ggpwn3d #12- Coming to Terms

July 14, 2011
Kabul, Afghanistan
My room


It just hit me. I was eating a silent meal; a rare jewel for me here.

After a week-long of purging my mental & emotional state of disorder, I was defeated. Living in my confined space, day & night, close to no interaction with others; no outlet, no freedom, no accountability– overwhelmed. I counted the past 8 days of crying- not just a single burst of teardrops- but at any given moment, I found myself literally releasing all the suffocation & distress that I had piled inside of me. With barely any appetite for food after a month-long of my physical battle, I sat there and just went numb to the silence.

I reflected on my 44 days here. I then began to think about the whole process that led me to this point; from this experience having been just a thought.. an option.. a decision– mm, a decision. I came here, following not a command from God where it was forced upon me, but a thoroughly thought opportunity where I would exercise who I was in Him. I remember I knew 100% that even if I had chosen my other job option, He would have blessed me either way. He, who searches my heart, my thoughts, my desires and blesses me, accordingly.

Well, of course, being here, I have spent my time with God crying in distress, asking for clarity, wanting release.. from this place, from my guilt, from the bounded approval of others. I wrestled with Him.

But today, during my silent meal, I did a replay of the past new year since my version of "The Decision". I cannot say that it was a mistake or a regret. And it all clicked. If I had decided to let go of this experience, then the trail of events and changes that have happened since January would not be of existence today. I would give you a long, chronological list of examples, but I like to keep some part of my life a mystery. Therefore, I refrain.

Now onto Pastor Joey's prayer over me during my last Sunday commissioning service,

Father, would you receive her dedication & year-long sacrifice in full. Even if she cannot stay the entire time she has committed, would you bless her in its entirety. As when Abraham was obedient to lay down his only son, you took his faith over his sacrifice so that he would receive his blessings.

I remember when he prayed those words over me and it seemed foreign and a bit unexpected. In my mind, I paused for a second and thought, 'waittt.. whoever said I was not staying there the whole year?', and the words were somewhat fleeting. Perhaps because it had not made sense at the time/peak of my long, awaited departure, or perhaps because it was interrupting myself-glorified timeline.

And then it hit me! (yes, that ! was necessary) As I have been here, struggling and trying to find worth in my defeated self, I had been consumed about my committed time span; about all those who I would "disappoint" if I left early; about my guilt towards everyone.. the organization, my supporters, my family, etc. But in this moment, I remembered Pastor Joey's prayer. It had crossed my mind a few times since I got here, but I could not find peace with it because I did not want to justify my explanation.

Yet today, I saw it. I saw why he had prayed that over me. God had already seen my circumstances, before I came here & before I got to this frail tip of self-destruction– and had spoken those words to comfort me, now. That while I had been so caught up with the hype & excitement of "sacrificing" myself-made "strength", He had already seen my weakness. Sighahh, ggpwn3d.

And that is how all of this is no longer foreign to me. It was the moment I was longing for; the comfort that my tears and hours of pensive idleness failed to bring.

Thank you. Thank you for your timeless perfection; for not disregarding my rebellious heart and for bringing me sense & peace to my stubborn, self-absorbed battle.


No fretting. I am not taking the next flight out, yet.
So, to you who with your own explanations, I kindly ask that you refrain from making me fall into this pit again.

“Because [she] loves me,” says the LORD, 

“I will rescue her; I will protect her,

for [she] acknowledges my name.
[She] will call on me, and I will answer her;
   I will be with her in trouble,
   I will deliver her and honor her.
With long life I will satisfy her
   and show her my salvation.”

Psalm 91:14-16

My Golden Year

What a birth day.
The past 3 days, I was probably awake for about 12 hours of it. But I am now alive & well......(not completely, but compared to yesterday)!

If you told me a year ago, that I would spend my 24th birthday in Afghanistan.. in the ER.. feeling half-alive.. I would have laughed at your face.

But that was that; I woke up yesterday morning, feeling crummy & emotional from being sick on my birthday. My heart was racing at 120 bpm for a couple hours until the doctor at 'Sunday School' said I needed to get to the hospital. It so happened to be the last day that Dr. Tim & his wife would be with us, as their 7-year service to this country had ended. Dr. Tim started Afsher Hope Hospital, which is where I was admitted yesterday, and they were really great with me. Way better than the German Medical Clinic that I went the past few times.

My birthday party- no one showed up

2000 mL of IV Serums later.. my birthday present

Anyway, with my heart racing, fever going & stomach pains still around, I was stuck up with 2 doses of IV while getting my heart stabilized and tested with an EKG... then more blood tests & another failed stool test. (Guess how much it all came out to? 1000 Afs, which equals ~$23 USD, amazing.)

This post is not about yesterday though.

It is about my best birthday-to-date, 2 years ago, in Tipitapa, Nicaragua. Being in a place with no materialistic goods, but just the company of amazing people, enjoying the simple beauty of nature, His creation... is really more than anyone can ask for. I guess the difference between then & today, is that absence of good company, which I have come to realize that human beings are meant to be surrounded with people they love. That really makes all the difference in the world.

What I meant by the 'beauty of nature'..

Having no other care in the world

15 of my favoritest people (including t-tom behind the lens) & then some..

Yes, the dark thing in the middle in yours truly

Best birthday or not, I am learning to find joy in my circumstances, whether I am in the company of loved ones or not.. Perhaps this year will be Golden, in some way that I have yet to comprehend.

Happy 24th to me.

Free≠dom

Independence Day has been one of my favoritest days of the year because 1) someone is always throwing a bomb-beque, and 2) La Cañada Country Club parking lot is always the spot to be for all the fireworks around LA.

Today, I found a new appreciation for America and its freedom of speech & religion.

Wait, not only that, but the freedom to wear whatever I feel like.. to go out & enjoy a day off with company or solo.. to be a girl out & about in the streets JUST BECAUSE I FEEL LIKE IT.. to enjoy a glass of wine anywhere, especially my own home.. to drive my car with the windows down, singing along to my blasting music.. to take my dogs out on a walk & saying hello to other dog owners who share the same affinity for dog-walking, to laugh & smile because I want to express an emotion called happiness..

Living in this country is probs the closest thing to experiencing a life without freedom; at least for me. I have been here for 34 days and am sitting here, telling you how sorry I feel for me, myself & I, for spending endless quality time together in my 10x10 bedroom.

Yet these people live through this all their lives. These women, especially.

Speech & religion. In this country, a person who believes in Him has to live a lie to everyone else around.. How can one express the joy of being found in the One when it is forbidden to do so? How about the women who are most 'free' inside the boundaries of their own home, yet cannot speak a word against her husband?

But then again, is it harder for a person who has lived all their life without freedom, never getting a taste of its goodness?

Here, I spend an entire day, in my room- my desk, my bed, my floor.. and I can do whatever the hecks I want because I am the boss of this room. Anything I say goes, and I say that freedom is free inside these walls. *crowd*cheer*

Perhaps it is getting to me; the lack of freedom outside these walls. Maybe I have to suffer through this feeling, so that I would literally feel the pain of these people. Maybe this is exercising my freedom in Him.

Red, White & Bluez, cheers.

Jumblelaya: Thoughts That Think

• It has officially been a month since I came here. Today is July 1st.

• It is also a week before my 24th birthday. Funny though.. nearly a year ago, I was "planning" my next birthday to be my Golden 24Kobe Year.. especially after starting off my 23rd year being quite a hotmess in front of my closest friends & family. Man, what a shame... if I knew I would be spending my 24th, away from home, let alone Afghanistan, I might have acted more accordingly that day one year ago... haha, probs not.

• Well, I guess have to throw out the gold-themed extravaganza I was planning on having... perhaps this year is meant for something less glam, more basic. Yeah. That is pretty much what I have to be grateful for here. I am living in a third world country yet I am living in luxury, in terms of what people in surrounding areas have in comparison to me.
  
  What I have here:
  I have three meals a day (even if my stomach rejects it all), I have working electricity (most of the time), I am able to take a warm bath every night (I downsized to one plastic tub of water from my first week here.. go me!), I have 4 pairs of pants & 8 tops to choose from every day, I have access to internet (even if it feels like 56K) that lets me Skype with my family every day or so, I have a Dari language tutor that I pay 100 Afs/hour for (45 Afs = $1).

• Geez, looking at the things I listed above... living in America automatically labels my life as 'Spoiled'.
  
• A month is too early to say, but I am still waiting on Him to see what I came out here for. There have been a lot of running thoughts in my mind.
• Before I came out here, I said that the only reason I would go back home, short of my yearlong commitment, would be if I felt uneasy about my safety here. I guess Osama's death kind of jacked it up for my arrival here because I do not think I have felt safe since the day I got here. 
• People in the US all heard about the hotel attack in Kabul earlier this week, which was a big attack & quite intricate. But only about 21 people (9 bad guys, 12 good guys) died. I say only as if I am not phased by these things happening around this country, every day... but it is true. The other day 35 women & children were killed in a maternity ward of a hospital, with about 20 more injured on top of that. That kind of stuff breaks my heart more.
  
  
                      Looks like a scene from a Hollywood film
  
• I live next door to a police compound that was placed here as headquarter for the Parliament building across the street a week or so before I came here. We share walls with the unit and it honestly does not make me feel so good. I always hear them talking at night, along with the army helicopters that run all night.. and then add the 12:30AM & 3:30AM Muslim prayer time. I sometimes hear a single gunshot noise somewhere in the distance.
  
• I am pretty lonely here. I share a house with M/M Pae who are great to me and I have no complaints being with them. But our times are limited to meal times. Besides that, I am alone. I think it took me a while to accept this, even though it is one of things I prepared myself for before I came out. It was on my list of P-requests and I know a lot of people are P-ing on my behalf. Maybe that is why I was denying and holding it in, even from myself. I did not want to disappoint the obvious. After spending 90% of my waking hours alone in the past two weeks, I had no where to hide from the rather large elephant in the room. 
• So I did it. I cried last night. I was walking around aimlessly in my house and then it just went off. I cried for about 3 hours; in the bathroom, on my bed, at my desk. I just let it out to Him. I felt like I had to, after a month of suppressing it; it was the only thing left to do. I wanted to do it without feeling guilty, for the people who were supporting me & my pride that always seems to act stronger than I really am.
• Of course, this is nothing new to the One who brought me out here. He knew I would be like this as it happened a year ago in Spain. He embraced me. He reminded me of Hosea's wife, just as it was revealed to me then, in a different place/time in my life. "Therefore I am now going to allure her; I will lead her into the desert and speak tenderly to her." (H. 2:14) 

Anyway, I am just running off on a million thoughts. A lot of people are P-ing for different things for my time here. Some are asking for Him to release me early, some for me to do amazing work, some neither, some etc etc etc. I had a long talk with my Leader from Hillside. He reminded me to not to stay here or go home for my own set goals or for the expectation of those who sent me.. It was a much-needed reminder. I will be more intentional in my p-time and seeing what really is meant from all this.

In Her Loss for Words

Can I share a story today? I call it a (non)fiction narrative account. You can believe it or let it be fleeting words. It is my burden to share.

It takes place in Afghanistan.

------------------------------------

There was grief in his voice, but deep sincerity.

"I am very sad this morning. Something very bad happened to my sister," said my driver, in his heavy accent, with his eyes coated with a layer of hazy water; maybe his tears, maybe his rage.

He had received a phone call at the break of dawn from his niece. Her mother had taken a destructive fall down the stairs after a violent encounter with her husband. She was not doing well. After receiving another phone call from his nephew who was far away in a different province, he rushed over to his sister's house.

Inside, he found her curled- broken, in all ways imaginable. Her face, covered with dark colors of heavy bruising and marks of blood that trailed down to her clothes; her body, lifeless in form with only a painful gaze showing any sign of life. There she was, in speechless fear, yet her silence cried louder than audible words.

He boiled from the inside of his stomach with hatred towards the man who had done this to his sister. As he searched every corner of the house, he could not find the person whose life he wanted to destroy with his own hands- the coward who had fled from his own doings. Even an upright man like him, in his right state of mind, would find it hard to express grace to someone who left his sister like that.

When he went back to her, he observed her bloody mouth that had swollen up in the waiting hours and her broken nose with purple bruises extending to her half-shut eyes. She did not speak up; not only from her physical pain, but her words were crushed deep into herself.

"She did nothing horrible, my sister. Her husband wanted to arrange marriage for their 18-year old daughter with their nephew. He has no education and he smoking hashes every day. My sister thinking... her daughter too young and still going to school, she deserving a better future, not with that nephew. That is all she wanted to tell her husband."

As I heard him telling me this, my heart was crushing inside of me like his sister's words. This was reality, not some article from CNN or a documentary of oppressed women in Muslim culture. She was one person, in this country, who was living this identical, unspoken life that so many other women like herself were hiding in. Some women are left with nothing, a family who departs from her in times of agony, who turn the other way to avoid acknowledging this reality; some who do not wake up in a hospital bed, surrounded with her supportive family and her loving brother. You can say her story is a fortunate case.

In his disheartened sigh, he wished his culture would respect their women- their words and their work. If only there were more people like him in this country- my thought- people who praised their wives and loved them for their worth.

Maybe it is because he finds the beauty of his wife as a reflection of Him who lives inside of her; called to love her as He loves His church.

What a blessed pair they are, in this dark world.

------------------------------------


This is the world where I am living in right now. It really hurts me....... so deeply to open my heart to a place where this is the norm, what is accepted. It tests my faith to seek justice for these people..

My prayer is that this girl will not grow up into
the world these women are living in today

"The Lord is King forever and ever;

the nations will perish from his land.

You hear the desire of the afflicted;

you encourage them and you listen to their cry,

defending the fatherless and the oppressed,

in order that man, who is of the earth,

may terrify no more."

                                                Psalm 10:16-18

"Barriga Llena, Corazon Contenta": What I Eat

"Barriga llena, corazon contenta." - "A full stomach, a happy heart."

That saying was taught to me by Ricardo, our gatekeeper, in Nicaragua back in 2009. It always comes to my mind when I am homesick. When I first went to Spain, I would wake up in the middle of the night so hungry... and then I would get homesick. I realized after being here, that I correlate my homesickness with my hunger & cravings. Hahaha..... sad? But tis true. While I am here, I just eat to live, not live to eat like I do back at home... where everything that sounds good is readily available, in any moment.

Here... not so much. Actually, nothing besides the good ol' vegetables + tofu that I love with my Sriracha. I drank bad bottled water 3 days ago, and have been suffering from the repercussions, as I have become best friends with my pink toilet. For the past 2 days, I have not eaten real food, minus some rice & some cereal... which of course, did not stay long inside of me. Since I cannot eat, I will just write & post some photos to help me get through this...

My breakfast every day is a bowl of milk with Cheerios 

and/or a piece of homemade biscuit with spreads.

We have naan available at every meal... Unfortunately,

I am not a big fan of carbs, so I rarely get to it.

At first, I thought I had to get a little bit of everything
to be courteous, but I actually do not eat rice/potatoes..

We even had bulgogi my first week, but I am refraining from eating
meat while I am here.. (if you saw the butcher shop, you would understand)

What I eat here most regularly..
Tofu + fresh vegetables with no dressing

Tried Afghan curry for the first time.. tasted similar except hard rice.

As you can see, my meals vary here & there but what never changes is the tofu, cucumber, tomato, bell pepper & carrot. I have those available all the time. Oh! And my bottle of Sriracha, that is now already half-eaten...! Uh oh........

Anyway, here is what I crave every day:

Self-explanatory

Sigh... these cravings will probably come & go during my stay here.... so just bear with me. I hope my stomach will be strengthened so I can try more native cuisine.... and drink their water.... without being sick in bed for days. Will you follow me there?

Pimp My Ride: Kabul Edition

Salam Aleikum! (Dari 101: Hello [literal translation: Peace on you])

This is an informational about transportation mediums in Kbl. There are about 3 cars that exist in Kbl: Toyota Corolla, Toyota Land Cruiser & Toyota 4Runner, in all models & years that have been available in the past 3 decades. Literally, as you are on the road (with no existing lanes), you will see some formation of these cars in any combination or multiples, going in any direction the driver pleases.

There are about 4 different types/models of Toyota Corollas in this photo.

Secondly, there are brightly painted buses, old school motorcycles & vintage bikes that all look like they were born in the 60s, which they probably were...

Manually done paint jobs, quite impressive.

You also see many construction vehicles & vans with Korean on it.

Question: Why is there a Korean in EVERY part of the world?

Answer: Business or Missions

Women in burqa getting a ride in the fast lane. Dope.

Kinda like riding a magic carpet

You always see little kids getting a ride from a brother or father.

Anyway, last week, Glenn & I went to get our foreigner's registration completed with one of the staff guys, Haroon. On our way back, Haroon wanted to get our side view mirror replaced.. well, not replaced, but we needed one. It was missing for some apparent reason that I would rather not know. Our windshield was majorly cracked as well, for probably the same unknown reason. Haroon took us to the part of town that has all the mechanics, auto parts, body shop dealios and we got to walk around for a bit while our car was getting fixed.

Definitely a safety hazard

Firework art on windshield, another safety hazard

Our car, 4Runner, getting pimped up

Toyota Land Cruiser, probably flown over from an American dumpster

West Coast Customs alumni, perhaps.

That is very ensuring..

Ta-da! All fixed within the hour.

It really is interesting to observe all these aspects of such a city that you only hear about from the news. Beyond what you see/hear via reports, there is an existing place with people who live normal lives doing things that are just as ordinary as what you do back "home", wherever that may be. It has been an mind-opening experience so far. 

We can all use a little open-mindedness.

Modern Day's Stone Age Bath

I will be doing a series of posts on my every day activities.

First off, I live in a house with running water and electricity. So for those of you who always ask me if I am going to be living in the dark with pails of water, that is false. Kabul is very much modernized in technological ways, yet the streets remind me of some decades ago in the middle of Korea or something.

I live on the 2nd floor of my house in a small corner bedroom that I have made quaint and as home-y as possible in the past week. My house is also the office/headquarters so during the day, there are many people in & out, using the other half of the area for work.

I will post photos of my living quarters in a future post. For now, I want to share to you the most important room in the house besides my bedroom- the bathroom. The water is very weak and has barely any pressure so to make my shower, time/water-efficient, I run hot water into buckets... it takes about 20 minutes for me to fill up 3 buckets and then another 20 minutes to get my ish done.

My bathroom basket 

The long process of water storage

(Note: I manage to squeeze into the tub along with them. Quite crowded.)

Our precious, precious water heater

My pink everything toilet to everything bathroom
(If you know me, pink is my least favorite color.)

Our washer & non-functional dryer, also sharing space in bathroom

There you go; a glimpse into my daily trips to my bathroom. Next entry, I will post photos from my trip to the mechanic body shop. :) 

Khodahafez..! (Dari 101: Good bye)

How to: Eat a Mango, Afghan-style

I came just a week after mango season had started in Afg. If I remember anything from my last trip to this country in 2007, I remembered how amazing the mangos were with the juicy fruit meat.. mmmmm sweeter than the ones I eat in the States.

After every lunch & dinner, we eat a mango, and will be doing so for the next couple months until cantaloupe season starts. I have zero complaints because I love fruits, especially mangos. Yumz.

Here is a tutorial on how to eat one, if you ever are in Afg and want to look like a native:

This what a mango looks like in Afg, usually imported from Pakistan. 

You cut a circumference around the center.
(Notice the spillage of the mango blood, mm)

You then twist the mango and separate the two halves.
You can give one half to another friend.

You use a spoon to scrape out all the mango meat, cleeean.

I like sharing, usually. But it was too good.......

Interesting, right? Sometimes, the natives just massage the mango for a long period of time, poke a hole & drink the mango like a juice. I must try that in the next couple months...

Stefghanistan: And so it begins...

Here I am, in Kbl, sitting in my little room that I spent all last night moving into.
When I first came inside, there was only a sheetless mattress on a frame, but throughout the day, the NEI Afghan staff guys brought in a closet, a desk & a vanity set. I have to say, this is more than what I had at my own house back in LC... so guess who came up in Afg? Yes, me. Thank you very much. Tashakur. (Dari vocab 101: thank you)

After what seemed like a million hours of traveling from LAX to Dubai to Kbl.... I spent my first full day in Afg yesterday and my thoughts ran from a gamut of, "This is pretty cool" to "One year, eh? Easy peasy........." to "omg, am I really in AFG right now!?!? WTH"... It is hard to say how I really feel still. Perhaps I need to give myself a few days to adjust my mental/physical/emotional/spiritual state, all in all.. so please refrain from asking, "How is it?? What is it like?? How do you feel???" Because honestly, my answers will not be very true-to-tell.

One thing I can say is that, in the midst of my 24+ hours of traveling, God was so sparingly gracious with the whole process. With my sister, who barely made it to LAX before my gate boarding time closed (heart attack moment!), I managed fine, even in my tears, onto my 16 hour flight on Emirates Airline, which was one of the best experiences I had on any flight. I felt like I was in comatose for the majority of the plane ride, somehow forcing down some Ginger Ale (my fave airplane drink) and grilled okra to sustain my self, with No Strings Attached and Life As We Know It playing on repeat so that I could catch a scene or two every waking moment. Once I got to Dubai, my bags came out extra quick, found the Holiday Inn shuttle extra quick, got to my hotel extra quick... and spent the entire day, just laying in bed and restoring myself from the entirety of this new journey (?).

The next morning, I got schooled by the Holiday Inn taxi guy, who was so friendly and inviting... but only he then charged me 45 AED for my ride from the hotel to Terminal 2. I asked how much that was in USD and he replied, "Ehhh around $20". I gave him $21 for the entertaining & informational carride, only to realize when I was paying for my 45 AED meal at the airport, that it converted to only 12 USD. Fuuuudge. He was so cool about jacking my money. Oh wells, I did not let it phaze me. I forgot all about it when the TV started playing K-pop music videos. I sat down and the channel said, "Korean stars? Don't we all love them...?" For the 30 minutes I was seated, the VJs introduced everything from Big Bang to 2ne1 to CNBlue and other Korean groups I never heard of. How funny is that? In Dubai, of all places. lol, even that I believe that it was MEANT for me. Thanks, G.

G-Dragon with eyeliner never looked better

Anyway, back to how God was so loving to this on-route lost child to Afg... my luggage exceeded the weight limit by 7 kg, but there was a huge party of Arab men in the next booth who were trying to take 4 huge boxes of goods to Kbl by buying extra seats on the airplane... I think they made my situation look more trivial. So then he upgraded my seat to First Class as well. Doooope. I was the only female in the 12 seats of first class and felt a bit intimidated. But all the men were friendly and helped me put my luggage in the overhead compartment.

First Class on Ariana is like a Southwest seat

Lastly, I got to Kbl and the airport was IN-SANE. It was definitely way more developed from how I remembered it to be 4 years ago. But the number of people bustling around was immeasurable! I was overwhelmed, but luckily my luggage came out extra quick (again!) and a friendly Afg men tried to help me find one of the guys going around in the cart, who waited around to gather people's luggage, hoping to make an extra buck. I managed to carry my 2 check-in baggage, which weighed 100 pounds together, my carry-on duffle, which weighed another 20 pounds, and my Northface backpack ALL together, out to the security check point. I srsly have so much man-strength. It scares me.

Here I am, again.

I came out of the airport 2 hours after my estimated arrival time and started freaking out because the airport had developed so much that I could not recognize anything. I was not sure where to go and/or where Glenn & Mr/Mrs Pae would be waiting for me. A cart man helped me with my luggage in the final long walk to the entrance, where I saw a million faces peering over to see who was coming out. As soon as I walked out, I noticed Glenn, in his black Ray Ban-ish glasses scarfed mouth. Hallelujahhhhhhh!

Everything went smoothly, even in the midst of the craziness of all the traveling. I am sure it was His angels guiding every situation as all your prayers were with me. Seriously. It could have turned out quite disastrous, but I cannot say anything was sub-par from my given circumstances.

That is it for now. Not sure if anyone would be interested in my travel stories.... I promise the content will get more entertaining & Kbul-esque. For now, please keep me in your prayers; that I would come to terms with my next year here and find joy in all of this. It seems hard to imagine myself falling in love with my circumstance (being completely honest), but I remain open-hearted & open-minded to what is in store here in Kbul.

Tashakur for now.

ggpwn3d #11- Conditions of Love

Love.

It has been an endless season of learning about this so-called love.
Even after years of it, it still seems to be the one concept that is so hard to grasp; the idea of love in its fullness, from God to myself to others.

We just finished a 5-week Spiritual Gifts small group series with Hillside last week. During the first week, we read through different passages in the bible where it spoke about these spiritual gifts that we attain once we are in the body of Christ. One of them was from 1 Corinthians 13; yes, the passage about 'love' that everyone always quotes, "love is patient, love is kind, it does not envy, it does not boast..." Tis the classic wedding verse or the go-to passage whenever we try to encourage how to love others in a godly manner. What was different this time around was that we read it in context from verse 1 to 3.

"If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing." 

Without love in my heart/mind/actions, I am unable to give anything, be anything or gain anything. The gifts that we have and the people that are placed in our lives are not in vain. Within the present kingdom, we have the burden and responsibility to act out in love, or our lives would be meaningless.


On a slightly different note and back to the title of this post, I have been seeing the varied kinds of love that exist in my life. The 3 Conditions of Love: 1) unconditional, 2) conditional, 3) conditioned

The idea of unconditional love has seemingly become more of a mystery to me in the past months. Perhaps because I find how conditional and fickle the human flesh tends to be? I find that my love for myself and others falls short because of my pride/selfishness and just the sinfulness of my flesh. And then there is the conditioned act of love, where you live life thinking you love someone, which (could have) existed earlier in the days before, but along the way, the love just becomes a habitual act. This one scares me because sometimes you can not see that the love you give/receive might not be an active, present love. We get so blinded by the circumstances or the high's and low's of it all, that the presence of love disappears.

Simply put, it is impossible to always wholeheartedly love someone. So to imagine a God who loves me unconditionally kind of boggles my mind. It is hard to truly understand this love, but I read in Isaiah this afternoon where God reminded me: "As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts." (Isaiah 55:9) I will never be able to understand the fullness of His ways. Tis the faith that comes into play...

"For the LORD's portion is his people... In a desert land he [finds me], in a barren and howling waste. He [shields me] and [cares for me]; he [guards me] as the apple of his eye, like an eagle that stirs up its nest and hovers over its young, that spreads its wings to catch them and carries them on its pinions. The LORD alone [leads me]; no foreign god [is with me]." Deuteronomy 32:9-12

I read that this morning and got so owned. Before I seek him, he desires after me. I am HIS portion and He alone walks my way and guards my path. (?!) You are good, when there is nothing good in me.

Man, I really will never be able to grasp the ways of the Lord...
I want to love you so.

ggpwn3d #10- Omniscient is He

Hm,

not sure how to explain this vague thought.

During Hillside worship's response song/prayer time, Pastor Sam opens up the altar for those who are in need/want of prayer by him and Pastor Joey (our Hispanic pastor of King's Table). Being overly burdened these days from my sinful self, I forced myself up there and stayed crouched over for the whole song.

In my muddled thoughts, I managed to get in a few words of genuine plea to God. But I knew I was holding back. There was an impasse in my heart & my mind that was clearly redirecting my inmost desires; kinda like indigestion, but not. 

So there I was— on the floor, seeking internally, but struggling externally. Oh, the flesh.

As the song ended, Pastor Sam was in his benediction prayer when Pastor Joey put his hand upon my head and started praying for me. I will not repeat his prayer, but some key words he said were: memories, healing, battle.

I was blown- literally floored to the ground because his prayer was exactly the cry of my heart. How did he know? Srsly, it was quite a 'wtf' moment. (ughs + sighahh, in one) But really, this past week, I was brought back to something that I brushed under the rug very many years ago. Something that I never fully healed from, but forced myself to live past because He restores me, right? Something that I had never shared with a single soul except God. But when Pastor Joey prayed over me, God gave him those exact words because He knew that I was not able to say them from my own mouth. 

It broke me entirely because that is who God is. He knows my heart, my every thought, my deepest wants. It humbles me that even in my sinfulness, He still loves me so. He still wants my all; the all that I fail to give him. Yet he still pursues after me......... 

White flag,
I surrender.

Before a word is on my tongue
 you, LORD, know it completely.
You hem me in behind and before,
and you lay your hand upon me.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me,
too lofty for me to attain...

Psalm 139:4-6

ggpwn3d #9- Failing Flesh

A couple years ago, Pastor Paul gave his first sermon for our ikcm. It was my junior year in college, which marks the year where God started really moving in my heart. The sermon was about Psalm 73, where Asaph complains to God about how all the non-believers in the world live a luxurious life with no worries and such. You know, the same things we always grunt about to God, being the annoying, ungrateful beings that we are; or that I am, sorry.

Anyway, he comes in full circle and repents by saying, "Whom have I in heaven but you? And earth has nothing I desire besides you. My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever." (Psalm 73:25-26)

That stuck with me ever since that day and I would meditate on that every single day. I wrote it on all my books, journal, planner, etc to remind myself that it is indeed the Lord who remains in me that gives me life.

I even got it tattoo-ed on my wrist last year. When I was away in Spain for my 4+ month-long date with God, he gave me the design for the tattoo. Twas cool. I really like my tattoo.

Besides the point. So knowing that this symbol on my wrist means exactly that--"..but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever."... it has been owning me up every single day, especially this new year. You see, something that I realized about myself is that there is nothing good in me. 0%.

Here is how the verse should actually start: My flesh and my heart may fail...

I fail. even when my intentions are right... even when I repent before Him, asking him to free me from my self and to make me seek righteousness... even when I wake up to new mercies... even when I sighahh after getting owned from the Word... I fail.

My flesh is not able to produce anything good. With that, I find myself curling up inside and internally dying before God. He makes all things good. He makes me good. He makes me good. Why? (asking God, not my readers) It brings me to my knees. The amazing thing about grace is that there is more of it for me. The more of a sinner I am, the more grace I am given. Jesus came to heal the sick, not the righteous. I am sick. I am in need of His endless grace.

It is truly overwhelming. His grace. His desire for me.

A Word

Waking up each morning to a new day of mercies,

sighahh

Being hungry and getting fed daily,

sighahh

Pounding my fist yet His warm embrace,

sighahh

Questions and doubts– all timely managed,

sighahh

(Shout out to gnomie; non-cryptic)

sighahh

Nothing good in me, but defeated by an amazing grace,

sighahh.

None Sense

What days are worth when you know of their end; 

Can the absence of.. 

of ?–  be an act of –?

For what, do you see life today

or how about tomorrow-

will it be one of its own?

Where in my heart

does it reside; the existence of

my being.

Oh

there I see.

with whom would you spend it

and how will those be spent?

Haiku #3- Going, Gone

I think I will go-

to the land in need of love;

but where is my own?