To be a "little Christ"

[my photo shoot yesterday at work]
I always thought I was a morning person, but waking up at 5:30am on dreary black November days have taken its toil on me. I try to fit in at least a few minutes of bible reading and prayer before going to work, and today I came across this article among my other perusing.
Lately, I haven't been or felt very loving at all. It seems like I am constantly angry, and find fault with everything and everyone in my life - from my family who doesn't seem to get why it is so important to recycle and eat more vegatables (you don't know what it's like to read depressing health studies everyday at work at differnet and news ways human beings have invented to die), to the man coughing in front of me on the germ-filled, air tight skytrain (all I think of during the 1 hour commute is that I can't wait to go and wash my hands), to myself, which is even a more depressing picture - because for every finger I point at someone else, I have three pointing right back at me. The root of it all is that I am not content, because my future dominates my thinking: where will I live? what will I do? who will I marry? And despite my constant attempts to live today and enjoy the present (that's why it's called the present =D), I fail often. I keep wandering back to these thoughts like a loyal dog, whose owner just died but refuse to leave the home, and wastes away. These article is encouraging and challenging to me, I know it's a bit long but if you take the time, I think you will find it worth it. Take a look especially the parts in bold.

A "little Christ" wannabe (think Spice Girls), Anna

____________________

http://www.relevantmagazine.com/god_article.php?id=7449

Statement: Rethinking Love
Jim Palmer
The email arrived early one morning from my neighbor friend Judie. Part of getting to know Judie involved sharing our respective spiritual journeys. I shared how discovering God's unconditional love and acceptance in Christ was changing me. We both experienced Jesus as love and peace, and we were encouraged by Jesus identifying these as distinguishing characteristics of His disciples. Judie is someone who holds the highest regard for Jesus Christ and considers Him her role model, yet she never dug into the world of religion, or its accompanying teachings and specifics about the life of Christ. Let's just say her interactions with Christians didn't spark a motivation to engage whatever it was they were focusing on. In one conversation, I mentioned that Jesus' first followers lived out His example and teachings with such devotion they became known as "little Christs."
Judie had been mulling over my "little Christs" comment and came to a disturbing conclusion, which she expressed in her email. Jesus' message, displayed in His life, was love and peace. His first followers accepted that reality and lived it. But pondering the present world and her own life experiences, she was left to wonder, "I kept hearing the song 'Where have all the flowers gone?' in my head, except I was hearing it with the words 'little Christs' … 'Where have all the little Christs gone?'" It was more than a clever rhetorical question. Even though her personal goal in life is being the same love Jesus is, Judie didn't seem to cross paths with many choosing to live this way, though many people call themselves Christians.
She has a point. Many people choose to fill their world with hate, hurt, division, fear and despair even though we are all desperate for love and peace. Statistically, the world is chock full of "Christians"—intelligent Christians, artistic Christians, successful Christians, churchgoing Christians, politically active Christians—but what about "little Christ" Christians? Christians who risk everything for love? What about Christians who love indiscriminately, unconditionally and sacrificially? Apparently, these kinds of Christ followers are MIA. Every now and then, one like Mother Teresa pops up and we practically create a cult around them because they live an existence so decisively beyond our normal way of living.
I worried a bit that perhaps I talked too much about love. What I'm finding myself is that virtually every aspect of knowing God is related to love. Here are several examples of how love altered my understanding of God and my relationship with Him and others.

Before: God is synonymous with religion.Now: God is synonymous with love.

Before: Christianity is a belief system.Now: Christianity is a school of love carried out in apprenticeship to Christ.

Before: God hates sin because it disgusts Him.Now: God's motive for hating sin is love. Sin causes hurt and suffering for me and others.

Before: I primarily experience God through religious rituals and acts of obedience. Now: When I am experiencing love, I am experiencing God.

Before: Christian living is trying harder to be more and do more.Now: Christian living is an overflow of God's love in me.

Before: My source of love is outside myself and I'm dependent on others to supply it. Now: My source of love is within me and while I enjoy the love of others, I'm not dependent on it and can freely love others without the expectation of receiving love in return.

Before: I am created in God's image, which means I have the capacity to make rational choices and exercise my free will. Now: I am created in the image of perfect love, which means love is the core of my identity and I can choose love.

Before: The main thing is getting people to adopt my beliefs about God.Now: Loving people creates desire within them to know God.

Before: Somewhere out there is God's purpose for my life and I must find it.Now: At every moment, God's purpose for me is to be love.

Before: Being "in love" is some temporary euphoric guy-meets-girl experience. Now: Being "in love" is walking in the conscious awareness of and dependence on God's love in me and as me.

Before: Tough love is withholding love from others as a means of disapproval or attempt to bring change. Now: Tough love is loving others without condition, regardless of the result.

Before: The most powerful force on earth is hate.Now: The most powerful force on earth is love.

Being love comes with its own supply of courage and conviction, but people concerned about their reputation need not apply. Love often requires relationships with others, and those "others" might not meet the societal standards of normalcy, which can stir up controversy. During my religion days, I essentially classified people into three groups. "Believers" were the in-group of people on the same page with our main beliefs and practices. "Unbelievers" were those we associated with in some way, hoping to convert them. Normally unbelievers were very similar to me in terms of race, culture and lifestyle. The third group, "really bad people," is actually a subset of "unbelievers," but we pretended they were in a different group altogether. These people's beliefs or behaviors seemed to epitomize everything we were against or didn't believe in. The group was mostly comprised of people with erroneous theology and/or politics, or grossly immoral behavior. It was not appropriate for believers to hang out with "really bad people." This is where the religious version of "tough love" kicked in—withholding love altogether.
Now I see these limitations I placed on love had no basis in the life or teachings of Jesus. Jesus pretty much undid my comfortable theory of love when He said, "love your enemies." This is a reminder that love is the foundation and, as such, a prerequisite for peace. The religious establishment condemned Jesus for hanging out with "sinners." They had limits on their love; Jesus didn't.
For many years, following Jesus' example of love was implausible because my religious logic pitted my belief in God's "holiness" in conflict with God's "love." At times it made God seem schizophrenic. One minute God was too holy to look upon sinners; the next minute He was hobnobbing with the worst of them. The Christian belief system I constructed rested on the notion that God rejects sinners. Yet Jesus offered unconditional love and acceptance to them (us). Religion often implies one must "clean up your act" before receiving anything from God. Jesus, however, had no qualms about leaving open forever the floodgates of God's favor for people regardless of what condition they were in. Once, when questioned about it, Jesus responded, "It's not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick." In fact, I think Jesus never had floodgates to begin with. In Him, love flowed continuously and without even a means of restraint.
There was a time when I considered Jesus' emphasis on things like love and peace as a nice but unrealistic ideal. My religious sensibilities told me to grow up and let go of those silly, childlike notions. Instead, I acquired a militant view of life. I was a Luke Skywalker-type Christian soldier in a war, striving to defeat Darth Vader and the evil empire. You were either with us or against us. One way or another, it was all headed toward Armageddon.
I began to change the day I became conscious of and allowed myself to receive and depend on the love and peace of God within me. At the center of my being, I experienced the fulfillment of Jesus' words, "All things are possible with God." Having grown up in a love-starved home, I set out into adulthood striving and groping for love any way I could get it. I turned to Christianity in hopes of fulfilling my need in God. Instead, I began chasing the proverbial oh-so-close-but-just-beyond-my-grasp greased pig of works-based love and acceptance. After reaching top status in the world of Christendom, I felt more empty and weary inside than when I began.
The magnitude of my ceasing to strive, and instead learning to rest in God's love and peace, is sort of like the Cubs winning the World Series back to back and science figuring out how to produce a fat-free Krispy Kreme donut. There may be no greater miracle than a contented Jim Palmer!
As miracles began happening in my life, I started believing in them. Things I once considered impossible now seemed possible with God. A new kind of logic began forming within me, and I began wondering. If I can experience peace and love, why can't everyone else? If love and peace are true of my inner world, why can't they exist in my outer world? If I'm not conflicted within myself, why must there be conflict in my relationships with others? Anything is possible.
Excerpted from Wide Open Spaces: Beyond Paint-by-Number Christianity (Thomas Nelson) by Jim Palmer. (Used with permission). You can see his upcoming book tour dates at his blog http://www.divinenobodies.com/blog/.

Scrapbooks

Me and Molly | Molly after grooming at Petcetera

For no reason in particular, I ended up flipping through my scrapbooks from the last few years tonight in my room with Molly. I think I must be (or used to be) one of the ultimate pack rats ever – my friends who have ever helped me pack (and this happens every time of course) can attest to this - and that I own an awful lot of pink things. So naturally, my scrapbooks are also packed, busting with odds and ends like bus tickets, to gifts like cards, which are saved and masterfully crafted into some part of a page with some kind of caption or explanation (you really do forget names and things after a few years!).

As I was rereading, I was thinking that we pack too much into our days, and handle too much information – from RSS feeds to news wires to podcasts – which causes us to not spend enough time processing what all this information means to us. We don’t sort through what is important and what really isn’t. That’s why I scrapbook, to relive and set down those memories. I feel that every time I do take the time to reflect, and to look at some pictures, I am amazed and I think – wow, I said/thought/did/wrote that? Because I had forgotten, forgotten how that thing/person was important, why it/they were so important.

Ever so often, certain pages also make you cringe, and I think that’s the best test to me. It tells whether or not I have fully dealt with an issue. There’s been a couple of realities that I am struggling to face right now, and I hope I will one day be able to look/read the entry in my scrapbook without cringing. Do you think it is normal to doubt, to ask all of those what if/should have questions? Because those are the questions that I ask myself, and that is what makes me cringe, the fear that I have made the wrong decision, and the fear that I will make a wrong one for tomorrow.

A person can’t really live in fear of regretting the past or in fear of the future now can they? Of course not, and this is the internal struggle I battle with these days. I guess I feel like I’m a bit stuck, and still thinking, thinking – while at the same time trying to be proactive and taking small steps and fight being apathetic and giving up. And there are bursts of passion and energy, but also followed by bounds of exhaustion and the want of doing nothing more than hiding and curling up in my bed with a book and my cat.

Perfect fall picture of Como Lake

But God is funny, and he makes the sun shine down on you on days you didn’t think its rays would ever make it through the cloudy skies (especially in Vancouver). Like today. And no matter how heavy your eye lids were when you woke up at 5am to go to work, or how sad you are when you replay in your head that awful conversation you had last night, it’ll be okay. And then you suddenly have this short but awesome conversation with a stranger on the bus (as it often happens), or a previously unknown colleague at work, or a favourite person of yours that you haven’t spoken to for some time. And life goes on. Maybe, just maybe, that’s how life moves, like a meandering river at times. Maybe it’s these seemingly little things that continue to propel us forward when you feel the weight of the world on your bony shoulders, and it feels as if the river has narrowed into a trickle. The rocks are so big and seemingly too immovable, but then you remember also that some other force had placed them there in the first place, so some other force, must be able to move them away again. Maybe God's teaching me to be patient.

Youthful Hubris

(somewhere off the highway in Saskatchewan)
There’s a funny part in Velvet Elvis where Rob Bell recounts the story of his encounter with his false, super self. A moment of ultimate decision when he decides to shot his “super pastor”, and to stop living like the perfect person everyone else sees, but he knows, isn’t him. Don’t we often stereotype people in this way in our daily lives, and even uplift these “superhumans” as role models, and ideals to be sought after?

I think I’ve killed my superself, but I am still trying to figure out and get used to living life as me – anna – and not as anna the super student, super friend, super volunteer, or super whatever. A preoccupation of mine in the last six months has been on finding out my ‘calling’ in life, my raison d’etre, my specific mission (or at least during this time) to live out this life of love, and what makes me cry is not knowing at all – what that is. To super anna, that doesn’t make sense, because I did all the right things: study hard, gain work experience, participate in the community, and even moving across the country when necessary. It disappoints myself when I can’t fully celebrate with others as I see them live out their passions, get engaged to the one they love, and just live life as it should be lived – fully. Indeed it is the ultimate example of youthful hubris when we demand and we feel as if we ought to know, as if the main character in the story of the world is us, when we are only, not even a week turned, twenty-two.

(4 nuggets for $1 CDN baby in Seattle)

I was having this conversation on Saturday with my friend Monica, and we were discussing this symptom of Generation Y to desire holistic development, where passion goes hand in hand with purpose and action, and reflection (at least for Arts grads) reigns deep into our consciousness. In Western Political thought, Augustine was the first theorist to bring in the introspective, inner consciousness, and it wasn’t until the 18^th and 19^th centuries where characters in romans began to gain complex inner selves. It kills me sometimes. And sometimes I wonder if life was simpler in the time of the nobility, where honour and shame were the virtue and vices, and people were judged by their actions and not thoughts.

It reminds me of a conversation I had with my friend Matt this past summer in Ottawa, in the kitchen of the LLC after a beer and walk (that’s all I can handle). As I was pouring out my sorrows to him, to comfort me, being the pragmatic, realistic person he is, he told me that statistically, Christians experience depression and anxiety at greater rates than other people of no faith or other faiths. Christians, by nature (or at least…they should be? LOL) after all, live knowing the weights of heaven and hell in their hands, on top of living everyday life. I see that. Sometimes, when we think too much perhaps, we get to a point where we feel like throwing our hands up in the air in despair, because everything seems hopeless – the environment, poverty, HIV/AIDS – and yet, not being able to, because we innately know, are given the faith to believe, that there is hope in this strange man named Jesus.

These days come, and today is one of them. And I continue to feel as if the world spins madly on, as I am standing in the middle of a busy, crowded street in New York City. Everyone is rushing around me to their respective destinations, and I am just looking, just wondering, just scared. And I also feel like the little two or three year old girl I was, trying to climb up on the piano bench to sit beside my older sister’s piano teacher, wanting desperately to learn how to play with my impossibly little fingers. I remember the piano teacher laughing and telling me gently that I was still a bit too little, and to wait until I was older to learn – and I feel like that’s what I’ve been told to do by God too. Wait.

(random chess pieces on board the deck on the Golden Princess...like life?)

For the first time, in a long time, I have stopped trying to try new things just for the sake of it, busting my butt to get ahead and noticed, and defining my worth by my success. It’s my hubris and ignorance to ever believe that achieving something – a degree, a boyfriend, an award - would bring me peace and contentment. Like I wrote before, nobody plans to win the Nobel Peace Prize, rather people live their lives and do their thing, and sometimes, rare as it is, they get recognized for it in a big way. And maybe this is my time to just live my life, recognizing that it is okay to do nothing sometimes - it is not laziness or a lack of drive but wisdom, that it is okay to be sad and to cry - it is not a sign of weakness but strength, and that it is okay to not know – for maybe, it is only when we admit our limits that they can be expanded and grow.

Breathe. Exhale. I think I need a good kick in the pants and wake up, read some good books, talk to people with ideas, and stop working for the government after these seven more months. Or, as one of my email buddies said to me (who I should really email and haven’t for a while)..remember to “haul ass, and milk every moment for every last drop of value. PEACE.”

(view of Vancouver harbour, steps from my building | my building, check out the Canadian flag)

The Meaning of Life

(rocks at the bottom of Hog Back's falls| bike path along Gatineau River)
The first time I seriously came across this old age question “what is the meaning of life” in my conscious memory is in grade 11 at youth parliament in Victoria. As usual during Question Period, the opposition tried to stump the premier and his cabinet by asking all sorts of obscure questions, both in seriousness and in good humour (it was youth parliament after all). Amidst the good fun, low and behold, this question came up. I remember the premier at the time, who also happened to be the older brother of an elementary school friend of mine, paused and then confidently answered, “as my grade four teacher says, the meaning of life is to give life meaning.” It was brilliant answer in my sixteen year old eyes.

Five years later, with a political science degree and government experience under my belt, the question remains and the journeys in between the time have led me to different answers and to meet people with different answers. Despite the differences, a similar theme emerges always – the desire to have meaning and to have fulfillment in our relationships, in our vocation and in our simple everyday living.

Lately, in my own inner struggles with my own vocation, I have been reading the book of Exodus in the Bible. The miraculous deliverance from Egypt, the Ten Commandments, the desert wanderings and the Promise Land, this book has it all! And it seems that the events in Exodus marked Israel as God’s chosen people, where covenants were made and where years hence, in times of praise and trouble the Jewish people would look back at these events and remember who they are, and why they are here in earth.

I don’t know about you but the Ten Commandments had always seemed to me to be like laws, like Hammurabi’s great code. I was thinking about it again and reading again and I realize it’s not quite like that – the way the commandments were written resembles how royal treaties were written at the time, and that makes sense with Israel being chosen by God as his holy nation. It’s not so much a “to not do” list as it is an understanding, and I think throughout the whole thing God is just saying, here guys, here’s a choice between blessings and curses. If you follow me, the One who brought you out of slavery in Egypt, if you really follow me, you’re set and you’ll be blessed. And if you don’t…well…And what was funny when I was reading again was how there is nothing about what we have “to do”, like there is nothing about vocation or things like that. Commandments like honour your parents or not committing murder are not specific things perse, but they are more like attitudes that shape your entire worldview, not specific things you don’t do (though I suppose it could be…LOL). And then I was thinking about the manner in which God gave the Ten Commandments to Moses, how God asked Moses to come up the mountain, up close and personal, and not only so, but asked the Israelites to come close to the mountain, though not touching it. It seems like God wanted his people close to him, as he laid out the foundations of this important treaty that would guide and mark them as his people. And then I noticed the people’s response, how when the Israelites saw the thunder and lightening and heard the trumpet, they got scared and stayed back physically from the mountain even though they were given in the invitation to be up close (20: 18-19). And I thought, maybe it is not just a physical distance but a spiritual one as well, how it is easier to think of a God who is a judge but harder to think of God as a friend, because being a friend entails much more and requires a intimate two way relationship.

Before my journeys in Exodus, I was reading Micah, a little book but with a great great verse that has spawned lately, a great movement (Micah Challenge). When it comes to meaning of life as a Christian and such, it says this “to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God” (Micah 6:8). The last phrase particularly stood out to me and as I was thinking about that and thinking about the mountain in Exodus, maybe that really is it. A person’s meaning does not come from what s/he does or even who s/he is, but comes from her/his closeness with God. The other variables can easily change, and I still think how funny it is how the people I work at the office with all have at least a master’s degree and yet you would never ever know if you saw them on the street. A bummy looking on the bus can be a phD or homeless, the lines aren’t that black and white. But the closeness, now that is something else. This is a scary realization because it really throws into wack everything I had considered important in my life, typical of someone my age: a meaningful vocation, the special person. At the same time, it comes as a relief perhaps, realizing that my own attempts at finding and constructing meaning, is futile after all.

I received an unexpected strange email this week from UBC Financial Aid and Student Awards. It was an invitation to apply for the Rhodes Scholarship. UBC did a computer scan of all the 4th years who had an average above a certain mark, and when I checked at the student service centre, I realized that I had just reached the number by 0.1 percent. I laughed at that because it is so beyond me. It was even more funny because I was just thinking lately and talking to my coworkers about prestigious awards and such, and how I think people don’t try to win the Nobel Peace Prize. It just happens, like they just live their lives and just do their thing, and sometimes, though most often rarely, they get recognized for it, but they don’t try, they don’t set that as a goal in life. And in the midst of me lately trying to get a job in Vancouver, and preparing for grad school aps and funding...I think these things will just come you know, if it's meant to be. That's so damn hard to accept for a Type A personality.

Closeness to God. Or as my coworkers says, the spiritual connection, the beingness. Moses’ face radiated so much that he had to hid in order to protect the others. I want my life to radiate, I want to be so close that circumstances don’t matter and no person or no job will dictate my beingness and my self worth but the Creator life and all that is good and beautiful.

When we ask, “what is the meaning of life” I think we focus too much on ourselves and the me part. What is the meaning of my life when really, maybe life is not all about you. And so I think when we ask ourselves that question, I think we end up trying to do two things way too much – to prove ourselves and to find ourselves. I had three interviews in the three days this week and as I repeated again and again, trying to sell my qualifications with my transcript and my resume, I was so sick of trying to prove myself worthy, and to affirm myself of who I am. There's nothing wrong with wanting to go to a developing country, or the top school, those are just things and they are neutral. It's the why that matters. Like Snenfer said to me last night, more profoundly than he could have thought, it’s your closeness to God that matters Anna, nothing else.













(steamtrain | stone structure on Victoria Island | being in two places at once! the sign on Portage Bridge marking the border between Quebec and Ontario)

Confessions of a pastor-to-be’s (ex) girlfriend

I have a few confessions to make, and a few apologies to give. As usual, I think in songs and verses, so you have to keep these songs in mind while you are reading because this is my soundtrack.

Getting into You (Relient K)
I didn’t know what I was getting into when I took your hand almost a year ago. I had never done that before, and leaving the romantics on the doorstep, I never realized what tough work a relationship is, and the choices involved. I never was a clingy person, and though relationships are so central to our essence as human beings (how else do you learn to love?), I have always been independent, and content running alone or reading a book (mind you, I am blessed with the incredible people in my life near and far). I realized this year what a selfish person I am, and how though I say that I want somebody who loves God more than me above all else, I confess that I didn’t at heart – I wanted, like the fairytales, somebody who would give their all for me. Thank God, you didn’t do that. I realize how popular culture has influenced my idea of “love” and what it means being in a relationship, and how far I have come from what it was created to be. Let me try to explain.

In many pivotal times in my life when I have succeeded in achieving something I had sought, be it a prestigious award or scholarship, the affections of a boy, or a physical toy - I have ended up feeling quite empty, all by the time I arrive home at night after I have gained the forementioned object of desire. It’s not that I didn’t love school or volunteering or things like that, because these things in and of themselves are just things, and value neutral. The problem though, is often they were the means in which I strove to achieve other things, such as my parents attention and approval, but most of all, my own self worth and validation that I am important and deserved to be loved and cherished (isn’t that all our ends?) as a human being. I’m not saying there is anything wrong with wanting to achieve great things, but the question is why – why do you want to get married, help people, make money? These things are not bad, but how often do we stop, look at ourselves in the mirror, and ask ourselves why we do what we do everyday. Often when I need some Anna time, I would go, eyes blood shot and all, and look at myself in the mirror sans makeup. And it doesn’t take very close examination to see the pride, the envy, the selfishness that lies beneath the skin, and I realize that I am not a very pretty person after all, but full of blemishes and dark corners.

My ideal of a relationship of “life” isn’t very original. It’s the North American Dream all over again, but with church on Sundays and bible studies during a weekend and charity events on the weekends maybe. Sure I’ll make sure my job helps the forgotten in society to help themselves, compost, be vegetarian, bike instead of drive to work, volunteer in Africa or the inner city with my expertise and the other good things one should do as a responsible global citizen. Again, nothing is wrong with any of these things (and it sure damn is hard to be vegetarian when you’re Chinese! Chinese people EAT every part of the animal!), but…why? Because doing something just for my conscience, my comforts, my dreams is not good enough. I’m here, I am finally here, at the brink of university graduation, with pieces of paper (transcript and resume) that opens doors to that North American Dream, and I ask myself..what is that to me? Absolutely nothing.

I am sorry. I am sorry I continued to flirt with my own selfish ambitions when I said I would take up your call, and live not for myself but yet for God. I am sorry that I had to hurt you in the process of cleaning and gutting myself. Love isn’t what I thought it was, and I am glad. It’s a lot more than I have within me, and I think that’s a good place to start again.

World on Fire (Sarah McLachlan)
I haven’t seen many videos that have made me cry as this one did from the first time I saw it. It is inevitable that every twentysomething will go through the process of asking themselves, “what is my calling? What is my purpose on earth?” It doesn’t matter if you subscribe to a god or yourself, it’s like this innate yet uniqueness to human beings, the desire and the compelling urgency to have to subscribe meaning to our lives. Animals don’t do it, they do what they do and then they die. But that’s not enough for us, we don’t just ask the how, but we ask the why, and as Don Millar says correctly, it’s the why questions that matter, because the why questions dictate the how. When you know your why, you know where to live, with whom to live and what to do.

So how do you know your why? I think it is pretty simple. What makes you cry, I don’t mean the sniffles, but the deep soul aching cry – what makes you cry? Is it HIV/AIDS, the apathy of our country or the brokenness in your family? What fills you with joy? Is it making people laugh or hoping to inspire others with your words? What is the question, the what ifs, and what makes you angry and make you swear that you’ll never do that or I don’t want to do that! that you lie in bed thinking of before you shut your eyes. What do you see in the sunset and the morning star? What lies between what makes you cry and what gives you joy? How would that look on a daily basis? The answers are there, they’ve always been here because they are abscribed onto our hearts but we don’t always take the time to hear them, or the have the guts to listen to them.

To avoid being a hypocrite of writing things and never applying them to my own life and so I don’t forget…here’s my list:

Things that make me cry:
-being successful and empty, like a Barbie doll, lifeless

-people believing and treated as if they are not worth it because of the way we structure the world (socio-econ-politically) – from the homeless beggar on our city streets to the girl-prostitute a world away

-women being beaten (emotion-spirit-mental-physically) and women believing they have to prove themselves – from the abused little girl in Thailand to the corporate CEO killing herself to be someone

Things that fill me with joy:
-reading and writing (whatever)

-seeing families together (however you want to define family, to me, a group of broken people who nonetheless chooses everyday to live together, not just to cohabit a house)

-helping people help believe in themselves (physical-spiritual-mental-emotionally) and equipping them with all I am and all I have

-experiencing beauty whether in the colours of the sunset or the eyes of my grandmother or the smile of a stranger

Final Thoughts
I believe, because I have to and because I believe it is true (haha), that there has be something in this world that can take the things that make me cry and the things that give me joy, and bring them together in this life where I will be alive everyday, not merely living. I think that’s the way God made each of us. He doesn’t want us to live numb “normal” lives with the 9-5 (not that there’s anything wrong perse with a 9-5 job, I have one right now). But I think what’s important to remember and what I have oft forgotten this year is that the job, and the whatever it is that we end up “doing” are just tools that enable us to be who we are, and to express ourselves and ultimately show and reflect love from the God that is love from above. Nothing else, not a basis for identity. I sometimes envy the people that are satisfied and I ask, why can’t I be like that? But there’s a world on fire outside and inside. But I am so sorry you had to be hurt in the process.

The Berkeleys, the international internships, the degrees and the ring on the finger – they don’t matter anymore. I’m sorry they ever did God. That’s not the point is it? Will you take me as I am, imperfect and broken? Will someone to choose to path this life with me? Now that’s a high calling…hahaha.

Why did I decide to entitle this blog this way (I wonder what Augustine would have thought about this title…I’m sure it is not what he had in mind when he wrote Confessions…)? The confessions of a pastor-to-be’s (ex) girlfriend. I think everyone goes through similar thoughts, but maybe dating/having dated a pastor-to-be (or any care giving professional) brings them all out under a microscopic light that sheers through the soul and makes those marks clearer than usual. At least it did for me.

So what now? Be normal? What's normal? Damn it, it is so easy to be caught up in things and forget what is important, forget the world that exists around ourselves - planes crash, worlds collide and people die everyday while I am still alive. If my life is all I have, than it is what I will give.

I think I'm starting to get what it means.

I’m going to love you with my life…

To do justice, to love kindness and to walk humbly with your God – Micah 6:8
To relentlessly pursue who God made you to be – Rob Bell
To live out love in the world – Tony Campolo






(clockwise from left) Chinese embassy in Ottawa | Fireworks behind Parliament Hill on July 1 | The children's display at the Holocaust Museum in Washington, D.C. | The one and only IMF in Washington, D.C.

Stormy Skies

Locke writes that God gave the earth to mankind in common, and of all the pieces of Mother Nature that humanity shares, nothing do we share in my opinion, more equally than the sky. That is why we are concerned about global warming, airborne diseases, and chemical pollutants right? Because we realize that, the sky above containing the air we breathe is something shared in common, knowing no political boundaries. That is why I love the sky; it brings equality unparallel to man. The same rain falls and comforts both the rich and the poor, and the rays that wake up a sleepy village in Africa powers the latest technology in the Western world.
I am a sky watcher. And I like her (it has to be a her, with the constant weather changes in Ottawa) because I think she has spunk. On Thursday, I went for walk after work to Champlain Point, one of the special places of Aaron and me. The air was hot and humid, and dark ominous clouds loomed, and everywhere at 5pm downtown Ottawa, ladies and gents hoped to hurry home before the storm set in. It was a strange feeling, being one of them yet also not really one of them. As a twentysomething, I had nowhere I had to go, no family obligations waiting, no after work meetings, and no one waiting for my arrival. As I walked to the point, taking a long route that circled parliament hill and then slowly ascended to the stairs that led to the small apex marked by the statute of Samuel Du Champlain, I walked happily against the traffic.
I would say this is one of the best lookout points in Ottawa, and on nice days I am certain it becomes a popular make out spot. To the left you see parliament hill including the actual hill in all its grandeur, to the right you see promenade Sussex and right in front, the bridge that brings you across to Gatineau. It is one of those spots where you feel like you are at the top of the world, with the cliffs and the water bowing down below you. By the time I got there, the sky started to let out teasing raindrops, the kind where if you had an umbrella you did not know if it is worth the hassle to pull it out to use. Normally, even though I am a Vancouverite, I hate rain. However, the soothing raindrops resonated within me this night.

Soon, it started to rain harder. What was strange though was how the exact spot I was at seemed to divide the rain clouds and the sunshine; I felt like I was witnessing a painting in action. I felt like I was seeing a physical representation of what the battle of good and evil must look like – to my left the darkness loomed and looked as if it stretched out its fat arms towards the light. To my right, out of the blues skies rays shot out like Zeus’ thunderbolts, hurling towards the enemy. It was magnificent and I have never seen such a display in the skies so prominently before in my life.
I sat there for some time and watched until eventually, the dark clouds blew away and sunshine once again followed me home, dry. Being a reflective and proud human being, I could not help but relate the skies to my own life, and thought how often that battle between ‘good and evil’ rages in my heart. The humidity in Ottawa is quite unbearable for me. Vancouver has the ocean breeze to offset the humidity so you never really feel it. Here, the air is so hot that you sweat from simply standing outside, and you cry out that it would just thundershower already, and release the tension in the air.
There is always a fight for big stuff isn’t there? For some decision, you have to make, and sometimes it is like that, it takes the storm to release the tension in the air. Life cycles, with periods of storms and sunshine, and times where you are just in the middle, like where I was standing alone at Champlain Point. Sometimes, it takes awhile before something breaks, and you wish it would just be over and you would just win already. God, why don’t you just let me win already? I have been trying so hard.

I feel like a big storm has just passed in my life, with the climax when Aaron and I decided to let each other go and better pursue what God has in store for the both of us alone. I cannot deny the thousands pounds, which seemed to lift off my chest when we shot Jimmy, our proverbial elephant (you know the saying “there’s an elephant in the room”?). Have you ever stood outside after a big storm? It is another strange feeling, because on the one hand you are so glad it is over, but on the other hand, you realize that you have to face the brokenness left behind. Storms often leave behind trails of debris, and I feel like there are many pieces to pick up now on the way of ‘finding me’.

(my stitches/check out the license plate!/Mel and I in Toronto)

Dear Ottawa,
You haven’t changed much since last year, with the humidity accompanying the summer flowers. Politicians and dignitaries still walk the grand halls of power, museums and relics of the past continue to wait for visits from curious eyes, and people keep living and dying, making fortunes on your city streets. But I am different, so please let me tell you what lessons I have learned while you were away.

(In)certainity?
The English language is a flawed, funny language with as many exceptions as there are rules. For example, why are some words negated with “un” while others with “in” such as uncertainty and certainty versus indirect and direct? Maybe because “incertainty” would mean that you are “in certainty”?

Uncertainty is beautiful thing; it forces us to accept and to live each day not knowing, seeing only the bit of light that God shines to guide and light our paths - not a step more, but also not a step less in the direction of His choosing. Uncertainty is a beautiful thing, but not when you try to force her to be or to do something for which she is not ready. There are times this year, in the midst of the numerous changes with grad school applications and future thinking, where I did just that, grasp at what I could not yet know. In these moments, I truly felt like a blind person without a guide, desperately groping for something – anything – to end up with nothing but perpetuate further desperation and heavier doses of self-afflicted pain. Today, as I sit with nothing more than a plane e-ticket back to Vancouver September 1, I choose to learn the lesson, and let uncertainty pursue its course.

SELfiSh – selfLESS
Did you ever notice how the word ‘less’ is in both the words selfish and its antonym, selfless – the difference lies in the placement of the letters L-E-S-S. Whereas “less” is grouped together nicely as the antecedent in selfless, as if an act of proclamation to the world at its meaning, “less” is harder to find in selfish, because the focus is on “self.” The meaning of the words tells a similar story don’t they? Selfish people talk a lot about themselves, and make their troubles and joys loud and clear to all who can hear, while selfless people are often not heard at all, and are given less due than they deserve.

It is sickening how many conversations have ended with my own self condemnation: I am selfish. It is even more sickening considering how these conversations should not keep reoccurring, because their reoccurrence only loudly attests to the failures to resolve the ugliness and the pain I hide behind such phrases and admissions. The truth is, while a part deep deep inside me longs to live the life, I mean, really live, unfettered by all earthly and material worries (so that includes all possible degrees, gross income, and loving relationships I would incur in this life) - another part wouldn’t mind if the plans in my head worked out, because I think my plans are pretty good. Right?

I take careful notice of my appearance for work, particularly when I worked in parliament last year. It was quite fun at first, dressing up, but it became poisonous when I felt naked without my mask on, as if my mask was the ultimate source of my confidence and value as a human being. In contrast, some of the best times, the best conversations I have had with others were when I was dirty and disshelved, in jeans and t-shirt, in tears and rain, most often a mix of it all. I am not saying people who dress up are fake or ugly, but do you notice how the people with that most beautiful glow, the sparkle in the eye that glittery eye shadow fails to capture, aren’t on magazine covers? Most likely, not wearing make-up? Less is more. Isn’t that the first rule of make-up, and doesn’t that apply in life as well? Less layers, no layers, is more.

Love - EVOLution – rEVOLution
My name is a palindrome, so since I was a kid I would automatically spell words backwards in my mind to see if it one, if it is another palindrome such as racecar, or two, if it spells out anything interesting such as noside. Love backwards spells evol, which leads to the verb evolve, and taken further to nouns, evolution or revolution if we dare. Love evolves doesn’t it? From family love to first loves, from reciprocal love to unconditional love, our understanding of love evolves as the people and the very circumstances in our lives shape and test us. With each moment, our understanding grows or shrinks. Maybe sometimes it is okay to shrink (despite our Enlightenment teaching of linear progress), and like the motions of our muscles when we work out, it has to be broken first in order to build up again stronger. I also mentioned revolution, but I am thinking of it from the origin of the word, revolution as an astronomical term for an object going around another object in a complete circular path, like the earth around the sun. Not the banners and protest rally image. But if you think about it, the two usages of the word are really the same. Do you notice how many revolutions, even if they would never admit, ultimately cry out for the restoration of past ideals and the fulfillment of broken promises? We want to get back at something that has been lost, corrupted, and tainted by a present world order, a particular regime, or a person, so it is like coming back full circle. Sometimes love is a revolution.

This is my first serious relationship, and the first time I have committed to love a person that way for so long (a year Tuesday). We are well past the roses and chocolates, and at times it feels like all we’ve got is heart ammunition. I reread some journal entries from this time last year, and a part of me wishes we were back where we were at a year ago. But Ottawa is different today, because I am different. Do you know that the path traveled by the earth around the sun, our revolutions (that marks our calendar years) are not exactly the same every time? It would be if the only two objects in space were the sun and the earth – but we are not the only objects in the universe (that would be pretty boring don’t you think?). And it’s like that, if we were the only two people on earth, than maybe things would be the same always. But it isn’t like that, just as the gravity of other planets, the other shining stars and distant galaxies push and pull on the earth during its revolutions around the sun, vying for attention, so do other people and circumstances in life, push and pull on our relationship. Yet the beautiful, though simple thing about revolutions is that they continue to happen, for there is a greater force between the sun and the earth than those who try to pull it apart. I hope, nay, I pray, that there is a greater force here too.

Ottawa, I don’t know what will happen in these three months and I will stop counting the days. I am going to live. Yesterday is past, tomorrow is yet to come, all we have is today, that’s why it is called the present.

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