Sunday, May 18, 2014

A Large, Long River; Love and Tremble

MERCIES UPON MERCIES AS I GO ALONG

The different streams of this river are apt to appear like mere confusion to us, because of our limited sight, whereby we cannot see the whole at once. A man who sees but one or two streams at a time, cannot tell what their course tends to. Their course seems very crooked, and different streams seem to run for a while different and contrary ways: and if we view things at a distance, there seem to be innumerable obstacles and impediments in the way, as rocks and mountains, and the like; to hinder their ever uniting and coming to the ocean; but yet if we trace them, they all unite at last, they all come to the same issue, disgorging themselves in one into the same ocean. Not one of all the streams fail.

– Jonathan Edwards

That last sentence of the above quote is reminiscent of a glorious and powerful verse in the book of Joshua: "Not one word of all the good promises that the Lord had made to the house of Israel had failed; all came to pass." (Joshua 21:45)

The world is a chaotic place. And I've always been scared, so desperately afraid of the world that I'd imagine my own.

But I never had courage because I never trusted the good promises of God, that no matter what happens, He is good and only does the right thing. I had to build my walls because I thought that giving myself to others means that I would perish, not knowing that the essence of love is life, and since life cannot die, love never ends.

The Scripture and the vast cloud of witnesses who have gone before me testify to God's faithfulness, that even in a world filled with evil, God's promises remain unshaken, and He will finally do justice to all. He will reward those who trusted Him despite how stupid and weak it seemed to do so, and He will slay the proud who oppressed the righteous and hated God. It will come to pass. He said so. We must trust Him. It will surely come to pass.

I've been taking an online theology class. My lessons were once a week, and lasted for twelve weeks. I completed the course last week.

I'm not precisely sure what I've gotten out of it. Mostly I've found out that I'm a terrible, terrible person. I hate myself. I hate most everything I do. I'm so fed up with my monstrosity. I've been wishing that I could change for so long. But it's so hard to put off selfishness. It's such a deeply-rooted problem that I've gotten so used to it. I'm trapped and withering and stinking like a corpse.

And I don't even cry out enough. That's the worst thing of all. It's so reasonable and easy to see, at this point, that I should, with the graceful swiftness of a deer, abandon self-confidence and break. But I can't break. I'm not sad enough to cry, not ashamed enough to blush. I'm hardened.

But God is working His wonders, I know. Oh, what a wonderful thing to have come across that sermon by Charles Leiter, "The Weakness and Foolishness of God". It finally taught me the nature of that glory that I have been seeking for such a long time, that God is not as glorified in great displays of abundance, knowledge, strength, and beauty as He is in the use of weak and lowly means.

This is because it is only natural for the strong to defeat the weak. But for the weak to defeat the strong, God must be involved. Thus, in the end, no one can boast of himself, but of God. That is how God is glorified, not by human impressiveness, but by human weakness.

Which is why, despite my terrible condition, losing hope is not an option for me. Because I know that despite how chaotic and despairing things seem, this all is meant to show that what man cannot accomplish, God can. I await the day when this socially awkward boy will be transformed into a selfless and honest gentleman, testifying to God's power in obliterating sin. I keep looking and waiting, and keep trying and failing, knowing that all the bitterness shall make the sweetness sweeter.

And throughout all this, as the days go by, I continue to be surprised by God's mercy. It's not that anything especially pleasing or nice happened to me, but that I failed so much. I kept being unable to do what I'm commanded to do. And no matter what I did, I realized that God's promises were still valid for me. I changed, but the Word did not change. Christ still beckons. Again and again and again and again. Seventy times seven times.

Perhaps this is one of the reasons I'm so afraid to love people. Because I realized how terribly hard it should've been for God to love me. I hated Him so much. But He pressed on, not only for a moment, but for years, up until now. I don't see myself as having the strength to persevere like that, like Christ. This must sound confusing, since it should be that knowing how hard it was for God to love me makes it easier for me to love unlovely people. But I don't know, I really don't. But I do continue to hope that I can find the strength to be like that one day, despite the hurt I have to go through.

It seems that the filmmaking dream was dropped. I might very likely become a pastor. I don't even want to talk about it, it's such a scary prospect at this point, and I'm so incredibly disappointed with my own spiritual life that the idea seems laughable. But I love God's Word, and I love to see God glorified, and my heart yearns for a place of refuge for God's people. It's true that no other job seems more terrifying to me, but I'm also sure that no other job can make me happier. Not even making films. Not anymore.

That's kind of what has been going on in my life for these few weeks and months, mainly.

God's promises do not fail. But why the agony in waiting for their fruition? Because God wants to present the best in the best way presentable. Along the way, He walks with us and showers us with mercies and gifts.


* * * * *

WHY YOUR CRUSH MAKES YOU NERVOUS

You've likely seen many girls that day. They don't bother you much, and you treat them normally as you would a human being. You talk and laugh and go about your business as usual.

Then she appears.

Something inside your stomach jumps and a tingle runs through your body. Your heart rate rises. How pretty she looks today. You suppress the rising sensation and look elsewhere, trying to not to look overexcited or overly insecure, and trying not to look like you're too bothered by her entry.

By coincidence she comes somewhere near you. She notices you, and greets you, "Hi!". That sweet voice. Taken by surprise, your greeting spills clumsily out of your mouth. Your heart rate doubles, and you try to relax to ease the burning sensation in your face and ears. How stupid! you scold yourself for acting so weird.

She goes on to talk about other things. How unbelievable, she's talking to me. As she speaks, you secretly admire how perfectly graceful she appears in everything she does. But at the same time, the longer the conversation is held, the more insecure and tense you become, worried about whether or not she may be disturbed by your responses. You realize that you have an excess of saliva in your mouth that you're afraid swallowing might make too much noise. You suddenly forgot how to stand normally, and any posture seems awkward to you.

Finally, she bids you goodbye, and you strain one final smile before watching her turn and walk away, her ponytail swishing behind her. You breathe a sigh of relief, and while squirming at how stupid you were, your infatuation with her is fresh in your heart. What a lovely girl, like no other.

Why is it that the people we admire cause us to be anxious when around them? It's because we look up to them so much that we feel unworthy. They don't even have to look down on you to make you feel inferior; you already feel that way when you recognize how excellent they are.

This is an experience familiar to so many. Why, then, is it hard to grasp the idea of the coexistence of godly love and godly fear? It's because we truly love God that we fear Him, because we realize how infinitely removed from His perfection we are. Compared to His excellence, we seem so inferior and so awkward. But that's what makes the adventure of drawing near to Him so thrilling. Because if He's so normal that He does not take our breath away, what's the glory in that?

It's because we have such a terrifyingly holy God that the idea of feeling bored in heaven is so ridiculous. Try to feel bored in heaven, I promise you it will be infinitely harder than trying to stay calm beside your crush.

Wednesday, May 7, 2014

The Dreamer

A SORTA ALLEGORY OF WHAT'S GOING ON IN MY LIFE RIGHT NOW

More times than I can remember, I was a hero in a lucid dream.

They were not dreams where there were no problems. But I knew those problems and how to deal with them, because they were my dreams.

The poor people in my dreams could not solve those problems. I came like a Messiah to them, bringing to them peace and satisfaction in many ways; there was no crisis that was left unsolved. I comforted them in their utter despair and sadness and gave them hope. My dialogue was always charming, and I spoke power into their lives.

Even though I had the power even to make myself a king, or a man of great wealth, or with great might, I never did so. I knew those things would obscure my true self and my glory. The man who wins a battle empty handed has more glory than he who wins with weapons, and he who wins with words even more glorified, and he who wins with silence even more so. Indeed, my resources were little, but I always emerged the victor, winning battles and winning hearts.

At times, my dreams were rudely interrupted by some noise or commotion in the real world. Such interruptions were unbearably irritating; I wished I did not have to answer to the petty and mundane affairs of the real world. But as it is, the dreamer is real, and the dream is not, and reality dispels imaginings like light overcomes darkness.

Even so, I did not forget my people and the beautiful lands where I belonged. I would manage the necessary affairs of living (or at least, what I deem necessary), then return to my dream, where some quest would await me, and some trouble put me to the test.

Now, there was an ancient man who lived even to this day, and whose day of conception remains unknown. He was the most terrible interrupter of dreams I ever knew in my life; firstly, his body shone so brightly that if he walked into a dark room, the room would be illuminated as if it were day, and secondly, his footsteps had the very sound of thunder.

He used to walk past my room, where I slept and dreamt, and the light and noise would startle me. I knew that it was meant to wake me so that I would go out and follow him (to whatever place he takes people to), but I could not but feel very annoyed, and try to go back to sleep.

But one day I once again heard his thunderous footsteps, and for the first time... he walked straight into my room. The room instantly lit up, and besides the sound of thunder there was a deafening blast of wind. All of the sleep jolted from my body, I sat on my bed in speechless shock, wide-eyed, my heart pounding fast. I seriously thought I was going to die.

Yet, the closer he came, the calmer the wind, and the less thunderous his footsteps were. An invisible ghost that was in the wind whispered to me as the man drew near, saying repeatedly, "More to be seen, more to be seen..." Then as he sat down on the bed, all became still.

I could not look straight at him because he was so bright, so I sort of tried to look at him sideways, squinting. Then, to me these words he said,

"How long will you lie down, O sluggard?
When will you arise from your sleep?
'A little sleep, a little slumber,
A little folding of the hands to rest'—
Your poverty will come in like a vagabond
And your need like an armed man."

Then he left the room.

I did not feel annoyed, as I usually did before. Instead, I felt a mixture of soberness and exhilaration. And his words cut deeply to the heart, such that I did not want to go back to sleep again. I wasn't sure what to do.

"More to be seen..." I heard the ghost say again. 

And then I knew. Then I did the craziest thing ever. Immediately I leaped from my bed and charged out after the man, forsaking that room forever.

So I followed the man. And the longer I followed him, the more I could make of his countenance and features, whereas before he was so bright that I could not really see what he looked like. And it's not that he became less bright, but something was happening to my eyes that gave them a certain empowerment.

However, although I forsook the room, yet my dreams followed me. And whenever I am reminded of my dream world, I would grow tired of whatever business that the man had entrusted me to do, and doze off. When I wake up I would feel guilty of having neglected my work, but then afterwards still I indulge in my dreams.

Thus, I embarked on quests in two different worlds. It was not long before I found that the quests are of radically different natures, for in my dreams I do things for my own glory's sake, but for the man I work for his sake. The kind of satisfaction is different, too. In the dreams, satisfaction is much more easily attained, but fades rather quickly. In following the man, satisfaction is hard to gain, but persists for long.

It was also true that I could not pursue one without neglecting the other. Indulging in dreams severely affected my real work; whilst in the dreams, pain and sadness are quite bearable, but this causes the sting of real pain to surprise me and steal my enthusiasm for the work. My resistance to pain, fatigue, anxiety, sorrow, and shame are all greatly reduced, the more I continued living in my mild, self-written scripts.

Yet, I did not realize all this until the man sternly rebuked me today, saying, "The one who does not love does not know God, for God is love."

Oh, what a poor wretch I am, and how shameful! All this time I helped and comforted people who weren't real, while leaving the real people to their problems! A love with a false object cannot be a true love.

It is absurd, all my imagining and dreaming that I can help people this way and that, and never doing the deed, for fear that I cannot ensure my success. My hands have become too tender for work, and my heart too hardened for disappointment.

Yet the path of glory that the ancient man has for me is not all fairy tales and rainbows, but grit and failure and persistence. Oh, how I fear it, the true path of glory! It is like walking a trail of thorns and broken glass.

Forsake pride, fool! Awake from your slumber! May your eyes be more empowered to see the ancient man clearly, with holes in his hands and feet, having completed the path of glory!

The dreamer must dream no more, or he shall miss out in the perfect dream of God, the dream so divine that it comes to pass in the exact holy and wise way the Father of the ancient man dreamt it.

I desire Your glory, Lord. Don't forsake me to my own futility.

And those with the same desire, Lord, answer them. You Yourself have promised that there is more glory to be seen than is presently seen.

All glory and beauty be unto the ancient man. Amen.