her mother's breast, I realized that the comfort of her mother's arms holding her close, the warmth of her mama's body, the scent of her shirt, the love of her embrace, was overcoming any disturbance from the outside.

And I realized we've got that same refuge in our Heavenly Father. When life goes haywire and the din seems unbearable, we've only to snuggle up close to His heart and let Him shield us with his mighty, gentle arms. It sounds a bit like dreamy rhetoric, I know; but believe me, it's practical. The problem is that on our dreary days, it's so hard to reach out our hands to receive God's renewal. It's hard to worship, hard to pray, even harder to open the Bible (at least for me!). It's much easier to ruminate on the problem or avoid it all together.

Today was a down day for me, and even after that inspiring moment with the baby, I took my own little nap swaddled in self-pity. But tonight is all right. God gave me a song, listened to my cry, and gave me something good to chew on from the Word (check out Colossians 3:12-17). I know that each rut in the road is helping me improve my shock-absorbers of faith, so that someday I can cruise through pot holes without flying off my seat...... or "off the handle." :-) Like the baby who could sleep through the terrible racket coming from right under her, our calm in the storm will make people wonder.... "How can he/she possibly have peace through this?!?" And we can tell them...




Gently rolling mountains are always a sweet embrace to me. Maybe that's why I like hiking. :-)

 

Life Tithe

I heard it suggested recently that Christians give a “life tithe” to God. For example, if you live to be eighty years old, you should spend eight years working only for God (mission work was given as the example). Of however long your life is, you should use ten percent of those years to focus completely on serving the Lord. Now, I think the point was that we should dedicate a good chunk of our lives to serving God without pursuing other things. But I have a couple hangups with a "life tithe."

For one, you can't surrender just ten percent of your life to God and use the other ninety percent as you like. Don't forget we are Christ's bride. Would you want just ten percent of your spouse's devotion? Jesus gave his whole life for us, and we are called to do the same. I think the financial tithe is similar. God doesn't want us to give a tenth of our money to the church and spend the other ninety percent however we want. On the contrary, all of our possessions and all of our time on this earth are gifts from God to be used for His glory. After we give ten percent to the church, we continue to consult Him about the other ninety percent. It's just that His unique plan for each of our lives requires some creative space, and He's got endless possibilities to be glorified through our time and resources. His vision for expanding the Kingdom goes beyond the local church into hospitals, car repair shops, restaurants, beauty salons, you-name-it. Whether it's money or time, one hundred percent comes from God and is due Him. He's just got endless ways of making returns. We don't all have to spend a portion of our life preaching from a pulpit, being a missionary in a foreign land, or even living in an intentional community. (Actually, as I was listening to this sermon, the woman next to me leaned over and said, “You've already got three years done!” I guess she thought that just living here in community counted as a life completely surrendered to God. But that is not at all the case. In fact, I think these church-saturated lifestyles often give a false sense of all-out devotion for God that often results in lukewarm Christians. Maybe more on that later.)

The second point is that even if a “life tithe” were required and ten percent full-out devotion was all that was required of us, how could you measure it in years? No one can predict the span of their life; all that we're guaranteed is today. So let's figure it—ten percent of 24 hours is roughly 2 ½ hours. And it wouldn't be a bad idea to spend that much time in prayer, Bible study, worship, and service each day. It would be awesome, actually! But even so, God has a plan for the other 21 ½ hours, too. Plans for taking a meal to a sick neighbor, plans for loving on your kids, plans for enjoying nature, plans for writing that letter, or even renewing your body with a nap.

Whatever you've been given—in terms of money or of time—it's all intended for the glory of God. Let's not stop at giving ten percent.

Rethinking Enough

Sometimes I'm caught off guard by the simplicity around me. I think of Korea as this first-world, highly technological country with all the common amenities we take for granted in the U.S., but then I walk around my village, visit a neighbor's house, look around my own house, take a trip to the countryside... and find tiny, two-room houses, laundry in plastic tubs for washing, clothes hanging on metal rods with no wardrobe to hide them. I find stark simplicity--what some might call poverty back home--and it startles me. Not just because it's an anomaly in my glossy, white-washed paradigm, but because my eyes glanced over it so many times without noticing.

I remember last winter my college church sent me a care package chock-full of warm gloves, socks, and scarves. I didn't know what one person could do with all of that, so I assumed it was meant to be distributed to the needy. Not knowing who among our students was most in need, I took the box over to the pastor's house with instructions to give the gifts to the poor among us. Several days went by and I wondered what had become of all those warm winter accessories. Then the night came for our weekly community meeting and the pastor arrived with the care package in tow. He explained that my church back home had sent me the package and I was sharing it with them. At first I was a little disappointed or irritated. I'd said that the presents were to be given to the poor, but here they were being given to our very own community members. A thought ran through my head, "Perhaps I should have kept that stuff for myself afterall." I sat back at the edge of the circle looking on as moms and dads, twenty-some year-olds, and children pulled colorful gloves, soft fuzzy socks, warm hats, mittens, and scarves from the box and held up with "oohs" and "ahhs." And as I watched the gleeful commotion unfold, kids holding up their selections like trophies and everyone expressing their thanks, I realized for the first time that we were poor. It had never dawned on me until then that we who lived in community were perhaps the poorest in our church (a congregation that largely lives and works in Seoul). And so the pastor had carried out his duty afterall.

In the last month or so, I've visited a couple friends' homes in my neighborhood. Their families live simply, a husband, wife, and kids all in one room. In my own house here, each of the families lives all together in one room, with the kids in bunk beds and the parents on the floor. In the West, this is hard to imagine. For me too, it raises several questions (not the least of which is, "So, how does the second baby come along?"). ;-) But one thing I've learned from living alongside these families--and, in fact, sharing life in common with them--is that it's possible to be poor and still have everything you need to be happy, even comfortable. I don't mean extreme poverty--I'm not romanticizing or downplaying that at all--I mean the "poverty" of having simply enough. To the world, that looks like poverty; but when you're accustomed to it, it really is enough.

I don't want to confuse you with two main points, but there is another word that rang true the night the care package was divied up. As my regret turned to gladness, I remembered these words Jesus said: "This is my commandment that you love one another, that your joy may be full." That night it really made sense. In whatever situation you're in, in want or in plenty, if you love one another, you'll have full joy. Love is most essential.

Why "Pilgrim's Pursuit"?

While pondering what to name this new blog, it seemed fitting to include the word 'pilgrim.' A pilgrim is defined as "a person who journeys, especially a long distance, to some sacred place as an act of religious devotion." Change "sacred place" to the Kingdom of Heaven and "religious devotion" to faith in Jesus Christ, and I think we've got a pretty good description of who a Christian is called to be. 'Pursuit' follows because the call of my life is to seek God earnestly.

These days I am attending morning prayer services at my church. At 5:45am my alarm sounds and as I groggily open my eyes, a half dozen excuses emerge from their sleeping chambers and run back and forth through my fuzzy mind: "Six and a half hours of sleep?!  God knows you need the rest." "Why drag yourself there? Isn't that just legalism?" "You wouldn't want to develop a wearisome ritual." "You can't understand the sermon anyway, so why not just pray on your own later in the day?" "Maybe you're going to impress others; afterall, you don't pray at 6am by yourself." So this week, when my body wanted nothing more than a few more hours' sleep, there was only one Word that could compel me to stand up, run to the bathroom, throw on some decent clothes, pick up my Bible and hymnal, and head to the sanctuary: "Seek earnestly." I don't mean we all have to get up at 6am to pray! (And goodness knows, our church is slacking compared to most Korean churches that meet at 4 or 5am!) I only mean to say, our lives--that is, our day-to-day choices--should be marked by an earnest seeking of the Lord which trumps our bodily desires, as we give ourselves over more and more to pursuing Him with our whole being.

I know God has given me a knack for writing, but without discipline, I have buried that talent rather than investing it for His Kingdom. It's time to start putting that talent to greater use. In this blog, I'd like to share what God reveals to me in the common, everyday experiences as well as those special "Aha!" moments that take me by surprise. I want to share fun, laid-back moments, too, but ultimately, I want to recognize how even the smallest pleasures, pains, joys, and failures find meaning in Christ.

I'll close with an analogy that illustrates the godly pursuit so well, as found in 1 Corinthians 9:24-27 (the Message):

^24-25You've all been to the stadium and seen the athletes race. Everyone runs; one wins. Run to win. All good athletes train hard. They do it for a gold medal that tarnishes and fades. You're after one that's gold eternally.
 ^26-27I don't know about you, but I'm running hard for the finish line. I'm giving it everything I've got. No sloppy living for me! I'm staying alert and in top condition. I'm not going to get caught napping, telling everyone else all about it and then missing out myself.

If these were my words, then this sloppy, undisciplined gal would be quite the hypocrite. But these are Paul's words. And I'm hoping to grow into them. :-)