Come As You Are/Addiction

My good friend Emily invited me out to a ministry two churches were putting together (one in which she is involved) at this neutral church site in Walnut. She said it was sort of a Coffeehouse night type thing, so I didn’t really know what to expect. Music, messages, people, and coffee? I’ve been to many of these during my young adult life, so it could be either a total flop or a really neat thing. I looked at my Facebook event invitation and it said 5 people were confirmed to go. I was fearing for the former.

But I try to be a man of my word, so I ended up dragging my best friends along with me–Peter, Kevin, Travis–and we pulled up to the parking lot of the church. We entered the hall, but had trouble locating the venue. It turned out to be upstairs, thanks to a fellow that pointed it out to us. We entered through the backstage (whoops) and into the mini-sanctuary.

The event was called “C.A.Y.A.” or “Come As You Are.” So we did, a rag-tag group of guys who looked as motley as the place we had just entered. We were instantly greeted by almost all unfamiliar faces. Emily saved us. She popped up from her seat and welcomed us in. It was a great thing, to see so much diversity–a mix of Mexican, White, Korean, Chinese, and other–and my heart was lit up because I knew this was a glimpse of what heaven would be like.

On stage were the musicians/worship leaders of the night–they had a person each for the acoustic, electric, keyboard, drums, bass, and saxophone! The time of praise was truly amazing, because not only did it have that taste of jazz–that which I love so much–but it also blended so well and pointed everything back to God. They also showcased a solo performance by Ms. Vessup, a tall, soulful sister who sang “Amazing Grace” a capella. I don’t remember being so moved by a song, not in a long time, but my eyes teared up. There was something, an inexplicable loveline full of passion, that moved through her voice and connected into the hearts of all who were in that room.

Interspersed between each praise set was sharing from mainly 2 pastors, John and Choi, who spoke on the topic of the night: addiction. Some of the pre-selected volunteers from the audience shared from their personal experiences. Drug addictions, computer addictions, coffee addiction, and so forth. All different backgrounds, but the same path of redemption through God. It is amazing to hear stories about how God was able to take what was once so broken and build it back up to something beautiful.

So as they were going about the room sharing, Pastor John asked us to think of our personal addictions, I thought about it long and hard. And then it became quite obvious. It was me. My addiction was an addiction to myself.

My self-acknowledgment, my grand ego, my need to be liked, wanted, and glorified in every step that I put forward. It is like a bitter root–an overgrown, unregulated weed–that has wrapped itself neatly around my heart and strangled it. My deeds of kindness are shrouded by a blanket of self-glory, and even in my most sacrificial givings, I must despair of receiving the “feel-good” in so doing. Alas, I felt there was no hope for the self-addict.

I thought about a few lines from this one poem C.S. Lewis wrote, called “As the Ruin Falls.” It seems to embody me so perfectly:

All this is flashy rhetoric about loving you.
I never had a selfless thought since I was born.
I am mercenary and self-seeking through and through:
I want God, you, all friends, merely to serve my turn.

Peace, re-assurance, pleasure, are the goals I seek,
I cannot crawl one inch outside my proper skin:
I talk of love –a scholar’s parrot may talk Greek–
But, self-imprisoned, always end where I begin.

I wish I didn’t have to care and think about myself all the time. That I didn’t have such a hard time putting others first, and really doing it out of genuine love for them without ever expecting some sort of recompense or pat on the back. I was just a bumbling mess, offended at every small slight and anxious lest any one of my many blemishes surface. I had no peace.

Yet, I realized something in this pit: Christ didn’t just die for me so that I can wallow in self-pity. He didn’t die so that I might just despair about my current state. I could do something about it! I needed to look to the cross once again.

When I look upon the cross, I realize that it’s not only symbolic of the crucifixion of Christ. It means my own death as well. Galatians 2:20 reads: “I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me” (NIV). His death and resurrection is the rock upon which my life must be built.

I die so that I might truly live–not living for myself, but for the new life that is in me. The cross is my hope of escape, release, and freedom from sin and self. And in so doing, I am liberated to love Christ and live with a purpose, to be sold out for something so much greater and grander than my ephemeral life.

The only good addiction in life is Jesus. Anything else will lead us to turmoil, slavery, ruin, or despair. Let us come back to the cross. Let us die so that we might truly live once again.

I came back from that night with some fresh perspective. It was a night in which God had to break through my hardness, and it’s necessary for us to have these once in awhile.

Pray for me, that I might die to myself and truly love every day that I’m alive.

All this is flashy rhetoric about loving you.
I never had a selfless thought since I was born.
I am mercenary and self-seeking through and through:
I want God, you, all friends, merely to serve my turn.

Peace, re-assurance, pleasure, are the goals I seek,
I cannot crawl one inch outside my proper skin:
I talk of love –a scholar’s parrot may talk Greek–
But, self-imprisoned, always end where I begin.

Only that now you have taught me (but how late) my lack.
I see the chasm. And everything you are was making
My heart into a bridge by which I might get back
From exile, and grow man. And now the bridge is breaking.

For this I bless you as the ruin falls. The pains
You give me are more precious than all other gains.

The Finest Wine

This was a taken from a journal entry that I wrote after a night out in Downtown LA. We had quite an adventure at a club we visited with the help of Yelp. I was pretty convicted after some of the crazy festivities, and so it spawned me to take to my pen.

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It was made so clear to me last night as I was sitting silent and aloof on the leather stool in a packed room in a “bank vault” turned club/bar. What am I doing here? I had no place being there, subjecting myself and my group of friends to this kind of atmosphere. Loud, blaring music that drowned out any real conversation to be shared between souls, leaving nothing deeper than surface “hellos” and “how you do’s.” Bottles of drink that people consume to forget and become someone else they won’t remember the next night, drink that people beg for as means of fun and pleasure when in reality, they are only receiving semblances of fun and pleasure. But at the end of the night, after all the slurred words and soundless chatter and putrid vomit, they leave feeling as empty as when they had first arrived.

I sat there, seeing some of my dearest friends with robbed expressions on their faces, probably thinking the same thing: What am I doing here? People whom I desperately wanted to connect with, but had to settle with a smile and toast of acknowledgement. Perhaps the only conversation of redeeming value was the one I shared with Josh, Cherry’s boyfriend. We were able to muster bits and pieces of talk on philosophy, society, life and religion, but even those were partially devoured by the backbeat of the dance music. If perhaps there were some silence, I might have heard the symphony of his words–the real music. What a weird feeling it is, to be so close and surrounded by your friends, and yet so distant. I don’t care for this feeling much at all.

I had no business being there. Everything screamed that message unmistakeably loud and clear, perhaps no more confirmed than at the closure of the night’s festivities. Spotting an old friend from church–one whom I would have previously called “brother”–and seeing who he is now was as telling of a warning as any. Ironic, isn’t it, that two men who once served on a missions together in Mexico were now reunited at a club. He lit a cigarette nonchalantly as he hugged me and made his pleasantries. I once held much respect for this man, but I quickly read the latest chapter of his life. It told me that I did not want to be this man. God forbid that I ever become this kind of man.

Then to see one of my best friends from childhood–a grown man in all respects, barely able to take steps better than a toddler–that was the last straw. The ways of the world had never looked so foolish or become so apparent to me than at that moment. He couldn’t move for minutes on end, walking with the wobble of a penguin (if it were drunk). He made it only a few paces, with help from me and our other friend, before he had to keel over and vomit. It was only fitting that a couple–a Black mother and her adolescent son, from what it seemed–exited the doors of their neighboring apartment and walked past us that very second.

“Oh, that’s sexy!” the young man shouted.

“A good advertisement not to drink, eh?” I weakly replied.

“No, sir. That’s a hundred dollars right there,” he said. I looked down at the regurgitated aftermath, the remnants of what he had for dinner that night–the Udon noodles in little scrambled bits mixed with the vodka. It was more than a hundred dollars. “He could have given me the hundred dollars and I could have made him barf.” Though I pitied my friend’s miserable state, even my soul could not have denied the truth and spirit of that witty remark. That night, I was teaching a grown man how to walk again.

I had no business being there. As I sat in his car, as the designated driver for a person who couldn’t tell his right hand from his left, waiting for him to sober up enough just to enter the backseat, I made a resolution. I resolved that I could never do this again–ever–in good conscience. No, it wasn’t just the vomit or the over-priced bottles of liver-damage, or even how foolish I looked steering a man like a cow on the streets of LA, where even the homeless man for once had his turn to look and laugh. I wouldn’t mind looking a fool for the sake of making something or someone truly worthy of honor look better. If only my cause that night were so noble.

I don’t know how it could be “good times” when all I heard at the end of the night was “I’m sorry, Marty” and “I can’t believe I paid $500 for all of that!” It couldn’t be good times when each and every moment, I had to devote my ever-quickening attention to the real possibilities of assault from other unintelligible life forms, getting mugged, or colliding with an intoxicated driver. I believe we were called to be different. With a few drinks, we became just like the rest of the world.

No, I’ve taken a real, deep sip of the truest and purest thirst-quenching water from the river of life. I’ve tasted real fellowship amongst my brothers and sisters–and it is divine–and I will not be put off by any cheap counterfeit. This is what my soul longs for–the pure, sweet bliss of “soul speak.” This is why I will never touch another drink to my lips again without recalling this night when everything that was right went wrong, and all that was left us was a poor substitute of the real thing. Indeed, I now see that the best wine of all is only that which Christ himself has touched and made spectacular in the miraculous.

Jesus the Radical

I say this, knowing full well that I am guilty of the same. But I say this after coming to the jarring realization that the Jesus I had been following was a man whom I didn’t know well at all–or at the very least, somewhat misunderstood. And I say this as an encouragement, so that you may thoroughly examine the Scriptures to see for yourselves.

It is a sad state of Christendom when I look at the church and see what we have settled for. We can be so much more for God and strive to love and understand Him so much more than what we currently desire, yet we don’t. What it comes down to is this: our Christian faith is still centered on the self. We want our God to improve us, to bless us, to make things better for us. We ultimately want to control our lives, do whatever it is we desire, and fit God only into the other remaining parts of life that are available, if any.

But in this kind of faith, the object of worship is essentially ourselves, not God. I tend to forget that when I am met with the cross, I am met with two crucifixions–Jesus Christ’s and mine. It is much too easy for me to say “be born again” when I myself have not tasted death. Isn’t that the case for many of us?

I am afraid that the Jesus we worship today resembles nothing like the man in Jerusalem who preached “I came not to bring peace but a sword” and provoked the respected contemporaries of his time over 2000 years ago. It is a scarier thought to think that many of us unassuming Christians are just fine with the way things are, and are comfortable with how we might carry out the rest of our lives without the slightest hint of soul-affliction.

Nowadays, we’d be hard-pressed to find examples of radical living because not many of us believe in a truly radical Jesus. We take bits and pieces of Jesus and the Bible and “mix n’ match” them to form this preconceived character that we have already fashioned in our minds. The Jesus that we fabricate and settle for looks like your average white, middle-class Republican (thanks to Derek Webb for the line). He hates gays, divorce, abortions, mean people, and terrorists. He loves good families, soccer moms, rainbows, Wal-Mart, and Ned Flanders. And depending on the paintings you come across, he’s a sheep-hugger as well.

But I am afraid we’ve missed it. We have forgotten that this Jesus of Nazarene was a radical character. He was nothing short of a revolutionary. He came to the people of his day and was spited by the religious elite and powerful authorities. He ministered to tax collectors, prostitutes, the blind, the poor, the sick and diseased, and the demon-possessed. He called fishermen–those whom were initially rejected by other Rabbis–to come and study under him and witness a life that meant no guarantee of the basics for living, much less amenities.

He told a rich young man to sell all his possessions and give to the poor (Lk. 18:22). He told a man who wanted to bury his father before following him to let “the dead bury the dead” (Mt. 8:21-22). He said he came to “turn a man against his father, a daughter against her mother, a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law” (Mt. 10:35). He warned to those who wanted to follow him that there would be no guarantee of shelter (Mt. 8:20). And he whipped and drove out the money-changers who took advantage of helpless people (Mt. 21:12-13).

And yet we have left this radical God-man for a comfortable, gift-giving genie. We have traded our invaluable time for TV shows and sitcoms, our inspirational dreams for 4-car garages and 2.5 kids who don’t curse, and our blessed privilege to bless others for the delusional need to indulge ourselves. We have prostituted the name “Christian”, and it is a shame that we dare consider ourselves a title for which past martyrs and the oppressed have suffered and sacrificed their lives.

I admit, to my very shame, that I have not lived a life worthy of the name, worthy of the calling. And you might feel the same remorse. But it is not too late. Let us dedicate ourselves to truly knowing, following and loving this Jesus.

And may we change the way we live, give and love because of this love by which we’ve been called, not because of guilt or fear.

He Ain’t There

On this Resurrection Sunday, we remember what Jesus Christ sacrificed and gained for us on the cross more than two thousand years ago. He bore the pain, he took the nails, he faced the shame. But if you’re looking for Jesus, don’t look at the cross, because he isn’t there.

It might sound funny to say that because we are often times pounded by our preachers to “fix our eyes on nothing but the cross.” This morning, however, I heard a great sermon preached by our Pastor, Jon Hori, in which included an account of another service down a few buildings from ours that was also celebrating Easter. The black preacher, Jon was relaying, could be overheard shouting, “Don’t look at the cross because he ain’t there! Don’t look in the tomb, because he ain’t there!” Pastor Jon’s reaction was simply, “Preach it, brotha!”

This Sunday might be labeled “Easter” but we must very well remember that every Sunday, and everyday for that matter, is a celebration. Because Jesus the Nazarene–who lived a perfect life, died a miserable death–lives again. We look at the cross to remind ourselves of what he has accomplished on our behalf for all eternity, but we must also look inside of ourselves and see the change that he is affecting in us today.

Jesus isn’t only in the business of changing our eternal destinations–he wants to change our lives here and now, starting with today. I am humbled by this reminder because it is easy to forget that this is the heart of what it means to have a relationship with Jesus Christ. He gives us life, he restores us. Just as his turning water into wine signifies his ability to create something from nothing and make something good even better, so is he able to improve the quality of our lives at whatever point we are at to something that is beyond our imagination.

As we live each day, may our hearts always be in constant rejoicing over what Christ promises to us who believe. We have a great hope that didn’t end with his death, but was fulfilled and commenced at the cross of calvary. Let us long for the return of our living King.

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“Because I live, you also will live.” – John 14:19

Theology of Thanks

I have a good friend who always reminds me that I have much to be thankful for. We don’t always see each other and our conversations are few and occasional, but whenever we do catch up, she would almost always ask: “So what are you thankful for?” Many times, I would really have to dig deep to find some answer. Sometimes, I would just default: “I’m thankful for everything.” Just trite answers for a question I didn’t bother to think much about.

But I didn’t truly come to appreciate her gesture until I came to learn about grief and suffering. It is funny how there are some things you can learn only through a season of trial and suffering. Suffering is never something we, in our right minds, openly embrace in our lives. These trials often come petulant and unexpected, pushing you off your path of comfort and forcing you to retire your smug interpretations of life and how you think it should be. It is here that we are no longer comfortable. We are no longer kings—no, we are rightfully dethroned from our delusion and reminded of our true state as beggars than royalty.

Often times, it is easy to get wrapped up in our circumstances. Maybe your investments have all been lost. Or your family is broken and in strife. Or you just ended a relationship with a good friend or significant other. Or your job is insecure. Or if it is secure, it sucks. Whatever the situation, it’s not what you wanted for yourself and you are miserable at your “cursed” lot in life.

For me, it’s been painfully tough. To be quite frank, for the past four or five months, I’ve been suffering from inexplicable bouts of depression and anxiety (please pray for me). These are periods of my life in which I would suffer from a crippling fear, paralyzed at whatever it is that triggered it. That might be quite a shock to some of you, especially if you normally see me. I can still laugh, crack jokes, assert whatever little insight I have into conversations, and “be there.” But the truth of the matter is, I wasn’t always there.

I say it’s inexplicable because I don’t believe there were any particularly causes for what I was feeling. Most days, I would just wake up and it’d hit me. A gripping sense of fear that would dominate me. It’d make my heart race and stomach churn. I couldn’t enjoy a simple meal without my stomach already somehow feeling occupied, or play a game of basketball without feeling like it was a chore more than a pastime. It even went so far to affect me whenever I journaled or raised my pen to the paper. The more I thought about it, or tried to reason it, the more fearful I became. After a period of time, it seemed like my body would almost anticipate it, and I would get anxious about being anxious. It was like every situation made me feel anxious. Then there are other times that when I’m not anxious, I’d be depressed. I would randomly be hit with this fog of depression, covering me with sadness about life and the world and I felt like nobody understood or loved me, not even friends and family. I would feel dead. And honestly, some days I wouldn’t have cared not being around at all.

I seriously thought I was losing my mind. I used to make light of people with mental illness. Now, here I am, 24 years old, going through a quarter-life crisis of some sort or having a nervous, mental breakdown and completely going bonkers. I hated being me and would have gladly traded shoes with anyone else. Each day was a drag. I cried out to God, but I honestly despaired life itself.

So, trust me, I know how it is. There is something unbelievably real about suffering. But it is also, I now truly believe, the only instrument through which people come to a greater understanding about themselves, others, life, and God. The path that is before me, I would then suppose, is only that which I must embark upon to reach true contentment and peace. It is not easy, and I wish God would have made it some other way, but I must endure it. After all, I have found that truest and purest happiness is unattainable in this world through our gadgets, toys or what have you. They only offer the illusion of it. It is only in the next life that I can be supremely fulfilled.

I was reminded of a great quote the other day by Vin Scully, the play-by-play voice for the Dodgers, when he stated: “When something bad happens, your first feeling is, ‘Why me? or why us? or why them?’ We never seem to do that when something good happens. So I decided to stop asking myself why, because there are questions where there are no answers in this world for finite beings. We don’t know what God’s plan is, but without asking why and holding on to it with both hands, I’m still here today with a lot to be thankful for too.”

That quote is a humbling reminder of my own self-centeredness and selfish sense of entitlement. We live most our lives with the subconscious belief that we deserve all the good things that happen to us, and rarely do we see how many others who have far less. No, it’s always: why don’t we have what they have?

But I was reading Romans the other day, and chapter 1, verse 21 says: “Because although they [the unbelievers] knew God, they did not glorify Him as God, nor were thankful, but became futile in their thoughts, and their foolish hearts were darkened.” And I also read Philippians, another book authored by St. Paul, while he was imprisoned, and he was exhorting his fellow believers to “be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God” (emphasis added). It is interesting to note that people who turn away from God first turn their hearts away from being thankful. They focus on what they don’t have rather than what they do, and become discontent with God’s provisions.

When I dug a little deeper, I discovered that the original Greek word for thanksgiving (or the verb, “give thanks”) in these passages is Eucharistia, which would trigger an initial relation with the sacrament our Lord instituted with his last supper. And as I thought about it some more, I realized the significance. The eucharist signifies thanksgiving because Christ himself would have his body broken, his blood shed—when it should have been ours. He paid an impossible price that we couldn’t pay because his love for us was immeasurable. Therefore, we remember his sacrifice with this act and we give (or at least, should give) our deepest thanks.

And perhaps that’s why Paul could still be so thankful in dire circumstances. He told people to rejoice in his letter to the Philippians, which he just happened to write from a jail cell, with his life determined by those who might have wanted to end it most. He was thankful because he knew that if he deserved anything, it was death and condemnation. Yet he only received the love and grace of Christ. (I was surprised to discover there are about a dozen or so more verses which speak of “giving thanks.”) Paul was touched by the grace of God, and therefore, he had much to be thankful about.

Surely, we have much to be thankful for as well. Misery, whether brought upon by ourselves or not, does not come alone. If we are able to look beyond the mere surface and probe a little further, we will discover that suffering is accompanied by a trove of life-long lessons that will sharpen our wisdom, build our character, bring us a greater appreciation for what truly matters, and give us a deeper sense of our purpose in life.

So the next time someone asks me, “What are you thankful for?” I will not give a trite answer. In fact, I might not even know how I would answer. Because at the heart of it all, I’m not sure any words could express what I am really thankful for the most—God’s love, acceptance, patience, and grace towards me. I don’t always feel it—no, but I can be thankful that I know it and that He will not leave me to despair.

Friends, I don’t got this all figured out, and sometimes it seems like I have more doubt, fear and despair than I do hope or joy,  but I do know that there is always a sliver of grace for which we can give thanks, if we only train our eyes to see rightly. And, Lord willing, I’ll press on.

So if you haven’t already done so today, please take some time to give thanks for your countless blessings and rejoice. After all, the currency of the truly wealthy was never colored green–but it is painted full of grace and thanks.

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For further references, check out Rom. 1:8, Rom. 1:21, Eph. 5:4, Phil. 4:6, Col. 2:7, Col 4:2, 1 Tim. 2:1, 1 Tim. 4:3

Light Up the Darkness

By: Ashli Hopson

It was one of the hottest days of the summer. I woke up and there was nothing but darkness. I thought my eyes weren’t open. Why is it dark? All I could think of doing was to close my eyes and start praying. When I opened them again, I could see light but everything was foggy like I was in a dream. Then I noticed that I could not walk. I went to the doctor and they could not definitively tell me what was wrong except that they needed to run more tests and refer me to a neurologist. After conducting numerous expensive tests, and after seeking the opinion of several neurologists, I was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis.

But let me start from the beginning. I am a 23 year old female. I was born in Indianapolis, Indiana, but grew up in Atlanta, Georgia. I am one of five children. All of us were raised in the church by my mom and grandma.

I have been an athlete in various sports my entire life. In the summer I was diagnosed with M.S., I had just graduated from Auburn University. Before my graduation, I started to notice a mixture of health problems. I originally attributed most of these problems to my many hours of class, studying, tutoring others, working and interning. I would later find out that was not the case. I was feeling numbness in my hands, feet, and on my left side. Also, I was having episodes of vertigo, which made me feel like the room was spinning even while I remained stationary. I thought it was due to an allergic reaction I was having after being bit by the notorious ants of the South. I also thought doing too much contributed to my fatigue. I told my mom and long time boyfriend about these problems and they agreed that I needed to see a doctor. However, doctors kept insisting that I was okay, that all the problems I was having were normal and were caused by heat and stress, which in turn would explain the fatigue. One doctor even went as far as accusing me of making up my symptoms since he had never heard of any of the things I was describing.

To the contrary opinion of the uninformed doctor, my symptoms were very real. But I can truthfully say that angels exist. I kept meeting people randomly who all were telling me the same thing. They said that everything was going to be okay, as long as I followed Proverbs 3:5-6. I looked up the verse and it says, “Trust in the Lord with all of your heart and lean not on your own understanding. Acknowledge him in all of your ways and He shall make your path straight.” I do this daily as a form of obedience to Him, our Almighty Lord. I also keep this verse in mind whenever I go through hardships and I am tempted to question God, as if He doesn’t know what He is doing! I firmly believe that all things are possible as long as Jesus is put first.

However, being diagnosed with M.S. was not the end of my struggles, but just the beginning. I married my boyfriend and soul mate of three years shortly after being diagnosed. My family did not have a problem with my choice of a South Korean man, but his family had a problem with his choice of a black woman. I found out the attacks I was having in August were caused by the extreme heat and stress. Once these facts were brought to my attention, I moved from the South to the West Coast to be with my new husband. Yet, to my dismay, his parents used my illness as an excuse for why they did not like me. On one occasion, his narrow minded father tried to hit me simply because he did not like or understand something I said in English. Shortly thereafter, I left my husband’s house after the incident. They even went so far as to say that we could not see each other. By the grace of God, we are still together. We know if we made a promise before God, and He approved of our marriage, then there is nothing man can say that can supersede Him. I pray for his parents daily asking God to grant them wisdom, understanding, and guidance. I have forgiven them for all of their sins against me because holding grudges is a sure way to block blessings. Finally, I read my Bible daily and keep the armor of God close to my heart. His word says in Revelations 22:13,”I am Alpha and Omega, the first and the last, the beginning and the end.”

So as opposed to sitting around the house acting defeated due to my diagnosis and the opinions of my husband’s family, I decided to become proactive. Before I was told of my illness, I was planning to attend law school. I am now more determined than ever to attend law school. I want to see what I am capable of without diversion. In life, I want to maximize my potential. My soul mate and I are slowly but surely working through his family’s intolerance of me, and we are determined to keep the promise we made to God. In the Bible it mentions how only a foolish man seeks the approval of both man and God. One of the lessons God intended me to learn from my having M.S. is that life is too short to be wasted. Be sure to maximize your time on earth, and if you are not living your life for God, then you are not living at all.

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Ashli was born in Indianapolis, Indiana, and graduated from the University of Auburn with a double major in Criminal Justice and Spanish. She currently resides in Costa Mesa, Calif., and is applying to law schools across the nation. For more information on Ashli, please leave a comment.

The Darkest Night

As I write this entry, I begin with a heavy heart. Suffering is never an easy subject to address, and it is sadly all to real to me at this time. I think of the current conflict at Gaza with all the innocent maimed and dead. I think of my sister whose heart–God bless her heart–breaks for them daily. And a friend whose mother is battling cancer. A brother whose relationship has fallen apart. My little cousin who is mentally handicapped. And I think of Achak Deng and the Lost Boys of Sudan, Witzmith in Haiti, and the countless others who are raped, assaulted, enslaved, orphaned, homeless and go voiceless every day. To you, the innermost depths of my soul cries out.

If there were ever a philosophy that dared to tear apart my woven fabric of faith, it would be this of suffering. There is something about suffering that is so universal, yet seems so senseless. Suffering holds no prejudice. The sinner and the righteous suffer alike (Job), the rich and powerful aren’t always spared (King David), and even Christ himself had to endure the worst of suffering. You don’t have to live long to know it, and you don’t have to go far to see it. The news stations report it. The classics of literature are centered on it. Our beloved friends and family suffer, some in more serious ways than others. And I can’t drive to the next city without seeing a man off the interpass begging for some change. Every day I wake up, I arise to a subconscious understanding that some part of the world is not smiling today. The voice of suffering beckons all around us–but most of the time, we rather choose not to hear it.

“Why is there so much suffering in the world?” It is those mere nine words that undid the faith of Charles Templeton, a young and dynamic preacher who once paralleled none other than Billy Graham in his evangelistic efforts. And it is a question to which I cannot yet (and perhaps, never will) provide a valid answer. But in my meager 24 years of existence, and in my 8 years of Christian perspective, I have come to understand a few things.

I believe suffering exists for two reasons. The first is because sin and darkness exist. The second, because God loves us and lives to overcome it.

Since the fall of man, the curse was upon him and all the earth (Genesis 3:14-24). Though Christ would come to redeem us, the effects and consequences of sin would not go unreaped. It is the devil who now has dominion over this world (1 John 5:19). Who other than the devil would cause a man to hate his brother, a king to lust after another man’s wife, and a nation to war against nation? We were tricked, and we traded what was good for what we’ve been trying to regain ever since.

The story of life since this time has been but one of suffering and struggle.  The world has consummated in grief. And its offspring–soldiers, who are fighting an unrelenting, unforgiving, uphill battle. Poverty. Hunger. War. Death. Suffering–only hope keeps us from unraveling.

But this is the crown jewel of life: hope came in the form of Christ, and Christ in the form of love. As I write this, two passages, in particular, come to mind.

“Jesus wept.” (John 11:35). There are no other two words in the Bible that could be as simple and profound. Lazarus’ death triggered much emotion. Mary and Martha, his sisters, were lamenting. The other Jews, who were attending to them, wept as well. But then a curious thing happens: Jesus hears and sees their cries and his spirit was troubled–so he wept. I suppose it was a natural response from the rest, but why did Jesus cry? After all, he knew he was going to raise Lazarus from the dead.

Crying is one of the most raw expressions and emotions we’ve been given (perhaps along with laughter). Newborn babes cry a thousand times over before they ever utter a word. When something sharply moves you–angers or pains or even delights you (“tears of joy”)–there are no words. Only tears that signal a deep longing or outpouring of something within.

The verse didn’t make sense to me until I came to see the immeasurable amount of love Jesus possessed. Jesus cried because he loved and sympathized with his people deeply. He shed a tear because he loved Lazarus. And another, because he felt the pain of Mary and Martha and the other Jews who wept. He wept because of the mere fact that he had to perform this miracle. That people died, children were orphaned, beggars were blind (as well as poor), and how the people whom he loved so much were separated from him. His heart broke for a world that he–who was there at the beginning of Creation–could no longer recognize.

Jesus’ tears tell us a lot about him. The pains, cries, and longings of this world were so impressed upon his heart that he could not help but cry. I cannot imagine a “superhero”–if one held to the notion that Jesus is fabricated–being written and exposed in such a human way. But at last, Christian, we are left with a venerable God, vulnerable.

But he is not proud. He did not resist tears for his love was greater. He shed tears for a world that was not meant to be this way.

And he shed blood, so that he could make things right again.

On the cross, I could not imagine a more paradoxical symbol of supreme love and suffering. The unfathomable physical pain, emotional rejection, and spiritual torment–all hell, the cup of wrath, poured out on him by the Father. You cannot begin to imagine what trouble he was going through until you read his spiritual struggle in Gethsemane. The weight of his impending crucifixion was so unimaginable that he prayed: “My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me. Yet not as I will, but as you will” (Matthew 26:39). Once again, I see my Lord exposed. He didn’t want the cross! The prospect of his death on the cross was so great that Jesus in his humanity could not fathom it. Every single sin of all mankind, past, present, future, would be laid on him on the cross. And the Father would be separated from him in that moment of darkness. So Jesus, the innocent, prayed that the cup be passed from him. But the Son was not spared. No–the Father crushed him.

Is there anything more twisted? Can you wrap your mind around it without being moved to indignance, pain, frustration–tears? Jesus took our punishment–went through the worst suffering of all so that you and I might experience true love. He bore it all so that suffering and sin and death and war and famine will one day be no more. To the suffering saint, Jesus says, “I understand. I care. And I hurt more than you. But one day I will take away your tears, and we shall rejoice together.”

I don’t always understand “why.” But I do know that it is through our suffering that we come to recognize and understand our humanity, and acknowledge our need for hope. Suffering was not the original intention of God–at least not in the Garden. But suffering, for the believer, humbles his ungodly pride, spends his soul, and draws him closer to the truest source of beauty and light.

I cannot say I have suffered as much as some people have in their lifetimes. God has been good to me. But this past year has seen me spent and suffering. And in recent months, I have experienced inexplicable bouts of depression, anxiety, fear, and random pains and discomforts to my stomach, palpitations, and headaches.

But I don’t question it anymore. I pray and endure, because I know God loves me more than I can even imagine. And I don’t always pray for the suffering to be relieved, if it means it draws me away from God. I fight on, because I know if God is for me there can be none against me.

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“Blessed is the man who perseveres under trial, because when he has stood the test, he will receive the crown of life that God has promised to those who love him.” (James 1:12)

“In this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. These have come so that your faith—of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire—may be proved genuine and may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed.” (1 Peter 1:6-7)

“Dear friends, do not be surprised at the painful trial you are suffering, as though something strange were happening to you. But rejoice that you participate in the sufferings of Christ, so that you may be overjoyed when his glory is revealed.” (1 Peter 4:12-13)

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To my friends who are suffering, I think of you tonight. My soul weeps as you weep. My heart shakes as yours shakes. And I wish I could do something more.

But I do know one thing.

For every dark night there will be a morning.

Child, though you may cry now, I promise, you will laugh one day. And though you cannot yet see and reason through this dark as you ought, you will soon come to understand. Even the night in all its vastness cannot keep the stars from shining.

In the face of fear, do not shrink. Push, even when you think you cannot push anymore. Keep fighting because you are not alone.

And wait for that some day when you, too, will shine.

You Give Them Something

By: Emily Ma

“When Jesus heard it, He departed from there by boat to a deserted place by Himself.  But when the multitudes heard it, they followed Him on foot from the cities.  And when Jesus went out He saw a great multitude; and He was moved with compassion for them, and healed their sick.

When it was evening, His disciples came to Him, saying, ‘This is a deserted place, and the hour is already late. Send the multitudes away, that they may go into the villages and buy themselves food.’

But Jesus said to them, ‘They do not need to go away. You give them something to eat.’

And they said to Him, ‘We have here only five loaves and two fish.’

He said, ‘Bring them here to Me.’ Then He commanded the multitudes to sit down on the grass.  And He took the five loaves and the two fish, and looking up to Heaven, He blessed and broke and gave the loaves to the disciples; and the disciples gave to the multitudes.  So they all ate and were filled, and they took up twelve baskets full of the fragments that remained.  Now those who had eaten were about five thousand men, besides women and children.”

(Matthew 14:13-21)

Jesus always had the strangest uncanny ability to convey subliminal messages in every command He relayed―and almost every command that he did give always betrayed the status quo.  Honestly, He must have confused a lot of people.  And frankly speaking, I would have been confused as well.  Give a few meager fish sandwiches to 5000+ people?

Was the Rabbi blind?  His logic was always never like the rest, and sometimes, it was quite gut wrenching.  Perpetually provoking you to the core, it always swam against the current of human pragmatism.  And given that you had no idea that Jesus was going to miraculously multiple those paltry fish sandwiches 1000 times over (or rather, 2000 times over because women and children were not included in the figure), much of what Jesus had said, taught, and commanded was difficult to grasp.

(Of course, if we merely relied on our own finite art of reasoning in trying to understand the truths of God without the assistance of the Holy Spirit, then the words of Jesus would be nothing more than just vacant rhetoric. But thankfully, the Holy Spirit is in the midst!  And thankfully, much has been revealed in just this one passage through Him.)

Throughout the book of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, there has always been a clear distinction made between the “multitudes” and the “disciples.” (In the NIV version, the word “crowd” was used in place of “multitudes.”) Why was this distinction important?

The multitudes―the crowd―were not inclusive of the disciples.  I’m pretty sure that God made this distinction on purpose.  The crowd followed Jesus because they knew that He had the power to heal sickness, to perform miracles, and to provide abundantly.  Their minds were preoccupied with what was in it for them and they wanted very much for His hand to intervene in their lives.  And so they followed…although not in the way God had meant for them to.

The disciples were different.  They followed Jesus solely for one purpose: to pursue and serve Jesus Himself.  They were ready to pick up their cross, count the cost, and follow Him.  In this context, the word “follow” in the Greek means to “long with a burning longing.”  And they longed for Jesus alone.

Who do we see more of in the church today―the crowd or the disciples?  While I pray that your answer will be different from mine, I must say that I’ve sadly seen many members within the church act more as if they were part of the crowd.  They possess a self-centered mindset of God and may not even realize it.  “I want God to bless me,”; “I want God to give this to me,”; “If I follow Him, He’ll give me a miracle.”  This is far from what disciple-like Christians are supposed to be like.

Disciples sought to strive for a higher and deeper intimacy with the Almighty.  And to the disciples, God was more important to them than gold or silver.  These kinds of followers are very few in proportion.  Are we willing to give up our life so we can gain the Life?  God probably knew that the church would turn out this way in the future―how truly wise of Him to specifically lay this point out in all the four Gospels!  It is His desire that we become disciple-like Christians, so that even when the blessings don’t come, we still know to worship Him in Spirit and in Truth.  When we do, it shows that we just want Him, the source of all things good and righteous.  There is no other way to unconditionally love others until we know and acknowledge Him as our first Love.  We are commissioned by God to live a life of love as His disciple―the life that is not selfish, but selfless.

I mention this because we need to rise up and become the Church. You know, if I wanted to, I could replace the word “church” every time it appears in the text with the name “Jesus.”  It would still make sense.  When the apostle Paul (formerly Saul) was on his way to Damascus to persecute the Christians there, Jesus interceded. “We all fell to the ground, and I heard a voice saying to me in Aramaic, ‘Saul, Saul, why do you persecute Me?  It is hard for you to kick against the goads.’ Then I asked, ‘Who are You, Lord?’  ‘I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting,‘ the Lord replied” (Acts 26:14-15).

Jesus makes a very telling statement here.  Again, it is a very confusing claim.  Jesus said, “Why do you persecute me?” and “I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting.”  What was He talking about though? Apostle Paul must have been bewildered―he thought that he was persecuting the Christians, not Jesus Himself.  But notice that Jesus didn’t ask, “Why are you persecuting My people?”  He asked, “Why are you persecuting Me?” Have you ever wondered why the Bible never explicitly tells us to “go to church” every week?  Paul realized this―the Church is Jesus’s body.  We are the body of Christ.  We are the Church.  So when we get persecuted, Jesus is persecuted. (That doesn’t mean that I’m saying it’s okay to not go to church! You should still go to church!)

When the disciples were about to shoo the multitudes away, Jesus stopped the disciples and told them, “You give them something to eat.”  If that isn’t called blunt, then I don’t know what is.  The disciples were baffled yet again.  Give them what? The soggy fish sandwiches that won’t even feed three people?  But they were missing the point.

If we see injustice, if we see poverty―if we see a need―then it is our job to take action from the place of conviction.  Why did Jesus use “you?”  It’s an answer I must reiterate: we are the Church.  We are the body of Christ, the ambassadors of Christ, representing Christ.  It is not our task to just sit around and discuss the atrocities of this world.  God is here to save it and we, as Christians, need to move.  And while it is a huge responsibility, it is also a great honor.  When we do His will, and when we obey Him, He is properly represented, properly glorified.  And like how the food was miraculously multiplied after the disciples listened to Jesus, signs and wonders will follow you as well if you listen to Him.

Lastly, I want to address the measly five loaves of bread and two fish. According to the Gospel of John, this is where the bread and fish came from: “Here is a boy with five small barley loaves and two small fish, but how far will they go among so many?” (John 6:9)

Have you ever felt inadequate?  I sure have.  I’m not a fast thinker, I’m a poor college student, and I’m a jack of all trades (meaning, I’m a master of none).  What could I possibly offer to God that would be worth offering?  Apparently though, God doesn’t even look at those setbacks. All that little boy had was five small barley loaves and two small fish.  It was almost insulting to give that amount in offering when knowing how many mouths were in need.  But Jesus didn’t even flinch.  He still accepted it and used that little boy’s offering as a means to perform a historical miracle.  He used it because that little boy gave everything that he had.

God is not going to look at the size of your pocket.  He’s going to look at the size of your heart. It’s the servant, not the kind of service you can offer, that He’s really looking for.  So if you ever feel inadequate, don’t.  Jesus is trying to tell you this in this passage: He knows your heart and is well pleased.  It’s the fact that you gave it your all; nothing you do for God will ever be in vain.  We are just His instruments―it’s His job to turn whatever we give into something magnificent.  What an amazing God we serve!

And isn’t our God very efficient? He compacted all these teachings and revelations into only seven verses from the Gospel of Matthew. It beats me as to how He does it.

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Emily is currently an undergraduate student at Cal Poly Pomona and expects to graduate next year. She is studying Finance, Real Estate, Law, and Music. For more information about Emily, please check out her blog.

Life Is Beautiful

By: Jaeson Ma

“The message of Jesus Christ is a message of hope, a message of mercy, a message of life in a dark world.”

Two years ago, I wrote a song called “LIFE IS BEAUTIFUL” on my first album. I was listening to this song again this morning, and I was reminded of how life is not perfect, but life is definitely worth living. Many of us go through hard times, struggles and suffering. Many of us have had hopes that were shattered, dreams that never became a reality, and situations in life that never turned out the way we expected. Maybe our health failed, our relationships were broken, our finances tanked, our dreams slipped away, or we were wronged unfairly. Whatever the case, life never seems to turn out the way we think, but life can still be beautiful.

My Personal 9-11

7 years ago, I had what I call a “personal 9-11″ where everything in my life that seemed to be going great, went wrong. I was 20 years old at the time and soaring with God as a new Christ-follower. I had it all. At the age of 20 I had a successful TV and Radio ministry, a great job at a Silicon Valley Media/Tech company, I was the top student at my Christian University, everyone at my local church loved me and I had my first girlfriend ~ the love of my life. It was sweet to be a Jesus lover at that moment, but I soon realized that I loved these other things more than Jesus Himself.

One day, something went wrong on our TV shoot and I lost my cool. I started getting angry at our production team and threw a fit. I caught myself in the midst of my anger tantrum and recognized I had gotten out of hand. The next day, I spent time praying in a church chapel and I heard God speak to me. He said, “Jaeson, what truly makes your life beautiful? Is it the blessings in your life or is it Me? I realized at that moment that many other things in my life satisfied my heart more than Jesus Christ Himself. When my circumstances were going great, I felt great. But if my circumstances around me went wrong, I would lose my peace. I was convicted by the Spirit that my hope was not in God, but it was in the things of this world. That day I prayed a very dangerous prayer…

I prayed, “Jesus be my only satisfaction.”

I knew by praying this prayer, that I was going to give God complete access to strip away anything in my heart that satisfied me more than Him. It was a scary prayer, but I knew I had to do it. God answered this prayer immediately…

The next day was my 21st birthday and that night my girlfriend, the very love of my life, broke up with me with no explanation. My heart was crushed and I had no answers. The day after my birthday I had all my semester finals tests at the university, I nearly failed them all. I then got a phone call during the same week that the media company I was working at had to lay me off. I was devastated because I looked up to the CEO so much, I felt he had also failed me. A few days later I discover that my elders at the local church who used to praise me so much, were questioning my motives with the new TV and Radio ministry I had started. It seemed everyone had turned against me. To make things worst, when I got home I found out from my mom that there were violent threats made towards my family because of my father’s past mistakes. The world had fallen apart all around me in a span of two weeks. I was devastated, depressed and without hope.

For the next year, I was completely depressed, angry at God and deeply hurting inside. I couldn’t understand why things had happened the way they did. I would throw a pity party everyday, complaining towards God (mainly about my ex-girlfriend) about how my life was so horrible. I wanted God to take me away to heaven. Then something tragic happened that I couldn’t explain.

One of my best friends, she was like a little sister to me, suddenly died in a car accident. Hanh was one of the most beautiful, hopeful, bright and optimistic 19 year olds you would ever meet. The night before she died, we talked briefly at a hospital. She said, “Jaeson so where have you been? Are you too busy to hang out with your little sister?” I told her, “I’m sorry, I’ve been out of it lately but we should definitely get together soon.” She joked and said, “Sure, yeah right” knowing how self absorbed and busy I was. The next day she got in a freak car accident and died on impact. I was so shocked when I heard the news, I wouldn’t believe it. I went with some friends to pray over her dead body, asking God to raise it back to life for 3 straight days. It didn’t happen. I felt so guilty for not being a better brother to her, because I was so self absorbed with my own problems.

The night after her funeral, I had dream. In this dream, I was in front of the pearly gates of heaven. As the gates opened, Hanh was there to greet me. When I saw her I was so ashamed. I couldn’t even look her in the face. All I could say was sorry for being a horrible friend. She looked back at me and said, “Jaeson, I’ve already forgiven you, just remember what is really important in your life. It’s not the things of this world, but its your relationships. Don’t worry about me, I’m doing fine, just look at heaven behind me!” She then waived her hand and I saw all of heaven filled with green hills, rainbows, bright shining sun rays and little animals running around freely everywhere. Hanh hopped, skipped and jumped into God’s radiant love and I knew in my heart she was happy and going to be OKAY.

When I woke up, I knew I had a second chance to live my life in a different way. Interestingly, that next weekend I had an interview with a rock band called “Switchfoot” for our TV show. The band had just released their first cross over secular album called “The Beautiful Letdown”. When I interviewed the lead singer Jon Foreman I asked him a simple question, “Jon, why did you guys title this new album The Beautiful Letdown?” He responded, “Jaeson, that is a good question. You see, everything in this life can let you down. Right now, the chair I am sitting in could break and fail me. In a few minutes I can go up and sing on that stage to thousands of people, but when I get off the stage my health could fail and I could lose my voice forever and never be able to sing again. I have a beautiful wife, but I could go home and find out she has been unfaithful. You see, everything in this life can fail you. Everything in this life is finite, meaning it doesn’t last, but only one thing is truly infinite and will last forever. Yes, everything in this life can and will let you down, but the beautiful thing about it is this, when everything lets you down in this world it leads you to the one thing that is truly beautiful….. the unfailing love of Jesus Christ.”

God was speaking to my heart. The next day, I went back to the chapel where I prayed, I wept and I repented before God for my selfishness. At that moment, as I was weeping before the Lord and starring at the Cross I heard the Holy Spirit say to me, “Jaeson, everything that you have suffered, I have suffered and a million times over. My love for you is true and it will never leave you. Be satisfied in My love.”

Peace came back into my heart. I finally understood what it meant to make Jesus my only satisfaction. I finally understood what makes life truly beautiful. It’s not what we achieve, what we have, who we know, or whether or not our dreams are fulfilled that makes this life beautiful. Rather, life is beautiful because God is beautiful. His love is unfailing and His love is the only thing that we can count on. When all else fails, His love is still there. What really matters, is that we have a “relationship with our Creator” and the love He gives to us, we are to cherish and give to others. Our success is not in what we achieve in this life, our success is in knowing Jesus Christ our Lord and Savior. I love Him, He loves me, I am successful!

Hard times will come. Struggles will always be there. Life will never be perfect. But God’s loves will always be faithful. If we want to live a life that is truly beautiful remember the following…

1. The love of people often increases with performance and decreases with mistakes. Not so with God’s love – Don’t put your trust in the world’s happiness, but put your hope in God’s love. He loves us no matter what we do right or what we do wrong.

2. God loves you with an unearthly love. You can’t win it by being winsome. You can’t lose it by being a loser – We often think that God will loves us more if we do more for Him. This is not the case, God loves us not because we are perfect, He loves us because we are His children. Whether or not things are going great, or whether you feel like all is lost, know that God’s love for you will never change.

3. God can turn tragedy into a triumph, if only you will wait and watch – We don’t understand why things happen the way they do, but we can put our hope in God that He can make all things beautiful. Even what the enemy intends for our evil, God can turn for our good.

4. Love God for God. Life is not perfect, but life is Worth living – We are promised nothing in this world. The things of this world are passing away, but the love of Christ last forever. Put your hope in God and God alone. Love God not for what He can do for you, but love God simply because He is worthy of our affection. When Jesus becomes our only satisfaction, nothing else matters. We can’t fail in this life, because His love is unfailing. Yet, when we know His unfailing love, it makes everything else in this life, good or bad that much more beautiful and meaningful.

5. Does your self-esteem ever sag? When it does, remember what you are worth – Max Lucado

YOU WERE BOUGHT, NOT WITH SOMETHING THAT RUINS LIKE GOLD OR SILVER, BUT WITH THE PRECIOUS BLOOD OF CHRIST, WHO WAS LIKE A PURE AND PERFECT LAMB. 1 PETER 1:18-19

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Jaeson is the Lead Director of Campus Church Networks and has traveled the globe to speak in numerous conferences, crusades, and events. He is an active member and aficionado of the arts, forming his own musical group, Namesake, and acting in several films. For more information about Jaeson, please check out his blog at www.jaesonma.com.

The Gift Of Giving

As the Christmas season is upon us, we are reminded of many things. For some, we think of the holiday jingles and tunes we might hear being looped incessantly on the radio. Others might envision snuggling up to a warm fireplace and cozying up to a nice book or movie. Truthfully, one of the first things that pop in my mind when I hear the word “Christmas” is the colors green and red, tied into lights, mistletoe, and other Christmas decorations. (Perhaps I’ve, too, become an unknowing victim of commercialization of the season).

Yet, one thing I think many of us entertain and look forward to around this time of year is the exchanging of gifts, whether we are the recipient or the giver. We might ask for that new coat we saw at the Gap, or hint at the cool video game system. Some of us might even inwardly hope for the new High School musical DVD (not me, of course…). Regardless of the gift, it is needless to say that we all invariably feel the joy in this experience.

But have you ever thought about the custom of giving gifts on Christmas? Why is it that we give gifts on Christmas? I think it is easy for us to forget, but Christ is at the center of it all: we give in remembrance of Christ. When Jesus was born into this world, the three wise men brought gifts to honor him. They knew that ultimately, this little babe in the manger would grow up and end up giving his life for them and us all. We give, in remembrance of he who gave nothing less than his all so that we might truly live. And when we celebrate Christmas, we are supposed to remember Christ in this specific custom.

So I found it rather funny, if not ironic, how unlike Christ I am during this time of year. Gift-giving for me is not unlike a chore, kind of like washing the sink full of dirty dishes and then wrapping them in red ribbon when they are dried. I suck at getting gifts and I dread the parades at the stores. I dislike the ridiculously high credit card bill at the end of the month. And I wrap presents in a way that really screams: “it’s what’s inside that counts.” But isn’t it funny how I wouldn’t mind it one bit if you went through all that for me?

I have not found one recipient of a gift who has not been cheerful. But rare has it been for me to find one who not is not only a generous, but cheerful giver. It is always a struggle to give when we don’t immediately see the “return on investment” on our end. Tithing, offering, charitable alms–all those “voluntary” causes seem to burden our hearts and suffer our pockets perhaps for those reasons. Yet, I find it so easy to turn around and spend two or three times as much on an electronic device that might be easily replaced, stolen, or lost tomorrow. When have we become such an instant self-gratifying generation?

This lesson hit me hard when I lost my slick pair of Ray Bans a few months ago at a friend’s BBQ. I had received those as a birthday gift the previous year, and I did not shy away from any occasion to wear them. Rain or shine. It didn’t matter. They made me look and feel “cool.” (Oh, and it blocked the sun, if it so happened to be there.) But then God (or should I say, the devil?) took them away from me on that fateful July 4th. Someone stole them and that was the end of that–that pair was never to be seen on my face again.

Now that I’m working full-time and I have a steady source of income flow, I have found it all too easy to “charge it” without giving purchases a second thought. Slowly, and subtly, the items on my lists of “wants” started to creep onto my once-slender list of “needs.” And, one day, as I was driving on the highway with the sun’s glare in my eyes, my heart felt it necessary to justify a replacement pair of sunglasses. So before I knew it, there I was: standing behind the sunglass counter at the mall, trying on those $130 pair of sunglasses that seemed to remember my face like it was just yesterday. Oh, how they wrapped around my ears! And oh, how they reflected the flashes and glare of the store light, just as easily as they buoyed the flashes of cameras and paparazzi that were capturing me in my delusion! I was ready to reacquaint myself with them, ready to shell out the plastic. Then it happened.

I thought of Witzmith. I thought of the boy from Haiti whom I’ve been sponsoring through World Vision these past few months, and how much he meant to me. I thought about his family of 4 brothers and 3 sisters, a community ravaged by AIDS/HIV and malnutrition, and I thought about how much $130 would mean to him. That money would have fed his family and provide educational opportunities for him and his loved ones for four months. Could I wear four months’ worth of shelter, food, and medicine on my face? Then I thought about how silly I looked wearing those glasses.

What I learned through this, however, was not the guilt in denying myself something material. I could still give the money away begrudgingly and not feel happy doing so. But the beauty in all of this was the freedom I felt after the battle: not only did I reject that potential purchase, but I was also giving it away to something and someone much more significant than myself. What could be more exciting than the knowledge that with the money I donate, I am saving lives, sparking hope, and spurring generations onward to do the same? I am no different from Witzmith–I, too, have received: the love and provisions from a mighty God who need not have cared for me. When I realize what God has freely given me, and how God has delighted to give me–it is then that I become a cheerful giver, liberated by God to give unto others as I’ve received. It is then that I become a “hilarious” giver (2 Cor. 9:7), one who has freely received and is thus free to return those blessings with a true sense of desire and contentment. I give joyfully in remembrance of the God who gave all and withheld nothing good from me.

As we celebrate this Christmas holiday, and as we celebrate every day that we are alive–sheltered, fed, healthy and happy–let us not forget to reach out to our brothers and sisters in this world who are not as fortunate. We all have our own little Witzmiths in our lives in whom we can invest, whether spiritually, financially or personally. Let us give from the inexhaustible treasure trove to which we have been given unconstrained access through our Lord and Lamb, Jesus Christ.

Blessings,

Marty

P.S. If you are interested in charitable causes, a few sites worth checking would be: www.worldvision.org, www.livinggenerously.com

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“For the LORD God is a sun and shield; the LORD bestows favor and honor; no good thing does he withhold from those whose walk is blameless.” – Psalm 84:11

“Remember this: Whoever sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, and whoever sows generously will also reap generously. Each man should give what he has decided in his heart to give, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver. And God is able to make all grace abound to you, so that in all things at all times, having all that you need, you will abound in every good work.” – 2 Corinthians 9:6-8

“I have found that, among its other benefits, giving liberates the soul of the giver.” – Maya Angelou

“I cried because I had no shoes, then I met a man who had no feet.” – Anon.