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I Want to Write

I want to write words that inspire praise
To lead the procession of saints in some kinda craze
to get us amped in the glory of His story all of our days
to be lured by the allure of the light of Christ … to Star gaze

But I can’t find the words, and I cant find the voice
I grasp for clarity, for the poignancy of word choice
But I guess its true, no matter what I do, no matter how hard I try
my feet stuck in the sand, when my heart wants to fly

I feel so limited, not eloquent
What a sentiment, im sick of it
so inadequate
so mad at this
cant believe im just so bad at this

But my God’s got me, He drew me near
even in the valley of all my darkest fears
Even in my shame, and even past my past
even when I come undone, even when I’m at my last

When I cant speak a word
or preach a sermon
even in the darkest season
where I’m not learning
Even when I fail, even when I hurt
Even when you done dig up all my dirt

There’s no condemnation
not a charge to be brought
I know in Jesus all the lies are false
And I know I’m caught
that Jesus sought
that criminal I was when it was all my fault

So to write … I’m free to try, free to sigh
Free to die like my master who was crucified
Free to give, free to forgive
Free to be a kid, Free to live.

"I Shall Not Want"

Nearly every time I hear or see the phrase “I shall not want,” a memory pops into my head, a picture really, of me in a second grade classroom at Chinese Baptist Church of Houston for Sunday School. Along with the Lord’s prayer, the twelve disciples, and a few other bible verses (maybe the 10 commandments too), memorizing Psalm 23 was one of THE big goals for completing second grade Sunday School. Somehow, by the grace of God, my 2nd grade self could muster the focus to complete the task and to this day I probably wont be able to disassociate Psalm 23 with the image of a cute sheep laying down on some comfortable-looking, forest green grass, with a river running through it.

Fast forward to eighteenth (incoming nineteenth?) grade, and as “Sunday School” has surely gotten tougher, and as life has really become an unpredictable whirlwind of joys and sorrows, I can surely say a simple truth that I used to think was so trite/meaningless: God is good. Might’ve taken awhile, but I’m only now beginning to be able to trace His goodness like a hidden thread over my life. And it gives me hope, an assurance for His provision tomorrow. He has, is, and always will be good to me. Even, and perhaps especially, at the costs of what I want most … “When I taste Your goodness I shall not want.”

"From the need to be understood
From the need to be accepted
From the fear of being lonely
Deliver me O God
Deliver me O God
And I shall not want, I shall not want
When I taste Your goodness I shall not want
When I taste Your goodness I shall not want."

Blogging, and more

My heart has had a longstanding attachment with blogging. 

From my first xanga post during finals week of my sophomore year at Strake Jesuit, to my secret xanga accounts which were named "Misjudged1" and "Unforeseen Facade" (how emo right), to my first post on this site in the Moody Library basement towards the end of my freshman year at Baylor, all the way to a current day house in Rowland Heights, California, blogging has been pretty consistent for some of the most formative years of my life. 

Usually I found myself basically debriefing a web of thoughts at the end of my days for each of those stages of my life. When 2am clocked around and my parents or roommates went to sleep, then came a sense of "freedom" where it was just me and God talking it out (or me just venting to Him, the reader, or myself) ... I can remember very important, transforming parts of my life and locations where I sat to blog what I was seeing, learning, and loving. I kind of loved blogging. It has an intimate attachment for me because sometimes it felt like blogger Jon really was the "real me" ... or as "real" as it could get.

On a side note, it helped me articulate my thoughts a ton.

I always have written with a semi-diary-esque tone ... knowing that a couple of readers might pop in and out and it's afforded me a level of honesty that I was never afraid to embrace for whomever might read it. In some ways I wanted to bless whomever might read it. In some ways it's given my writing a "voice" but as I've began to think about it, over the past couple of years, something's felt missing and I couldn't pinpoint what it was.

I think the same thing could be said about my twitter, which started out as not publicized at all with only like four followers. There was something about the semi-privacy of that account that made it more meaningful for me. 

And I guess the solution could be just to crack down and make everything private but I don't know that that's the right course of action to take. I do want to help and encourage whoever might read what I want to post. But I guess the main reason I say all this is because the thing that's bugged me is getting used to being a "public" person. Of course everyone on social media is as public as they want to be, but even now as a youth pastor, the simple things I used to encourage ministry leaders in college is something I struggle with: Letting those you shepherd in on your life, letting them even see your sin, your junk, your not-together-ness. I don't know that I actually feel uncomfortable doing this, but I'm caught in a tension of being new to ministry where I'm supposed to know what I'm doing and at the same time being honest with the fact that I don't most of the time. 

Because as it is now, I feel like I'm at the raw-est state I could be. Where I'm learning on the go all the time, making plenty of mistakes, and trying to catch enough of them to grow for the future. I tell people that I feel like since I've moved out here, I've been at my "C game" ... meaning everything I do I feel like I used to do better before ... or at least with more genuine passion, faith, expectation ... maybe even throw in "sincerity." And as I keep trucking through school and serving at the church, it feels like I'm just trying to keep up with what God's trying to teach me. Heh, I kind of want to correct/revise some of my word choice here because I feel like if you read it, you can sense my insecurity/unbelief. 

All that to say, for a while I feel like I've supposed to have been a certain guy on par with a certain self-inflicted, extra-biblical standard. I got more than a fair share of encouragement that I've battled not to let myself get puffed up but maybe I bought into it. And I know that God specifically, deliberately, and convincingly brought me out here for my own sanctification. He's exposed a lot and it's really uncomfortable sometimes to see how many insecurities I have. Goodness. And so, all that to say/vent ... I'm kind of a mess in a way right now. And I guess this past year is God's teaching me that, as well as that being okay. The good news of the gospel that He's showing me is that even in all this, He's not only present, but He's drawn near. In a weird tension of feeling like God is distant, in a way I can't deny how near He actually is. I feel I've forgotten the cross in my functional theology ... but it's that act in history that proves God is for me, a guy full of sin and insecurity, for some ridiculous reason, entrusted to tend a flock of kids in some of the most formative years of their lives. 

Heh, I'm not masochistic but somewhere deep down, I'm liking this journey He has me on. As painful as it has been, I feel that it evidences His unrelenting pursuit of me. The real me. Raw, full of holes.

"The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise." -Psalm 51:17 

"Post-grad" -> "Life"

Heh, I feel like I've finally "graduated" from college to "young adult" ... not because I just graduated from college or anything but because I finally feel like I've come to a place where I understand that all the things that used to shine super bright and grab all the attention are not what yields maturity so much as the long-term commitment to stick things out, rooted in things that may never get the acclaim/praise that the things in college did.

Saying deep things isn't as valuable as living a life of depth ... being able to articulate deep gospel truths isn't as sanctifying as standing deep in it. Community, church, conflict, confronting my avoidance of conflict. Morally neutral things having too much power and devotion from me.

Post-grad feels normal enough for me now to not have to label it such anymore. It's just life now. And I feel comfortable with that. Finally.

And so, I don't diminish in any way what college taught me about God, His gospel, His Church, His Bible, people, etc. A part of me still has a deep love for the college/university campus that is waiting to be unleashed in a sense. Yet, I recognize that it really is those things that I need most right now. And far from putting things off as simply transitionary, I can now see that there's sacrifice, yes, but immense value to setting roots down in the gospel, in the context of deep community, a challenge towards mission, to the glory of God. In the same way I describe this generation as being so individually "free" to choose what they want, so have I for far too long. If the Bible is true and for our joy in freeing us up for more of God, then the family of God takes precedence of my plans .. and contrary to what culture says, sometimes even my "dreams." I feel like the Bible's way of talking about the church expects this kind of Philippians 2 commitment. It's just the natural tone of Acts right?

Anyway. I know that a year from now I'll think this post is ridiculous for the way it sounds. I know I haven't "arrived yet." Far from it. I think I'm seeing with more perspective just how deceiving sin is, how deceitful the heart is when threatened to have Jesus expose its darkness, etc. But as I near 25, I think it's fitting to recognize that it's not about what gets the headlines so much as it is about faithfulness and a life of daily repentance unto obedience for the sake of my utmost joy and God's utmost glory in my life.

And I guess I do echo what I first learned and felt in college: The truth is that though I initially feared the thought of always feeling like a "sojourner" on this side of heaven, I can vibe a little more with that Biblical word with every little bit of life and joy I experience here on earth. I am a stranger and a sojourner on a specific amount of time given by God as a gift. And I will never, ever feel completely "at home" until I'm taken by God. Yet somehow, it's been interesting to see this "exile" of a life like a fun journey ... where God takes me and places me up front with a great view of what He's doing ... how His story is playing out just like He said it would, through the message and power of the gospel of Jesus Christ, crucified and risen for His enemies.

I'm still verbose. I don't advise you listen to my preaching. ha. But for some reason He's called me here to plant myself in youth ministry in LA. He knows and I know that I'm more than unworthy to do this. I really don't deserve a title. But here I am, I guess. In the midst of a lot of uncomfortable sanctification. "Still standing."

Because of Christ,
-Jon

Dear Dad,

Hey dad,

Hope the pre-retirement is going well. Looking forward to seeing you and mom soon ... more than you know :).

Well to be honest dad, I thought about writing what I'm about to say about 6-7 months ago. A number of things have changed since I've moved out here ... not only logistics like living, my church community, and school, but also my processing of who I am ... who I am in Christ. It's been difficult as you guys probably know but I know so convincingly that God has brought me out here for my own sanctification ... for God to give me more of Himself.

And so about 6-7 months ago I went on this retreat for my spiritual formation class in November. Basically it was a nice cabin in the woods retreat where we had time to be silent, reflect, and share our life stories ... specifically in that sharing, we were assigned to share really big/"shaping" moments in our lives, whether they be super difficult seasons, transitionary seasons, etc.

Each sharing took a good half hour plus fifteen minutes of debriefing/prayer for each person and as I heard each story from my group I started to hear a common theme. Whether the person was a church leader, pastor, white, korean, Vietnamese, etc., I started to see a root issue in a lot of their lives: daddy deprivation. It was honestly a little surprising that with each person that shared, there was a a large part of their stories of absent fathers, cheating fathers, abusive fathers, godless fathers. It was a very real moment for me ... to hear so many stories of brokenness not only in the person sharing but in the fathers they were describing.

And as I left that retreat it made me think ... what happens to so many men, called to lead their family, their wife, that causes so much dysfunction and sin? And I know that you know that I'm a big fan of hip hop and the rap genre in general, and there was this song that I heard called "Was it Worth it?" that came on my ipod and it got me pretty emotional hearing yet again another story of a cry of a generation yearning for a hug from their dads. Why it made me feel this way, on the verge of tears, was because I realize how hard it must be to be a father. I can't sit and judge all the men who left, all the men who cheated, all the men who tuned out of their family's lives because when I hear these stories, these songs, I hear how difficult the calling must be. And as I start to think back to my childhood (as a lot of my spiritual formation class has helped me do), it made me realize something about you dad: you were always there. Something always flips me out when I watch/remember those home videos of us in Australia and seeing how you raised me and Chris with mom. And as I recall the difficulties of my adolescent years, how I "shut down" somewhere in middle school and definitely in high school, I remember your pursuit of me as a father for his son ... even when I was the most unreachable and inaccessible, constantly pushing you away. I remember that Strake Jesuit father/son retreat where they forced us to talk to each other lol. And I remember during my college years reading an entry you wrote during that retreat of how hard it was to talk to me because I was so distancing. And as I start to think about "stages" in life, I realize that you were in every one of them, very much present, very much my dad, even if I didn't quite act like your son.

It's been a little ironic nowadays that God has me doing things like preaching, teaching, giving mini-seminars to parents at church on how to raise their kids ... haha. And one thing I notice is that kids really don't give a crap about the parents perspective because they can't even see it until possibly their 20's haha. I recognize that that's how it was for me and to think of how frustrating it must have been all those years has given me more perspective on a lot of things. I know that this may all sound like fluff to you ... because doing what you did is in someway "what dads are supposed to do." But truth is, a lot don't and a lot give up, if not physically, then emotionally (and thus spiritually). But you didn't dad, by the grace of God, you stuck it out, manned up, loved mom, Chris, and me, with a toughness but also with a tenderness that I see as beautifully biblical. We can always talk about mistakes that we've made but honestly, I think my childhood/adolescent/college years had enough of that for the both of us right?

All in all, I can't say much more other than "thanks" ... thanks for fathering me and Chris, for putting in the effort for me especially when I was so unresponsive. I've never doubted your love for me dad ... In some ways I've only learned how much you've loved me more than I thought. And if there's any encouragement, I think that despite all the internal mess in me during those rough years (most of it being self-inflicted), I think you helped me see glimpses of what God the Father felt about me too.

I know usually the dad is supposed to say this to their son, but I want to say that as you're retiring and finally getting to rest from all those years of hard work and endurance (probably feels like "slavery" to you), I wanted to say that as your son "I'm proud of you." I really am. So much so, that I actually like sharing about you to people who don't know you sometimes. I love that your mentality was that education comes from studying more so than innate ability. I love that you became a high school teacher, teaching crazy kids what you've worked hard to master. I admired your discipline to study in your late 50's to pass those tests, get those positions, and have the school recognize you not only as an outstanding teacher, but a fun/lovable man. I brag about your sense of humor to people because I really think you're hilarious. And I hope it doesn't sound too mushy, but I know that God willing, one day I'll brag to my son(s) of the man you were for Chris and me.

Happy Fathers Day Dad. I think I can honestly say that with each year we do this and I say "I love you," I am more equipped to feel greater affection.

Because of Christ,
-Jon