I'm homesick.
I was thinking about the little round tupperware container full of a mysterious powder from my mom that I think may be an anchovy broth base for delicious Korean soups and mmm. Then I started thinking of the few dishes I could possibly make with that. I have mandu and some vegetables in the fridge... scallions, eggs... *sigh. Then I thought about all the other dishes I'd love to enjoy freely but cannot due to not knowing how to make 'em or fear that my housemates would be dfjsdlf to the smell (denjang, kimchee-anything). With the deep pangs in my chest, throat, stomach, head, I longed to sit in the kitchen again, talking to my mom while she cooks, cleans, or lies down on the wooden floor with Lexi curled up in a nook along umma's body. Umma would be tired, perhaps with a cotton apron on. Her hair the way it always is, curled slightly at the ends, some highlights growing out, oh, the warm, comforting smell of umma. Her umma-figure, her beautiful piano hands, warm and fleshy, a mother's hands. Her calloused feet from standing all day, her worn and beautiful face. Eyes closed eventually, napping on the floor. Lexi, one sigh, sleeping with her favorite, her mama too.
I love mornings, afternoons, late-nights in that kitchen with umma. Gosh, the meals she would create... the snacks, the amazing array of foods... her amazing ribs that Jaeho and I can eat whole slabs of, the tight and full kimbap... little mountains of rolls that quickly turn into a landscape of colors, textures, tastes... the ends always being the best (so she taught me), the various guks and chigaes... omg. That special stone bowl she cooks them in. How she puts in so many different things, by feeling and inner knowledge rather than recipes or measurements (I don't think I've ever seen her look at a cookbook... ah, besides that Mrs. Fields baking book - I like umma's versions of cookies and breads better though), it all bubbling so delectably, gosh, the textured smells... piquing spiciness, rich velvety radish, warm soothing ddukguk, gosh, whatever it may be.
Even the lovingly-cut fruit platters and mmm, her smoothies! Thick, more fruit than dairy products... we prefer it that way... sometimes, having to eat it with a spoon. OMG
Her lasagna, so many different kinds of kimchee... her kakdughi that's unique, much better than any else I've ever had... nice big chunks of radish in there. The oigee, mm. Sidedishes! So many! The sesame oil and soy sauce that goes into many of them... the lotus root that Jaeho and I always eat up the fastest, the manuljjong... mmm... manuljjong. All that, any of that.
Her package to me the other day made me so happy. Every time I pick up a pair of chopsticks and hop from one container of sidedish to the next, wrapping my rice with gim... all in my happy, comforted mouth, I feel a surge of love and care, security and tenderness, home. I treasure those tupperware containers of foods I know she spent the entire day planning and making (which would keep during shipping? which do not give off foreign smells that may sfjdkl her housemates? which does she like best? what would be hardest for her to find over there?). I think if I were to eat a full meal that tastes and feels exactly as how she would make it, I'd cry. Like the emperor in that Korean movie I watched this summer, where his royal chef made a dish for him that brought him to tears because it fully captured the essence of his beloved country during a time when the Japanese were invading and taking over. The script's description of what each ingredient and taste evoked about Chosun was beautiful. There have been a few times when I've teared because something is just so good. Once I think at that famous Myungdong kalgooksu place - wow. A few other times when really, something umma made just -- mm. Not just delicious on the palate... not just wonder-full to the senses, but how it lovingly touched something deep within me. How 'umma' it was.
Gosh, it's not just about the food, as delicious and beautiful as it is. It's about the image of umma over the sink, the stove, on the floor. Her figure, the way she bends over, the work of her hands. The coolness of the night through the open windows, the brightness of the morning. The voices of the Korean channel's news anchors, singers, talkshows, or documentaries from the little tv in the corner that keeps her company when no one else is around. I love watching those shows with her. I love lying down on the bed with her as we watch them on the screen upstairs. She usually falls asleep halfway through, Lexi nestled next to her, in her warmth. Sometimes, Lexi lays her head on umma's pillow too, and umma puts the blanket over her. I smile and tiptoe out, close the door slightly and go to my room to sleep too.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Saturday, September 13, 2008
It's time
Already, I feel like I'm performing for an audience. I write, read, delete, and write again. No. E's entries show me that blogging need not be narcissistic at its core. Paradise Lost reminds me of that. Proverbs 23 illumines so much of the discipline and mindset I seek to take up. Opening a blog again is a means of confirming that for me, stamping this commitment as solid. To brace it up with words... mindful words [augh, I'm still struggling to just let go]...
I'll let others' words help me to find my own:
Paradise Lost I.19-23, Milton
Instruct me, for Thou know'st; Thou from the first
Wast present, and with mighty wings outspread
Dove-like satst brooding on the vast Abyss
And mad'st it pregnant: What in me is dark
Illumine, what is low raise and support;
Proverbs 23:1-16...
1When you sit to dine with a ruler,
note well what is before you,
2and put a knife to your throat
if you are given to gluttony.
3Do not crave his delicacies,
for that food is deceptive.
4Do not wear yourself out to get rich;
have the wisdom to show restraint.
5Cast but a glance at riches, and they are
gone,
for they will surely sprout wings
and fly off to the sky like an eagle.
6Do not eat the food of a stingy man,
do not crave his delicacies;
7for he is the kind of man
who is always thinking about the cost.
"Eat and drink," he says to you,
but his heart is not with you.
8You will vomit up the little you have eaten
and will have wasted your compliments.
9Do not speak to a fool,
for he will scorn the wisdom of your
words.
10Do not move an ancient boundary stone
or encroach on the fields of the fatherless,
11for their Defender is strong;
he will take up their case against you.
12Apply your heart to instruction
and your ears to words of knowledge.
13Do not withhold discipline from a child;
if you punish him with the rod, he will
not die.
14Punish him with the rod
and save his soul from death.
15My son, if your heart is wise,
then my heart will be glad;
16my inmost being will rejoice
when your lips speak what is right. ...
For months, perhaps years, I've been drawn again and again to leading a disciplined life. In my case, a rod may be necessary. Not so much literally as in the figurative sense. I need to be knocked into sense. All this fretting about direction and day-to-day purpose of and motivation behind my work is so fruitless. Futile. God tells me not worry.
"29Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from the will of your Father. 30And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. 31So don't be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows." (Matthew 10:29-31, written in Spanish by a dear friend on a pink note card, tacked onto my wall).
Yet, I do. I worry. I like planning - calendars, lists, post-its of notes. Another dear friend gchat'd me with encouragement not to be so concerned with that. I printed the chat box and slipped it in my Bible. She wrote:
"hola! i just wanted to say hi and wish you well. oh yes and also a good proverb... Proverbs 13:12 Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life... Proverbs 16:1-4 To man belong the plans of the heart but from the Lord comes the reply of the tongue. All a man's way seem innocent to him, but motives are weighed by God. Commit to the Lord whatever you do, and your plans will succeed. The Lord works out everything for his own ends. Yes and Yes. I will be praying for you. Have a good night and day tomorrow =D"
God certainly has blessed me with wonderful friends.
Back to discipline. It's not about legalism or any of that head-heavy analysis. It's much more down to earth than that. It's about the things Proverbs 23 outline so resonantly with me:
1-3: I'll be very frank and honest with you from the get-go. I am prone to gluttony. Not just over-eating, but as S pointed out, in the more nuanced way C.S. Lewis explains it in Screwtape Letters:
"The woman is in what may be called the ‘All-I-want’ state of mind. All she wants
is a cup of tea properly made, or an egg properly boiled, or a slice of bread
properly toasted. But she never finds any servant or any friend who can do these
simple things ‘properly’—because her ‘properly’ conceals an insatiable demand
for the exact." (88-9)
I am often that woman. There are times when I eat whatever's in front of me just because it's there (much of this hoarding mentality was spurred by my negative experiences abroad in Spain - a cafe-romantic and emotionally tortuous time, which I may reminisce about in future entries) and others when I am very particular, wanting it exactly as my sensorial mind creates it.
4-5: One of the key points of occasional tension in my relationship with S. Different backgrounds and experiences breed different perceptions and projections about money. My parents have worked incredibly hard and self-sacrificially in order for their children not to have to struggle as much. Already, they've honorably and amazingly risen from a cockroach-infested apartment in the burgeoning 'Koreatown' of Chicago to a quaint home in a suburb (fluffy pink carpet in my room, a blue and red painted aluminum playground and vegetable garden out back, my halmoni's rosebushes lining the front and ahpa's welcome-back-from-korea gift to us - the cherry blossom tree out front) and finally to a moderate and comfortable home in a coveted school district on the Shore. So many difficult details shielded from me and my brother. So many comforts generously given to us, to knit us into a comfortable no-worry life, propelling us to work hard and focus on our studies over getting a weekend job or doing household chores. Beautiful, tearfully delicious and lovingly prepared homecooked meals, all the time, any time. Lovingly cut fruit platters and tall glasses of chilled orange juice or berry smoothies to spark my mind all the more alive and alert as I complete my homework with an assiduousness that calmed down during my college years. The oddly comforting drum of tense and difficult nights at home, the protective and explaining shield of umma's explanations to me and my brother of why ahpa is sometimes not quite the man he really is when intoxicated. In application to the passage at hand, I have grown up in a carefully cushioned lifestyle that, even in our family's current economic struggles, I have ingrained in me. My conversations with S especially make me wonder about the other side of this story - how I've grown not only to relish but expect a certain level of 'comfort.' How I've assumed a determination and ambition for a comfortable life, in terms my parents have worked so hard (and continue to) for me to have in this country. They worked hard to give me every opportunity available, from summer programs to taking up various instruments and sports. Staying up with me to ensure that I have nourishment through the late night as I finish writing my paper or scrupulously review and put the finished touches on my project. The tender, insistent, firm and self-sacrificial love inherent in this unwaveringly faithful support makes material success have more meaning to me than pure materialism. However, I can certainly over-romanticize this notion and veer too far towards a side that is not favorable in God's eyes. Lord give me wisdom and guidance.
6-8: Here, I actually see myself in the "stingy man." Another theme in my times listening to God's words is generosity. How I lack a lot it, really, in my heart. How odd, when the primary models in my life are the most generous people I know. Perhaps that's ironically partly why I'm so selfish and hesitant to generously give, give, and give. But really, rather than pointing fingers, it's a twisted part of my character that I must seek to straighten out.
9: Again, I think I'm often more the fool, who in my pride, do not listen and respond well. I pray for more discernment and humility in listening to others.
10-11: Earlier in Proverbs 22:28, Solomon writes, "Do not move an ancient boundary stone set up by your forefathers"... This brings me back to roots. I am not a floating individual without ties to history. As independent as I may and can be, without respecting and seeking nourishment through my roots, I cannot be all that strong - in purpose, identity, will. So much has confirmed and extended this fact already, from the Freedom class with Schuldenfrei and my conversations with him in his office to various books I've read, thoughts triggered by visits abroad to Korea and Spain, my own times reflecting on my home, myself, the background questions that arise in my relationship with S. What is meant by "boundary stone"? A boundary between what? What were the forefathers delineating? How do I better, more wisely, grapple with my tendencies to be on the defensive or think in dichotomic terms especially when it comes to subjects of culture and family-background? How do I fruitfully consider these issues without over-intellectualizing the concepts? Lord raise sincerity and humility while diminishing pride and presumptions.
12: Amen.
13-14: Mentioned above. The need to be 'smacked' into discipline. Really. Come on, man.
"Those who live according to the sinful nature have their minds set on what that nature desires; but those who live in accordance with the Spirit have their minds set on what the Spirit desires. The mind of sinful man is death, but the mind controlled by the Spirit is life and peace; the sinful minid is hostile to God. It does not submit to God's law, nor can it do so. Those controlled by the sinful nature cannot please God.
You, however, are controlled not by the sinful nature but by the Spirit, if the Spirit of God lives in you." (Romans 8:5-9)
Yes, I am 'renewed' in this way. That's what the whole message is about, right? Being made new, cleansed, freed. All the fetters that frustrate me, make me feel guilty (after eating binges, throwing impatience at my parents, irritation at S or my brother, moments of clear selfishness, foolishly prideful attitudes quickly humbled...)... all the things I feel so entrapped into, so addicted and helpless against... the things I just limply flop my arms at my sides about and throw myself onto the bed with closed eyes and arms wide above my head, a long sigh, slow opening of the eyes to the ceiling.
God says I'm free from this cycle - from this "sinful nature," as Paul puts it. I am free. With Jesus' death on the cross - that enigmatic miracle - I am freed of all blame, all shackles, all listlessness and sense of helplessness and loss of hope. I am free from 'giving in because it's gonna just happen again, I'm just going to fall into it again.'
"It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery." (Galatians 5:1)
That "yoke of slavery" being my "sinful nature."
But alas, I am still prone to falling, failing, forgetting, ignoring, all that. Despite it all. Despite knowing these verses, despite all the lessons I've learned. Despite even the clear voice in me that tells me to stand firm. To stand. But the Bible covers that too. I remember one afternoon in Spain when J was especially excited to share with L, S and myself a verse and revelation for him in 1 John:
"If we claim to be without sin, we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness. If we claim we have not sinned, we make him out to be a liar and his word has no place in our lives." (1 John 1:8-10)
Cool. J was thrilled - it was an incredible encouragement to him (and me) that God acknowledges our sinful nature and frees us to acknowledge it too. It is not to be haphazardly covered up by fig leaves, but freely acknowledged without shame or guilt. Because! God forgives. He's already forgiven everything because Jesus' death on the cross atoned for all that. A miraculous, gracious mystery. So nebulous yet so viscerally real.
15-16: And finally (for tonight), this beautiful call to be a good servant and daughter. To make God and my parents' "inmost being" "rejoice." Sing joy, again and again. Reverberant, not because I myself am inherently all that great, but because God gives me the power to rise up from my own weaknesses. In my weakness He is strong.
I pray that this blog may not only be a solid exercise and propulsion for me to write (perhaps leading to that novel/memoir I want to write so dearly), but a means through which God speaks powerfully, as He does, through this stunning medium of words and language to me and to readers. As Milton invoked muses and God to "Illumine, what is low raise and support" and "Shine inward... Irradiate, there plant eyes... that I may see and tell / Of things invisible to mortal sight," I pray that God speaks to and through me.
"Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal." (2 Corinthians 4:16-18)
That was read to us junior high school (or high school) graduates in Agape youth group by PC. Resonates deeply still.
Indeed, God speaks and gives words to say. I started this entry so cognizant of the fact that I'm writing - but ever since I entered into God's words, my fingers very easily and flowingly have been typing meditations of my heart. It's all so real. I love it.
"... the Spirit helps us in our weaknesses. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express." (Romans 8:26)
Words can only express so much, but I'm grateful that they can at least express this much.
I'll let others' words help me to find my own:
Paradise Lost I.19-23, Milton
Instruct me, for Thou know'st; Thou from the first
Wast present, and with mighty wings outspread
Dove-like satst brooding on the vast Abyss
And mad'st it pregnant: What in me is dark
Illumine, what is low raise and support;
Proverbs 23:1-16...
1When you sit to dine with a ruler,
note well what is before you,
2and put a knife to your throat
if you are given to gluttony.
3Do not crave his delicacies,
for that food is deceptive.
4Do not wear yourself out to get rich;
have the wisdom to show restraint.
5Cast but a glance at riches, and they are
gone,
for they will surely sprout wings
and fly off to the sky like an eagle.
6Do not eat the food of a stingy man,
do not crave his delicacies;
7for he is the kind of man
who is always thinking about the cost.
"Eat and drink," he says to you,
but his heart is not with you.
8You will vomit up the little you have eaten
and will have wasted your compliments.
9Do not speak to a fool,
for he will scorn the wisdom of your
words.
10Do not move an ancient boundary stone
or encroach on the fields of the fatherless,
11for their Defender is strong;
he will take up their case against you.
12Apply your heart to instruction
and your ears to words of knowledge.
13Do not withhold discipline from a child;
if you punish him with the rod, he will
not die.
14Punish him with the rod
and save his soul from death.
15My son, if your heart is wise,
then my heart will be glad;
16my inmost being will rejoice
when your lips speak what is right. ...
For months, perhaps years, I've been drawn again and again to leading a disciplined life. In my case, a rod may be necessary. Not so much literally as in the figurative sense. I need to be knocked into sense. All this fretting about direction and day-to-day purpose of and motivation behind my work is so fruitless. Futile. God tells me not worry.
"29Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from the will of your Father. 30And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. 31So don't be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows." (Matthew 10:29-31, written in Spanish by a dear friend on a pink note card, tacked onto my wall).
Yet, I do. I worry. I like planning - calendars, lists, post-its of notes. Another dear friend gchat'd me with encouragement not to be so concerned with that. I printed the chat box and slipped it in my Bible. She wrote:
"hola! i just wanted to say hi and wish you well. oh yes and also a good proverb... Proverbs 13:12 Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life... Proverbs 16:1-4 To man belong the plans of the heart but from the Lord comes the reply of the tongue. All a man's way seem innocent to him, but motives are weighed by God. Commit to the Lord whatever you do, and your plans will succeed. The Lord works out everything for his own ends. Yes and Yes. I will be praying for you. Have a good night and day tomorrow =D"
God certainly has blessed me with wonderful friends.
Back to discipline. It's not about legalism or any of that head-heavy analysis. It's much more down to earth than that. It's about the things Proverbs 23 outline so resonantly with me:
1-3: I'll be very frank and honest with you from the get-go. I am prone to gluttony. Not just over-eating, but as S pointed out, in the more nuanced way C.S. Lewis explains it in Screwtape Letters:
"The woman is in what may be called the ‘All-I-want’ state of mind. All she wants
is a cup of tea properly made, or an egg properly boiled, or a slice of bread
properly toasted. But she never finds any servant or any friend who can do these
simple things ‘properly’—because her ‘properly’ conceals an insatiable demand
for the exact." (88-9)
I am often that woman. There are times when I eat whatever's in front of me just because it's there (much of this hoarding mentality was spurred by my negative experiences abroad in Spain - a cafe-romantic and emotionally tortuous time, which I may reminisce about in future entries) and others when I am very particular, wanting it exactly as my sensorial mind creates it.
4-5: One of the key points of occasional tension in my relationship with S. Different backgrounds and experiences breed different perceptions and projections about money. My parents have worked incredibly hard and self-sacrificially in order for their children not to have to struggle as much. Already, they've honorably and amazingly risen from a cockroach-infested apartment in the burgeoning 'Koreatown' of Chicago to a quaint home in a suburb (fluffy pink carpet in my room, a blue and red painted aluminum playground and vegetable garden out back, my halmoni's rosebushes lining the front and ahpa's welcome-back-from-korea gift to us - the cherry blossom tree out front) and finally to a moderate and comfortable home in a coveted school district on the Shore. So many difficult details shielded from me and my brother. So many comforts generously given to us, to knit us into a comfortable no-worry life, propelling us to work hard and focus on our studies over getting a weekend job or doing household chores. Beautiful, tearfully delicious and lovingly prepared homecooked meals, all the time, any time. Lovingly cut fruit platters and tall glasses of chilled orange juice or berry smoothies to spark my mind all the more alive and alert as I complete my homework with an assiduousness that calmed down during my college years. The oddly comforting drum of tense and difficult nights at home, the protective and explaining shield of umma's explanations to me and my brother of why ahpa is sometimes not quite the man he really is when intoxicated. In application to the passage at hand, I have grown up in a carefully cushioned lifestyle that, even in our family's current economic struggles, I have ingrained in me. My conversations with S especially make me wonder about the other side of this story - how I've grown not only to relish but expect a certain level of 'comfort.' How I've assumed a determination and ambition for a comfortable life, in terms my parents have worked so hard (and continue to) for me to have in this country. They worked hard to give me every opportunity available, from summer programs to taking up various instruments and sports. Staying up with me to ensure that I have nourishment through the late night as I finish writing my paper or scrupulously review and put the finished touches on my project. The tender, insistent, firm and self-sacrificial love inherent in this unwaveringly faithful support makes material success have more meaning to me than pure materialism. However, I can certainly over-romanticize this notion and veer too far towards a side that is not favorable in God's eyes. Lord give me wisdom and guidance.
6-8: Here, I actually see myself in the "stingy man." Another theme in my times listening to God's words is generosity. How I lack a lot it, really, in my heart. How odd, when the primary models in my life are the most generous people I know. Perhaps that's ironically partly why I'm so selfish and hesitant to generously give, give, and give. But really, rather than pointing fingers, it's a twisted part of my character that I must seek to straighten out.
9: Again, I think I'm often more the fool, who in my pride, do not listen and respond well. I pray for more discernment and humility in listening to others.
10-11: Earlier in Proverbs 22:28, Solomon writes, "Do not move an ancient boundary stone set up by your forefathers"... This brings me back to roots. I am not a floating individual without ties to history. As independent as I may and can be, without respecting and seeking nourishment through my roots, I cannot be all that strong - in purpose, identity, will. So much has confirmed and extended this fact already, from the Freedom class with Schuldenfrei and my conversations with him in his office to various books I've read, thoughts triggered by visits abroad to Korea and Spain, my own times reflecting on my home, myself, the background questions that arise in my relationship with S. What is meant by "boundary stone"? A boundary between what? What were the forefathers delineating? How do I better, more wisely, grapple with my tendencies to be on the defensive or think in dichotomic terms especially when it comes to subjects of culture and family-background? How do I fruitfully consider these issues without over-intellectualizing the concepts? Lord raise sincerity and humility while diminishing pride and presumptions.
12: Amen.
13-14: Mentioned above. The need to be 'smacked' into discipline. Really. Come on, man.
"Those who live according to the sinful nature have their minds set on what that nature desires; but those who live in accordance with the Spirit have their minds set on what the Spirit desires. The mind of sinful man is death, but the mind controlled by the Spirit is life and peace; the sinful minid is hostile to God. It does not submit to God's law, nor can it do so. Those controlled by the sinful nature cannot please God.
You, however, are controlled not by the sinful nature but by the Spirit, if the Spirit of God lives in you." (Romans 8:5-9)
Yes, I am 'renewed' in this way. That's what the whole message is about, right? Being made new, cleansed, freed. All the fetters that frustrate me, make me feel guilty (after eating binges, throwing impatience at my parents, irritation at S or my brother, moments of clear selfishness, foolishly prideful attitudes quickly humbled...)... all the things I feel so entrapped into, so addicted and helpless against... the things I just limply flop my arms at my sides about and throw myself onto the bed with closed eyes and arms wide above my head, a long sigh, slow opening of the eyes to the ceiling.
God says I'm free from this cycle - from this "sinful nature," as Paul puts it. I am free. With Jesus' death on the cross - that enigmatic miracle - I am freed of all blame, all shackles, all listlessness and sense of helplessness and loss of hope. I am free from 'giving in because it's gonna just happen again, I'm just going to fall into it again.'
"It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery." (Galatians 5:1)
That "yoke of slavery" being my "sinful nature."
But alas, I am still prone to falling, failing, forgetting, ignoring, all that. Despite it all. Despite knowing these verses, despite all the lessons I've learned. Despite even the clear voice in me that tells me to stand firm. To stand. But the Bible covers that too. I remember one afternoon in Spain when J was especially excited to share with L, S and myself a verse and revelation for him in 1 John:
"If we claim to be without sin, we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness. If we claim we have not sinned, we make him out to be a liar and his word has no place in our lives." (1 John 1:8-10)
Cool. J was thrilled - it was an incredible encouragement to him (and me) that God acknowledges our sinful nature and frees us to acknowledge it too. It is not to be haphazardly covered up by fig leaves, but freely acknowledged without shame or guilt. Because! God forgives. He's already forgiven everything because Jesus' death on the cross atoned for all that. A miraculous, gracious mystery. So nebulous yet so viscerally real.
15-16: And finally (for tonight), this beautiful call to be a good servant and daughter. To make God and my parents' "inmost being" "rejoice." Sing joy, again and again. Reverberant, not because I myself am inherently all that great, but because God gives me the power to rise up from my own weaknesses. In my weakness He is strong.
I pray that this blog may not only be a solid exercise and propulsion for me to write (perhaps leading to that novel/memoir I want to write so dearly), but a means through which God speaks powerfully, as He does, through this stunning medium of words and language to me and to readers. As Milton invoked muses and God to "Illumine, what is low raise and support" and "Shine inward... Irradiate, there plant eyes... that I may see and tell / Of things invisible to mortal sight," I pray that God speaks to and through me.
"Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal." (2 Corinthians 4:16-18)
That was read to us junior high school (or high school) graduates in Agape youth group by PC. Resonates deeply still.
Indeed, God speaks and gives words to say. I started this entry so cognizant of the fact that I'm writing - but ever since I entered into God's words, my fingers very easily and flowingly have been typing meditations of my heart. It's all so real. I love it.
"... the Spirit helps us in our weaknesses. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express." (Romans 8:26)
Words can only express so much, but I'm grateful that they can at least express this much.
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