When my pride won't call it quits

I've quoted 2 Chronicles 16:9 before in this blog. Time to emphasize the "support" part. It's slowly dawning on me that God is not looking for people to work for Him so much as He is looking for people who will let Him work for them. Feeling the rebuke of Psalm 106:13 maybe? The gospel is not a help-wanted ad, instead commanding us to give up and hang out our own help-wanted signs.

Prayer! Prayer is the antidote for the disease of self-confidence, which opposes God getting the glory. He gets glory by working for those who wait for Him. He will not surrender the glory of being the Giver.

Christian hedonism sounds like unsound doctrine

Love - the labor of Christian hedonism

Q: @ 1 Corinthians 13:5 - Does love seek its own?

A: The pursuit of pleasure is an essential motive for every good deed. (1 Corinthians 13:6, 1 Thessalonians 2:20, Jeremiah 9:24)

Q: Is sacrificing the same thing as love?

A: No. (Hebrews 12:2, 2 Corinthians 9:7)

Q: How are love and grace connected?

A: Love is a work of divine grace. It is fueled by grace. It is hungry for grace to flow through me to others. (2 Corinthians 8:1)

Q: How are love and joy connected?

A: Love is the overflow of joy in God that meets the needs of others. (2 Corinthians 8:3-4)

Q: Is it important to make others happy?

A: Love is finding your joy in the joy of another. (2 Corinthians 2:2)

Q: Is there a place for sadness in loving?

A: Love weeps. Love results in dissatisfied contentment out of a constant hunger for more of God's grace. (2 Corinthians 2:4)

Biblical justice, a servant's takeaway

Felt pretty wrecked again after service. Utter rebuke-anation!!

As P. Dwight noted, people oftentimes overlook Joseph's reaction to God's plan in bringing about Jesus through Mary's virgin birth. I had no idea that when Joseph "considered" whether to drop the marriage, the word connotes "angrily deliberated" (Matthew 1:19-20). And given the Law of Moses, he had good reason to be angry. But we see that he submits without a word (Matthew 1:24).

In the end, Joseph commits social suicide by marrying a supposed-adulterer and saving her from certain death-by-stoning. Omgosh another protoevangelical of Jesus ftw7H1212cr42Y! Two traits of Joseph that stand out? Justice ("being a just man") and grace ("unwilling to put her to shame"). For the sinner, mercy trumps justice.

Obviously, one point of the message was to emulate Joseph, and essentially emulate Jesus, but I love how our messages always emphasize the "how." How can one be compassionate and also inveigh a "delight to do Your will, O my God; Your Law is within my heart (Psalm 40:8)?"

**WORSHIP CHRIST**

Look at Him, eat of Him, drink His living water, be crucified with Him. A feast of worship is rare in a land where there is a famine of the Word of God, as John Piper would put it (Amos 8:11-12). What was most important was P. Dwight drawing a clear distinction between having Him abide in you and having doctrine abide in you. Point for point, I was being undone. My sense of justice was retributive. It demanded equal application of the consequences.

No, says the Bible! Once P. Dwight started admonishing Reformed Presbyterian circles for misinterpreting justice, I started laughing out loud at the ridiculous relevancy of it all. How many times I have let knowledge, though correct and righteous, get in the way of showing compassion and empathy. I'd much rather smear people than to show the grace I quickly sing when my transgressions are many.

Jesus, thank you for taking away my shame - joyfully (Hebrews 12:2) - rather than rubbing it in my face. Isaiah 42:3 indicates your saving power that goes beyond clearing my record but completely adopting me into you. It's your tremendous power to execute justice by executing yourself that allows me to depend on you constantly.

OK, these statements betray real emotions. You're my all, You're the best, You're my joy, my righteousness, and I love You, Lord.

Discernment: wisdom or pride tank?

So. The more theology I read, the more I realize that some things Christians teach one another just aren't right. And more often than not, I have a knee-jerk reaction.

Does this look like the picture of unification in Christ's body?

A couple of lessons I've learned:

• If you are not spiritually accountable to the person (they're in another church, small group), it may not be your place to correct them. How should you show you actually care about the person and not yourself? Crucify yourself and ask the person's spiritual authority to step in.
  
  For the person above, the mediator between us is an encouraging friend, Alicia.
  
• Be vulnerable. Acknowledge your faults and show you must rely on Jesus to believe what you believe.
  
• Say your piece, give it to God, then move on. Give the rest of the time solely to listening and loving. God changes hearts, not you.
  
• Knowing Jesus will return and bring all believers to live forever with Him, there's sometimes little reason to admonish friends on the little details (1 John 3:2). It's a whole 'nother story with preachers (2 Peter 2:1-2).

Help me in learning to pray for others first, that they may love Jesus and meditate on the Law just as He did. Flee from false doctrine, but better take some friends with you along the way! :)

Consecrated wholly. but by grace?

1) "Sometimes you gotta stop reflecting on God's character and just go serve!"
2) "I know God left the Bible here as a guide for us, but I tell you the Son is THE FINAL WORD on matters. And doesn't Jesus live in us? Stop looking at the Bible and look at fellow saints here and now."
.........blahhhhh

Past 12 hours --> discussions with two Arminians. My electrical engineering curriculum gets perpetually less exciting with each theological challenge.

God has a wonderful plan for Arminians, and specifically, He puts them in my life so that the doctrine of total depravity becomes that much realer. I can make all the hints I want about irresistable grace and Christ sufficiency, but in the end there might be something to be said when the other guys are evangelizing hard while I keep waiting for instead of seeking opportunities (though let's not get into the issue of ratio between true-to-false converts).

Indeed how, like them, my sinful flesh suppresses the magnificence of fellowship in, with, and through Christ, supressing the potential of my becoming a kingdom tool. Arminians can be unwitting workers of fleshly confidence, and so why am I letting them work harder than someone supposedly driven by the Gospel?

Repenting time, system reboot.
Philippians 3:3

What? YAM is evolving.

This past summer, as the dialogue on faith between me and my parents grew into normalcy, my mom gave an observation that particularly stung: "You've been to church for like 2 years but you're still the same person."

Granted, my mom probably meant I wasn't growing in a way that she would prefer, that is, into a less lazy son that worked with godlier ethic. But an observation is an observation. I could make all the excuses I wanted: I didn't want to act righteous so I wouldn't alienate my family, which would leave my mom antagonistic towards the Jesus figure that essentially took away her son. Being the same idiot around the house would be my way of witnessing, to say that being a Christian wouldn't entail some fake holier-than-thou lifestyle.

Thank God for my mom's honesty. Outside the home I would be a holy creature, but my parents would be left bereft of God's glory. And doesn't that speak volumes? If my true creature is revealed at home, the evidence points to --> I'm actually not being sanctified. "Shoot, am I saved?"

Good! This was the best [CHALLENGE] I've had since attempting to stop cussing after my baptism (aha gg). I knew the Lord's prayer...but I didn't know the Lord in the prayer; "hallowed be thy name" means granting God to fulfill in us a life - thoughts, words, and actions - that does not blaspheme His name. I knew justification by Christ...but I didn't know justification through Christ; being justified means my essence no longer sins, but that me sinning is me acting out of character (2 Corinthians 5:17).

What's different now?

Ignored consequences of sin --> grieving over sin (1 John 3:6-9).

Mock gospel and spirituality --> hope is in gospel and spirit (Romans 1:16).

Salvation can wait --> no greater hate than not sharing the Gospel.

Defeat by world's standards --> still struggling with this one, to be continued!

Colossians 3:1

Flesh worshipper

When I share my testimony, it's usually about the BYG Christmas service during my senior year. An event where I felt like I met God. Truth is, I probably wasn't saved until last semester - or at least when I was assured I was saved.

The year after my first church experience was a rollercoaster. Being identified as a Christian was something I could get behind because all my cool friends were also Christian. I took it seriously sometimes too; coming into Penn freshman year I had a 95 theses ready to combat the evils of evolutionary Inner Fishes. Pretty sure that stigmatized me as the preppy churchboy. In the mean time, my life was marked with constant fights with my family in addition to leaving two embittered pseudo-girlfriends in my wake. Is this the picture of 1 Thessalonians 5:24?

The question is: Did I love Christ? I really liked the worship songs that declared God faithful and loving and awesome, but all the songs and messages about Jesus' sacrifice I came to find... dull and offensive. Used to elegant theorems dictating universal truths, I could glean some faith in a powerful Creator that devised the Big Bang and brought forth the millions of solar masses and quasars chewing through each other for survival. But to make the story ugly and unclean by something as local as the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ was cringe-worthy. So unfulfilling, so undramatic, so anticlimactic.

I could have literally attended a synagogue or mosque those couple of years and my worship would not have been different. What was actually happening? I thought I was worshipping the LORD. but lo! I was bearing no fruit and living in sin. I was learning a bucketload of material on God's commands but I did not feel God's presence, and when I did it was His anger at my continual disobedience. My heart would be continually ridden with guilt and discouragement.

Fast-forward to Fall 2010 and you see a Willis that is, well, different. He knows Christ and obeys Him. He's not afraid to die for Christ, break up with his girlfriend for Christ, or drop out of school for Christ. What changed? The Spirit pointed me to things I once overlooked (John 16:13). My knowledge of the law no longer became a stumbling block, but rather was redeemed in coming to know grace in a fuller sense. Writing my "testimony" in preparation for baptism led me to reevaluate the origins of what caused my soul to stir that one BYG service: Ephesians 3:19 talks about whose love? Christ's. Christ is the lover of my soul!

Thank God Jesus acted so locally, so personally! Theocentricity without Christcentricity is judgement. Worshipping the LORD without praising Christ is worshipping one's own flesh, merely worshipping the potential happiness that this LORD could provide. Worship like this will lead to "dryness," and Christians should never be dry. If one is to worship in spirit and truth (John 4:23-24), they are to know the law, know the punishment for breaking the law, then be secure in the law fulfiller. May preaching be dispensed with 90% law and 10% grace, so that people may be first terrified of their disease and recklessly seize the cure without argument.

"Blinded men are ever prone to imagine that they have religious feelings because they have sensuous animal feelings in accidental juxtaposition with religious places, words or sights. This is the pernicious mistake which has sealed up millions of self-deceived souls for hell." - W. Robert Godfrey

"No Christ in your sermon, sir? Then go home, and never preach again until you have something worth preaching.
...
And I mean by Christ not merely his example and the ethical precepts of his teaching, but his atoning blood, his wondrous satisfaction made for human sin, and the grand doctrine of ‘believe and live.’" - C.H. Spurgeon

"Terror accomplishes no real obedience. Suspense brings forth no fruit unto holiness. No gloomy uncertainty as to God’s favour can subdue one lust, or correct our crookedness of will. But the free pardon of the cross uproots sin, and withers all its branches. Only the certainty of love, forgiving love, can do this." - Horatius Bonar

For if I preach the gospel, that gives me no ground for boasting. For necessity is laid upon me. Woe to me if I do not preach the gospel! (1 Corinthians 9:16)

What then? Only that in every way, whether in pretense or in truth, Christ is proclaimed, and in that I rejoice. (Philippians 1:18)

Guys, do not seek an experience but seek Christ.

2 Peter 3:18, Titus 3:4-8

God fills up tents...

I don't think I cried as much as I did this past service. or these past couple weeks.

Today's sermon - Exodus 40, God filling the tabernacle to be with His people and how Jesus is now our tabernacle. I can really relate to Spurgeon when he once cried out for God to CHILL OUT in making His presence known to him because he was going to die of joy. The God whose heart it is to recklessly be with his people through their sin and disobedience - this is true love! I cried during this description, knowing this is the type of love that will eventually mark a Christ-indwelling body.

John 1:14, Revelation 21:1-4

I am now an interpreter!!

With my sister still new to the community (of Christ, dundundun) she's been asking questions on what preachers actually talk about, since it's filled with this weird Biblical jargon sometimes. Subsequently, I have reflected hard on my own evident change in diction since going through the past 2 years of college ministry. In doing so, I would like to say I've become a proficient interpreter/translator between Christian ⇌ secular-speak.

I present an authoritative list for reference. Users will find it extremely helpful when needing to communicate churchy thoughts without fear of misunderstanding. Situations to use these words run the gamut from sermons to everyday speech. Examples of usage are also provided to illustrate tone that the phrases carry for each group. Phrases marked with (*) carry supplemental enrichment for more advanced users.

...............
the body ⇌ churchgoers, near-apostates, Jesus folk
Usage: We, though many, are one body in Christ, and individually members one of another.
⇌
One such group of needy people are churchgoers.

...............
spiritual gift ⇌ random talent
Usage: "My spiritual gift is prophetic visions." "Snap, mine is healing."
⇌
"My random talent is knowing when my roommate will wake up." "Oh, I can wrap a tourniquet because I've been watching TLC since I was a kid."

...............
blessed ⇌ happy
Usage: She said yes! I'm so blessed!
By God's grace*, it was such a blessing to hear your testimony.
⇌
She said yes! I'm so happy!
We were really lucky* to hear your story; it made us happy.

...............
God's redemptive plan ⇌ time
Usage: Soon, all things* will be revealed** in God's redemptive plan.
⇌
At some later point in time, we'll figure out** this sh--*.

...............
gosh ⇌ god
Usage: Gosh darn.
Oh my gosh, he literally* never listens to me.
⇌
Godamit.
Oh my god, he f---ing* never listens to me.

...............
and this one's a monster!!
Holy Spirit ⇌ energy, feelings
Usage: I'm so tired, I need the Holy Spirit to fill me.
I am being convicted by the Holy Spirit to help them.
Father, may your Holy Spirit enable me to reach out to them in Christ love*.
⇌
I'm so tired, I need energy.
I feel like helping them.
I want to talk* to them.

...............
Am I missing any!?

1 Corinthians 14:13

Words: their use and abuse

Don't tell people that they're using up your weekday minutes or that they talk too loud. Two not-so-quick lessons from yesterday. It's one thing to be blunt like Jesus and another to be blunt like an immature brat.

Words are so crucial:
Genesis 1:3
Habakkuk 2:2
Mark 13:31
John 1:1.


James 1:19, Proverbs 15:1

Well, it depends

It's times like these, when my suffering is no more and mercy is all I see, that I regret not drawing to you, God. So much regret. During the suffering, I ran away more than I ran to you. You were a nonentity and my only thought of you was that you were some screwed up concoction I made in my mind so I wouldn't be lonely. Ain't it the truth. I'm so abysmally lonely. My eagerness to seek you depends so much on my mood and the time of day and which way the wind is blowing.

Seeing my wretchedness before I knew you, and my continuing rebellion against you, I get so sick in the stomach I want to throw up. Since you're the staple of all holiness, how much more pissed and upset you must be at me.

Praise your son, God. Praise him for everything. I don't care what Albert says. God, you are so good. You're the only good thing in my life. I love you so much.

Looking back

A new skill I've been developing is the ability to look into my rear-view mirror and quickly memorize the license plate of the car behind me. It takes 2 levels of thinking since the lettering is mirrored but that's the fun in it. I also suggest everyone follow suit since, with all these freak rainstorms, I'm beginning to become suspicious of cars slipping into my bumper and I'll always assume these are the hit-and-run type of people.

In addition, I think putting a rear-view mirror question, or any spacial-logic question, on the learner's permit exam would be valid, or at least fun! It could have an animation of a car swerving in and out of the reflection, so the difficulty would be moderate.

Thoughts?

Prayer request

Could you guys pray that the dialog between me and my parents does not only glorify Him in mere presence but also in effectual change. May the recent discussions we've been having stir the ridiculously dusty and hardened hearts of these refugees of the Cultural Revolution, who are skeptical of ideology when they themselves unknowingly testify so strongly that man and his ways cannot be trusted. May His sovereignty be declared to all.

Could you guys pray that my sister will seek the Creator of heaven and earth, to have her creeping opened eyes be blown wide open to His power, grace, and majesty. God put me in a place last night to share the Gospel with her and now she has expressed interest in attending service. May I be a willing servant to her, a child of God, in these times.

For the first time, I had an answer for the persecutors. I was given the Heart of compassion and sorrow for a people so rebellious, to see things in His eyes. As a friend told me, if you need conviction of your faith, nothing is quite like proclaiming it before the lost. God is working, let's all be a part of it wherever you're reading this!

2 Timothy 4:2, John 16:2, Luke 21:14

What tools do carpenters use?

So I really like the word tool. I especially like it when it's used for the direct purpose of calling someone out on being a tool. Exquisite. Blessed is the man who is anti-establishment, asexual in orientation, and freelance in thought and motive.

That same man would call Willis a tool, or at he's least becoming one. What?? Willis is no tool, my dear readers would argue.

In the beginning of my faith, it was easy to start passing judgment on fellow churchgoers.
You seriously never cuss? Tool.
You donate to a missions team that can't even speak the native tongue of its audience? Tool.
You tithe your allowance? Tool.
You use the Bible to encourage someone like it'll make them feel better? Tool.
You have lunch dates with the youth pastor? Tooltooltool.

And so like 3 years later, this same person is dragging out high school friends to apologetics discussions, defending the tacky piece of antiquity called the Bible to his famuree, and praying at public localities. If only I'd known sooner that what I saw as being a tool was actually being filled with the Holy Spirit! Being sold out to God is about as toolish as you get, as weak as you get. And what would be pathetic to the world is honestly the best course of action (2 Corinthians 12:9).

So how thankful I am to be surrounded by other tools (for God). Tools I can confess my sins to and receive encouragement from (always in Biblical contexts). If I were Mulan singing that Christina Aguilera song, I'd want my reflection to show a shiny wrench in the hands of God. Or pliers.

EDIT: I realized also that I started going to church because the girl I liked was going, so...............I don't even know.

Saturday Night Light

Before their eyes, they fear You not, because they know You not. Satan has given them crafty lies. Lies that say there is no battle for their hearts, that there is no room for 91.9Shine FM on the radio presets.

Help convict me that their ways are death. To tell them their ways are death. Why am I so afraid of man? Why am I so offended by man? Why do I try so hard to impersonate man? When you give my earthly abba a tone of bitterness and wrath after work, how is it I still reply with double the malice? When his wife warns my charity to church will lead me astray, that I obey and continue storing treasures on earth? When their daughter is insecure on the path leading to man's approval, that I don't pass on some Good News?

In the house of thy enemy, my defense is so woefully at its lowest! I sing and proclaim you have delivered me from death, my feet from stumbling, but it's all a sick prank on You if I accuse you of giving me a spirit of fear. At 11PM in rural Howard County, how decisive would a beam of car headlights be to light the wanderer's way?

Psalms 56:13

Copernican principle

After talking to Sarah Ryu, I wanted to get perspective on what exactly RESULTS in me working at my summer job.
This is a schematic of our company's organizational chart, and you can see how far the window extends (note: I couldn't print screen this because the company disabled the button, but I got around it HA!!). My relative standing is one of the low boxes. In summary:
Shown head count: 3541

Planned: 3986

So my contribution? In a typical work week, I clock about 30 hours of experiments. This data results in about 2.8 scientifically-sound graphs per week that I present at a 3 hour meeting. Every 3 weeks, one of these graphs will interest my superior's associates and will call for additional qualification experiments.

These summer-long experiments give scientists an empirical basis for adding a line of advice in a 20-page development SOP for a specific product. This SOP is used to qualify a purification step process, of which there are 7 downstream processes. Purification process may or may not result in product making the cut from phase III to regulatory submission. There are typically 6 phases for pre-clinical development. Finally, there are 130+ products in the company pipeline.

Squirrel!

Genesis 3:19

Scary dream

I enter a hotel room, regal white curtains pulling Marylin Monroe skirt phase action over a breathtaking view of jungle canopies. I'm pretty tired so I head towards the bed. Pulling up the covers, I'm surprised to find a serpent-eyed man with a pale complexion lying there staring straight back. He says, "Hi, I'm Jesus the Messiah." Apparently, I'm too tired to pay him any heed so I slip under and close my eyes.

Then the guy starts tickling me and in my head I go, "Aw hell no." I try to jab my heel into his gut, but before I know it he's on top of me, pinning my arms on both sides. I flash kick up his chin and dart down to the main lobby. He's beaten me there, blocking the revolving door!

I call for my friend, "Pontius Pilate!" A Chinese who looks like Roy Mustang from Full Metal Alchemist appears to my side, and at the snap of his fingers, lights Jesus on fire to char beyond recognition.

This is proof I need a Savior.

Bible smuggling

Sigi and I by Gwen Shaw was given to me by my freshman year roommate, Peter Young, as a gift for my baptism. Hoho. Set in the Cold War, it's the true story of an American (Shaw) and German (Sigi) woman bringing the Word over the Berlin wall into Commmunist East Germany, Czechoslovakia, Rumania, and Yugoslavia.

As one could imagine, the faith required to step up to this calling had to have been XXL. All the actions, thoughts, and plain luck the protagonists' attribute to the work of the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit gave them the power to face checkpoint stops, blinded the eyes of officers to their Bible luggage, timed their arrivals and departures perfectly, directed them in dark streets with signs they couldn't read and evangelized people who couldn't understand but did. The book must be renamed 1001 Close Calls by T.H.S.

What I found remarkable was the familiarity of the practices that these cooky Europeans also did. They had prayer meetings, worshiped to familiar hymns, and, I swear, gave out the same-titled tracts!! But behind the Iron Curtain, these activities seemed out of necessity: these Christians literally declared themselves Christians, and as a result, were denied access from sports, politics, educational programs and institutes. Here, to be Christian was to forfeit the world...so could I have done that? hmmm.

I love You, Lord, though bitterly I'm weeping
In valley deep, where nothing I can see.
I know You know and love the one who is Yours, Lord,
And to Your Heart my weary soul doth flee.

Apologetics is overrated

After reading a bunch of atheist literature recently, I was relieved to pick up The Case for Christ by Lee Strobel. Not relieved in the sense of having my faith buttressed ... but stylistic-burgeoning relief. Atheistic stuff can seem so ill-willed and hostile, and fortunately Strobel wrote something tame (but not bland!)

The book is great in two ways. One, it reads like a coherent investigative narrative with no sources given easy passes. Two, it's the testimony of Strobel's journey from keen, Yale Law graduated skeptic to believer. I guess it was meant to be read cooperatively since there are group discussions questions at the end of each section. Topics covered:
[] reason to believe authentic authorship of the gospels (did you know Paul's Jewish contemporaries wrote that Jesus was a sorcerer? Jesus vs. Dumbledore = epic)
[] "the canon is a list of authoritative books rather than an authoritative list of books"
[] disregarding the gospels, Jesus is still the most well-documented creator of a religion in secular history (competition: Buddha and Muhammad)
[] hearkening to 48 Messianic prophecies in the Old Testament, the chance for someone random to fulfill them is on the scale of the number of atoms in a trillion, trillion, trillion, trillion, billion same-sized universes as this one

I read this book with caution. I usually get really excited when studying apologetics, but Jesus says "You believe because you see; blessed are those who have not seen yet believe." However, I now feel so equipped in defending the Scriptures, yet I know atheists will more likely argue on moral/emotional lines. It's coo'.

Unsolved Crimes and Gospel in Asia

Great Unsolved Crimes by Louis Solomon is a collection of six crimes, none of which involve drugs (read: white people-on-white people crimes). These took place before 1976, so there are black and white sketches and drawings as exhibits. And for the most part, they are boring save the first one. Summary:
= hijacking then badass freefall out of a plane
= reputable banker bound and murdered in own home
= 10 stolen paintings from New York museum
= America's first kidnapping (I guess for ransom)
= disappearance of neanderthal bones in China
= warmhearted daughter suspected murderer of parents

Revolution in World Missions by Dr. K.P. Yohannan was given to me for free as a subscriber to John Piper's blog. Secular take-away message: it's more practical and ridiculously cheaper to use natives as missionaries than Westerners. The book recalls to mind Jaeson Ma's speculation of how God will use East Asians to reach out to the Middle East (my honest opinion is that brown people will speak better to brown people). Funny how things connect. TIME recently wrote on the lack of religious freedom in the Islamic states of Iran, Saudi Arabia, and Egypt among others. Reasons for hostility against Christian practitioners vary, but Western churches make it hard to sympathize for the Great Commission.

I found myself agreeing with many of Yohannan's points on the worldliness and spiritual darkness present among American churches. A lot of business, not a lot of potential-filling. Constructing churches here can easily cost in the millions, and millions more for sustaining programs, where for the same price decent churches all over the Indian subcontinent could be built so that all may hear the Gospel.

One thing I came to understand after reading: humility is the place where all Christian service begins. It's a word that describes the persecuted missionary that serves time in a dirt cell as big as my cat's litter box (oh, but is miraculously sustained by the Word of which he has long since memorized). It's a word neglected by foolish Western outreach projects that use Western means to reach to the lost while perpetuating longtime associations of Christianity with British colonialism (let the Holy Spirit do what it wills). It's a word that commands loving those in your village and city, to consider serving and discipling them as your burden (Jesus says "as my Father hath sent me, even so send I you").

Among the book's testimonies was one from a woman who lived in Towson. I pretty much grew up there for elementary school.

John Steinbeck and The Chinese Grammarian

I had once bought The Portable Steinbeck anthology for my "Of Mice and Men" paper in Ms. Rizzo's class and never once looked at the other stories. Within, I have annotated stickies that read "Lennie...you're retarded." haha so true.

Last night, I read "The Red Pony." First thing is that Steinbeck is a really good author. In enlightened prose (ref. editor's intro) "his poetic rhythms recall to me the Homeric spirit in American literature." I gauge his goodness by way of how he makes me feel. For example, a lot of authors make me feel illiterate and retarded. I'll be reading and everyone seems chill until the farmer's wife kills herself. Oh, she was depressed? Steinbeck makes it very clear what the characters are feeling by their realistic dialogue without being blatant, giving me the sense of feeling intelligent and sensitive to subtle things.

However, on the subject of animals, these past couple days have been very sad. Last night I saw gruesome photos of a dog hacked at the face on the local news (nevermind the constant kindergarten slashings in China). In the first chapter, 10 year-old Jody cares very much for his pony gift, only to have the ranch hand carelessly leave it out in the rain, subject it to strangles, slowly waste away, then getting its eyes eaten by buzzards (btw, the pony dies). Really not a happy story: boy eviscerates many small animals, ranch head kills mother horse to birth promised colt, and father and mother argue about inlaws. At the same time, there's appeal in the childish themes of curiosity of the outside world ("beyond the mountain ridges") and cross-generational relations ("He looked over his shoulder to see whether Billy had noticed the mature profanity"). Finally, the anthology concludes with Steinbeck's Nobel acceptance speech: "Literature was not promulgated by a pale and emasculated critical priesthood singing their litanies in empty churches - nor is it a game for the cloistered elect, the tin-horn mendicants of low-calorie despair." Worrrddd...?

Next! I found a small pocketbook 高中英语词汇手册 wedged between some dictionaries. My dad used it in high school to learn English and now I'm ironically trying to pick up some Chinese from it. The range of difficulty is really dynamic, where on the same page you have
tend [tend] (3) vt. 他照料了病人。
test-tube ['testt ju:b] (12) n. 小心别把试管打碎了。
and
tearful [tîr'fəl] (14) adj. 她眼泪汪汪地看着我，好象乞求我的怜悯。
the Bastille [ba-steel] (3) 巴士底狱是巴黎的国家监狱, (1789年)在法国大革命中被摧毁。

I can't believe I was still at Penn <48 hours ago.

Take a look, it's in a book, a reading rainbow

Familiarity, familiarity. Before I hit the sack last night at 11:50PM, I saw my sister making quicker headway.

"Wow! You are sleeping so early!"

"Wow! I'm taking a quick nap. Chill."

She is going to fit in college just fine. As I'm currently typing this, she is BS-ing Huckleberry thematic devices on the AP Lang. lolgg.

The body of sophomore year slightly remains in its vestiges a la uncut, umbrella hair which I plan to get cut by Viets later today. Recent development: I shower before sleeping versus after waking, for I now care about the smell of my immediate habitat (sorry, Steven). Looking into the long-term (next three weeks until I start work), I draw a big blank. It's hard to pick up an instrument, learn a language, or beat FFXIII in that time. My employer said it was "the perfect time to take a vacation."

Well sanks, I thought I was gonna work today but HR didn't file the doodads timely. And so, I've decided to take a sojourn into reading. In my study, the shelves are dominated by SAT&AP prep books that I only perused. The other 10% are actually books, narratives, and other noncareer-enhancing collectives. I'll try to get through these quickly, one every couple days, then update the blog with my take-away messages. Every summer I tell myself I'm going to pick up reading and literally fail. Now I can say I've done it once.

Also, I might go to Atlanta with pops Aug.24-27th for his conference, so Christine Li should tell me what she's up to at that time.

Holy cleaning is dirty..

YO, it's pretty lame when cats take out your dried laundry, you forget to pick it up, and lo'! There's an impressive mound of severely crippled clothing dried and Lays-ruffled to perfection. So what I end up doing is folding people's laundry after I put my load into the dryer. I know perfectly well the rage from seeing jumbled clothing, and the fact that I know Christ makes me wonder how others would respond sans special revelation. Anyways, today was an otherwise ordinary stack.

sweatpants, Penn traditions 2012, Barack the Vote 2008, Greek weekend 2008, see-through panties, Greek weekend 2009, Greek weekend 2010, Fling in Wonderland, Das Sober, guy socks, pink pantie-whoa!!!!

Exhibit A. Stain-streaked panties

It's so brown. and heavy. my insides were heaving from simultaneous mirth via hilarity & disgust via nausea. So clearly the sight is before me! but my job continues and eventually everything gets stacked.

How clear our sin is before God. How shambled our lives appear, but with careful hands they are received and remade. How gracious is His....grace, to have Christians work through Christians, atheists through atheists. and like Penn laundry, it's free!

The only form of grace I can possibly dispense right now is keeping the identity of clothing-owner anonymous. Seldom do I sell-out... besides saying she's a Phi sigma sigma living on 24th floor Rodin, I have done no such thing. Her transgressions are safe with me :]]

Genesis 38:27-30

The MIA Roommate: Peter Young

Scrawled on our unhinged blackboard, consistent with the dorm's à la mode medium of communication second only to endearing (passive-) aggressive post-its, are the last biddings of Mr. Young. Branded so are his words that they have remained on the board for half a semester now. On long, heavy-headed nights of lab writing, the worn engineer can look up and smile knowing the words are mere ideographs to the heterosexual bystander. The words read:

"無苦集滅道

無智亦無得"

"Keep each other safe and not straight! Take care of Ben for me, a child without his father ends up more feminine :/"

"remember the plan

A: Steven Chen mass sticky notes Room

B: Willis Zhang parades Red shorts

-->C: Benjamin Shyong<--

Peter Young =)"

So gay.

Tutorial: Elements of detail in bboying

can this really post on my blog? Google must control everything..

"Stop crying. Are you a girl?"

(Omgosh, crazy Asian mother LOL!! I remember when this first came out, I watched it religiously everyday. Same effect for a good week. My mother still doesn't get the jokes ... never lookah laik hehpee feisss!)

In the past four days, I've literally cried like 5 times. And practically made someone else cry too. Actually, that event in itself accounts for the first of the cryings.

Crying is defined as "a complex secretomotorphenomenon characterized by the shedding of tears from the lacrimal apparatus, without any irritation of the ocular structures (Compr. Psych. 34 1993)." Uhhhh, I agree with the complex part! I'm starting to see myself well up with tears during heightened spiritual awareness ... but historically that only happens when I'm pretty stressed out -- and I think I'm cruising just fine at the moment. It's just so strange that I've been feeling continually floored by glorious adoration ... bah, praise Him for these lapses in my cool-as-a-cucumber nature 8`D

Under Wikipedia, "Crying" is listed under the category "Psychological manipulation," accompanied with "Silent treatment" and "Swearing." That's kind of harsh. Who has seriously used crying as a means to control others? (If you've done that and you're like older than 14, I dislike you with extreme prejudice).

It also says, on average, men cry at least once a month and women cry at least 5 times a month (before/during menstruation account for most incidences). First of all ... who are these men LOLOL?? The only explanation for that statistic is if the survey was conducted in Taiwan. Or a comparable location where men lack stable emotional needs. Like Rodin 2315. Fact. And it's now officially known that my sister undergoes a period everyday. She does those genuinely frustrated gurglings: "This -huffpuff- expletive -sniffsniff- essay/trombone piece/cell phone -huffpuff- needs to -huffpuff- expletive -sniffsniff- itself..."

Sigh.

Well, it always feels better after a secretomotorphenomenon, especially with a human handkerchief by your side.

x'D


Psalms 130:1-3

3 broken women

A panhandler with drool-drenched clothes spat at me and cussed me out in the subway.

A mother rammed her son's head into a street pole for not filling up the parking meter.

Girlfriend's sick.

It's just one of those Mondays.

Don't "Try Jesus"

From a sermon by Ray Comfort:

Two men are seated in a plane. The first is given a parachute and told to put it on as it would improve his flight. He’s a little skeptical at first because he can’t see how wearing a parachute in a plane could possibly improve the flight. After a time he decides to experiment and see if the claim is true. As he puts it on he notices the weight of it upon his shoulders and he finds that he has difficulty in sitting upright. However, he consoles himself with the fact that he was told the parachute would improve the flight. So, he decides to give the thing a little time. As he waits he notices that some of the other passengers are laughing at him, because he’s wearing a parachute in a plane. He begins to feel somewhat humiliated. As they begin to point and laugh at him and he can stand it no longer, he slinks in his seat, unstraps the parachute, and throws it to the floor. Disillusionment and bitterness fill his heart, because, as far as he was concerned, he was told an outright lie.

The second man is given a parachute, but listens to what he’s told. He’s told to put it on because at any moment he’d be jumping 25,000 feet out of the plane. He gratefully puts the parachute on; he doesn’t notice the weight of it upon his shoulders, nor that he can’t sit upright.

The second man is struck by the truth and knowledge of death without the parachute. Outside jeering falls short of the peace, security, and joy in certain salvation that fills his heart. Surely he is grateful to the giver of that parachute. The first man just wanted the parachute solely to improve his flight, but ends up humiliated. Chances are, he wouldn't dare put that parachute back on to save any face he has left.

When leading others to Christ, don't falsely promise a great life. To do so is to sow seeds on the rocky places where there will be no root (Mark 4:16-17). Matthew 16:24 paraphrased is, "In the world's eyes, you gon' die if you follow Jesus. Prepare to get put up on a cross every second of your life." A life in Christ is most joyful, but trial is certain. Suffering is imminent.

It's a delicate thing, sharing the "Beloved child, God wants to hug you" Gospel vs. "Wretched sinner, God wants to save you from deserved wrath" Gospel. Both are vital. Yet I encourage those in the faith to not talk like a theologian when sharing to the lost, but use personal narrative to relate these truths. Don't testify about how bad life was before Christ and how your life is baller now (yeah, no); testify on how you're still short of His glory. how you don't deserve saving and repentance. how you're as wicked as the child pornographer and family-abandoning father.

and how you love your Jesus.

Oh baby.

So like when parents have their newborn son (isn't it true you never hear people say "newborn daughter?"), through underslept eye slits and hoarse vocal folds they'll tell you, "I can't take my eyes off him!!" A literally overused phrase that I will refuse to characterize my offspring care. I mean, they look like aliens, sure. Except it's not clear whether God has made room for aliens to exist in the heavenly realms.

Anyways, during my interview for church membership, Pastor Wanho brought up how God is constantly watchful. "For the eyes of the LORD move to and fro throughout the earth that He may strongly support those whose heart is completely His (2 Chron. 16:9)." A human father's obsession with his child, multiply it by 144000, and you come closer -- not really -- to an unexplainable security worth rejoicing and worshiping.

Don't trust in your prayer, your (little) faith, your baptism, sacraments, good works, or your own repentance.

In everything, trust Christ alone.

Remember that Bill Cosby show...?

7 year old kids say the darndest things.

Playing soccer:
"Imma burn you."
How do kids come up with burn/smoke/serve threats?? 7 year old Willis would have mistook you for a carpet-burner, or worse yet, Indian-sunburner.

Talking about pets:
"I once took dis cat and bwoke its neck. Frew it by the tail against the wall."
O_________o!!!!

On athleticism:

"And then I tried squeezing my hair together in a mohawk then tie my laces to my legs then pick up my Stone Cold Steve Austin action figure then (inches in and whispers) I jump so high."

On art:
"Whenever I see black and white, I just feel like coloring it in.

No wait.

Not on walls. "

Asking about guardians:
"My parents ask Angeline to come in. Angeline is my babysinner."
That was just a funny one.

And for some reason, black kids everywhere I go like using the phrase:
"Imma take you out and bring you back real fast in slow motion."
SUCH A DOPE LINE.

West Philly, Baltimore, or brats from Chinese school, you'll never really understand kids (at least until the two missing front teeth grow back in).

32 - 4 = 28 teeth left

Things we take for granted:

- inpalpable oxygen intake
- normal, non-icepak temperatures
- voluntary fasting
- LOL
- shushing trombone-playing sister
- comprehensible speech
- not having p-orbitals for cheeks
- drinking bloodless beverages

笨蛋 vs. ばか

In Ben Shyong fashion, contemplate this.

Sino-Japanese relations, as of late, have thankfully only been ruffled by intense soccer matchups and subsequent import product boycotts after defeats. But I would like to exasperate things. Japanese certainly have the Chinese beat with international PR.





For us Chinese, quite "はずい."

"♪So you had a bad day...♫"

Had my first car accident today. Bummer.

Interesting climax to a wack Wednesday. Loaded my drug substance material onto the column after 2 days of preparation and…no HETP curve. 6PM came and once I was done repacking the column, all I was thinking of was the 各类炒饭waiting for me upon spangled Chinese hems.

Light rain playfully slid beneath clumsy wipes. No really, the wipers strike down at my windshield rather than skim across. It sucks. Anyways, the dark road gradient grew lighter and less damp as I went 80mph down 270 Southbound. Beside myself with dramatic maneuvers, I stomped on the brakes in order to take the Columbia Pike exit. The front of my car certainly rotated right, but more forwardness than rightness was getting accomplished than planned.

Ladies and gentlemen, it only takes Ms. Hidro Plain one second to serve screwed-stew. That’s all she needs. An artist’s depiction of the scene is seen above.

Well, I thump up onto the curb and fear sears through me. My ears pick up 1995 iron-grade sockets waging a millisecond war with concrete. Silence. Then my own breathing. Wonderful. Emergency lights. At this point, so overwhelmed by the feeling of being alive, I didn’t think to step outside and assess the damage. Yo, mad quiet time. Probably the most sincere quiet time I’ve ever had. I listened, I listened hard. He’s telling me something.

In between passing rap music and well-meaning pickup truck country boys offering help, I flip to the recently tabbed Isaiah 55:10-13. Yeah, the rain verse. LORD, am I being watered? LORD, You know I am nothing. How are you planning for my Willis petals to bud? Will I know when I’ve been budded, if the budding is pleasing?

Casualties: front wheel rim popped off and wooden remnants of a McCainPalin campaign slogan laid about decomposing with added moisture. GG. Driving back at a self-emplaced 30mph speed limit gave me much more time to reflect. The steering alignment was having a severe case of scoliosis. To keep straight was to constantly adjust a manic wheel. Such is how the LORD wrestles with the sickly human heart. His firm digits keep the know-it-all wheel from certain death. It might think going on the passing lane is a good idea, but the vehicle is not ready.
-Baby, this is 6.5x1000 RPMs, you kidding me?
-No, He says. Not kiddingeth.
The perfect plan highway has peculiar mandates. But each car’s timing never fails. Whoa, the wheel flew left again. This is hard.

And then as I drove up the driveway, the shy sun winked through a rainbow.
“Oh יֵשׁוּעַ, you nice.”
-Earth veers off orbit onto a crash course with Neptune due to blog reader’s massive eye roll movement-

God-life-analogy shpeels are usually pretty cheesy, but I believe that life’s groundwork is founded upon a wholesome slice of lame.

Jesus Christ was a Bboy

Saturday was interesting. With Boaz and Calvin in tow, we made our way to the oft visited Lakefront, home of duck families and the scores of human families that throw rocks at them. And in typical Howard County fashion, a country band was already performing on the platform we would practice on. Waaaaack. The crowd vibe was bored at best, itching for something else. Then the band finished. Right on cue, we summoned the [g h e t t o b l a s t e r] to project the musical stylings of passed-over legend, Michael Jackson. And in typical Howard County fashion, an anxious dance circle opened up to invite a homegrown, suburbantown celebration. Waiters served the patio tables with a swagger and accepted tips with a pelvic thrust. Grandmothers swung their clawed hands left-right-circle-left-left. And there we were, Bronx-style bboys paying tribute through a branch of dance Jackson helped inspire. Aside: Woodlawn, a local African-American church, invited us to perform at their services. Word! But after an hour of getting people hyped to songs about zombies and gang violence deterrence, a dried-up Willis surrendered, “Dang, I don’t have a lot of moves.”

The past year I was involved with Freaks of the Beat, a group that upholds the truest Hip-hop principles at Penn. Already having background in bboying and knowledge on the culture, I was eager to train with like-minded, enthusiastic, KRS-ONE-sampling individuals. And I did meet those individuals. Caveat lector – one troubling thing I noticed was the way the oldheads were teaching the new gens. They seemed consumed with lecturing the self-righteous doctrine of musicality; that hitting the beat triumphs over all other dance aspects. As a result, we were terribly weak. Complacent with just rudimentary skills and sloppy technicals, we would get destroyed at competitions. Moreover, it is my personal belief that Frosty Freeze, bless his chair-stabbing soul in heaven, would be ashamed at our group’s attitude.

This is the attitude that I believe is infesting a lot of churches. There are misconceptions in varying degrees, but the general misconception is of God’s unconditional love. I know this very much contradicts an entry I posted earlier. That no matter who we are, no matter how great our sin, God forgives…which is true. Caveat lector – His grace is not a universal blanket of acceptance.

Then how is it unconditional? Well, God is not a frail grandmother that indulges kids but is too weak to demand obedience and discipline (John 14:21-23). His love is unconditional in the sense that there are no tricks. The devil tempts and deceives, using our fleshly weakness to exploit and surrender blessings to sin. But God’s word unmistakably shows we are saved by *unconditional love through the *unconditional, complete sacrifice of His Son (Romans 8:32). For that reason, we must CHASE the Son without reservation to lay down our lives, sacrifice everything, lest we stand in God’s presence with heavy hearts. If His love were as free as everyone thought, why would we need Jesus? Why would we need God?

I see that with my class at church we are not becoming Godly men, but rather kids who act nice when we have to. God’s way is too hard for us. We’ll start cursing right when we leave the church parking lot. We’ll touch our girlfriends however we like. We’ll lie to our parents because it’s easy, silly mainlanders. Analogous to the weakness of a lousy 6-step, our church class is a weak body from shrugging off scripture, weak from passion run dry, weak from a delusion of God not being jealous for our hearts, not wrathful for our sin.

“Nahh trick chillax, God’s coo’ wit it. Jesus saved us, ya dig?” This is cheap grace. Just like hitting beats is just cheap hype. A chimpanzee handcuffed to a chair submerged in a tub of lard could hit beats. To explain in a way I understand, God doesn’t just beatride everything with footwork-pose-downrock-pose to follow “oldschool rules.” That’s Mighty Zulu Kings crap, and no one likes them HEHE. He is not made holy by nonchalantly beatriding both the righteous and the wicked. Instead, He is Judger of all things time-space and His timing devastates with perfect care and purpose. A (slightly) more accurate gauge of God’s holiness would be a double loser flip into a reverse elbowchair, spinning and inverted with both His mighty hands behind his back scratching His own mix of the Jackson 5’s Pumpin’ Jumpin’ (you all know that part – babadabadadum DA!DA!DA!) He is perfect. He won’t completely burn you, smoke you, wipe the floor with your eyelids like you deserve, but will reveal to you THE WAY AND THE TRUTH.

And so, we must emulate. True bboying is honest expression. Not being a slave to music, but being its visual megaphone so to speak. To respect the culture, and yourself, expression must be as complex as the emotions put into each trilling high-hat. Crazy Legs could’ve just saved the trouble of tirelessly going from backspin to chair, backspin to chair, then –KABAWW- windmill. We must always push ourselves to acquire the moves and put our own flavor to it.

Faith works similarly. Our bodily vessels must megaphone Jesus. Scripture is what we arm ourselves with against the Gentiles and skeptics. Like storing nasty finisher combos, we should commit to memorize a couple hardhitting verses or a couple stupefying counter-Darwinist loopholes to beat back the opposing crew that is the World. Caveat lector - spitting Christian theology without compassion is like doing rehashed power combos that are superficially impressive. Bboying emphasizes individuality; unique transitions and well-timed blowups are recipes for an inspiring battle set. It is the same with reaching out and blessing others with His word. A Christian should discern when the soil is fertile to plant seeds, when they are called and do so lovingly and not proudly (Ecclesiastes 3:1). Do not simply recite scripture, but share your personal convictions and how your walk with Jesus changed because of them. Dope.

Surprisingly, Christian and Hip-hop ideologies reflect each other in too many ways. Members of both parties would deem this sacrilegious: Christians would pretentiously stray away from something so “degrading” while Hip-hop heads continually cypher in the orgy that is self-empowerment, rejecting conventional authority seen in Christian-based Western government. Thankfully, God’s goodness transcends their mutual flaws and is made to be glorified in both communities.

"but when I became a man, I put away childish things."

Today at work, someone's water broke. So crazy.
I took a break from playing with my cubicle phone, scuttling over to find a crowd of labcoats ringing around what could only be a calamity. Peering through the legs, I could only get glimpses, but stuff was visibly gushing. Again, nuts.

They took her to the hospital -- though the labs are quite sterile, would've been alright to deliver here -- leaving us with quite a vibrant lunchtime conversation. The women employees were the most vocal: "Sometimes it pours, sometimes it doesn't." "Willis, you know the turbid solution you tried getting from the vial? Mine trickled just like that." We guys just gave hesitant looks to each other and nervously laughed at what we thought was a more sensitive topic. "I'm double-layering my gloves next time I work with a vial."

Life is a different game when you're older. Breakups and new relationships are as easy as dropping a Dunkin Donut and getting complimentary compensation coffee. Bachelor party locations swing between New Orleans and Las Vegas, whichever has more lax open-container laws for that season.

How crazy is this adulthood. Verily, I say! When I was younger, I thought adults spoke quite formally amongst themselves, conversations akin to, "Lordship, surely thine syringe speaks naught of long-term protein solubility." "Speaketh in weak hams, thou shalt be eviscerated, stern o'er to chops!" OK, maybe not. But I'm always uneasy when I address "Dr. Mercaldi" as simply "Tim." However, conversation itself is a lot less awkward than I imagined, insofar as flowing naturally versus the dialogue I have with many of my same-aged peers. Unlike the fashion of high school borne discussion, my corny humor and Standard English work here. The off-color remarks of my peers won't get them far, so I wish them all the best.

Think about it! Soon enough, the very nature of our conversations will change. "Hi, I would like you to meet my friend Albert and his... ... wife, Alina." Introducing our friends' spouses, chaperoning my kids' fieldtrips (only to be helplessly ignored by mere embarassment-potential), the list of evolving propriety perpetually grows.

As an acute observer, the real world is pretty exciting right now. And, in more ways than one, a little overwhelming. I can definitely wait a few more years!

Another dry summer? Not this year!

No really, it’s been unusually rainy this May :P

Flashback. May 11th. Back home after hauling away at college. I discovered how awesome a full night’s sleep was. And how awesome to find my cats still pooping by the red couch. Nothing’s changed.

Time to idly trot the predictable summer catwalk of self-improvement. Reading here and there. Learning (trying) Math241. Learning (trying) guitar. But with the unproductive time (the other 96% of the day), it becomes an indulgent blur of sheer freedom and fun. Yet, that’s all it really is. Fun. After buying next-morning contraceptives for my maybe-pregnant friend and hearing words that rhyme with “duck” at church (which is still the gossiping hub) as well as witnessing all sorts of defamations and defecations (yea…), I’ve felt a sort of uneasy tug at my heart. Well, actually, a nonbeliever could tell you that. In amazement I ask myself how people can fail the “basics.” Such transgressions are the easiest sins to avoid.

Fast forward to this week. Recent blessings. Last Friday, I went to graduation. As expected, Saunderson was still a G! Always “rak-ug-nizin’ our scoo’s finust, alright alright.” When the C’09 madrigals sang, I thought about all the funny people from the music department I don’t talk to anymore. When I saw Alex Lee, I thought about times our calc group messed around at lunch. When I saw Julius Rotimi, I thought about our little hodge podge of hopeless Cannella programmers. Sigh, high school mannn. Good memories, but then I got to thinking. How have I really changed since last year? Honestly, I’m still hanging out with the same people with the same faults doing the same unedifying things, just now manifesting into real consequences.

If a man sins against another man, God may mediate for him; but if a man sins against the LORD, who will intercede for him?"
-1 Samuel 2:5

Going through the simple mental checks of “What would Jesus do?” -- or rather, "What would Jesus think?" -- I can only accuse myself of utter acquiescence to mental sin. At least with public sins, there is help for my fellow peer. But who will pray for my hidden envies, anxieties, insecurities, and pride? I've been too cool to be pure of mind and action. Apparently, too cool for blogging. But alas, too cool for Jesus. My belief in the Savior stopped as soon as summer started. Good grief. I’m still worrying over my grades, as evident in the repeating nightmares. In these nightmares, my professors lose our finals somehow and make new ones. So for Chemistry Lab, I would have to make a 5 star pizza to get an A. I couldn’t do it, and all the while the girl I like refuses to talk to me. In one episode, she eats my pizza and dies. That totally sucks!!

So with sin, it’s time to rescind my judgment on those who’ve failed “the basics” --a

And what now? I’ve been yearning for a summer family group, and I have been introduced to three but none of which I’ve made more than one appearance. Pretty wacktastic. But He has given me another way. For my summer job, I am moving in with a quiet Chinese family. While perusing through the process biochemistry projects, mowing the lawn and washing the dishes for my host family, I cannot help but give thanks to God. I am put to real work. He gives me ample and necessary time to reflect so that I may look to Him and honor Him. God has promised the Christian every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places of Christ (Ephesians 1:3). The world pits me in spiritual warfare through daily existence. With the spectrum of attitudes, commitments, decisions, and temptations as my battleground, so must I seek discipleship.

I didn’t attend the Hillsong concert last night, but recently I’ve felt as if “from the inside out, Lord, my soul cries out.” lol oh my. So no more “Lakefront@830 then Alex’s house BYOB” texts. No more missed services for Saturday night antics. This summer, God, I pray that You entirely consume me, You consuming fire You! Your power to save astounds me!

"You love me, we're a happy family"

Coming back from the wreckage that was my math quiz, I pop online to find Rev. Cowman's devotional reminding me that God uses all things broken for His glory. The Lord is always mindful of my mind.

Over the course of the day He would keep showing Himself to me. Nothing extraordinary happened, per se. I knew Benjamin Franklin was a pretty good almanac writer, but after three days of rain, his selection of the next two days for the panoply known as Penn Previews couldn't have been more perfect. Little miracles. I stayed awake through all of physics. In writing seminar, I felt as though the professor and other kids cared about what I said for once. As I greeted the gentle sunshine after class, literally 8 different friends smiled and waved to me on my way back to Hill. If at this point I was still not inclined to acknowledge the Son's love that envelops me now and forevermore, it would be because of my debilitating midafternoon hunger. I made a mental note to never again find myself with 10 meals and $.94 dining balance a month before the end of school. However, as soon as I cross 34th I got a text saying my dinner was covered i.e. my friend in Skirkanich saved me some top-notch sandwiches. I did not wait for dinner. Even my volunteering in the hospital wasn't spared from grace. I had been thinking for a long time how to ask the staff bout what happened to the nice, old secretary lady who hasn't come in two weeks, fearing the gravity or awkwardness in the case that she died. But today I found her sitting at her desk normal as can be.

Now this entry isn't to simply catalog every instance He's shown His face (this blog would probably be updated more regularly if that were the case). He's done/doing that a million times over. Earlier today I told a friend about how I was "overdosing in Jesus' love." But I now realize how misguided that statement is. Everyone overdoses in Jesus' love; it's how we're here, why we are able to love and forgive one another. If you're flushed in a vat with 739 +/- ∞ Molarity Lo(VE), it's only natural to overdose. Furthermore, the vat solution has an extremely large Ka that takes even the weakest acids to brilliant product, calmed and neutralized by the union of our strong base i.e. Jesus Christ.

(Someone bludgeon me over the skull before I even think about becoming a pastor).

Not only does God loves us, but He is sovereign. He knows what you and I were thinking before we spawned the necessary synapses. So what's that to say? Well for one, if I were in that position I'd probably sometimes let my standards slide just teensy bit. Or at least have varying degrees to which I love. But God says, "No." Each one is loved equally and unconditionally. So even if it's not in Christ, I feel like all my human brethren are my brothers and sisters as God's beloved children. We're all connected. Whatever we think, say, or do, it is meant to somehow bless someone; it's all in His plan. What an awesome predicament, thank you God.

And God is able to make all grace abound to you, so that in all things at all times, having all that you need, you will abound in every good work.
--2 Corinthians 9:8
Oh, and this blog is fantastic.

When I was your age..

My April 1st started off normally enough. I woke up clamoring for the snoozes on my cell phone and two computer alarms.

Click.

Click.

Click.

Each an intense act of labor in its own right. I feverishly debated whether to wake up groggy and face fellow diners downstairs or sleep through math lecture (since the notes are online anyways). In between noisy birds chirping, my Vagelos roommate studying from the night before, and an encouraging text, I slipped into my oversized slippers and headed for the washroom. Another battle ending in near-defeat. Normal.

After math, I skedaddled over to 39th and Market for my checkup at Presbyterian Medical. The walk was hard, with the wind afflicted with bouts of sneezing and wheezing. However in the building’s pharmacy, while calling my primary for a referral, there was real sneezing and wheezing all around me. The order-taker, protected behind a sheet of glass, still strained her neck back to avoid imaginary booger particles.

I eavesdropped on some of the medication drop-offs. A woman needed help for an intracerebral hemorrhage after her second stroke. One wheelchaired man had gastrointestinal problems. Another, moaning and rasping in a corner, came with high blood pressure. Admittedly, I was more put-off than sympathetic towards the general crowd, but then I started noticing I was the only one under the age of 60. And non-black. Suffice it to say, I was feeling pretty insecure in my “I’m Black and I’m Proud” James Brown tribute shirt.

And then something happened. The man in the corner breaks the silence, "This pill got me another walk down the stairs - praise the Lord!" The crowd responds "Amen!" Another man dressed conspicuously in an all-black robe, necklace in a 7-inch cross, adds, "We, oh God, rest in you!" Another wave, "Amen!"

I talked with both, the first ex-Corporal McCullen, and the second Mr. Jordan. McCullen served in Korea, Jordan in Vietnam. Both were very chipper. McCullen, born in 1928, was a scouter during the war, but in one recon when he was late in reporting back to station, he found his entire platoon nearly wiped out. "I was in that platoon with a lot of friends, but I'm alright. 'Why me?' We have these special escapes for a reason. I'll just have to accept these things and use what the Lord has given me for His glory." Mr. Jordan's body was angular and jagged from years of hobbling on a weak leg, but his face was soft. He smiled with uneven whiskers adorning his chin and talked about my shirt. In the broken and truncated accent of the old and black, he talked about how God has given him strength during the years since his wife died. They had been together for 55 years. "Nothing is worth worrying too much over."

And which of you by worrying can add even one hour to his life?
-- Matthew 6:27

Recently, I've been struggling to be recaptivated by God, frustrated that my love and belief is never a constant. I pray for focus and diligence, trying to honor Him in my efforts in academics and growth in new relationships, but I fall short by misplacing much of my identity in them. Yet to see these Philadelphian natives trust in their shepherding God completely is a blessing.

On a day where we celebrate the lame pranks and sharp duplicity of our colleagues, I'm drawn to silence and humility. Just that morning it took a People's Republic-sized mental army to prep me up for my highly-exclusive, private Ivy League education. I can't continue upsetting Him and slandering what He's given me. What could I possibly say to those beaten-down old folk who can't WAIT to live for God? I simply will take their example.

Artsy-Fartsy II

Hey Guise.

Hm, I'm not sure what I'm doing on here. The next 48 hours for me are pretty...busy. Notice the pause, a pause more poignant than any expletive the English language has yet contrived. But here are the thoughts I'm putting down before anything of the Biot-Ampere-Laplace nature seizes hold of my brain-bark.

Admittedly, in between study times I've been down in the music room figuring out riffs to catchy songs. I could spend an entire day practicing and composing a piano piece, tweaking bits and pieces in order to tailor certain riffs to my fingering approaches. One song, “Winter Night,” originally set to a dawdling tempo of 85, sets an eerie ambiance, as if one were sitting atop the chilly Danish castle battlements waiting for King Hamlet’s ghost to appear. But play the piece an octave higher with added caprice, and you have yourself a fanciful scene decorated with dainty white snow gently settling atop sleepy pines. Indeed, music can easily place the participant in whatever setting it wishes to, so long as it is different from the present.

And what of the visual arts? Sculptures and sketches, all of which present some “perfect” form of man and society. As a child of the ‘90s blessed with cable television, I would spend countless afternoons absorbing fantastic, animated adventures. People could recover from a 2-ton weight struck in the head. Good and evil were effortlessly distinguishable. The coyote that ran off the edge of a cliff would not fall until it noticed its mistake. The realities here were amusing and ideal, yet nevertheless fictitious.

However, out of all the arts, I am most in love with dance. I immerse myself in the art of breakdancing, preferably known as "b-boying" by fellow enthusiasts loyal to its original Hip-hop nomenclature. It is raw. It is physical. It is emotional. Whether I dance to express what bottled up feelings I have or dance as a fresh medium of school spirit, I can share these sentiments on the hardwood floor, engaging others in the essence of being one with the earth. The musicality, kicks, spins and pivots take me away from the drudgery of daily existence. All that matters is hitting every 4th snare beat with soul and class.

Sonatas. Ceramics. Sambas. If life weren’t so fast, I would revel in the arts forever, in all their imaginative depictions of truth. Still, there came a time when I had to “grow up,” where I had to reevaluate these former “truths” with the current realities of modern life. Reality, though beautiful in the aggregate of its experiences, has its moments every so often riddled with monotony, injury, and complexity. At one point I concluded that those old cartoons and those Christmas songs, with their desirably simplistic albeit misleading ideals, have no place today in all pragmatic respects. Allotting much of my time to transcribing sheet music, taking sketch portraits of friends, or developing dynamic styles for upcoming b-boy battles, I began questioning how I could get anything "productive" done.

Now, I have since learned that art is not meaningless or powerless. Quite the contrary. Both art and reality have their ups and downs. Art is very much influential, to a point where I struggle to separate artistic concepts I have been fed since childhood from the blatant realities of the tangible universe. As it turns out, smoking is bad for you! The Earth's “North Magnetic Pole” is actually the South Pole! Napoleon was actually 5-foot 7, taller than I am! Surprise! If only the phenomenological realities of art could find application in reality, PHYS151 would be a little less demanding. But perhaps these distinctions are what save us as a species from the occasionally disappointing thing known as “reality.”

Artsy Fartsy

Being in an engineering school, I'm beginning to really appreciate the freelance charm of humanities subjects. The last time I wrote a creative piece escapes me, and I'm acutely aware of my being out of practice. O' ye writing abilities, doth hast plummeteth. But once-frequented things like abstract arts -- playing piano or sketching a scene -- I feel I've pushed under the rug of college more than I've wanted and needed to.

I feel people will never understand just how important art is or has been in our history. In spite troublesome human conditions of old i.e. war, indulgence in sex, and poverty, or new, like looming threats of nuclear holocausts and global warming, most of us continue with our lives quite merrily. Granted, reality is not so harsh for the average American like you and me, yet everyone can take refuge in the entity known as art, complete with sensual appeal and bizarre absurdities.

I trust readers to be dewds of righteous veracity.

Un bref extrait

Je viens de terminer
mon rapport sur l'impérialisme
et était prêt à étudier
les SATs

quand soudain

ma mère m'a demandé
de prendre mon père à la salle de
gymnastique et entraînement.

Les SATs doivent attendre un autre jour.