An Apple A Day...

How does it feel to campout at the hospital? It is hard to say really, but it almost feels welcoming. Be it cause I have been here three nights and counting or because I have the freedom to go out and scrounged up some fast food to curb the appetite, I can't complain about this experience. Of course I am not the one on the Hill-Rom bed, but nevertheless even if I was, this place is not at all foreign to me nor unpleasant. The dim lights, the beeping machines, the knock on the doors and nurses and aids walking in can get disturbing for those trying to rest, but after a while you become tired enough to sleep through anything. The halls carry their own cycle day in and day out. During the day they are bustling with motion and sound, but during the night they are quiet, almost dead. Like two faces to the same coin. The halls look almost identical, like a rat maze if you explore them for the first time, but behind every identical door is a completely different, unique, and wholesome story. Every individual no matter how sick, matters. Everything about them matters, not just their health, but also their entire well-being. Patient care has moved away from the "just a disease" perspective to a more holistic outlook to patient care, but theory is almost always easier to understand than to put into practice. Everyone is familiar with the ideal but not everyone is an adroit master of implementation. Nevertheless, the hospital will always be a teaching ground, where those who are higher up on the experience todumpole guides to those who keep reminding them of where they were once too. Despite the funny smells, the bland food, and semi-comfortable blue couch the has housed my body for the past three days, I have felt right at home in this place. Perhaps I will be never miss it when I am gone, but I do not regret the experience...because after all our lives are built on experience, but experience comes from letting yourself take in each moment, be it good or bad. :)

In The Secret

There’s something so beautiful about being awake before the sun meets the horizon. Hearing the birds begin their song of praise, watching the breeze push against the leaves as it passes through, and witnessing the color changes in the sky from lavender , to pink, to orange, and blue. All of this is beauty at its finest. But what I find even more stunning than all of this is the beauty found in the silence and quietude of those hours just before the break of day – breathtaking. I don’t know how many of you sit in silence daily. Most people find silence awkward or uncomfortable, but silence can be refreshing because it is often in the absence of sound and commotion that one can truly connect with the Divine. “In the secret, in the quiet place. In the stillness You are there. In the secret, in the quiet hour I wait, only for You...cause I want to know You more.” How beautiful and exciting to know that at the close of each day you can fall asleep with a smile knowing Who waits for you the next time you wake.

George

He was tall and had an athletic build to him. His black hair was slicked back and a dazzling crooked smile flashed across his pale face. As we were introduced to our new teacher, my naïve 12 year-old mind couldn’t help but to think, “But he looks too young to be my teacher, all my teachers have always been old.”

Immediately George and I hit it off. As a new youth leader and Sabbath school teacher he had to win our respect and trust. I have always respected my elders so that part was easy, but gaining and keeping my trust was a different story. However, there was something different about this individual and I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. I skeptically and hesitantly answered his questions but his genuine interest and laidback attitude gave me a comforting reassurance that I could trust him.

Aside from my parents, most of the other youth leaders I have had focused on sugar coating things and yet others thought what we wanted as young people was entertainment. I never knew where that crazy idea came from because as a young child I was always stimulated by a challenge to reach higher, above, and beyond myself. And I believe this is what George did for me. It wasn’t until his arrival on the scene that I realized my potential as a young person and the difference I could make if I truly committed to God’s calling.

George initiated bible studies for those my age and even though a small number of us would come out, those bible studies were the biggest blessing I received at my local church. I remember one time George talked to us about trust in God and how we could never reach His desire for us and his perfect and awesome plan for our lives if we did not fully trust him. He said that God could not do for us what He wanted if we didn’t allow him to by putting our full trust in Him. George taught me that FAITH is not belief without proof but it is trust without reservation.

As I worked hard to follow the lessons I was learning in bible study, my life began to change. I began to focus on the things that truly mattered and as I entered adolescence I made some the wisest decisions from a very young age. And this pleased God and since then He has often called upon me to stand, especially when no one else will. Sometimes its nerve wrecking and other times it can get embarrassing, but if it wasn’t for the man of God who took the time to invest in us, in me, I wouldn’t have been able to experience the power of God from such a young age.

When I hit 13 years of age, I saw less and less of George. The new youth leaders I had were very superficial and they were more worried about me liking them than about teaching me anything of value. Disappointed and discourage I made my way to Net 98’ at PMC and discovered another powerful man of God—Dwight K. Nelson. When I was 14 or 15 we transitioned our membership over to this church. By then I never saw George anymore and cannot recall that I ever really made an effort to keep in touch with him.

Then during my sophomore year in high school one of my friends, who grew up playing soccer with me, committed suicide. The shock was too big to take in at the moment. I didn’t cry a single tear. The days during which his family and friends made all the arrangements for his funeral seemed like months. I kept playing the last time I had seen my friend over and over in my head and regretting never reaching out to him even when I knew he was struggling. But never once did I shed a tear, and even less in public. At the memorial service, which was held at PMC, I sat alone; I listened and watched others cry but still not a single tear from my eyes. I was sad inside and I wanted to be able to cry but I couldn’t. I felt guilty and almost angry that I couldn’t react like everyone else. As the service ended and we all began to exit the church to make it to the burial, I felt alone for the first time. All around me were my friends, teachers, and people from the community who I knew but they were all a blur and all I could think is, “I wish I had someone there to help me through this.” As I lifted my eyes toward the door, there was George standing with one leg crossed over the other and his hands behind his back as he coolly rested his body against the back wall. We exchanged smiles and I walked quickly out the door not thinking twice about the fact that I had seen him there. It wasn’t important to me.

Then as we stood before the burial site and the casket ready to go six feet under, still not a single tear. All my classmates, me included, had formed a circle around the closed casket. As the parting words were spoken by the Reverend I closed my eyes and thrust my head back saying, “God what is wrong with me, it’s my friend and I can’t even cry?!?!” As I opened my eyes and for the first time scrutinized my surroundings I saw George across the tent standing just on the outside. We exchanged glances and I looked away thinking, “That’s so strange, I wonder how he knows James.” As the Reverend said “Amen” the casket began lowering. All of a sudden an overwhelming wave of anxiety filled me and before I realized it I felt weak and my body began to shake uncontrollably as the tears poured endlessly out of my eyes. At the moment when I was the faintest, there he was—my youth leader who I had lost contact with for years, hugging me and holding me and saying, “I know it hurts.” God had answered my prayer and sent George to be there for me when I needed him most.

I didn’t realize it then like I do now, but George had never met James, he didn’t even know him. He had been there for me that day. My youth leader, the one who had taught me countless of useful life lessons throughout my tween years, was teaching me the biggest lesson of all – God's genuine care and love for me.

You see, being a youth leader is so much more than getting the youth to be active in church. It is more than about entertaining them or teaching them the Bible. It is about leading them to experience a life with Jesus. It’s about praying for them and never ceasing. It’s about caring about who they are as individuals and to stand on their behalf when no one else will. Being a youth leader is not easy, but if led of God it can be the most humbling experience. As a youth leader today, I can look back and have a solid example of a truly Christ-like leader in my life.

I praise God for George. I have not seen him since nor spoken to him again and today I do not know his whereabouts nor even if he is still in the church or still with life. Sometimes I wonder what he’s up to where he’s at or what other ways God has led in his life. And sometimes I wish I had the opportunity to thank him. But I don’t even know if I’ll ever see him again. Still one thing I do know, George taught me what it takes to be a youth leader; it takes a full submission to the will of God.

The Complete Preface

Title:
The Circus God Does Not Approve Of

Complete Preface:
My heart sank at the sound of his words, “Eli, don’t tell me what to do.” I had never experienced disappointment to its near fullness like I did that night. After pleading with my youth pastor and chair of our nominating committee to step in and do the right thing, my faith had finally wavered at the sound of his words. I do not guilt the man for his lack of good judgment, but pride is a very dangerous thing. I had thought myself strong in the faith up until this point, then the floor was suddenly removed from under my feet and I felt as if there was no one there to catch me; No one to stand up and do the right thing.

Every fire is kindled by a flame. But every flame begins with a spark.

However, it is not the spark that is responsible for feeding the flame, but the oxygen that surrounds the flame. The spark itself, although seemingly spontaneous, is only a consequence of the electrical imbalance that exists in the environment. And just like nature behaves according to its laws, justice will affix to its mandates. Consequently, when injustice rules and triumphs, it is only a matter of time before the imbalance is too great to withhold a spark.

This story began with a simple spark, and then...all of hell’s fire broke loose.

"Love is that condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own. "

While chatting with Lindsey, today over an open book and scattered paperwork, I couldn’t help but to wonder that our experiences in our last relationships had been almost parallel. Everything she mentioned seemed so familiar to me to the point that it began to turn my stomach. Of course that could have been the hunger I was feeling due to lack of time for a hearty breakfast. Nevertheless, we both sighed with relief that the good thing about bad relationships is that they eventually come to an end.

Now Lindsey, being a gorgeously attractive girl and all, explained the difference between being appreciated versus being loved. In the turn of a few months after her previous relationship ended, she found the man of her dreams who is “madly” in love with her. And things just “fell into place.”

While I find this thought attractive and almost comforting, there’s a null feeling in my gut. Could it be that there is someone out there that would ever be “madly” in love with only me and I feel the same for him? In the world of almost 7 billion people your chances may seem good but in reality given the rate at which you meet someone (your age or close to it), get to know them, develop feelings for them, etc. – you could be counting your grey hairs on your head before “Mr. perfect” comes prancing through the church door. Now I say all of this in humor but I find “the one” philosophy crazy to my logical mind yet alluring to my utopian heart.

So what deduction did I draw from our short conversation? The key is to know what you want and never settle, and if your desires are in line with what God wants for you then you are bound to receive just that and so much more.

Someone once asked, “So are you waiting around for the guys to come?” I laughed and said, “Waiting around? No way, I’m living my life and if they happen to come they come and if they don’t they don’t, regardless I live and enjoy my life.”

I am not picky, but when you know what you DON’T want, knowing what you want is a lot easier. I don’t want to be caged. I want freedom to be myself, but this freedom only comes with complete trust, and complete trust only comes with perfect love. Someone who loves you for who you are, and not for how convenient you look on paper, is worth a shot. Everyone other “one” is just a waste of time. I think I am pretty clear on what I want and the ever more certain of what God wants. After all, as the originator of perfect love Himself – how could He have it any other way?

The Afterglow

I named my blog “afterglow” for a reason. The word by definition means an after light or a glow that remains in the sky after sunset. Or sometimes it refers to the beam of light that lingers just before a heated metal becomes incandescent. There have been many encounters throughout my life that have left an encapsulating after light on my mind and heart. Moments that have forced me to sit down and take a time out of my hurried day to reflect on the experience that was too deep to grasp by a simple encounter.

Recently, I have had one of those experiences.

A few days ago, I had the privilege of sitting down with a person whom I have admired for many years. A man of strength, valor, and principle. I do not want to idealize a person because everyone makes mistakes and there is no one righteous, no not one. But needless to say I obviously admire this man. As he explained to me why he disagreed with my line of thought, I never once felt judged. Knowing that he had more authority in the field of theology that I do at the moment, I quietly and admiringly listened. I focused on opening up my mind to what he had to say and as he rebuked me (literally) I couldn’t help but to feel grateful, cared for, and loved all at the same time.

The details of the conversation are not important, but the lessons of the encounter are priceless. As I listened to his words my heart began to burn. I was challenged to reach higher and farther than before. I was encouraged to seek truth and hold on to wisdom. But most importantly, I felt my lack of Jesus and my desperate need to find Him.

As we arrived to his final destination and exchanged our goodbyes, I knew that what had happened was providentially ordained. I shook his hand goodbye but the afterglow lingered, the burning, the incandescence glow of the flame once again ignited, lingered.

Is this not how most encounters with Jesus are? His loving words sometimes rebuke our erred conceptions of His truth but our hearts begin to burn as his words fill us with hope. Instead of feeling offended or discouraged, we are once again encouraged in the right direction, to seek the Lord more deeply, more earnestly, and more lovingly.

I thank this kind pastor for his time, I thank God for this pastor’s bravery, but most importantly I thank Him for allowing those moments in our lives that mark a definitive moment in the history of the galaxies and the evidence lingers. The afterglow.

Thanks, but no thanks.

People who haven’t been through something have no idea, not the slightest clue what going through that certain something feels like. Many say, “Oh it’s going to be okay, you guys will be okay,” but they have no idea of what the words coming out of their mouths really mean. Experience is truly the greatest teacher of all times.

God has taught me a lot of things over the 26 years of my life. But most importantly he has allowed me to taste life for all that it is cut out to be on this earth. Some parts of life have been the sweetest I have ever tasted, but others have indeed been nothing but the bitterest of bitters.

Funny that when you have God in your mind and heart, the sweet moments in life leave you with a deeper longing for heaven where the sweetness will be multiplied as we enjoy eternity with the Lord. Yet the bitter moments leave you longing ever more for His return. In the end no matter what experiences we bare in this world, they strengthen the desire and hunger for the next.

How can I say this, I welcome comments that to the inexperienced seem encouraging, however, I much rather hear “I have prayed for you because I have no idea what it’s like to go through what you are going through.” If you really have no idea how things will turn out, please do not say, “It will be okay” because some things are just not okay.