Thursday, March 31, 2011

Learning to Be a Child, 4.

You're not just a child, you're My child.
So cry, but cry out, "Abba! Father!"


For you did not receive the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear,
but you have received the Spirit of adoption as sons,
by whom we cry, "Abba! Father!"
Romans 8.15
...啊爸...!
Cry, but cry out, "Mercy!"
Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me.
Nevertheless, not my will, but yours be done.
Luke 22.42
Mercy comes running,
because the Son became an orphan,
for you. For me.
When all cries to silence come, listen:
Child, He groans out for [not against] you!

Because you are sons,
God has sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts,
crying, "Abba! Father!"
So you are no longer a slave, but a son,
and if a son, then an heir through God.
Galatians 4.6
This is the bold unbrazen approach.
This is welcome not presumption.

When I am faithless, he remains faithful,
I am His child.

Learning to Be a Child, 3.

i think, maybe... i think, He forgives me,
for squirming and not being still.
for being a child.
for not knowing:
ah, Lord GOD!  
behold, I do not know...
for I am only a youth. 

but He does not excuse me:
do not be dismayed
lest I dismay you

neither does He leave me without help:

behold, I make you this day
a fortified city, an iron pillar, and bronze walls...
I am with you, declares the LORD, to deliver you.

can i not be dismayed? this day?
can i not be fortified to obey?
have i not already been?
then how?
when?
why?

so. many. question marks.
how unbecoming,
for only a child.

Wednesday, March 30, 2011

Learning to Be a Child, 2.

Beware the undertow.
Cain fell victim to the jealous rage he refused to master.

My friend is working with her almost-three-year-old on "trusting and believing Mommy":

Unbelievable! she sighs.
What it comes down to is this:
he really doesn't know how much  I love him, 
the content or the extent of my love.
I tell him I love him, again and again,
everyday, in many ways.

But no child knows.

I never was good at being a child. I always had to know. When all the trust and belief in mommy and daddy began to do violence, I was berated again for withdrawing in self-protection. Punished a second time, for being hurt, for not finding or placing security in their imperfect love. So it felt.

Not so is the LORD's love.
But I just. don't. know.

How do I give him my honesty? My honest garbage.
The fury, grief, and despair that blind me to His forever love.

How is it okay? To abuse the One who loves me, in my not knowing?

But for his mercy, it would not be okay.
I would be destroyed and given over.
I would have abandoned my Faithful One.

The LORD, though, He remains patient, faithful, turns my heart back.
Steeps it in grace, to see that it was never me loving Him or clinging to Him.
All my heart and all my soul and all my strength cannot muster trust and belief in those dark hours.
But He never lets me go, never leaves me outside His forever love.

Must I turn away? Can't I love Him?

Learning to Be a Child, 1.

At the bottom of the moody pendulum,
on those days I feel overlooked,
days like last Wednesday,
I just want to be petty.
Do You see me, Lord? Do you remember?
You said I would live Your child forever,
but I feel like I'm growing old and dying, dying, dying...
Forget being the bigger person.
Let me be childish, as a child.
Pacify me.
These are the days that I wrenchingly know,
that my heart is too small for the land beyond the sea,
that I'm helplessly unready for the world I want so badly.

Why is there ugliness left in my heart?
Why does unforgiveness still persist?
Why is the wound still open and stung by salty tears?
Why does hurt remain? And tears, and sorrow?
Why is there working and waiting to do yet?
Why, LORD? When will faith turn to sight?

Franklin wrote, reminding me that I can and should go to my Maker.
And David too, said that I had the LORD's pity:

My heart heard something true
about the Covenant Keeper's unconditional love,
yet something slighting his trustworthiness, his steadfastness,
His worthiness to be loved, honored, trusted, and feared above all else.

Really? Can I give Him that last-Wednesday heart?
Can I give Him bloodthirsty psalms and abandonment laments?
This heart, with all its doubt and accusations, hurt and dishonor,
Is He patient with it? With my fear and flight?

Know and give thanks, Irene said:


This post is to be continued,
the wrestling to be remembered,
because God cleared his throat,
and this huge age-old mountain in my heart
upped and dumped itself in His sea that day.

how do i approach in a third way that is other from
trembling fear
&
o no big deal
how do i enter the throneroom bold but not brazen,

Tuesday, March 29, 2011

:oB

Comparing top teeth with a Florentine. A train, 2011 March.

 Joshua Liu:  WHAT is THAT?
:oB
a rabbit?
 Sent at 1:18 PM on Tuesday
 me:  it's me lol
people keep saying my front teeth are rounded
 Sent at 1:45 PM on Tuesday
 Joshua Liu:  LOL
SO TRUE
 me:  hahah see?
 Sent at 2:01 PM on Tuesday
 Joshua Liu:  I KNOW
i used to file them while you were sleeping

And that's how the bunny came to be.
Feeding me his birthday cake. Warrenville, 1990 August.

"Easter Bunny" was my least favorite Josh-given nickname,
even worse than Fatch, Fuggle, Faggle, Fatchlette, Futch,
Mei, Meishua, Stir, Stirring Stick, Tuh, and Tubby.

Monday, March 28, 2011

Jesus Facepalmed

And Jesus Wept statue
"Jesus Wept" statue, St. Joseph's, Oklahoma City.

Sunday, March 27, 2011

Shrouded not Shielded

(Journal on 3/23/11)

It hurt to be invisible. I was shrouded by my silence, but not protected, though others were safely cloaked by me. I punished myself for the choice. And why shouldn’t I? I wasn’t worth noticing or advocating for, surely that was why nobody acknowledged me, not even when I was hurting. But wasn’t I silent because nobody had space for me? How then, did I have space to accommodate everybody? I was as destructive and distant from everyone and myself. Time passed and warped. I became needy and unrejecting, a black hole. Without matter. Didn’t matter.

If perpetrator and victim can’t coexist, why survive? One or the other has to be excluded from the community, so I thought. I chose to leave and survive, to be included abroad like I wasn’t at home. NYC worked, kind of. Everything was new, I was being renewed.

But constantly hitting the refresh button was also deleting my history. Which was fine—I wasn’t seen before, I might as well not have been there. But the hurt remained, proof that I had been there. So it was not fine. I had to keep moving, erasing, outrunning.

Mama Shiou was my traveler’s rest. In many ways she was telling me you’re not invisible. I see you. you’re safe here. you can be home. The world was not too far gone; I still felt real in this corner of it.

She died a year ago today. My safe place imploded. The only person who noticed a hurting child, and let her stay a child, stay and rest, was gone. I needed her. It wasn’t ugly as long as she was still in it. I needed to see her.

I thought I needed Mama Shiou. She knew I didn't. She wouldn’t have wanted that. She wasn’t telling me I could only exist in her presence. She was trying to free me, not bind me.

Mama Shiou. And Franklin, Sung-Ha, Josh, Michael, Irene, Rachel, Norman. I crouched and made a living in their shadows; harbour me. They’re not telling me to need them. They’re telling me I am safe in the world, or at least that I can be. And that the world isn’t too unbearable, as long as I can remain in it. I must let myself stay, in order to survive the ugliness.

She was telling me to rightly belong to and appropriately own the space wherever I went. To make it, if only a teeny bit, more beautiful and safe by simply being present.

I didn’t die with her. Here I am, see me. Hineni. Now, finally. I’ll tell you how I see me, how I believe my Father sees me, and you can decide what you do with it. But. I’m here. Deal with it.

This happened. Historically, it did. I happened. I won’t edit myself out anymore. Each of you who saw but ignored, and all of you who didn’t see when you should have, will now have to reckon with illusion and reality. Because, really, I’m here. I will be acknowledged. We’ll meet halfway as long as I decide to stay.

I’m sorry for letting you minimize me. I shouldn't have. But shame on you, for diminishing me to augment yourself. I won’t let you anymore—so that we both can fit into the community of humans. Maybe you aren’t to blame, maybe I exiled myself. Maybe I invited and enabled your monstrosity. Well, I’m going to find out which fears are real and which are imagined, and I’m going act as safe and seen as I am and have really always been in my Father's house--though I knew Him not.

If you refuse to listen, and I don’t think you will—I don’t think you’re the monster I feared. But if you refuse to open your eyes, that doesn’t make me invisible. And you will have failed me, not the other way around. I cannot count you a loss, because I never gained you. And I won’t concede space for you anymore, even—especially—if you would prefer I disappear.

Friday, March 25, 2011

Come and see, you'll TGIF too.

Philip said to Nathanael and I say to you, "Come and see."
You're invited to witness three great things.

  1. "Friday" official MV (Rebecca Black).


    Are you one of the 45 million views on YouTube? I'm... at least 14 of those. So I'm tucking away the most LOL-worthy music video I have seen in a long while for future-me's future web entertainment. In case I forget that such hilarious things exist, the intarwebz will recall.

  2. Friday nights. Did you get the invite? Yes, you. You who love the LWEC children and want them to taste and see, you who feed His sheep.
    E: You don't really want to hear or be uncomfortable, but you have to be the first one if you're trying to invite them there. The Holy Ghost party, that is.
    Pea: Haha yea that's true.
    E: You can't invite them to a party you're not at! Well I guess you could but they prob won't wanna go. I think that's all we can do, is "Come and see, from where I'm sitting."
    Pea: Mmk. Will try to get myself to the party. Thanks for reminding me.
    E: Hahah you'll get there! He gets you there! ... WHICH SEAT CAN I TAKE? BAHAHAHA jk.
    Pea: Omg.... -.-
    E: Just makin sure it's burned into your memory in time for FRIDAY.
    Pea: haha TOMORROW. FUN FUN FUN FUN.
    If you could only taste and see, you'll find such goodness that you won't be able to stop promoting the party. You who burn out from ineffective beg-pleading, come and drink deeply. He's worthy, come worship and seek Him with me, it's worth it; accept and extend this invitation.

    Take heart. See and be nourished yourself first. Be the trellis not the Vine.

  3. Good Friday is soon.

Thursday, March 24, 2011

Seeing Double.

This week I have been harassed and blinded.

By unforgiveness.

I'm deceived and overcome by the tempting lie that forgiving someone means he gets to move on, scot-free and applauded by people who should love me but don't see while stumbling I bear the cost, dishonor, toil, sorrow, shame of releasing my transgressor.

For to me, it feels unfair, his freedom for my chains. How can I forgive? It feels like death.


Hans gently reminded me to consider: Before God, who is more set free? Who has kept living his dying life and who has died into lasting life?
In the sight of God, Pashhur--a priest who had persecuted God's servant for speaking the true words of the LORD--is called Terror On Every Side
Yet to the world, it appears to be Jeremiah who represents that "Terror is on every side!"
I pray against blindness, against my worldliness.
I pray that the eyes of my heart be opened,
I pray that the double-vision be renewed.
I pray as Rebecca challenged me to when we read chapter 19:

Daddy, change our hearts. The ones that don't... see the world as You do.

Wednesday, March 23, 2011

You're beautiful.

o LORD, haste the day when my faith shall be sight
the clouds be rolled back as a scroll
the trumps shall resound and the LORD shall descend
even so, it is well with my soul
it is well with my soul
it is well, it is well with my soul

when we arrive on eternity's shore
where death is just a memory and tears are no more
we'll enter in as the wedding bells ring
Your bride will come together and sing

You're beautiful.

Remembering.

Mama Shiou loved me. When she passed away a year ago today, she was the only "adult" who shared a terrible secret I kept. The only parent, anyway. The three were kind to befriend me through the pain, but gently urged me to grow up through it. She knew, and she still loved me. She knew and she gave me the space to be a child. Made me feel fully known, yet fully loved. Told me I was still precious, clean, that I could still go lightly...



lots of girls walk around in tears
but that's not for you
you've been lookin all around for years
for someone to tell your troubles to
come and sit with me and talk awhile
let me see your pretty little smile
put your troubles in a little pile
and i will sort them out for you

// the white stripes

She told me not to take myself so heavily.
A beautiful necklace for a beautiful girl, she said when she fastened it on me.
Always smile at least as bright as the beads, she told me.
The picture was taken the day after God took her Home.

He loved me devastatingly. I rejected Him.
Didn't doubt His love or mercy--admitted it and spat on it.
He held onto me. He will love me to the very end.

In her absence I now know, she is not The Safe Place. The Sanctuary. or The parental arms and acceptance. My Father in heaven covers me, and gave me a taste through her. Now I see.

In all circumstances He continues to lift the veil to see what I never dared to believe: that exile was en route Home.


Thursday, March 17, 2011

Notes along a mournful mountain climb.

Tasks.

They come.

As waters.
Garrison, NY. 2011 February.
As deserts.
Phoenix, AZ. 2010 February.
As mountains.

Newport, RI. 2011 March.
As goodbyes.

This one, this time, rises treacherously steep. But as the rest, it rises into life. There will be no sidestepping, no easy way through. Nor should there be, for such a prize.

But the path is lit one step and one reach at a time, with the promise of a glorious sunrise at the summit, where light and height flatten all the clefts, all the crags, all the cliffs.

Seattle, WA. 2011 January.
Just a bit farther, longer, onward, upward, is rest at last for aching calves, joy at last for aching hearts. Where the ropes and axes are done away and the rest is a matter of flying, the climb was just a little hike, and the hike was just a little while. CS Lewis, "Man or Rabbit?


***

It's dark on this climb, give me a new song to rejoice yet.
But I am sure of tomorrow's sunshine,
And sure that it is worth waiting and walking and working for.
Easter sunrise cannot come soon enough to melt the ice of the next 40 days.

sunshine, won't you be my mother
sunshine, come and help me sing
my heart is darker than these oceans
my heart is frozen underneath

***

You told me I couldn't climb this one looking and reaching behind for the comforts and dear companions of the valley plain; that backward grappling was too tense to not resent. So I hope I'll see you there. It sure would be nice to try, both of us bettered by the ascent.

If not, even so--it will be well; you are not the mountain-top nor am I.

With or without you--I'll rejoice before the LORD, before whom the mountain writhe. I will take joy in the God of my salvation. GOD, the Lord, is my strength; he makes my feel like the deer's; he makes me tread on my high places.

Hab 3, John Piper, Velvet SteelGod make our feet
like mountain deer
to rise and cleat
the narrow path.

Monday, March 14, 2011

A reflection.

The mirror kind.

I'm convinced God put him in my life so that I could see myself more clearly.

A sight of an appalling and true kind.
***

The bleed from the wound he inflicted reveals a double-sourced flow.

It stains the one hand with the blood of the defrauded crying for justice, and washes the other with the blood of the Lamb slaughtered pleading pardon for the guilty.

The pain for years bisected my faith between the LORD who meets the poor, the orphaned, the widowed, the needy--and the God who abandoned his crucified son.

I'd heard it said that the LORD my God, the LORD, was One.

I could not see it.

***
Still an ass after all these years.  Still justifying his crimes and buffering his conscience.  Said I obviously just wanted to make him feel bad.

A forgiven ass, I told him.
***

Released him, because Christ has freed me, has covered me.  Because He stands to offer the same freedom and healing to the perpetrator as to the victim. The world does not divide neatly into these categories, for all have sinned and fallen short.  But to all who did receive him, who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God.

***
He responded near to Well that's nice, I've forgiven myself too.  Not sure why you felt the need to tell me, I already know all this.  I've moved on.

How could a life upheld by such grace not be transformed, I thought distinctly.

At times I feel like my Father in Heaven is giving me a cosmic noogie, and Friday afternoon was one of those times.

But for Your grace, Lord...
I would still be a slave in מצרים
Thank You for bringing me home,
for making all things new.

Saturday, March 12, 2011

Night

Every color must have drained out from and into my face tonight, watching.  It felt so at least.  Terror and remembrance of two mid-Septembers ago shot through my heart and gripped me, to the pinkies of my hands and toes.  They're unsure even now, five hours later.  Unsteady.  The chatter and the din of dining noises continued, how could they?

Lips formed (help) but only a scream screeched out.  911.  God, somebody, now.  WTF.  DO IT!  Utensils dropped.  Silence.   No, God.  The other restaurant patrons must have thought me wacky, I was shaking my head, a furious cautious plea.  No no no no no, I said.  They told me it was okay.  Or that it would be.  Not if it's a repeat, no. No.  A best friend on the cusp of abundant passionate adventurous life.  No.  Not her.  Take me... You can't... Please don't.

An EMT-trained Asian guy happened to be dining there.  Helped restore order and a delicate calm before the emergency responders arrived.  It's only been a short breath of air... And, recalling that year's devastation, I can't get whirled under. Too soon. Not again. Not yet. No.

Return, O my soul, to your rest;
for the LORD has dealt bountifully with you.
He restores your soul.
If you lie down, you will not be afraid;
when you lie down, your sleep will be sweet.

For you have delivered my soul from death,
my eyes from tears,
my feet from stumbling;
You gave a wide place for my steps under me,
and my feet did not slip.

Friday, March 11, 2011

Tuesday, March 8, 2011

Desert, 4.

Lent begins tomorrow.

This year I will be continuing to grapple with the deepest death I've yet to die.  Valleys so sunless and deserts so dry I've needed deliverance, not just help, where God proved that his gift was not less than salvation.  I'll be reading and praying through the book of Jeremiah, to see how God rescues his servant from difficult situations, and redeemed them, for His own glory.

even in the wilderness
—especially in the wilderness—
you shall love Him.

// frederick buechner

Monday, March 7, 2011

Run with the Horses

The terrible threat is that we might die earlier than we really do die . . . The real horror lies in just such a premature death, a death after which we go on living for many years.
There is a memorable passage concerning Jeremiah’s life when, worn down by the opposition and absorbed in self-pity, he was about to capitulate to just such a premature death. He was ready to abandon his unique calling in God and settle for being a Jerusalem statistic. At that critical moment he heard the reprimand: “If you have raced with men on foot, and they have wearied you, how will you compete with horses? If you stumble in safe country, how will you manage in the thickets by the Jordan?” (Jeremiah 12:5) 
. . .
What is it you really want, Jeremiah? Do you want to shuffle along with the crowd, or run with the horses? 
. . .
It is easier to define oneself minimally (“a featherless biped”) and live securely within that definition than to be defined maximally (“a little less than God”) and live adventurously in that reality. 
It is unlikely, I think, that Jeremiah was spontaneous or quick in his reply to God’s question. The ecstatic ideals for a new life had been splattered with the world’s cynicism. The euphoric impetus of youthful enthusiasm no longer carried him.
He weighed the options.
He counted the cost.
He tossed and turned in hesitation. 
The response when it came was not verbal but biographical. 
His life became his answer. 
“I’ll run with the horses.” 

// Eugene Peterson

Sunday, March 6, 2011

The Call of Frodo

i am not made for perilous quests! cried Frodo.
i wish i had never seen the ring! 
why did it  come to me?
why was i chosen?
such questions cannot be answered, said Gandalf.
you may be sure that it was not for any merit that others do not possess;
nor for power or wisdom, at any rate.
but you have been chosen and you must
therefore use such strength and heart and wits as you have.

The Call of Jeremiah

when the people of jerusalem went into exile
now the word of the LORD came to me saying

before i formed you in the womb
i knew you and before you were born
i consecrated you i appointed you
ah sovereign LORD!
alas i do not know how to speak
i am only a youth
do not say 'i am only a youth'
for to all to whom i send you you shall go
and whatever i command you you shall speak
do not be afraid of them
for i am with you

Friday, March 4, 2011

I can put my sword down, because God has picked his up.

The temptation for Christian victims of the most horrible crimes is that their suffering seems to excuse them from repenting, and excuse them from forgiving. After all, it’s cruel and wrong to say their suffering was their fault, and how could anyone ask them to overlook what was done?

But make no mistake, these are precisely the two things that they must never stop doing, if they are ever to be free.

// Miroslav Volf  i love him
Amen.

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

Foundations, 5 -- The Builder.

unless the LORD builds the house
those who build it, those who build it
labor in vain
unless the LORD guards the gate
those who guard it, those who guard it
stay awake in vain 
// ps 127 // is 42

who is near you? the Lord is near you
the Lord of pity, the trampled beauty
he will not leave you, will not forsake you
he brings forth justice
hes not discouraged



i rise up early and lay my head late
he gives rest
he gives rest
i eat the bread of my toil’s anxiousness
he gives sleep
he gives sleep
ive greatly labored but have not achieved
he is your reward
he is your reward
i chose a path but my feet were misled
i host the banquet but i am not filled
i have twice given but have not once received
he will repay you
he will repay you
ive greatly suffered and seen no relief
ive seen a mother abandon her baby
ive seen a lover betrayed and i am she
he groans out for you
he groans out for you


Ive called you righteous
I will take your hand
this I promise
my own covenant
you will see, o blind men
release the captives
come out of the dungeon
those who sit in darkness
I will march out
I will cry out
I will lead you
these things I will do

Tuesday, March 1, 2011

Foundations, 4.

"How Firm a Foundation" has been one of my favorite hymns since the it was taught to me at children's BSF, where my mom would drag my easily bored second grade self.  This and "To God Be the Glory" are the only two things that I remember from BSF.  Out of all that they tried to teach me anyway--I also remember an old lady songteacher with a peppery frizz head of hair who smelled like cats and butter, my boredom and refusal to go on Tuesday weeknights, and my brother's variations on the themes, the only other fruits of BSF for my unregenerate child self.

But over the years, its verses have stayed with me.  This too, is grace.  The true words are trusty to fill me with confidence in desert seasons such as this past week since finding out on Wednesday, such as Lent around the corner, and such as... oh just... all of life, you know, no big deal.

For one, we sing, but the bulk of it is from the perspective of God speaking to us, singing over us.  Not of any worthy words we can offer to Him.  My faithfulness, He says, not your faith, will be your sustenance.

He commands His own to buck up, fear not.  Because His sustaining self is there with us, here by us,  Emmanuel, to uphold and strengthen and purify--to prove Himself.  The desert is His task and He is the one who will find our way home.

He is trustworthy, the desert rocks cry.

How Firm a Foundation from The Line via Michael

I haven't come across a fair cover on the interwebs until this one. Give it a spin and send other good renditions my way!