Why A = Failure

Someone recently asked if I could remember a time when my parents were proud of me. It wasn't a question about whether they actually said the words, since that would have been a never. Was there some way I could tell though?

In the 5th grade, we had to do a report on a state and I chose Georgia. It was the only state other than California that I had any association with because my godmother had moved from there. I drew a giant peach on the cover page. I wrote about John Oglethorpe. I received an A+++ on that report. 

When I showed my parents, they didn't seem to have the same indifferent response nor did they tell me what I could have done better. Maybe they seemed a little surprised, a little impressed?

That's where the bar is set. If you're extraordinary, then maybe the most important people in your life will offer a glimmer of pride. It's why being told "be okay with good enough" is offensive.

We succeed because we're talented.

We succeed because we were given the resources to develop those talents.

We succeed because we're always chasing after the damn A+++.

Am I Pinterest Enough?

At the Asian Pacific American student conference, a Chinese American student shared with me a story about being ridiculed for bringing roast duck to "Culture Day" at his school. Some of us also have "that story."

In elementary school, it is customary for kids to bring treats on their birthday to share with the rest of the class. For a lot of students, it's usually in the form of homemade cupcakes. My parents had no idea what cupcakes were, much less the idea of baking. We steamed our carbs.

On my birthday in the 3rd grade, I told my dad I had to bring snacks to share with my classmates. He rummaged through our cabinets and produced a package of seaweed cookies.

Guess how many students took the cookies?

Two. My best friend in class and another girl whose mother was Japanese. Everybody else pretty much passed them on with puke faces as if I was offering them moldy bread.

For Isaac's birthday, I was determined to make cupcakes that were Pinterest-worthy. Homemade funfetti cupcakes from scratch (heck no to the box) with perfectly piped frosting, learned from watching Youtube videos.

While we're at it, personalized milk bottles with red chevron paper straws. He wants mac and cheese? Let's make two recipes that adults and children will love.

You don't need a PhD in Psychology to see the connection.

Asian Americans all have ways in which we assimilate. The weird thing about realizing that you are trying to fit in is the ambivalence that comes with it.

Do I keep making these cupcakes? Am I doing a bad job in helping Isaac embrace Chinese culture? Should I make him serve seaweed cookies on his birthday?

I don't know.

For Valentine's Day, we're giving out superhero cards designed by an Etsy store. Still ambivalent.

I love my in-laws.

I am no less than blessed with the family I married into. They are easygoing, incredibly helpful, and have a great relationship with Isaac. When I was on bedrest my mother-in-law did our laundry and the dishes and it kind of just continued. My father-in-law is a handyman, personal assistant, and chauffeur. They do all this willingly and lovingly.

And at the same time the parents I currently have makes me think of the parents I no longer have. I can't help it, comparison is a bitch.

Whenever we go out to Chinese food and chow mein is ordered, I'm reminded of a life where it never was. I get either mad or sad (I can't tell which it is, probably both) that nowadays eating Chinese food with family really means eating American food. Honey Walnut Prawns? That's the dish the non-Chinese at wedding banquets want.

Grief over my parents being gone is this: the life that I live is not the life I thought I would live. Everything is different.

Hope vs. Expectations

Lately I've been feeling more irate and it's been difficult not to be short with people. It's not a pretty sight - my words more cutting, my tone obviously annoyed, and my sighs of impatience loud and clear. Maybe it's because of busyness and maybe it's because the anniversary of my dad's death is coming up, but I know I don't like this "me." 

God challenged me to consider how my expectations were being misplaced. Expectations come from wanting people to be a certain way. Hope is when everyone fails to meet your expectations and the belief that even when that happens, God won't disappoint. And hope is the belief that God can and will transform me and those around me.

... but we also rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering brings about perseverance; and perseverance, character; and character, hope; and hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has as been poured out within our hearts through the Holy Spirit who was given to us.

In the progression of suffering to perseverance to character to hope we tend to get stuck in the suffering and have a hard time moving towards hope. Maybe it's because we hope in people and not Jesus. Instead we tend to move from suffering to disappointment to hardheartedness to bitterness to cynicism. 

Perhaps one of the hardest things I've had to figure out in my faith is getting from suffering to perseverance. I was really challenged when I read a blog post recently - A Prayer of Indigenous People.  

After again being shut out of key legislative discussions with evangelicals on the topic of immigration, Mark Charles had this to say:

I guess my only alternative is to go back to the drawing board and once again get down on my knees.

Wow. Some might call him naive. Others might get angry for him and the injustice he's experiencing. But I am floored and convicted by this perseverance, character, and hope. Talk about living out this scripture.

So I say to myself, if he can do this, then maybe so can I.

Last week was sobering. One friend's mom died after a decade long battle with cancer. Another friend's mom who had been fighting cancer found out she has 2-3 months left. Having been through the deaths of my own parents I didn't want to say anything to them, because I knew how little words mattered. I wrote a little email to each, trying not to sound too cliche, fearing I was anyway. No words could really express my joining with them in grief.

L had been keeping us updated and asked us to pray for a miracle, to pray for a complete healing for her mom. What a bold way to pray! As I was getting her emails, I couldn't help wondering to myself - in some ways isn't complete healing found in physical death?

When my parents died, there was this part of me that could access that thought. My mom was no longer trapped in her sick, physical body. She wasn't in pain anymore. And my dad was no longer being tortured emotionally. He wasn't in pain anymore. And that part of me could feel glad for them... and perhaps a bit envious.

Even with that thought, it didn't assuage the feelings of longing, the sadness of the void their persons left behind. There's not much you can do about that other than to just let yourself feel it. Feeling it meant they meant the world to me because as their kid they made up so much of my world.

...

Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. I like that in this verse there is a promise of future comfort. Not necessarily present comfort, but the hope that one day down the line comfort will come.

Full of it... Part Two

Ego strength: a person's capacity to maintain his/her own identity despite psychological pain, distress, turmoil and conflict between internal forces as well as the demands of reality.

Something I sometimes say about myself is that I have a lot of ego strength. On the positive side, I appear sure of myself and strong. On the not so positive, I come across as intimidating and difficult to approach.

I have never been one who was confused about my talents and strengths, my likes and dislikes. Even through teenage angsty years, I knew the places I could excel and gravitated towards those places. I think I can be pretty amazing!

But... at the same time I don't think or expect others to think I'm all that.

In fact I'm usually surprised when someone affirms me as being outstanding in a certain area. The desire for this kind of affirmation is unfortunately a bottomless pit. I love it and crave it and I can't get enough.

A paradox, yes. I think I'm pretty awesome yet I have a hard time believing others think I'm awesome.

My therapist is getting paid well.

Full of it...

When it comes to pride and humility, Paul can be very confusing! 

He says things like:
Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves, not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others.

He also says things like:
Therefore I urge you to imitate me. 
Be imitators of me, just as I also am of Christ.

When Christians read Paul, we have to wrestle with how arrogant he comes across. We are uncomfortable because very few of us would dare make these claims out loud. When's the last time you told someone to be like you?

There's a lot preached about how sinful and broken we are. We are depraved people, there is nothing good about us. We are at the bottom of the barrel.

I think this is natural for many people to think because they have low opinions of themselves. They struggle with unworthiness. What to do for those of us who don't deal with low self-esteem?

I think I do a lot of things well. I try not to say it out loud because it bothers people. Recently I was asked to close a seminar where we weren't sure if *#&$ was going to hit the fan. When people asked how it went, I purposefully minimized it and said - oh, I just spoke for a few minutes, it wasn't really anything. With only a few did I dare to say - I rocked it.

I wish it was more acceptable to be excited and happy about accomplishments and have the freedom to convey that to others. Do I really need to wait for others to say, good job? Isn't that relying on the praise of men?

At the end of the day, I fully believe that any good that came out of me came from God. Whether it's natural or supernatural giftedness, he is the source and I'll proclaim that any day and any time. Also, I don't have much trouble recognizing how far I am from God's perfection. I just happen to do some things better than others. Does saying that count as pride?

With any sin there is a spectrum - pride is an obvious sin. We don't see self-deprecation as being as sinful, but I think it's a twisted form of godly humility. In some ways when we minimize our accomplishments, we also minimize the good God is doing through us. 

Even cockroaches wouldn't survive

This morning I was thinking a bit about the "Year of Suck" and a particular scenario resonated with me. The word that I think about mostly in conjunction with that year is "devastating." Some free association makes me think, devastation, obliteration, complete destruction. Like someone dropped a nuclear bomb onto my life.

They say that cockroaches can survive anything, perhaps even nuclear explosions. That year felt like a bomb was dropped, and then they decided to drop a few more for good measure, just to make sure they would kill the cockroaches. I think about how one thing was hard enough and then how everything else that followed was completely unnecessary, even if to just stamp out the remaining cockroaches.

.....

I'm also alerting myself to how I minimize the value of my emotions. Good coping mechanism but not very kind to myself. It's why I write about the above analogy - a voice in my mind tells me... a little melodramatic, don't you think? People will read this and think you're totally over exaggerating.  I tend to hear that, believe it, and then ignore any strong feelings. I make myself write this, put it in public space so that voice in my mind doesn't win.

Regardless of whether or not this nuclear analogy is over the top, it's what I relate to and rings true to how I feel.

Reading back the first paragraph I noticed that writing "thinking a bit about..." minimizes the reality that lately I wake up every morning not wanting to get out of bed because of how sad I am. So not really "thinking a bit." More like can't stop feeling like crap about it.

Feelings as accessories

My organization is obsessed with the Myers-Briggs personality assessment. I like to notice how long it takes for it to be brought up when a group of InterVarsity staff gather. Within the hour, it's guaranteed.

I'm an ENTP. I described to a student what being a T was like when it comes to how I handle my feelings. 

Feelings are like accessories. They're nice to have around and they may spice up life, but really, they are unnecessary.

I said this in an ENTP, devil's advocate, let's see how many feelers I can rile up way. Because no, I know that's not really how it works.

Sometimes Fs are appalled by Ts, wondering if we have a soul, wondering how we can come across as so heartless. 

Jingle bells, jingle bells...

The holidays are awesome! And by awesome I mean complicated and full of "fun" feelings. Here's how I mark the holidays. Thanksgiving: the last time I saw my mom in person. December: I was pregnant and on bedrest, so I was unable to be with my mom when she died. Christmas: I spent my first Christmas without my parents (they were both dead) or my brother (he was in Taiwan taking care of funeral arrangements). New Years: Isaac was born a preemie and my mom never got to meet him. So yeah. The holidays are AWESOME!

The reality for me is not that I don't feel. The reality is that I'm often feeling feelings that are beyond expression. If I'm paying attention to my feelings, I'm usually feeling devastation, disappointment, sadness, anger... all at the same time. It also hurts, literally.

The experience is best summed up by scripture.

In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans.

- Romans 8:25-26

There are so many times that I sit to pray about this stuff and all I can say is... No words can express what I feel...

I know people wonder and are baffled at how I went through the "Year of Suck" and remain stoic or lackadaisical about it. I get the feeling they want me to express the feelings that are supposed to come with that kind of suffering. If I expressed those feelings to the extent that I really feel them though, the people who want to see them would probably regret it. 

I'm thankful that in the past few years God has provided the space, time, and people to be there for the moments when the floodgates open. 

But for now and for the most part, I'll just be groaning.

Rethinking Sunday

Recently I was hanging out with a mommy friend when the inevitable question of my job came up. It was more along the lines of "what exactly do you do?"

The conversation meandered to swapping faith backgrounds, and she told me that she was Russian Orthodox and her husband was Lutheran. She declared that she didn't like Lutheran church services.

How come, I asked.

She began describing how the services were so distracting because of how much they just talk at you. The long sermons where they just talk and talk and talk. She lamented that there was no time to think, reflect, and talk to God. In Russian Orthodox services, they were conducted in a language she couldn't even understand... and she loved being there to reflect on her week and to pray.

I found her observations so fascinating, and it reminded me how we often interpret experiences through our own lenses. I could imagine many typical Protestants assessing a Russian Orthodox service and criticizing how you couldn't learn anything because you couldn't understand what was being said. Because learning during Sunday service was essential.

But really, who gets to decide what "must be" during a church service? Do services have to involve lengthy sermons? From the few times I've been to mass, I will admit that often the simple message of a 5 minute homily stuck with me throughout the week longer than whatever I learned in a 45 minute sermon.

What if church was just the place you showed up to meet with God?

What if there were fewer pews to sit on and there was all this carpeted space for people to freely move around? Well, one benefit I could think of would be that it would be more conducive to lay prostrate. And wouldn't that be a particularly wonderful position to be in before God on a Sunday morning?

Unsettled...

I am what you call it... perturbed, disconcerted, dissatisfied, sad.

Over the last couple of days I have met with 3 new students who are coming from Chinese churches. Being from the same spiritual upbringing, I'm always interested to see the state of their faith when they start college.

Here's what I've learned so far:

Two of them talked about being affected by cliques in their youth groups. Another leader texted me later and said she had the same conversation with another freshman.

One of them told me of being asked to leave leadership and then told he would be helped to find a new church because of his attempt to be authentic and transparent about sin that he was repentant of.

One of them identifies as a Christian... when I asked her what grows her faith she said she likes going to camp and watching people be passionate and raising their hands while singing.

One told me about the discovery of high school youth group leaders getting drunk with other youth, and then many of them being asked to leave leadership... which more or less translated to them leaving the youth group. And then the pastor hearing from God that he was "purging" the group.

I love the Chinese church and at the same time I am saddened by its brokenness. From what I've heard the past few days, it seems youth pastors, etc. are unequipped to help high school students own their faith in this present culture. The extent of Christian expression is mostly through camps with spiritual highs and looking "righteous" on the outside.

I wish...

I wish someone had taught the students how getting drunk can be foolish and regrettable.

I wish someone had thanked the student for his risk in transparency and asked him to testify of God's conviction.

I wish someone had taught them about true hospitality - welcoming the stranger and being kind to those who aren't your friends.

I wish someone made sure that students were interacting with Jesus and not the culture, the people, and the emotions that run through the group.

I wish students could know that following Jesus can be EXHILARATING on a daily basis... not just when you go away to camp and attend an awesome musical concert.

Jesus, have mercy on us...

At the same time... I see God at work...

The student who told me that she was this close to rushing for a sorority and leaving Christianity altogether, but felt like her camp experience made her want to find a fellowship in college.

The student who says that high school was for God to strengthen her identity in him but she wants to be missional now... and role playing with her to invite her roommate to large group.

The student who still wants to know God even after being burned by the church, and praying for the first time in a long time.

Lord, it will always baffle me how in all this messiness you are still showing your redemption at work.


NOTE: I recognize this is all self-reporting from the students and there are two sides to every story. I am mostly disheartened to see this as a theme among the students I've been meeting. And I'm sure the pastors are trying their very best. I just think they are unequipped and often don't make good use of the resources out there.

An Emotional God

This summer I went to a wedding in SoCal, and during the reception we were seated next to the bride's youth pastor, a gregarious, talkative guy.

As we swapped stories of ministry, this pastor talked about how he was helping his youth understand the Christian perspective on homosexuality. Namely, he was responding to their wrestling on approaching the subject because they had friends who were gay and felt bad for being asked to see them as sinful.

Something he said really caught my attention and stayed with me. He said, "I tell my students that you have to focus on the truth and not let your emotions get in the way. You can't let your emotions decide where you stand on this situation. We have to stick to the truth of what the bible says."

(I won't go into right or wrong or what exactly it is the bible says about homosexuality. There's enough on the blogosphere about that.)

Something about his comment didn't sit right with me. It sounded logical and yeah, I'm all for truth in the bible.

I mulled over it and then realized why it bothered me so much. I told Bryan, "You know, if God made decisions based on truth and didn't let his emotions get in the way, we would all be screwed."

What I meant was, if God decided our fate based on truth, we would all be eternally separated from him. God's decision to restore our relationship with him was an emotional one. Jesus went to the cross because of the joy of our impending reconciliation.

I don't think my "epiphany" warrants any final decisions about where I stand on the topic. I do feel that you can't have an "only truth" approach. It has a tendency to crowd out compassion and other fruits of the Spirit that we're called to.

Note: In these conversations I do like to play devil's advocate. After listening for awhile, I asked the pastor, "What do you do about the youth whose parents are divorced? How do you address the hypocrisy in the church about the double standard when it comes to the sin of divorce?" I'll admit it was fun to hear his wife chime in, "Yeah, I always ask you about that!"

Psalm 142

I cry aloud with my voice to the Lord;

I make supplication with my voice to the Lord.

I pour out my complaint before Him;

I declare my trouble before Him.

When my spirit was overwhelmed within me,

You knew my path.

In the way where I walk

They have hidden a trap for me.

 Look to the right and see;

For there is no one who regards me;

There is no escape for me;

No one cares for my soul.

 I cried out to You, O Lord;
I said, “You are my refuge,
My portion in the land of the living.
 “ Give heed to my cry,
For I am brought very low;
Deliver me from my persecutors,
For they are too strong for me.
 “ Bring my soul out of prison,
So that I may give thanks to Your name;
The righteous will surround me,
For You will deal bountifully with me.”

On being homesick...

We're trying to spend more time in the south bay this summer, hoping to stay connected with my home church. Since my parents died, it's hard to go back and visit. Finding a place to stay can become such a task... not wanting to impose on people. The place I've called home for such a long time just isn't anymore.

When I was going through a rough patch a decade ago, my mentor recommended that I meditate on heaven. It was a novel idea. She pointed out that to most of us, heaven is just a concept in our heads. Rarely is it a reality, except for those who are close to death. Every once in awhile, I will think and consider and ponder about what heaven is like.

Last week at large group we sang "In Christ Alone." I've lost count on how many times I've sung this. It seems to be the go to song for when we need to affirm some truths about our faith. Here is the second half of the last verse:

No power of hell, no scheme of man
Could ever pluck me from his hand
Til He returns or calls me home
Here in the power of Christ I stand

In so many ways, grief for me just really means I'm homesick. Very homesick. Home isn't necessarily the place where you grew up. It's where the people you belong to are. And for who knows how long I won't be able to go home. So I'm homesick.

May is anniversary month, or the month when my dad died. I actually get to have two per year (lucky me) - the other being in December. I'm practicing being kind and compassionate to myself, which doesn't come easily to me when it comes to emotionally tough situations. My tendency is to just plow through and stay functional.

I suppose blogging is a practice of that, allowing myself, or making myself have space to grieve. To stop, write, think, and remain instead of pushing aside, distract, or vegge out. Only now do I feel okay blogging about my grief process. I suppose that's an indication of some sort of progress.

To sum it up...

This is how I've been experiencing life lately... and the past two years.

The hand of the LORD was on me, and he brought me out by the Spirit of the LORD and set me in the middle of a valley; it was full of bones. He led me back and forth among them, and I saw a great many bones on the floor of the valley, bones that were very dry. 

He asked me, “Son of man, can these bones live?” 

I said, “Sovereign LORD, you alone know.” 

Then he said to me, "Prophesy to these bones and say to them, ‘Dry bones, hear the word of the LORD! This is what the Sovereign LORD says to these bones: I will make breath enter you, and you will come to life. I will attach tendons to you and make flesh come upon you and cover you with skin; I will put breath in you, and you will come to life. Then you will know that I am the LORD."

Ezekiel 37:1-6

On being Chinese American...

We're trying to raise Isaac bilingual. When my family first immigrated to the US in 1984, my parents made the decision of speaking only Chinese at home. They valued us keeping our language, knowing that our ability to speak would keep open the access to family and culture.

Bryan is beyond supportive. He speaks Mandarin to Isaac 80%+ of the time. When Isaac learns a word he doesn't already know, he becomes determined to learn that phrase. He knows that one day Isaac may surpass him and he wants to do all he can to keep up. Just another reason why I feel like I won the lottery with the man I married.

When I'm alone with Isaac, it's the best time to speak 100% Chinese. No need to translate for Bryan, no need to keep up communication with Grandma.

I've been doing something weird though. I knew I was doing it but I didn't stop to think about why I was doing it.

When we're at the park or library, and it's just the two of us, I will speak in complete Mandarin. However if someone we don't know comes to the play structure, I will consciously throw out a phrase of perfect English.

If I don't I'm worried people will think of me as an immigrant. And in this country few immigrants feel welcomed. I worry that if people think I can't speak perfect English, they will not want to know me. I could be cut off from mommy groups and play dates. Maybe Isaac will be disadvantaged. Maybe my opinions won't matter. Is it an irrational fear? Yes and no. Is it reality? Yes and no.

It's just something I do, and I haven't been able to make myself stop. I want to and I don't. I don't want others to tell me what they think I should do either. Just know that it's part of the immigrant experience. There's an ongoing pressure, sometimes overt but mostly subtle, to prove whether or not you belong in this country.

For now I'll probably keep doing it, especially given the fact that we live in Davis. This way we get to be that "cool" family that is doing the bilingual thing.

On mourning...

"Grief is like getting your period when you're going to the beach... so inconvenient!"

~ Cheri and Peggy

From commonprayer.net

I read this excerpt this morning and resonated much with it so I wanted to leave it here to remind myself of its truths in the future.

We must be careful in all our talk about liturgical prayer not to rule out the spontaneous moves of the Spirit. Just as liturgical traditions have much to offer us by way of roots, the charismatic and Pentecostals have much to offer us in zeal and passion. Tradition and innovation go together in God’s kingdom. -Jesus was Jewish. He went to synagogue “as was his tradition” and celebrated holy days such as Passover. But -Jesus also healed on the Sabbath. -Jesus points us to a God who is able to work within institutions and order, a God who is too big to be confined. God is constantly coloring outside the lines. -Jesus challenges the structures that oppress and exclude, and busts through any traditions that put limitations on love. Love cannot be harnessed.

Liturgy is public poetry and art. You can make beautiful art by splashing paint on a wall, and you can also make art with the careful diligence of a sculptor. Both can be lovely, and both can be ugly. Both can be marketed and robbed of their original touch, and both have the potential to inspire and move -people to do something beautiful for God. So it is with worship. More important than whether something is old or new, winsome or classic is whether it is real. The Scriptures tell us to “test the spirits,” and the true test of the spirit of a thing is whether it moves us closer to God and to our suffering neighbor. Does it have fruit outside of our own good feelings? Beauty must hearken to something beyond us. It should cause us to do something beautiful for God in the world.

New Blog

So tired of trying to keep up this blog with lame Chinese people trying to make my blog X-rated.

I used to twitter funny Bryan Enderle quotes so I thought, why not blog entire conversations that reduce me to tears on a daily basis?

http://thefunnye.blogspot.com/

So sad...

My blog has been so sad and neglected. I frequently have epiphanies for blog topics but am never near a computer to get it out on "paper." I recently downloaded an iphone app that is an idea organizer so I can record ideas for later use.

The saddest thing about my neglected blog is that random people leave comments on it with links to what I can only imagine are XXX websites. I guess it's my fault for calling my blog "sex and the country."

Perhaps I've set the bar too high. The subtitle of the blog states: my irreverent and potentially irrelevant thoughts trying to work themselves out. First of all I need to be irreverent. Easily done if I throw in a cuss word here or there, right? Secondly, my entries need to be potentially irrelevant... POTENTIALLY being the key word because it's just a "witty" guise for how relevant I think I am, ha!

It usually takes me at least an hour to complete a blog post because I put it through many edits and revisions to make sure I get my thoughts across. Who has that time nowadays?

Perhaps I need to screw perfection and just get whatever out there as a discipline and exercise. We'll see how it goes.