Cryptic Update

INTO LIGHT OR SIN I PLUNGE

Naivety;
Hope;
Fear;
Love;
Pain;
Grit;
Reality;
Taken together, tortures
but awakens, liberates—
resurrects.

Third Semester Reflection

FORTITUDE IN FELLOWSHIP OR: HOW TO DEAL WITH THE PERENNIAL QUESTIONS

In the wake of my experiences in Agape Youth Fellowship and in National Service, my view on faithfulness became one that stressed humility, perceptiveness, and self-control. I was traumatized by the memory of myself as a prideful, hypocritical, idealistic, and detached leader of the youth fellowship, and was later baffled by the impracticality of my theology in the context of gangsters and gods at the military camp. Hence I reacted against my overly intellectual approach to faith, and began trying to learn the practical and aesthetic aspects of the Bible and of theology.

I also became extremely afraid of being assertive; I decided that I would rather be wronged than wrong. Dealing with the effects of other people's bad decisions seemed easier than dealing with guilt. And so I entered college, determined to be a friendly and gracious presence, a good listener.


First Semester - And the Word Became Flesh

I think I was a little too good at it, especially in a culture like America. The cultural landscape is beset with tensions: traditional versus progressive, conservative versus liberal, capitalist versus socialist, religious versus secular, "nobody should have guns" versus "everybody should have guns", #blacklivesmatter versus #alllivesmatter, cessationism versus continuationism, and—on a college campus—brains versus brawns versus beauts, to put it quite crudely.

Being the way I was at the time, I almost always took the effort to think about the subtext underlying such tensions. I knew what I would instinctively prefer in each case, but having learned to react against my reactions, I would ask, "What do I really want? What are the real reasons that people hold the opposing view? Is it possible to hold the opposing view out of good intentions?"

Although doing so was intellectually rewarding, taking me to depths in my thinking that I never dreamed existed, it was also the most emotionally exhausting discipline I ever knew. Because I not only tried to find common ground for different points of view on political and religious spectrums, I was trying to reconcile cultures (geographical and historical), philosophies, and even personality types. I kept finding myself "in-between," and it was especially hard in a land where I already had very little sense of belonging.

I found myself very lonely very quickly, not due to a lack of company but a lack of understanding. Which soul could I share myself with who could understand the same in-between-ness that I suffer? The only person I found was Dr. Miller, who understands both culture shock and growing up with a psychological disorder (stuttering for him, ASD for me). The few opportunities I had to speak to him were quite vital in keeping me sane for my first semester. But he was busy, and so was I, and times for heartfelt conversations were scarce.

Loneliness led to bitterness. I often felt like I was the only one trying to restore a fractured world, which, even if it were true (which it wasn't), would not really give me the right to blame those who weren't doing the same thing. The truth is, whatever virtue is present in this cosmos-embracing attitude of mine did not come from me. I was graced with it, awakened to it, given it. I was not always like this. Of course, this sometimes made me even more bitter; I felt like God intentionally put me in a difficult place, at the intersection of many tensions. "This is ridiculous," I thought, "Why am I trying so hard to please everyone?" But in my endeavor to see reality as it is, I knew that even the most laughable perspectives holds some kernel of God's truth, however twisted—and these kernels needed to be rescued. I saw no alternative.

It was timely that I kept hearing about the person of Christ that first semester. Our chaplain preached from John 1 a number of times. In Old Testament studies, we learned about the anguish of Christ's heart as seen in the Psalms, and his act of "standing in the gap" as seen in the prophetic books. In my humanities class, the example of Christ was the crux of the main themes. And one particular scene mentioned in that class stuck with me throughout the semester: Jesus in the garden of Gethsemane, praying, "My father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as you will."

Jesus was truly in-between and truly alone, suspended between heaven and earth, caught between the wrath of men and the wrath of God, ready to be crushed—obedient, patient. Having such an image in my mind did not exactly alleviate the suffering and loneliness, but it provided a satisfactory explanation for it. It felt like I was losing everything, but I knew I was gaining Christ somehow.

Near the end of my first semester, I wrote this prayer in my journal:

Father, teach me
To be myself and to be a member,
To be present and to be everywhere and every time,
To be at rest and to be at war,
To strive and to wait patiently,
To be self-conscious and self-forgetful,
To be on earth and in heaven,
To be full of sorrow and full of joy,
To give and to receive,
To hold on and to let go,
To seek knowledge and to honor mystery,
To love and to hate,
To die and to live.
Amen.


Second Semester - Mystery in Meekness and Majesty

I was busier my second semester. I was taking a full 20 credits, singing in the choir, and working 10 hours a week in the cafeteria. Somehow I still decided to write and direct a short film with a friend.

Because of my workload and schedule, I slowly forgot how to reflect. I continued to write in my journal, but as the semester went by my entries became increasingly shorter, and the to-do lists following them became longer. I in fact became afraid of taking time to reflect on my life and faith, because I often found that I couldn't transition back into work-mode—especially whenever I remembered how lonely I felt. I couldn't afford to stop and think, because it was so hard to get going again.

I was aware of the slow death that was happening to my introspective tendencies, but I did not know what to do about it. Of course, this was the price I paid for trying to see all things as important and valid without a sense of priority. I wanted to get top grades, to thrive in social life, to excel in artistic endeavors, to make some kind of an impact on campus, and to actually learn and retain class content. But what of spiritual needs and duties? These suffered because they were not things I could do in work-mode.

Here is where fleshly pride and faithfulness met. For while I (to a degree) had control over grades, social standing, artistic excellence, and intellectual growth, before Scripture and in prayer I seemed to lose all control. What can I bring to God? What visible results could I bring forth through the spiritual disciplines? If I sat down for two hours and worked on an essay or a screenplay, or spent two hours with my friends, it's more than likely that there would be some kind of a result; I would have a couple of pages written, or I would have learned a little more about my friends.

But the spiritual disciplines? They threw me into complete turmoil almost every time. I would leave devotional time feeling like I knew less about God than before, that I was farther away from him, that I was worse of a person. What kind of a result is that? How do I explain it to other people? So my time in prayer and in meditating on the Word decreased gradually, so that I could continue to fulfill my mental image of a suffering messiah trying to do everything and save everyone. I became addicted to the feeling of pouring myself dry and feeling miserable about it and yet still hiding it from other people. It made me feel noble.

It was kind of disgusting. But it was simpler this way. Thus I continued to stretch my capacity for empathy, remaining steadfast in my in-between-ness.

My second semester led me to more interesting difficulties with the integration of all things, especially at the practical level. For while I prided myself on being a person of empathy, I realized that I had difficulty empathizing with indifference or hostility. In other words, I was hostile against hostile points of view. Was I still a person of empathy? There were many times when I caught myself viscerally reacting against other people's visceral reactions to things. "You judge too quickly," I would think, and then, "...but so did I."

As a Christian, clearly I understood the need for absoluteness and firmness to some degree; I'm not a relativist. But I was so traumatized by my own hostility as youth leader that I was ready for all hostility to disappear from human interaction—itself a hostile thought, really. Because of this I began to feel inconsistent, and began trying to wrap my mind around the paradoxical idea that, to be truly and wholly sympathetic, I must also be able to sympathize with a lack of sympathy.

I was stuck. This intellectual difficulty was reflected in the rest of my daily living. I was even more hesitant than before to assert anything, to judge anything. I realized that, even though other people weren't expending the same energy that I was at reconciliation, it didn't mean that their work in discerning the good from the bad had any less value. Suddenly, I had nothing to say about anything to anyone.

After a long search for answers, I found questions. I had discovered the mystery inherent in all things, and it baffled me. There seemed like no way I could win.

And so I lost. I let this "sacred doctrine" of mine come under scrutiny, this doctrine of messianic suffering and agonistic living (as in "agony"). I was right that things are never so simple, and that a Christlike sense of painful alienation was to be expected in the Christian life; however, life isn't as simple as constantly admitting that things aren't so simple, either, and the Christian life consists in more than just pure suffering. I finally began to relent before the Mystery, and in doing so I—strangely—found myself seeing more of the Truth.

Perhaps constantly being in-between wasn't always the best idea. But what alternative did I have?

When I flew back from Rome after my study trip, I walked into an empty apartment room. No homework assignments, no roommates, no social activities. I felt a violent relief—and proceeded to have a massive emotional meltdown.


Summer Break - The Kingdom Belongs to Such as These

Growing up is a strange thing. On the one hand, I want to become stronger and more mature. On the other hand, there is a kind of innocence and wildness that I feel a desire—even an obligation—to preserve. Because of college, I certainly learned much, matured much, became tougher. But where is the boy? Did I become a different person altogether, defeated by the pressures of the world? Who am I?

I not only succeeded in breaking out of my shell, I broke my shell. When I had nothing more to reconcile and integrate, no more professors and friends to please, suddenly I was not sure what to do. I had no comfort zone to return to, because I didn't even remember what I was comfortable with anymore. I was numb, and the numbness frustrated me.

In search of the missing boy, I dug into my hard drive and found some of my past creative works, including incomplete ones. What used to be attempts at self-expression became objects of historical interest; I studied the scripts and story ideas I wrote long ago, trying to find out what was important to little Josh. And as I mentioned in a previous post, my stories usually had themes of loneliness, fantasy, awakening, and purpose. The turning point of the story was almost never about the hero breaking through his obstacles; it was about him coming to a new perspective on things. I suppose that was little Josh's view on life: the happy ending comes with changing oneself, not changing the environment.

I also binge-played video games that summer. I revisited many of the old worlds that I used to spend hours exploring. Although I grew bored of most of them quickly, the experience was nostalgic and reminded me of the wonder that I used to feel in such worlds. I used to have a sense of adventure, a hope for a life defined by both purpose and freedom. Purpose and freedom. What bliss! How am I to attain both in this life? Could I possibly?

I became addicted to one particular game for the remainder of summer break, called Heroes of the Storm. Being of the MOBA genre, the game was intense and required much strategy and quick reactions; every match was sure to get my adrenaline going. But even as I was hooked on it, I became aware that I was looking for something more than just pure victory—I wanted to know how I best function as a person, in a setting where both teammates and enemies are dealt to me at random. Am I an initiator? A supporter? A tank? A damage-dealer? A specialist? Somehow it seemed very important for me to find out.

The more I played, however, the more I learned (through much frustration) that whatever character I selected and whatever strategy I developed beforehand, it was impossible to determine the game at the outset. Much of the game was about responding in real time to sudden changes, and for me that was particularly frustrating. Being an idealist, I hated uncertainty, mystery. But the all-or-nothing approach of idealists had no place in this game, and I slowly learned that, to have the best chance at defeating the enemy, I had to take things one step at a time. I had to make decisions in the moment without a complete certainty of whether it would work. And if it didn't work, I had to put aside my panic and think calmly about what else I could do. I had to make compromises. I had to apologize to my teammates, and not only own up to my mistakes but keep them from discouraging me in the fight.

And that's how the boy was preserved that summer, in the midst of growing pains. As I played, I also contemplated; and the result was that I was able to reconcile the dreams of youth with the demands of adulthood, to a large extent. The idealistic boy found a new ideal: the practical man.


Third Semester - Be Strong and Courageous

Thus my project came full circle—sympathy embracing a lack thereof. In this respect, I maintained my integrity; I did not give up on being sympathetic, but rather pushed the ideal to its fullest extent, reaching the far end of the spectrum, learning to be a tactical, practical thinker.

Hence this past semester I was determined to learn grit. My responsibilities certainly demanded it; I was taking four history classes in addition to Hebrew, and I was still in the choir. But most importantly, I was employed as a resident assistant.

The time demands of being a resident assistant were not as great as I thought they would be. But the position itself called for much attentiveness to various aspects of living. An RA is expected to be a decent student, a good communicator, firm in principles but gentle in method, a team player, and having some sign of a lively faith. Those are, at least, the expectations of the Residence Life department. Student expectations vary even more; some residents prefer a laissez-faire oversight from RA's, and others hope for greater involvement (of various kinds, depending on their interests). And the problem is that I would never know which method is preferred until I am affirmed or critiqued—with males, critique is usually more likely.

Personally, the most disturbing idea was that at the end of the school year, my residents would likely give me nothing more than a passing thought: good RA, bad RA, mediocre RA. I've heard similar comments about other RA's, and being in the position made me feel very vulnerable to critique. I certainly hoped to do my best, but I also knew the futility of trying to please everyone.

Thus I had to be gritty, because there seemed like few ways that an RA could be more annoying than to be unsure of what to do or why he has the job (which describes me to an extent). So I made clear at the beginning of the semester that I would try to do room checks every week, and that each room should expect me on a certain day of the week. Promising to do it made sure that I had no way out, and consequently I was able to put aside the awkwardness of the first few room checks. Eventually I found out that my residents generally thought I was okay, and that I was worrying too much about it.

I also tried to approach my relationships with a little more structure and predictability compared to freshman year, where I felt the need to ceaselessly explore new social opportunities, as if there was always some neglected soul out there for me to befriend. As a result I had conversations with less people overall, but with greater depth.

I said "no" to many opportunities for involvement, knowing my limits and priorities. Many times I had to contain my excitement, think about my workload, and finally realize that it would be safer not to do it. I was becoming more and more practical. My inner idealist was okay with it. So far so good.

My prayer life changed as well. What used to be infrequent and impassioned prayers became more consistent and calm. (I'm still not sure how wise of a tradeoff this was.) I learned to repress the idea that a prayer without passion is hardly a prayer. Instead I began to expect that God would hear me with seriousness despite my flawed attitude or scarcity of religious affections. My perception of the nature of grace has shifted.

This change toward stability was good for me, but something was still wrong. I was still stressed, but in a more subtle, dark way. Whereas during the previous two semesters I experienced stress as a sharp and sudden emotion, this semester I experienced it as a heavy, slow-building sensation that was even harder to release. I found it even harder to share my feelings with people, and had more of a tendency to tell people that I was all right. After all, my new way of dealing with problems was to solve them, not to seek for sympathy.

I powered through the rest of the semester, continuing to keep what seemed like a healthy balance of schoolwork, social interaction, leisure, and spiritual disciplines. During finals week, as I checked my residents out of the hall one by one, I was eager about the end of the semester. I made it, and I did well.

The day before I left, I checked out my last resident and completed hall clean-ups with the RA team. After a brief farewell meeting with the team, I went into my room and broke down.


Epilogue: Fortitude in Fellowship

What was wrong?

There was a pattern throughout the entire 16 months I was here that I did not notice as I was trying to deal with all my intellectual and emotional difficulties. There was a hidden pride driving my endeavors, and it can be detected in the fact that when I have a problem, I never really ask other people for help. I could not believe that other people have either the wisdom or the love required to meet my needs, and so I did not bother. Even when I was lonely, I would attempt to fix it by changing something about myself, instead of deciding to annoy my friends like any normal person would. I tried to be the independent one, the person who needed no one else. Again, I thought this was noble; in reality, it's somewhat conceited.

Throughout these three semesters, I learned to perceive faithfulness in various ways: as suffering, as reverence, and as self-discipline. But rarely did I think of communion as a way of faithfulness. I practiced it superficially, but I never clearly admitted to myself that I truly needed the people around me. I never admitted to myself how important these people were to me. Perhaps my pride wouldn't let me, or perhaps I was too afraid of losing them. Either way, this self-preoccupation was my ultimate flaw, the thorn in my flesh, my treasured sin. The consequence was that I never felt at home.

But it's true; I need my friends and family so much, despite the sense of independence I try to project. And before I learn to believe that, I will not only have difficulty receiving love, but it will show that I do not trust God enough. For he put these people in my life.

He established the church; yes, composed of sinners and weaklings and fools. But who am I to pretend that I'm any better? We're all in need of grace upon grace. This journey toward glory is meant for a community. The double task of integration and discernment is too great for any one person to bear. We must stumble through it together; God will lead. That is what I must learn to believe.

In Christ—connected with his members, my brothers and sisters—will I find strength.

Onto another semester. May God bless his people, as promised.

Monday, June 20, 2016

LATE UPDATE

I haven't written for almost two months.

I think I was afraid to. Afraid I wouldn't be able to figure out what mess goes on in my head. Yes, I truly have no desire to write. I don't even want to motivate myself to do so.

My reflective capacities have slowed down sharply because of a lack of Scripture. I'm also afraid to read Scripture. It will break me, in order to revive me.

I currently live in a room alone. I enjoy it. Finally, a time of solitude before I'm launched into a 6-person room with RA duties to boot.

I've indulged in my personal temperament too far these past two weeks. I watched more than 10 movies and reached combat level 36 on Runescape. Part of that was because I didn't go to work for a week due to a sprained wrist.

I haven't felt this empty in a while. I've lost my sense of purpose. Some comfort zone; I don't feel right whether I'm sleeping or awake, reading or on social media, watching movies or doing homework, with people or alone. I need God, but I am not willing to go to him.

I've been thinking a lot about my past and my future, trying to figure out who I am so that I can determine who I will be. Particularly, I thought about my past creative works. In my stories, I observe consistent themes of loneliness, fantasy, awakening, and purpose. I hated using narrators in my stories, because I felt that they ruined the mysteriousness of life. Except for my childhood works, my characters are never heroes; they are passive people flowing downstream until something alters their perception of the world and of life. My stories usually end in medias res—in the middle of things—with something to look forward to, usually so that my audience could finish the story with their own lives.

Threefold Mystery: the Spirit of God, of Man, and of the Universe

SOME REFLECTIONS

These are some of the things I've written down in the past few months. As my hectic college schedules have not allowed me to really organize my thoughts into a coherent system, these bits and pieces are the best I could do.

These may seem very obscure and incoherent. They may very well be. Understand this to be the process of building a philosophical perspective on life and everything.

Take everything written here with a grain of salt. A lot of this may turn out to be untrue or incorrect in some respects. I'm merely letting my mind run wild here.


* * * * *

December 3, 2015

In the modern world, time has become a tyrant, always pulling us forward away from the present, in essence dividing our souls from our bodies, our minds from the here and now.

I've always wondered whether man is meant to become more abstract or more concrete as he grows and learns. And now I know: the answer is yes (both). To pursue one without the other is to lose both, and to be filled with emptiness.

When a human being grows, he becomes more and more full, physically and spiritually. If growth is the continuation of creation, then in growth we must seek to be both dense and expansive, being fully grounded in the physical here and now while our minds and spirits reach for the heights and depths of unseen realms. How to do so is a mystery to me. But I suggest to myself a few places to start.

The first starting point is revelation from God, which comes down to earth from heaven, connecting the spiritual and the physical in an explosive connection of love that bursts outward with fruitfulness and glory. Revelation is found in creation (natural and artificial), providence, and especially Scripture. Fellow Christians contain all three aspects of revelation; cherish them.

The second starting point is worship, which goes up to heaven from earth, laying hold of revelation and filling the worshiper with spiritual and physical fullness. Worship is looking to God, reaching for His presence and glory, at once both committing to the world and abandoning it.

Think of the physical and the spiritual not as separate categories, but as the ends of a spectrum. Both comprise the mystery called life and being.

The physical is valuable for its uniqueness and ephemerality.

The spiritual is valuable for its commonality and immutability.

A prayer:
Father, teach me
To be myself and to be a member,
To be present and to be everywhere and every time,
To be at rest and to be at war,
To strive and to wait patiently,
To be self-conscious and self-forgetful,
To be on earth and in heaven,
To be full of sorrow and full of joy,
To give and to receive,
To hold on and to let go,
To seek knowledge and to honor mystery,
To love and to hate,
To die and to live.
Amen.

[Additional notes]:
Oh, the mysteries and paradoxes of life. Oh, the wonder of God.


* * * * *

December 7, 2015

After English class, I started reading chapter 2 of Ronald Dworkin's Religion without God, which I don't really like but which intrigues me with some interesting ideas, especially when he delves into motivations for physicists to seek out a single, unified explanation of the universe.

Why would physicists do that, if not out of some religious instinct? They have some deep assumption that somehow, there is something out there, at least an invisible natural law that they do not yet comprehend, which unifies the universe under its power. Therefore, Dworkin calls them "religious atheists".

I'm also reminded (ironically) of the importance of mystery in religion. There is no religion without mystery, and that is something I have to remember in my walk with God.


* * * * *

Modernism, the Loss of Wonder, and Being a Weirdo
(date written unknown)

The Kantian Divide made enormous waves in philosophical and cultural thinking when it divorced the natural from the supernatural. Science and technology began to rise in prominence, while things like religion and miracles were relegated to the realm of the mysterious. The mysterious eventually became the fictitious, and today these are but the stuff of movies and fantasy novels.

How does this affect everyday life? In societies that are "enlightened", God is almost completely shut out from the conversations of people. At least in pagan idol-worshiping societies, men could engage in discussions or even disputes that are based on the assumption of an existing god(s); they only need to figure out which is/are real and which are false. But the modernist naturalist mind dismisses any possibility of something that's otherworldly or supernatural. To such people, the mechanics of our world are all that exist, and if any irregularities are perceived, there has to be a scientific, natural explanation for it.

Thus, the craving for something that is beyond and transcendent has been suppressed, and we occasionally feed this desire by watching a Marvel superhero movie, for example. We have, in fact, lost a sense of belief and hope that there is a magical world that we could possibly come into contact with; such ideas are, for the most part, mocked today. (But of course, there is also the secular science version of mythology: aliens and UFOs.)

Certainly, we don't want to fall back into superstitious paganism, which diminishes and reduces God as much as modernism does. But we must not let the ideas of naturalism keep us from living with a bold strangeness, as Christians.

Because the truth is that there are, indeed, two worlds: heaven and earth. These two worlds that had been separated by sin are now reconciled because of the blood of Jesus Christ. The supernatural power of heaven has entered into our natural world, and the evidence of that is the Church, who still stands and proclaims the gospel in the power of the Holy Spirit.

We must not let our sense of awe be diminished. We must not be afraid of the people who would scorn us for believing in the resurrection of the soul and body, and in Christ coming down to earth again from the sky. We can be bold in our testimony because we have also come into that supernatural world, those of us who have experienced the regenerating power of the Spirit. We understand in our hearts that we belong to another world, and therefore it's only normal to be thought strange when we speak of God's gospel and act in selfless love towards men.

The cost of being Christian is to be a weirdo in the world. We must expect that, and not let modern standards of "normality" cause us to doubt ourselves. We must stand fully with Christ. We are right in doing so.

Let us speak boldly of the magical world of heaven, for we are not normal. We are the messengers of the divine.


* * * * *

December 19, 2015

Visited Dr. Miller Thursday afternoon for a chat to end my semester. He introduced me to an environmental vision of the world and of life. Perhaps "agrarian" would be a fitting term to use.

"Honor the land as a start," said Dr. Miller. Very interesting. But what is the concept of land? That's something I have to ask him next time.

When I was going to leave, he prayed for me and gave me "an American hug". Thank God for providing me with a professor who loves so deeply.

[Additional notes]:
It actually makes a lot of sense for Christians to have an environmentally-friendly perspective. Sometimes we focus too much on the sanctity and honor of human life that we forget the value of the rest of creation. I think as sinners we are more prone to devalue non-human life as a way to pretend that we are raising our respect for human life.
However, a correct vision of the world sees everything as connected. We are connected biologically and even spiritually. As Wendell Berry remarked, it is idiotic to say that a person can be "healthy" when he is standing in the midst of polluted air. At which point the air and his person coincide, the air is him and becomes him.
Do animals have souls? I used to adamantly say NO, but now my perspective has changed. I believe that animals do have souls, in a sense; not souls that have eternal individuality like humans do, to be sure. That should be uniquely human, I believe. But I think that even plants and rocks have a spiritual element to them. This is only consistent with my belief that it is by the Spirit of God that all things hold together. Nothing is purely physical. In fact, who is to say that the physical is not simply an aspect or a dimension of the spiritual? God is Spirit, and thus His creation cannot be void or independent of His Spirit. To say so would be idolatry.
Even with the preeminence of the human race, the way God structured the world shows us how much we are connected with the world and rely on the world. What could we do without the sun? What could we do without the soil? These things were set in place so we remember we are not gods.


* * * * *

December 20, 2015

Service today morning. As I walked into the hall, I immediately felt a strong contrast. There was definitely something different. I did not understand this until after the service.

I told Chi Xin that I felt something different between Chinese and white congregations. I hypothesized that the Chinese have more of a sense of fatalism, while Americans tend to believe more strongly that their choices can defy the impossible; such mindsets carry into relationships, I presume. Thus, Americans see friendship as a gradual process wrought by effort, while the Chinese have more of an all-or-nothing approach based upon the circumstances; if the circumstances are right, it seems more likely that Chinese people would "submit to fate" and accept whoever is before him as a friend, and even be candid about what they dislike about each other.


* * * * *

December 21, 2015

I read half of Francis Schaeffer's Mark of the Christian today. Pretty much reinforced my thoughts on love and apologetics. If I could combine the concepts with Wendell Berry's "Health is Membership", I would have an interesting theory for Christian apologetics.

A few important concepts I have at this point that I want to jot down:

1) Love as the most central quality of God; a supernatural thing;
2) Love is thus the ultimate apologetic, because it displays something that makes no sense (exceeds the natural) in a selfish, fallen world;
3) Love as the greatest health, bring together people who need each other and therefore making all things complete and whole;
4) Therefore, the need for love to pass through suffering (alienation & disintegration).


* * * * *

January 5, 2016

Something remarkable and full of grace happened today. I was praying, telling God, "I failed you, I failed you, I need your help..."

Somehow my thoughts led to the philosophy of the self, and in an instant, I was given the understanding of who I am. I am created in the spiritual image of God. We all are. That's why it is so hard to define a person by one thing or even multiple things. The soul of a man is infinitely multifaceted, because God's soul is.

Thus, as we dishonor God by reducing His person to one thing (idolatry), like the sun, or the trees, or the earth, or an abstract law, we also dishonor man when we seek to simplify human personalities into external appearances or mannerisms. We are more than that.

What a breathtaking duty: I reflect God's spiritual existence, in all my various intellectual perspectives and affections and volition and characteristics of soul, all too deep to comprehend at once.

I had a renewed sense of this just now as I read Scripture and prayed. I realized that I have been faking before God, and He is not pleased with that. I have become so used to trying to be cool and charming and witty in front of people that this has affected how I pray. A lot of the time I feel like I'm trying to touch God's heart. And I always feel like I fail.

Today I was given the understanding that God is God, and I should stop visualizing His responses in my head. That's idolatry. God is spirit, and His thoughts and feelings in response to my prayers isn't as simple as happy or angry. He is God. I will revere the mystery, and I will revere the truth that He takes the initiative in the covenant. I don't charm Him through prayer to do so. We are both not so simple. We are more. We are spirit.

From a physical perspective on the world, things are what they are. From a spiritual perspective on the world, things are more than what they seem. God is one and three, fire and water, meekness and majesty. God is Spirit.

Thank God. Now I can be myself, more and more.


* * * * *

January 26, 2016

Attended a memorial service for Nate Ferraco, who died in a car crash over the weekend. Sitting in the balcony of John White Chapel, seeing the soccer jersey that used to belong to him displayed on stage, watching his teammates huddle and sing and his girlfriend sob... reflecting on death and how vulnerable every single person is before its great power... it all really sobered me up.

For all the things we hate about life, it still seems a devastating thing when someone passes into the darkness.


* * * * *

February 2, 2016

Spent about 6 hours in total talking to friends and family over Skype this weekend. Really put a strain on my homework, but I feel like it's worth it.

The most important thing I got out of talking with my dad in particular is the idea of awesome holiness, and a renewed sense of the importance of reverence. I've been so soft. I need to hold fast to God's standards while remembering the mercy that has been shown me.

Whenever I feel like I have been wronged, rather than deny it in my "forgiving niceness", I must confess that I really have been wronged, and that I have wronged God in ways worse than that. Then I must remember that He has forgiven me for doing so; He paid the awful price for my hate towards Him. Then I will know how to treat others. I must demand perfection from all, and suffer the pain of their falling short. That's what Christ did.


* * * * *

February 4, 2016

The highlights of today was learning about society and economic systems, with an emphasis on the vices of capitalism. In society class today, Dr. Suhr led us in a discussion of the article about Marx that we read yesterday. Very insightful. I'm beginning to see more and more clearly how much capitalism has shaped us, and how much we as a society set it up as a god.

Also talked to Kara quite a bit tonight, which contributed significantly to my understanding of urban society versus rural society and to my envisioning of the agrarian life.

Agrarianism prizes freedom from reliance on others, self-sufficiency of local communities, commitment to a certain place and people, and historical existence.

Capitalism prizes individual self-sufficiency and liberty by (paradoxically) making every person in the system deeply interdependent. The city man is not tied to a place or community (only to the capitalist system), and his sense of identity is disconnected from his past, for it is his future successes that will establish who he is. He is the self-made man.

Interesting. Worth reflecting on more.


* * * * *

February 6, 2016

In times past, God called Israel to live out her faith in the arena of warfare. A nation of freed slaves, with no heritage of warfare, actually managed to conquer the Promised Land.

You too shall prevail. God has called you, a fool, into the arena of academia. Do not fear, but trust Him, and turn your heart not to idols lest He give you over to defeat.


* * * * *

February 10, 2016

I had an interesting thought when reading for society class:

The books we read, the perspectives and systems of thought we absorb, etc. are meant to prepare us to learn people, no less the One Person from whom all peoples came. Study of inanimate objects or impersonal laws are not an end in itself. Love is the goal, to see people and to unite with them, seeing through their eyes.

The direction of eternal joy is from impersonal to personal, from death to life, from nothingness to fullness.

A complaint of the heart:
How far am I from You. The fire in my heart is not there. I've been entangled in many concerns of the world.
But know also, Father, that I do these things because You call me to.
I pay attention to people because they belong to You and need You.
I overload myself with work so that other people may be relieved of theirs.
I do it for You.
I am not running away like I used to. I'm in the fray.
Guard my mind and heart. Make me sensitive to my thoughts and attitudes. Fill me with the compassion and the righteous passion of Christ.
Please, Father, remember my faith.
When I resolve to forget myself, please remember me.

Now, let us fight sin. Onward! I fear no evil and no death.


* * * * *

I've joined the school choir, and this is one of the awesome songs that we sing, called the Pilgrim's Hymn:

Even before we call on Your name
To ask You O God—
When we seek for the words to glorify You,
You hear our prayer.

Unceasing love, O unceasing love,
Surpassing all we know;
Glory to the Father and to the Son
And to the Holy Spirit.

Even with darkness sealing us in,
We breathe Your name;
And through all the days that follow so fast,
We trust in You.

Endless Your grace, O endless Your grace,
Beyond all mortal dream.
Both now and forever, and unto ages
And ages. Amen.

Memory: Arrival in the U.S.A.

FIRST IMPRESSIONS

Farewell at the Airport

To be honest, this has been an overwhelming experience, and I will find it very difficult to describe it. But I will try my best.

I choked back tears as I walked away from my family and friends in the airport. It wasn't that I was afraid of being far away from them, nor was it the prospect of how long four years would be. It was just the feeling of them seeing me leave, watching over me affectionately, loving this undeserving wretch and worm, that tugged at my heartstrings.

In that moment I felt the sacrifice that they made for me by sending me off to a foreign land, believing that I would learn well and grow into a man. I realized that they truly hoped for me to be happy, even at the expense of not seeing me for several years. And deep inside, I had a dreadful fear: that I might fail these people who love me, that I would return home, having spent much time and money, without having changed much as a person. I was afraid that they might be wrong in banking their hopes on me. Thus is the pain of being loved.

In fact, I recently thought that the feeling of disappointing someone who loves you is what hellfire probably feels like. Every human being who went to hell has experienced the (common) love of God before, most having lived for decades in a world where they could feel their way towards God. God bestows innumerable blessings on each person as well as uses suffering to prod people towards Him, the Comforter. Yet, without effectual grace, these only harden sinners; and at the judgment, God rightly casts them away and stops loving them forever.

This is perhaps why I fear being loved, which is strange considering how great is my desire to be loved. I want to be loved, but understanding my sinful nature and my limitations, I know that I will eventually become a disappointment and incur wrath upon myself. My love would run dry, my hypocrisy would be exposed, my selfishness would take advantage of the grace that is shown me, etc. I would show myself as one who is unworthy of love, and be cast into a figurative hell in the hearts of the people whom I have failed.

This, then, is how my journey began: afraid, in need of divine assurance, seeking salvation. Yes indeed, I traveled halfway around the world to America not mainly to get a degree, but to embark on a quest for God. I now realize that everything in my life boils down to one thing, and one thing only, which is to find out whether God loves me, and if so, how deeply.

In the airport, I successfully suppressed the tears and gave them a cheery final wave before I walked out of sight.


* * * * *

Hong Kong

As Jarrett and I traveled through the skies, I felt a fierce sense of independence gradually developing inside of me. Freedom. I felt like I finally get to decide who I want to be. For the first time in my life, perhaps, I felt free of anyone's expectations. This was a fresh start.

We had a thirteen hour stopover at Hong Kong, so we stayed overnight at a hotel. I sat for a long time in the shower trying to take it all in. The experience was quite overwhelming. I couldn't believe I was actually flying to America. It was too surreal. But most importantly, I couldn't believe the amount of freedom I suddenly had.

Then, for one terrifying moment, I realized why I didn't feel sad about leaving home at all; it was because I've always wanted to make my own decisions, and being away from authority figures gave me that freedom. It was a strange realization, because I've always been a very dependent child. This independent, almost rebellious, side of me has been suppressed for so long, and in that moment it emerged with great strength.

Immediately I found the need to pray. I gave the days ahead over to God, asking that He be the one to decide what happens to me. I asked that He would lead me into suffering that would increase my holiness. I asked Him to make me His own no matter what happens, and no matter how much I want to shape myself into a personality that my fleshly self desires to become. I need to be who He wants me to be. And there in the shower, I knew that God heard my prayer. He never rejected any petition to become like Christ. He's always willing to make it so, to glorify His children in Him.

I also tried to imagine what my future days in college would be like, and I wasn't successful. I realized that I truly didn't know what to expect, and I knew what that likely meant: I was going to change dramatically as a person.

One of the times this happened in my life was when, as an early teen, I decided to join theater. The challenges to my deeply introverted and insecure personality were so unexpectedly intense that I was pushed past a certain point. I had some kind of a breakthrough. Suddenly I had an interest in the real world and in real people. I started to drift away from my virtual online life, and at some point I made a painful commitment to say goodbye to my world of fantasy. It wasn't that I decided fiction was bad or anything, but I had to break the innate escapist tendencies in my heart. I couldn't go on pretending that the character in the online game was the real me.

Remember the post where I wrote about a strange and melancholy feeling when I saw a picture of my nine-year-old self? Where the idea that I've changed haunted me for quite a while? There, in the shower in a hotel in Hong Kong, I foresaw that I was possibly going through such a change again. It is the kind of change which is so dramatic that you can't even remember what life felt like prior to that. I couldn't remember what it felt like to be a nine-year-old me, indulging endlessly in my wonderful fantasies. Right then, I was afraid that in a few years I would forget how it is like to be a nineteen-year-old Josh, cool and boyish and shy and full of angst and philosophically reflective and trying to see humor in everything and having little worry other than to love God by serving my brethren.

I sat there for quite a long time, allowing the shower to fall on my head and flow down my face, dripping off my eyelashes and nose and lips and chin. I was almost mourning. Somehow I felt like I was going to die, just like my fantasy-addicted childhood self died. He was gone, and so will I be.


* * * * *

Welcome Week

A.k.a. orientation week, albeit probably much nicer than most other universities.

After checking into our rooms, the first official event was meeting with those in the same department on the lawn in front of Memorial residence hall. I walked over to the history/sociology/political science circle, and there I met the super-friendly Rachel Stevenson. I remember a mini-twinge of annoyance because of how easy God made it for me, as if my social skills were so terrible that I needed someone to warm-up with before I moved on to other strangers. To say the least, she was pretty much a godsend and a very pleasant surprise, because she was very Reformed and very caring. I didn't think it realistic to expect that my first friend at Geneva College would also be one of my closest friends later on, but what do you know, God is exceedingly kind and gentle towards me.

In the meeting for new international students, I met another godsend: Nathan Moelker, the Canadian native who lived in New Zealand for the last five years, who has a Reformed pastor dad like Rachel does, and who later turned out to share four classes with me during the semester. He is also six feet and six inches tall. We would turn out to be an interesting pair, the dwarf and the giant, two international students walking around campus talking about classes, books, movies, the Puritans, and other fun stuff.

Nathan and Rachel and I now go to the same church, Grace OPC in Sewickley. Their respective significant others now also worship there. Good company.

I also met with my academic advisor, Dr. Eric Miller, for the first time. I don't remember much from that meeting, except for the moment when I was leaving his office—he told me with the utmost gentleness and sincerity that if I ever needed him, I could seek him out. I then knew that I found someone who was truly filled with Christlike love, and that drew me to him immediately.

One night, the First-Year Honors Program had a special dinner. As God would have it, Dr. Miller was the new director of the program. Halfway through dinnertime, I went out to get another drink, just as Dr. Miller began introducing the program. Seeing me as I reentered the room, he loudly announced, "Josh!" And he began to clap. Everyone else followed.

"Did you all know that Josh literally came from the other side of the world?"

Spiritual Warfare Pt. 4: Surrender

THE POWER OF PRAYER

"There you are, Ivan Denisovich, your soul is begging to pray. Why don't you give it its freedom?"

—Alexander Solzhenitsyn, One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich

Up until now I have been writing about external forces in spiritual warfare. This post will address the warring aspect of spiritual warfare from our point of view. In this cosmic warfare between God and the forces of evil, Christians participate in the fight by means of prayer.

In my second post, I discussed the "divine armor" (assurance of salvation) that Christians put on in order to stand against the powers of darkness. In the third post, I said that we gain this assurance (find the "pieces of armor") by hearing the Spirit speak to us through the Word of God. In this post, I will show how prayer is the putting on of the divine armor and the active hearing of the Word, as well as the actual motions of combat performed by Christians in spiritual warfare.

Remember that all people are born sinners; thus, everyone starts off on the side of the devil, as part of the rebel force against God. How do we change sides? By means of surrender. From the rebel camp, we run over to God's army, white flag in hand, begging for mercy. We realize that we've committed cosmic treason and are worthy of eternal death and that we have nothing with which we could please God. This, then, becomes our prayer and our cry:

Nothing in my hand I bring,
Simply to the cross I cling;
Naked, come to Thee for dress;
Helpless look to Thee for grace;
Foul, I to the fountain fly;
Wash me, Savior, or I die.

—Augustus M. Toplady, "Rock of Ages"

By surrendering to God in prayer, we in effect declare allegiance to King Jesus. In His grace, God does not make us prisoners or slaves but grants us immeasurable honor by enlisting us in His army. From then on, God's power is our power, His army is our army, and His victory will be our victory.

Hence, we understand why prayer has the power to move mountains. It is not because there is power in prayer itself; in fact, prayer is essentially an act of weakness and reliance, as I have just mentioned. Rather, prayer is powerful because God is powerful. When weak men rely on a strong God, He becomes their strength. As John Calvin says, "Prayer doesn't change things - God changes things in answer to prayer." This implies that the nature of prayer is not humans telling God what to do—which is how a great majority of Christians treat it—but it is about humans submitting to God. It is recognizing that God is the one who is in total control and responding to Him as such.

Now I digress slightly to address this question: "If God has already determined in His mind what He will do, what is the point of praying to Him?" This question involves a faulty view of the purpose of prayer; again, prayer is not about controlling God, it's about submitting to His will. Think of Jesus in the garden of Gethsemane. What was His petition? "Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me. Nevertheless, not my will, but yours, be done." (Luke 22:42)

Jesus did not think it pointless to pray just because He expected God to say "no" to Him. On the contrary, that is precisely why He prayed. He prayed so that He could align His own desires and wants with the will of God. And that should be the way we pray too; we don't primarily seek to change things, but rather we let God change us through our prayers. Humble persons will see the importance of this; because if Jesus, who was not a sinner, prayed to align His will with the Father's will, how much more should we as sinners allow God to correct and mold us!

Although the Bible contains the view that God has already predestined everything that will happen, that does not mean that God does not respond to prayer in a real and personal way. In fact, the Bible contains passages like these:

"Their cry for rescue from slavery came up to God. And God heard their groaning, and God remembered his covenant with Abraham, with Isaac, and with Jacob."
(Exodus 2:23b-24)

"Is anyone among you sick? Let him call for the elders of the church, and let them pray over him, anointing him with oil in the name of the Lord. And the prayer of faith will save the one who is sick, and the Lord will raise him up. And if he has committed sins, he will be forgiven."
(James 5:14-15)

"And this is the confidence that we have toward him, that if we ask anything according to his will he hears us. And if we know that he hears us in whatever we ask, we know that we have the requests that we have asked of him."
(1 John 5:14-15)

Here we see the tension between God's sovereignty and man's free will; as a Calvinist, I affirm both wholeheartedly. Nothing is outside of God's control, and that does not negate our freedom to choose. This might not make sense to the "enlightened" mind, but this is the only way life can make sense: life would be meaningless without predestination, and it would be loveless without free will. Thus, in prayer we uphold both; we pray with the understanding that God responds to us personally, also knowing that He already has His will in mind. That is true submission.

How, then, should we integrate prayer into our lives? What does that look like? The final passage of our text in Ephesians gives us an answer:

"praying at all times in the Spirit, with all prayer and supplication. To that end keep alert with all perseverance, making supplication for all the saints, and also for me, that words may be given to me in opening my mouth boldly to proclaim the mystery of the gospel, for which I am an ambassador in chains, that I may declare it boldly, as I ought to speak."
(Ephesians 6:18-20)

Here we have our seventh piece of armor, so to speak. This is what John Bunyan calls the weapon of All Prayer. There are two characteristics of it that we can see in this passage.

First is the constancy of it. Note that Paul said to pray at all times. How does one do that? Clearly, Paul does not mean that we should do nothing other than shut ourselves in our rooms and pray. Rather, this refers to a consistent attitude of the heart, in which the default inclination of the person is to pray. This default inclination, I believe, may be termed faith. A Christian who has true faith will experience a growing desire to direct all things in prayer toward God.

Remember that faith is a key requisite for salvation. Faith unites us with Christ and consequently justifies us. Therefore if the heart of prayer is faith, and the exercise of faith is prayer, then we can attain the assurance of salvation ("put on the divine armor") by praying. Don't get me wrong; I don't mean that God washes away our sins because we pray. It is Christ's imputed righteousness that covers our transgressions. However, it is by our God-given faith that we lay hold of that righteousness. Now, faith is unseen because it is in the heart. But prayer is the visible exercise of that faith which God personally responds to. That's why we have verses like:"And it shall come to pass that everyone who calls on the name of the LORD shall be saved." (Joel 2:32) And when we see ourselves pray, that becomes a visible sign to ourselves that we have faith and are saved.

In light of this, it is good for us to understand prayer in a broader way than it usually is understood. Prayer may be understood as essentially a way of life, a life of surrender to God which flows out of a heart of faith. In a way, everything we do can be done as a "prayer" to God, as long as it is done out of faith in Him. Our petitions can be presented before God by making decisions with a mindset of submission to God's will. We can demonstrate our thankfulness to God by helping others who are in need. We could confess our sins with practical actions of forsaking sin and pursuing holiness. That is how we are to pray at all times. It's ultimately about a heart of faith flowing into daily life, in both word and deed.

Remember that faith is surrender; it is an act of receiving. Therefore, it is also how we ought to receive the Word of God. The way we pick up the sword of the Spirit is by believing in it. For how are we to use Holy Scripture effectively in our lives if we don't believe what it says? So we must have faith in the Word of God. However, again, faith is an unseen thing which is visibly exercised by prayer. Thus, I may conclude that Scripture is worthless to us if we do not pray it and in response to it. Prayer and meditation is the means by which God's Word takes root in our hearts (Joshua 1:8; Psalm 1:2). And prayer is also the evidence that the Word of God has taken root in good heart soil and is bearing fruit. Therefore, if a person feels like he is not really "getting" the truths of Scripture, he should do well to pray. He is not called to "wait until something happens". He is called to ask and be given.

Note that the constancy of prayer is something that we must strive for. "To that end keep alert with all perseverance," says Paul, because he knows that as sinners we are constantly tempted to a prayerless attitude. Thus, prayer is not only resting in God but also striving in God. We must be prayer warriors; we wage war against our flesh in order to surrender ourselves to God and be weak and broken before Him with all our flaws and our wants. It probably seems strange that Christians in a sense "strive for weakness"; remember, however, that only in weakness do we find strength in God.

With all that said, it should be an encouragement to Christians that although we might not always find something clear to pray about, yet in a way we are always praying. Paul says that "the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words." (Romans 8:26) I wish I could write more about the profound, mysterious, miraculous union between our spirit and the Holy Spirit, but that will have to be a topic for another day. Here, it will suffice for me to say that the Spirit of God prays through us, even wordlessly. That constant and deep desire for God that is found in the heart of every Christian, though sin may sometimes overshadow it, is actually a prayer in its essence. It is a wordless prayer for God's kingdom to come. Thus, in a way, we are constantly praying. With confidence, then, let us by God's grace cultivate that seed of prayer to grow into our lives and bear fruits of thanksgiving, petition, intercession, confession, and praise.

The second characteristic of prayer involves its content. We are to make supplication for all the saints, first of all. We pray for the people of God, the body of Christ. At this point I think it worth mentioning that Paul is speaking to the entire church; when he says "you", he means it in the plural sense. We must remember that we are not fighting this war alone. We fight alongside our brethren under one Christian flag, and thus our disposition to prayer must exceed a focus on our individual conditions.

Therefore, Paul here asks for a mindset that seeks the glory of Christ and His body, rather than a mere determination to "set my life straight". We are to have a heart for God's people, wishing that Christians, as Christ prayed in His priestly prayer, "may all be one, just as you, Father, are in me, and I in you, that they also may be in us, so that the world may believe that you have sent me." (John 17:21) This is perhaps the most practical and direct way to love God and love people. 

And since the concept of prayer can be understood in terms of lifestyle, our lives should reflect the intercessions we offer up to God on behalf of our brethren; we must "do all to the glory of God... just as I try to please everyone in everything I do, not seeking my own advantage, but that of many, that they may be saved." (1 Corinthians 10:31b, 33) Note especially the connection between God's glory and man's edification. God is glorified when man is saved and sanctified because this highlights God's great mercy and also restores people as glorious image-bearers. Therefore, everything we do must in some way work toward man's salvation (which includes his sanctification) and, consequently, God's glory.

With this in mind, we understand why Paul prays for the churches in the way he does:

"And it is my prayer that your love may abound more and more, with knowledge and all discernment, so that you may approve what is excellent, and so be pure and blameless for the day of Christ, filled with the fruit of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ, to the glory and praise of God." (Philippians 1:9-11)

"And so from the day we heard, we have not ceased to pray for you, asking that you may be filled with the knowledge of his will in all spiritual wisdom and understanding, so as to walk in a manner worthy of the Lord, fully pleasing to him, bearing fruit in every good work and increasing in the knowledge of God. May you be strengthened with all power, according to his glorious might, for all endurance and patience with joy, giving thanks to the Father, who has qualified you to share in the inheritance of the saints in light. (Colossians 1:9-12)

We must not neglect to pray like this, praying that the church will be filled with knowledge which leads to good works. This is especially needed in our individualistic modern/postmodern culture, where a great majority of Christians see their relationship with God as merely a means to personal happiness. That is not the selfless love of Christianity.

Paul also tells the Ephesians to pray "for me, that words may be given to me in opening my mouth boldly to proclaim the mystery of the gospel, for which I am an ambassador in chains, that I may declare it boldly, as I ought to speak." I find it striking that Paul says he needs words to be "given to him" in preaching the gospel. That phrase poignantly communicates the truth that every Christian and every minister relies completely on God to help them live rightly. Although sometimes ministry may seem like something that man is doing for God (which is also true), ultimately it is something that God is doing for man. In which case, we really need to pray for God's grace, so that the proclamation of His great gospel might glorify His name and save His elect.

Paul uses the phrase "ambassador in chains". At this point in our text, I can really taste the reality of our warfare. Up to this point, we have been talking about warfare at the spiritual level. But the spiritual world is unseen. The evidence that we are fighting in the spiritual realm is that we are suffering as real people in the physical realm. For Paul, the practical consequence of his spiritual warfare was being put in prison and being tried unjustly and being persecuted and hated by people he was lovingly trying to minister to. Therefore, Paul asks the Ephesians to pray for his courage; he uses the word "boldly" twice. And it's not hard to see why. It's a tough calling.

How do we fight alongside Paul and other servants of God? In this passage about spiritual warfare, Paul tells us to pray. Pray for the elect. Pray for the ministers. And God will strengthen them somehow. God will strengthen them by His Word, or even by the fellowship of other saints. Perhaps in leading you to pray for certain people, God is also leading you to encourage them in person by some word or deed. Perhaps God is leading you into some Christlike suffering as well.

This has been an immensely difficult subject to write on, and I am fully convinced that I have not done it justice. There are so many things to tie together, and it is hard to explain clearly in different parts what I see to be one great tapestry. To me, assurance of salvation, the Word of God, and prayer are all united in a profound way, almost like different aspects of the same thing. But to sum up what I know so far about prayer (spiritual warfare from our perspective), it is this:

Prayer is how we receive the Word of God and cultivate it in our lives, and therefore prayer is how we put on the divine armor (increase our confidence in God's saving of us) and use the sword of the Spirit (receive and respond to the Word). Prayer, like faith, should be constant and selfless, seeking the glory of God and the good of man at all times.

If all of this sounds easy, I may not have described it well. Prayer is impossible. It requires that you completely surrender to God's will and fight on His side, which means that you are to suffer with Christ and His body, the Church. None of us sinners have the willingness to do that. We are morally unable.

But of course, it will be easy in the sense that it will not be your strength, but God's strength. God's Spirit quickens us to take the leap of faith, or rather the leaps of faith throughout our whole lifetime to trust in Him for our own souls and for the souls of those we are called to love. And certainly, He is worth trusting. He gave His only Son for us.

This concludes my amateur reflection on spiritual warfare. Thank God for a meaningful year, and may He ever help us to fight this impossible war.

"If prayer seems to you a diversion from productivity, remember God does more in five seconds than we can in five hours."

—John Piper

Spiritual Warfare Pt. 3: Royal Command

THE WORD OF GOD

Perhaps the last post might seem a little abstract. How do we grasp the grace of God in our daily living? Well, primarily by means of spiritual disciplines, which are (1) the receiving of God's Word and (2) prayer. In this post, I write about the former.

A lot of the time, a strong assurance of salvation is not felt even when a person is saved. A person is haunted by the apparent paradox in his life: he believes in Christ yet is failing morally on so many aspects in his life.

The question is begged: "Yes, I know the mercy of God is so great that He would pardon sinners; but how do I know whether that applies to me particularly? How do I know if I'm truly chosen, not just a fake Christian?" The answer is thus: "You know it by means of the Holy Spirit's internal witness in your heart, that you are a son (or a daughter) of God."

That might seem really subjective, but actually it is based on Scripture's objective truths and is also evidenced by the fruit of the Spirit in your life. In other words, a true internal witness of the Spirit would not be some mystic feeling that contradicts or neglects Scripture, and would not be void of a visible life of continual sanctification.

To clarify, though, sometimes a person knows deep inside that he is saved, but he doesn't feel it strongly. That's a possible condition. In such a case, assurance is present, but it's weak and is assaulted by doubts. So, not feeling assurance is not the same thing as not having the internal witness of the Spirit. We can feel the witness of the Spirit, to be sure, but it isn't always a consistently strong feeling.

But whether one is unsaved, or is merely feeling doubtful about his salvation, the only solution is to hear the Spirit speak to us. And the Spirit speaks to us through the Word of God, the Bible.

"[Take] the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God"
(Ephesians 6:17b)

So what does the Word of God mean for our spiritual fight? I will write about three aspects of how the Word of God is the foundation of our war: power, strategy, and nourishment.

Why do we say God is powerful? He has no body, no muscles. How then does He show His strength? Well, by the immense power of His word.

This is the power of God's word: He spoke, and light began to exist. He spoke, and there was a sky, and seas parted for land to emerge. By His words, He created innumerable suns, strong oaks, and the most fearsome of beasts. Everything He says must exist, exists.

And if all of creation, all of man's armies and the beasts of the earth and even the angels, decided to fight against God, God can make all of these disappear by a mere word.

Isn't it amazing that you can take the words of God, set it upon your lap, and read it and not die? It should be too much for a creature to bear if he came into contact with the Most Holy. But thankfully, God is merciful, and He makes a way for us to bear it.

Sin and death are powerful spiritual forces, yet God's word has power over them. Scripture provides you with the ability to kill your sin, day by day. Sin is a powerful force, but God is much more powerful. His word can overcome doubt, depression, fear, pride, hate, lust, greed, and much more.

A very striking image is found in Ezekiel 37, where God commands the prophet to speak to the bones of dead people in a valley. The narrative is quite breathtaking.

And he said to me, “Son of man, can these bones live?” And I answered, “O Lord God, you know.”  

Then he said to me, “Prophesy over these bones, and say to them, O dry bones, hear the word of the Lord. Thus says the Lord God to these bones: Behold, I will cause breath to enter you, and you shall live. And I will lay sinews upon you, and will cause flesh to come upon you, and cover you with skin, and put breath in you, and you shall live, and you shall know that I am the Lord.”

So I prophesied as I was commanded. And as I prophesied, there was a sound, and behold, a rattling, and the bones came together, bone to its bone. And I looked, and behold, there were sinews on them, and flesh had come upon them, and skin had covered them. 

But there was no breath in them. Then he said to me, “Prophesy to the breath; prophesy, son of man, and say to the breath, Thus says the Lord God: Come from the four winds, O breath, and breathe on these slain, that they may live.” So I prophesied as he commanded me, and the breath came into them, and they lived and stood on their feet, an exceedingly great army.
(Ezekiel 37:3-10)

Here we see the connection between word and warfare. It's the authoritative word of God that raises "an exceedingly great army". It was not the power of man that did this; without the powerful word of God, the army would be nothing more than a pile of dry bones.

Similarly, God raises His church from spiritual death and breathes the Holy Spirit into every saint. It is because of this that we are able to wage spiritual warfare at all. We have the sin-slaying, death-defying words of the Almighty. We can live. That's power.

This power might not seem significant at all unless we understand our powerlessness. Remember that we are dead in sin apart from God's grace. Do not heed the moralistic temptation that is so prevalent in churches everywhere, that if we just do the right thing, if we just stop sinning, we might actually be able to attain salvation for ourselves. Certainly, "the kingdom of heaven has suffered violence, and the violent take it by force." Striving is important in the Christian life, but it's a striving that is birthed by grace and seeks grace. It's not a striving to do, but to pray. I will discuss this further in the next post.

The Word also helps us to war by providing us with strategy.

It's kind of useful to have a commander who literally knows everything when it comes to fighting a war. What can the enemy do to catch him by surprise? He's completely in control; victory is sure.

Of course, having a commander who knows everything doesn't necessarily mean that you also have troops who know everything. And a commander obviously can't tell all the troops everything he knows. Thus, it's possible that the troops would be deceived and surprised by the enemy. Nevertheless, the commander gives to each company/platoon/etc. the sufficient information its needs to undertake its respective mission and respond to emergencies.

In real armies, soldiers almost never neglect carrying out their orders, even when those orders seem incredibly stupid. But we have a Commander who is the smartest person in the universe. The only consideration here, then, is trust and obedience. We have no excuse if we disobey Him; it would completely be out of our unbelief and foolishness.

The Hebrew Old Testament books were originally organized into three groups: the Law, the Prophets, and the Writings. It's very significant that both the Prophets and the Writings start off by declaring that those who meditate on the Law of God are blessed.

The book of Joshua, the first book of the Prophets, states in chapter 1:

"Only be strong and very courageous, being careful to do according to all the law that Moses my servant commanded you. Do not turn from it to the right hand or to the left, that you may have good success wherever you go. This Book of the Law shall not depart from your mouth, but you shall meditate on it day and night, so that you may be careful to do according to all that is written in it. For then you will make your way prosperous, and then you will have good success."
(Joshua 1:7-8)

Some might think this is a very strange thing to say to someone ready to lead a group of untrained slaves to conquer several kingdoms. Is there nothing more practical that could actually give him a boost of courage? But we know better; this is the Word of God, and it is exactly this that grants them their victory when they do according to it.

Similarly, the first book of the Writings begins with this Psalm:

"Blessed is the man
    who walks not in the counsel of the wicked,
nor stands in the way of sinners,
    nor sits in the seat of scoffers;
but his delight is in the law of the Lord,
    and on his law he meditates day and night.

He is like a tree
    planted by streams of water
that yields its fruit in its season,
    and its leaf does not wither.
In all that he does, he prospers. 
The wicked are not so,
    but are like chaff that the wind drives away.

Therefore the wicked will not stand in the judgment,
    nor sinners in the congregation of the righteous;
for the Lord knows the way of the righteous,
    but the way of the wicked will perish."
(Psalm 1)

Notice how both passages are applicable to our theme of spiritual warfare. In the struggle between the righteous and the wicked, the key ingredient to success is the "law of the Lord". Without it, the righteous stand no chance. They would have no strategy, no knowledge of how to beat the enemy.

Why the emphasis on meditation, though? Because in acquainting ourselves with heavenly wisdom, we become effective fighters. And one does not acquire such wisdom by glossing over Scripture; he must read the words into his soul, and come to a solid understanding of God's will. As a result of this, one will know what to do when hell breaks loose upon him. The disorienting tactics of the enemy will not confuse him.

"Your word is a lamp to my feet
    and a light to my path."
(Psalm 119:105)

Finally, the Word of God nourishes us. Without spiritual nourishment, we are unable to fight spiritual battles. We wouldn't be able to grow stronger. The Word is like the heavenly manna that sustains us in the wilderness.

"And he humbled you and let you hunger and fed you with manna, which you did not know, nor did your fathers know, that he might make you know that man does not live by bread alone, but man lives by every word that comes from the mouth of the Lord."
(Deuteronomy 8:3)

Soldiers must eat and drink well in order to have sufficient strength to fight battles. We must recognize that the Word is our spiritual food and drink. We would rarely consider going a day without eating; why, then, do we tend to ignore our spiritual hunger? Especially in a time of war! It's completely foolish.

Other than food and drink, soldiers need good rest. In God's Word, we find a refuge from the trials of life and from the inner turmoils of our hearts. The Spirit comforts us in our afflictions, giving us a taste of the eternal rest that we are destined to have, so that our hopes are reinvigorated, and we become ready to fight again.

"Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest."
(Matthew 11:28)

"Even youths shall faint and be weary,
    and young men shall fall exhausted; 
but they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength;
    they shall mount up with wings like eagles;
they shall run and not be weary;
    they shall walk and not faint."
(Isaiah 40:30-31)

See what a great weapon we have in our arsenal, the sword of the Spirit. It provides us with all that we need to fight this spiritual war. And when we grasp it by the hilt, we truly grasp the grace of God. When we hear the Spirit speak to us through the Word, doubts are repelled, and we gain greater assurance of salvation. Stronger assurance means better spiritual fighting.

To put it more clearly, do not even think about overcoming your sins and the evil powers without the Word of God in your life. Some Christians are puzzled by why they are unable to live victoriously as Christians, why they have so many doubts, why they are so depressed, but they do not look to the Word as their sole source of power, strategy, and nourishment.

Thus, make a commitment to study the Bible both in private and with the body of Christ. Have a Bible reading plan. Attend solid Bible study groups. Listen to Bible-based sermons. Read theological articles and books. Do what you can to fill your life with the Word of God. You literally cannot live without it.

When you commit yourself to God's Word, you will eventually be astounded at the power that it brings to your life in the long run.

A final point I'd like to add here is that Jesus Himself used the sword of the Spirit to great effect. When He was tempted in the wilderness by the devil, His response to every single temptation was "it is written". Now, Jesus could've said anything; He was the wisest person on earth after all. But in His great wisdom, He knew that there's great power in the words "it is written". The Scriptures was what our Lord Himself used to repel the devil. We are not higher than He.

To sum up this post and the last post, we've discussed that we are able to wage spiritual warfare most effectively when we believe in God's grace, which we lay hold of by means of His Word.

But how do we lay hold of it? To say "just read it" would be to oversimplify the profound way that we are brought to the light of Scripture. As it is, not everyone who hears or reads Scripture understands it; only those who are given an attitude of faith can understand.

And the most prominent expression of faith is prayer.