I lean towards greatness
Yet I long for normalcy
Lifelong tension, this.
Over winter break, I wrote a lot of haikus in an attempt to figure out a life sentence upon which to end my vocational spiritual direction process. Poetry sometimes expresses how we feel without the pressure of explanation. I think I am in a poetic mood today.
To truly find me
"I must decrease"--lose myself
John the Baptist died.
The Ph.D decision has been weighing heavily on me for the last week. After the thrill of being accepted, the reality of what life would look like has paraded before my eyes.
Spending hard-earned savings again while not generating more significant income. Been there, done that--for Yale.
Moving back home again, where people have moved to life stages of buying homes and starting families, while I have not. Been there, done that--for my mom's sake when she was sick.
Becoming a student again, after professional experience. Been there, done that--and about to do it again.
Maybe it's because I grew up as that Asian homeschooled kid in Arcadia, but I've always longed for a sense of normalcy, to not be the person who stood out. In my teenage years, this manifested in a lot of stress over what to wear--don't be the trendy one, but don't get a ticket from the fashion police either. I've always known how to be a people-pleaser, thanks to a decent Emotional Quotient. And I've always paid attention to what society deems as "successful"--and noticed that it is sometime presented as an idealized "normal."
At the same time, I have been pulled towards extraordinary and unusual people, ideas, and ambitions. I was thrilled to meet Yo Yo Ma and Itzhak Perlman in college, and to see George W. Bush and Arnold Schwarzenegger from a close distance. I was more into the special experiences I had in college rather than the practical implications of what I majored in. I have always felt incredibly stifled when I need to stay in the same social group, and I enjoy flitting around a lot more.
I tread the line between "normal" and "crazy" in my mind, between wanting to achieve great things and wanting a simple life. I'm not saying that these categories are mutually exclusive. In fact, I think I am more inclined to believe that descriptions are fluid rather than set in stone. But I still cannot help creating binaries in my head, and perhaps that is the problem.
Why do we think that getting married is a marker of success, versus remaining single? Why does everyone work to be homeowners, rather than living as Jesus did, "with no place to lay [their] head"? Why do we want to save up, when we could spend a little more on those in need?
I don't have it all figured out, but I suspect the answers lie somewhere in between a radical mimicking of how Jesus lived on earth--single, poor, criminalized, honored, outcasted, loved, homeless, hosted--and how the realities of life cause us to become. Maybe I was never meant to be as radical as I've wanted to be in moments--tearing down the strongholds of sexism and homophobia and racism in the Church; nor can I quite fade into a normal timeline--tell me, how many women do you know started a Ph.D at age 32?
But what does it all matter, when all is said and done? I'd rather know that I lived life well and to the fullest with the cards I was dealt. Inshallah!
Thursday, March 8, 2018
Sunday, March 4, 2018
Acknowledging Weakness
I heard a beautiful sermon this morning on Peter's denial of Jesus--and how we often do so in big and small ways on a daily basis. My Scripture reading for the day included the part when the Israelites must look upon the bronze snake in order to be healed in the wilderness. There is something in human nature that does not want to look upon suffering (Jesus on the cross, as foreshadowed by the bronze snake) and that is ashamed of the Gospel. (This is why Paul had to state explicitly in Romans that he is not ashamed by the Gospel.)
My Enneagram (personality) type is afraid of weakness. I have been learning about this through my vocational spiritual direction, and this past Thursday, I got to be a part of a panel of other Enneagram 8s at a Vineyard church about 40 minutes north of Boston. It was a relief to hear other people share about their struggle with vulnerability and how they were always in a fighting mode against the world and powers of injustice. We are powerful people who are aware of power dynamics, and we hold the corner of the Body of Christ that involves boldness and truth-speaking and challenging corrupt authority. These are all qualities Jesus (and His disciples) embodied in the New Testament.
But we struggle with the part of the Gospel that depends upon a suffering Savior, the Man of sorrows, and the shame of the Cross. During Lent, I have been trying to strip away my defense mechanisms and to be more honest in a vulnerable (rather than a militant or critical) way. May I learn from Jesus, the One who had nothing to hide and the One who ushered in the Kingdom of God through the power of God rather than His own strength. Amen.
My Enneagram (personality) type is afraid of weakness. I have been learning about this through my vocational spiritual direction, and this past Thursday, I got to be a part of a panel of other Enneagram 8s at a Vineyard church about 40 minutes north of Boston. It was a relief to hear other people share about their struggle with vulnerability and how they were always in a fighting mode against the world and powers of injustice. We are powerful people who are aware of power dynamics, and we hold the corner of the Body of Christ that involves boldness and truth-speaking and challenging corrupt authority. These are all qualities Jesus (and His disciples) embodied in the New Testament.
But we struggle with the part of the Gospel that depends upon a suffering Savior, the Man of sorrows, and the shame of the Cross. During Lent, I have been trying to strip away my defense mechanisms and to be more honest in a vulnerable (rather than a militant or critical) way. May I learn from Jesus, the One who had nothing to hide and the One who ushered in the Kingdom of God through the power of God rather than His own strength. Amen.
Wednesday, February 28, 2018
Running the Race
A while back, one of my vocational spiritual directors (I meet with a couple) reminded me to keep a "learner's attitude" as I was navigating a confusing and seemingly aimless season of life.
I had graduated from my dream school and moved to work at a school in a city with a competitive environment. Little by little, as I transitioned from being a student to an administrator, my mindset shifted from one of openness and learning to one of achievement and self-protection.
Getting into a graduate program has reminded me of the joy of approaching life as a student. Being a working professional can make one feel that our sole existence is to produce results, but the learning should never stop.
My co-worker said the other day that his goal each year is to be a rookie at something so that he never gets into a rut. I think that's a great approach to life (and aging)!
When I finish my days on earth, I want to feel like I completed the degree of life to the best of my ability. No matter what I may have accomplished, I want to know that I had a teachable attitude and learning spirit.
Is this not one iteration of what Paul describes in 2 Timothy 4:7?
Sunday, February 25, 2018
Give Me Jesus
Right now, I am listening to sacred choral music on KUSC, which they broadcast every Sunday morning.
Lent continues, and although I have not technically given up anything, I do find that there is more space in my soul for introspection and reflection. I am watching far less TV/Netflix, and I am feeling more connected to God, myself, and slowly, others. This is a little terrifying at times, because I am an introvert who has been living alone in a cold city for a while now and who has, in many ways, intentionally distanced myself from many of the connections that clamor for my attention.
I was a telling a friend on the phone yesterday that feeling connected to oneself often means the difference between feeling isolated and feeling recharged.
I woke up feeling the grace of connection. (Yesterday did not feel this way, and I longed for it.) I journaled a bit and then walked down the street to get a bagel and a turmeric latte. After breakfast (eaten to a beautiful rendition of "Give Me Jesus" by Barbara Hendricks with the Moses Hogan Chorale), I wrote a few postcards and then opened my laptop to blog.
Church comes later, but my worship has already begun.
And when the morning ends, at noon, I will be rising from my pew as the minister says, "Now ends our worship, and our service begins."
Amen.
Lent continues, and although I have not technically given up anything, I do find that there is more space in my soul for introspection and reflection. I am watching far less TV/Netflix, and I am feeling more connected to God, myself, and slowly, others. This is a little terrifying at times, because I am an introvert who has been living alone in a cold city for a while now and who has, in many ways, intentionally distanced myself from many of the connections that clamor for my attention.
I was a telling a friend on the phone yesterday that feeling connected to oneself often means the difference between feeling isolated and feeling recharged.
I woke up feeling the grace of connection. (Yesterday did not feel this way, and I longed for it.) I journaled a bit and then walked down the street to get a bagel and a turmeric latte. After breakfast (eaten to a beautiful rendition of "Give Me Jesus" by Barbara Hendricks with the Moses Hogan Chorale), I wrote a few postcards and then opened my laptop to blog.
Church comes later, but my worship has already begun.
And when the morning ends, at noon, I will be rising from my pew as the minister says, "Now ends our worship, and our service begins."
Amen.
Tuesday, February 20, 2018
Reflection 7: Redemption
All creation groans until the redemption...
I have felt this groaning in my early 30s. 32 came upon me a month ago, and I realized that I needed to renew my efforts towards healthy living, lest age catch up to me.
My mom was the mother of 2 children when she was my age. Like me, she had 2 master's degrees, but she had also emigrated to a foreign country and was married.
Life is not what I had imagined--living by myself, far away from family and community. I have a great job, but there are some things money can't buy.
But I am grateful. Today was the last day of an extended weekend, thanks to President's Days. My roommate and I drove 2 hours west to the Norman Rockwell Museum in Stockbridge, MA. We both really enjoyed 2 hours of looking at his artwork, and then we grabbed lunch at Main Street Cafe. It was a beautiful day--amazingly warm for February--with a (mostly--things change quickly in New England!) blue sky and miles of woods bare from winter.
We left our apartment at 8:30 and got home at 4:30. Though we live together, it was our first "full-time day" together.
I took a nap, and at 6:30, I went to a Strengthen and Stretch class at the YMCA. It kicked my butt =)
When I got home, I checked the mail. There was an admissions packet from Claremont School of Theology, offering me an invitation/opportunity to begin a Ph.D in Spiritually Integrative Psychotherapy this fall!
There is so much to process and think about and eventually plan. But right now, I feel grateful and humbled and excited to embark on whatever comes next in this journey of life.
Yes, we are still awaiting redemption, but moments like this give foretastes of the fulfillment of hope.
19 For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the children of God;20 for the creation was subjected to futility, not of its own will but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope 21 that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to decay and will obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God.22 We know that the whole creation has been groaning in labor pains until now;23 and not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly while we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies.
(Rom 8:19-23)
I have felt this groaning in my early 30s. 32 came upon me a month ago, and I realized that I needed to renew my efforts towards healthy living, lest age catch up to me.
My mom was the mother of 2 children when she was my age. Like me, she had 2 master's degrees, but she had also emigrated to a foreign country and was married.
Life is not what I had imagined--living by myself, far away from family and community. I have a great job, but there are some things money can't buy.
But I am grateful. Today was the last day of an extended weekend, thanks to President's Days. My roommate and I drove 2 hours west to the Norman Rockwell Museum in Stockbridge, MA. We both really enjoyed 2 hours of looking at his artwork, and then we grabbed lunch at Main Street Cafe. It was a beautiful day--amazingly warm for February--with a (mostly--things change quickly in New England!) blue sky and miles of woods bare from winter.
We left our apartment at 8:30 and got home at 4:30. Though we live together, it was our first "full-time day" together.
I took a nap, and at 6:30, I went to a Strengthen and Stretch class at the YMCA. It kicked my butt =)
When I got home, I checked the mail. There was an admissions packet from Claremont School of Theology, offering me an invitation/opportunity to begin a Ph.D in Spiritually Integrative Psychotherapy this fall!
There is so much to process and think about and eventually plan. But right now, I feel grateful and humbled and excited to embark on whatever comes next in this journey of life.
Yes, we are still awaiting redemption, but moments like this give foretastes of the fulfillment of hope.
Monday, February 19, 2018
Reflection 6: Wrestling with God and Returning to our Past
For the last 2 evenings, I have listened to sermons from Reservoir Church, the church I first went to when I moved to Boston. Although it's been 6 months since I have set foot in the building, I still feel connected to what this community is up to. This fall, they hired a Korean-American female pastor, which was something I cared about deeply and was encouraged by. And currently, during Lent, their sermons are a weekly boost--a protein shake to augment my regular meals (personal devotions).
This evening's sermon talked about Jacob wrestling with God before his reunion with Esau. It talked about his shift from being a hustler (favored and looked after by God, but also conniving with his human smarts) to being weakened by God's touch.
Over a year ago, I had my own wrestling match with God--to the point where I literally felt, for a few days, a soreness in my hip that resulted in a slight limp.
Recently, I felt God speaking to me (while I was watching a move on Netflix, of all times) and saying, "You need to make peace with your past."
Like Jacob, I have been led far away from my community of origin--from the people and beliefs that raised me and blessed me and from which I fled. Leaving the Evangelical world and mindset has been excruciating at times, and this has been one of my loneliest years--not for lack of people who care, but because it's been hard to share with people exactly what my process has been like.
Making peace with my past is not exactly the same as Jacob seeing Esau again, but I've taken the liberty of relating to this story in ways that I hope will spur me to more connection and healing and growth.
This evening's sermon talked about Jacob wrestling with God before his reunion with Esau. It talked about his shift from being a hustler (favored and looked after by God, but also conniving with his human smarts) to being weakened by God's touch.
Over a year ago, I had my own wrestling match with God--to the point where I literally felt, for a few days, a soreness in my hip that resulted in a slight limp.
Recently, I felt God speaking to me (while I was watching a move on Netflix, of all times) and saying, "You need to make peace with your past."
Like Jacob, I have been led far away from my community of origin--from the people and beliefs that raised me and blessed me and from which I fled. Leaving the Evangelical world and mindset has been excruciating at times, and this has been one of my loneliest years--not for lack of people who care, but because it's been hard to share with people exactly what my process has been like.
Making peace with my past is not exactly the same as Jacob seeing Esau again, but I've taken the liberty of relating to this story in ways that I hope will spur me to more connection and healing and growth.
Sunday, February 18, 2018
Reflection 5: Death
Yesterday, I had a conversation with a friend about knowing people--in the prime of their lives--who recently passed away. For some, it was drug overdose. For others, it was despair causing them to take their own lives.
Today, the lectionary passage was on Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead. The sermon at United Parish was titled: "Live and Let Die" and had the accompanying blog post: http://www.unitedparishbrookline.org/blog/live-and-let-die
Aside from ontological mysteries, there are smaller deaths that I ponder. A while ago, I asked God to take away a particular spiritual gift because it seemed to be getting in the way of me relating well to others. Not that there was anything wrong with the gift, but maybe I wasn't yet mature enough to handle it.
It's like what it says in the chapter we all know so well:
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. 2 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. 3 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.
4 Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 5 It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. 6 Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 7 It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
8 Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. 9 For we know in part and we prophesy in part, 10 but when completeness comes, what is in part disappears. 11 When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put the ways of childhood behind me. 12 For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.
13 And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.
Today, the lectionary passage was on Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead. The sermon at United Parish was titled: "Live and Let Die" and had the accompanying blog post: http://www.unitedparishbrookline.org/blog/live-and-let-die
Aside from ontological mysteries, there are smaller deaths that I ponder. A while ago, I asked God to take away a particular spiritual gift because it seemed to be getting in the way of me relating well to others. Not that there was anything wrong with the gift, but maybe I wasn't yet mature enough to handle it.
It's like what it says in the chapter we all know so well:
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. 2 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. 3 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.
4 Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 5 It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. 6 Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 7 It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
8 Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. 9 For we know in part and we prophesy in part, 10 but when completeness comes, what is in part disappears. 11 When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put the ways of childhood behind me. 12 For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.
13 And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.
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