Instead of a show

Away with your noisy worship
Away with your noisy hymns
I stop up my ears when you're
singing em
I hate all your show.

- Jon Foreman

Before I start, let me first make a disclaimer that this post might be messy and rambling. I'm kind of using it to sort out my thoughts and tie things together that have been circling in my brain.

Today in community groups we were studying and discussing the different types of self-righteousness and the performances we put on for others, for God, and for ourselves to justify our actions. In the process, we are lured into a false security that completely hinders our ability to apply the Gospel to our lives and minimizes the power of the cross through incorrect thinking that what we do affects how much God loves us. One of the questions we were to ask ourselves was as God thinks of you right now, what is the look on his face? I thought I knew that answer. The look on His face would be one of disappointment because I'm not good enough in so many ways. I'm prideful, jealous, perverse, spiteful, and grumble often. Instead, the answer in the booklet read, If you imagined God to be anything but overjoyed with you, you have fallen into a performance mindset. Because the gospel truth is that in Christ, God is deeply satisfied with you..based on Jesus' work, you are God's daughter. For some reason, this caught me off guard. I know I am saved by grace, not through works, but I didn't that God is okay and even rejoices with who I am, right at this moment in time. My line of thinking was that if God is glad with who I am now, then doesn't that mean I don't need to change? I equated God's satisfaction with stagnancy, like when you're stuffed and can't eat anymore, and you don't want to eat anymore because you're full. God's love however, doesn't work that way. It doesn't work on human terms. It doesn't start off small then increase to reach some kind of quota to 100%, it's just always at full. That fullness however, has no limits. He loves me the way I am, but according to my own standards, I don't think the way I am is enough, so I need to change. But it hit me that He loves me at this moment in time because it doesn't depend on what I do. That's the whole point. It doesn't mean that He doesn't want me to change and grow; it just means that who I am, good or bad, is enough, because Jesus is enough to cover it all. His desire to see us grow in our faith isn't so that He can love us more, but rather for the sake of our own joy in finding our identity through Christ alone, and using us as a vessel to build God's kingdom (which is for His joy, and therefore ours as well).

I realize that so often I put on a show. Even when I wish so badly it wasn't that way, my instinct is to put up a pretense. I'm ashamed to say that when I show my vulnerabilities to others, I'm still well aware of how others are perceiving me, and it affects the way I behave. I wish I could be completely stripped of pride and performance, and be completely honest and real, instead of a show. It acts as further evidence of my sinful nature, and how I cannot merely shed it by sheer human effort. It's just not possible. Putting on a performance to prove your righteousness not only undermines what Jesus did on the cross, but also underestimates God's ability to transform other people's lives. Let me explain. One of the reasons someone may put on a show of righteousness instead of honestly confronting the depths of their sin is a fear that other people will judge your brokenness. As Jesus transforms and reveals sin however, He also shows the depths of His grace, which should also transform our interactions with each other as brothers and sisters in Christ. To act righteous in order to cover up for ones sins because of shame or fear is a natural reaction, but it is also inadvertently saying that other Christians are not capable of not judging or understanding. Maybe we need to trust God more in what He's doing in other people's lives in addition to ours, so that we can trust each other with our burdens and have more candid conversations of what is really going on beneath the surface.

I hope my instinct to comfort won't hinder my duty to treat and care for the patient, even when that means hurting them temporarily for better results in the end. Sometimes caressing is not what people need. My friend Sharon wrote these words in her blog in application to her thoughts in med school, but I realize that it is also true in relationships. We imagine that comfort or "caress" is preferred, but it may not be what that person needs. In the same vein as what I said previously, we often assume things of God and of each other that aren't necessarily true. God wants to heal our brokenness and wipe away our shame, but just because he applies a little or a lot of pressure when we expect caresses doesn't mean He loves us any less or is unhappy with who we are.

I know that this post was a little sloppy, so feel free to challenge if any of this rings untrue or doesn't make sense. If you got through it all, thanks for reading and following along :)

Humidity (Humility?)

Everything feels wet today. The air is pregnant with unshed tears, and where is the release? Us mere mortals cannot hold this pain that overflows in the woven baskets we carry. Through the crevices and cracks, hiding in the shadows of interlocking braids of grass. The basket sighs and sags sadly. It begins to leak. But still, we pretend (pride?), that it is dry. The air stinks of sour denim drying, drying, always damp, from this wet air.

EF Educational Language Center has created a series of short films called "Live the Language" to promote studying abroad in different cities around the world. All of the films have beautiful lighting, camera angles, and an excellent and creative use of typography to showcase different experiences in each city. Different remixes of the same song are used, but the music shifts subtly to go along with each scene. Visit EducationFirstCampaign to see the rest of the videos. I loved the Paris one for its quirkiness and colors, but Los Angeles, Vancouver, and Bei Jing were my favorite. It was especially funny to see a white guy attempting Tai Ji Quen, a form of Chinese dancing meant to boost your health and steadiness. I will say though, that all the characters in the films are super attractive, and in a couple of them the girl just happens to meet a cute guy, whether she oh, 'just bumped into him' or 'just happened to ask him for directions.' He accompany her around the city and of course, romance blossoms. Hah puhleeze, so unrealistic. But nevertheless beautifully shot. Check 'em out.

In that moment I was found

I have this image I can't get out of my head. She's dressed in white, the cloth falling around her feet, which are unswollen and whole. Her eyes are closed, but you know she's alive even though her chest is still. He sits at her bedside, looking into a face he knows so well, and takes her hand. He takes her hand, and her fingers instinctively close around his, as he gently shakes her awake. She smells sweet rice cakes and steamed egg, and knows that they are for her, so she opens her eyes and smiles at what she sees. His face is hidden but the air around him glows a hazy yellow, like the slant of the yellow sun in the late autumn afternoons. "Talitha koum," he says. "My precious daughter wake up. You're home at last."

Oh how we live such fragile lives

When there's a death in the family, life changes somehow. Nothing sudden or big, but a subtle shift of what life was and what life is now. My grandma's death, still so fresh in my mind, is a testament to how fragile life really is, and how in the span of a couple of minutes, the heart stops pumping, and the body goes cold. The last time I heard her speak, she was in a state of half sleep half wake, and she opened one eye to look at me. Just one eye. Her eye was a soft gray, muted and softened with age and bleary from too much time. Too much time on the bed, and from not remembering.

What I remember of her from my childhood is opening my mouth to be fed, like a baby bird waiting for the silver spoon--a shallow bowl of Grandma's dumplings and yams and meat buns. Her words came out in a slow sweet way, happy. Once when I was five or so, I was crying, most likely over something inconsequential, when my grandpa took out the camera. He had a strange amusement with documenting us while we were crying. It was the same when my mother was little. When the camera came out I cried even harder, as I lay across Grandma's lap and she traced circles on my back. I could see her other hand shooing my grandpa away, her head tilted towards him to give him her fiercest look, which was never very fierce. Looking at the pictures now make me laugh instead of cry. I remember pulling on her wrinkled skin, a soft and never ending topography of lines. I rubbed a red dot on her arm, wondering why it wouldn't go away. I think it was a birthmark. She called me her treasure, xiao bao bei.

I was in my advertising class when I found out. My phone was on silent, and 6 missed calls from my mom, and 5 missed calls from my cousin later, I received a text from my cousin: "Grandma passed away :(" I thought I could sit through the last 15 minutes of class, but. instead I left and I drove home, gave my mom a hug. She asked if I wanted to pray with her for Grandma, who is now with Jesus. For a while, I had felt a little numb in my faith, and of all prayers I didn't want this one to be an insincere one, so I said no. The disappointment on her face though, made me wish I hadn't said that word, so I took her hand and said, "Okay lets pray." So we prayed--her first, me second. I don't know what I said but I know that I meant every word, that it was honest, and that's what matters. God felt more present than He had in a while. I'd like to think that that was Grandma's gift to me, to shake me awake a little and remind me that I should be sad, but not too sad, because she's in a better place--that she is God's beloved, and that I am too.