Best Hong Kong and Chinese Films

The Best German Films (Except for Im Juli because no trailer is available for it online)

More Thoughts from Real Christianity

"Knowing that the journey of faith will not be easy, they do not become discouraged when difficulties come. Knowing an adversary will oppose their efforts, they are not surprised or unprepared when the enemy attacks. As they set out on their way, they expect the early going to be difficult, but they know that the end of the journey will be great.

It is not without merit that those who pursue authentic faith in this manner are called pilgrims and strangers. A pilgrim is one who is on a journey. When the journey transcends his normal borders, he becomes a stranger. He is like a businessman who is sent into a new territory with the task of executing his job with diligence and tenacity and then returns home as soon as possible. Whatever pleasures he enjoys along the way, he enjoys with moderation. He is thankful when the weather is pleasant but is not diverted from his task when storms come.

He is a traveler. He expects the unexpected. But as he travels, he knows he traveling to 'a better country' (Heb. 11:16). He can observe the practices of this strange land and associate with its inhabitants. He even attempts to speak their language and where appropriate adopt their fashions, but he makes sure that he is not sidetracked or delayed along the way from accomplishing what his master has sent him to accomplish. He has business to which he must attend. He knows there will be temptations and distractions. He knows the enemy wants to delay and derail his advancement. This means that he must maintain his focus and direction. To make sure he is on the right track, he needs periodically to stop and take stock. Is he traveling in the right direction? Has he become distracted? Often he has the sense that he is making good progress. At other times he feels as if he is getting nowhere. All the passions of life are experienced along the way.

...This is no dreary duty! This is challenge and excitement. This is the ultimate adventure. This is what life was meant to be."

Thoughts from Wilberforce's Real Christianity

"What is good in only a matter of opinion in secular society. Using society's own standards of goodness, careful observation of the bigger picture of the bigger picture may reveal that a particular good has been outweighed by general evil. When a society defines its own morality and then applies it to itself, that society can justify its own serious breaches of character. It is able to lower the standard to the detriment of all.

Even in the best of cases, the fundamental problem still exists that the motivation for life is still man-centered instead of God-centered. Goodness is no substitute for devotion. In its culturally defined forms, goodness can exist where love of God and passion for His glory do not."

Thoughts from Piper's The Dangerous Duty of Delight

"Life is war. The casualties are millions, and the stakes are eternal. What we need today is not a call to simplicity, but a call to war. We need to think in terms of 'wartime lifestyle' rather than a 'simply lifestyle.' I have used the phrase 'necessities of life' because Paul said in 1 Timothy 6:8, 'If we have food and covering, with these we shall be content.' But this idea of simply necessity can be misleading. I mean it to refer to a style of life that is unencumbered with nonessentials - and the criterion for 'essential' should not be primitive simplicity, but wartime effectiveness... Life is war. All talk of a Christian's right to live luxuriously 'as a child of the King' is this atmosphere sounds hollow - especially since the King Himself stripped for battle."

"Jesus did not ask us to be indifferent to whether we are destroyed. On the contrary, He assumes that the longing for true life will move us to deny ourselves all the lesser pleasures and comforts of life. The measure of our longing for life is the amount of comfort we are willing to give up to get it."

Thoughts On Mary During Advent

During my senior year of college, I was researching early 20th century feminist philosophy and struggling deeply with God's design of the sexes. I had not intended to find myself in such a quagmire; rather, I started the research project with the intention of better understanding feminism's roots in order to better refute it. And yet, by Christmas break I was fighting against bitterness and questioning what role womanhood played in God's eternal plan. It's a typical question among women who start to think through these things, but I couldn't escape wondering why God seemed so male-centered. He revealed Himself in terms of the male gender, He created Adam first, He gave headship to the male half our race, and when He came to be one of us, He entered the flesh of a man. None of these issues shook my faith in God for redemption, but I just could not help ask... why? Was there any way God acknowledged my sex as important to His plan, or were we just along for the ride, to sit and watch God's grace unfold from the sidelines?

About the time these questions were the most pressing, I happened to go see The Nativity Story. I had no big desire to see it originally, but went along with my family for some holiday entertainment. It is beautiful how God often uses the unexpected to answer some of our deepest questions. The movie was beautiful, but what struck me most was the harshness it displayed. In particular, watching the birth scene clicked with me. Watching Mary scream as her body is ripped by the Child leaving her to enter the world on a mission of redemption started to awaken in me the idea that the nativity is evidence of God's deep love and commitment to both genders in His eternal plan. I didn't continue exploring the thought at the time, but it gave me enough peace with the issue to finish out my senior thesis with peace and confidence in who I am as a woman.

Today, though, I was looking through an art book and being drawn to the Medieval section, I was reminded again of the nativity as a sign of God's value for both sexes. The Gothic Catholic paintings depict an importance in Mary that we Protestants have missed for centuries. Mary was not a deity, neither was she purer than any other human under the sun. But Mary was an integral and crucial part of God's plan for redemption and the ripping of her body foreshadows the ripping of Christ's body for the sake of humanity.

Not to be taken lightly (particularly in the ancient world), giving birth is a bloody, brutal, and beastly sacrifice of one body for another. If women feel undervalued in the redemptive plan, it is because we have not recognized in Mary the inclusion of womanhood by God. The male gender was acknowledged for redemption when Christ used a man's body for the work of atonement on the cross. The female gender was used for redemption when Christ submitted Himself to the blood and screams of birth.


Our visual culture misleads us concerning womanhood, particularly at Christmas. Birth is not quiet and peaceful. Mary was no gentle angel. The problem of the Medievals was not that they liked to paint Mary and the Christ child. Their problem lay in failing to recognize the true significance of her story. No wonder woman's role in God's plan has been lost - they took the nativity story and cleaned it up to be decorative art. A true understanding of the nativity would have produced terrible scenes of placenta and umbilical cords, blood and sweet, tears and pain. We would think of the nativity as gruesomely as we think of the crucifixion. And we would be inspired to worship the true and living God for the splendor of His will.

The story of the nativity in its true meaning points us to the cross. In these two events, Christ's earthly life began and concluded, and both were marked by bodily suffering. In Christ, God reconciled both sexes of a fallen race to Himself and declared grace and mercy for those who seek Him. There is peace between God and humanity, and as a result, between man and woman. And at the end of time, we will both be resurrected, our bodies complete and renewed. The story of redemption is a story of wholeness and one where God forgets none of his creation in the drama.

The Christian community fears feminism, and rightly so, but I believe some of feminism's roots stem from the same questions I dealt with during my senior year. A history of misrepresentation and misunderstanding of Mary's role in God's redemptive story has played a disastrous role in the church to the point where we see her either deified or forgotten. If only recognized God's use of her as similar to crucial male figures (such as Adam, Abraham, Moses, David, Paul, etc.), maybe modern women would have a better understanding of their status as God's daughters whom He chooses to use. I don't know if the makers of The Nativity Story share any of these thoughts, or if anyone else was as struck by it, but I am extremely grateful that the movie dignified Mary with a painful birthing scene and recognized (perhaps unwittingly) that woman's greatest moment was being included in the redemptive story so intimately that God would submit Himself to her bloody body.

The Eagle of the Ninth IS COMING!

Just talked to my sister this morning and squealed for a good while about The Eagle of the Ninth coming to film next fall. Oh... my... goodness... Directed by a man who loved the book as a child? Cinematographic directing by Slumdog Millionaire's director? Channing Tatum as Marcus? (Granted he isn't a great actor, BUT perfect as Marcus!) This is a movie I will definitely see on opening day when I'm back in the States.

Enjoy the only pic that has been released so far!

Surrender

This world is just a shadow of a stronger, more real time to come;
In this lies my hope.

"I surrender all
to the promises you made
and I will give it all
to the maker of the day

No one knows your heart
and no one knows your fears
When no one solves the mysteries
or even wipes away the tears

Can you hear the sound of laughter
from the other side of life?
There are days when I feel like a stranger sometimes
Tell me, are there any other fools like me?

This reliance on another world
has a great effect on this world
This conscience of another world
has a great effect on
grace recollection

He doesn't love us 'cause of who we are
He only loves us 'cause of who he is

We all were children once
so will we return
So let those days return
let us all return"

A Study On Loving This Culture - Kindness

"Love is kind." I am stumped. How to exert kindness towards a new culture? But I want to truly love this place, so I must reflect. In doing so, I suspect kindness towards a different culture may be the most convicting of love's attributes.

Trying to understand kindness towards a whole culture is a little confusing and makes my head swim. On a lofty level, the word "charity" comes to mind. But thinking of synonyms doesn't actually help me define what it means to be kind to this part of the world. I need something more practical, more rooted to the ground I actually walk on. I don't want some saintly challenge which will cause my feet to float three feet higher than everyone else, but keep my heart frozen and cold.

If I am going to be kind to this culture as an expression of love, I must keep my thoughts and words in check. I am going to use the women who just sat down across from me in Starbucks as an example. Culturally, I do not have the natural inclination to show her kindness. She is wearing a frilly, sparkly dress; she assumes I don't understand her as she speaks about me to her friend; she is picking something out of her teeth with her fingernail. This would be the moment for me to roll my eyes, turn to my American friend, and talk about all the things I think are strange or unacceptable about these people. But is kindness my heart's motivation when I do such? Self-righteousness, insecurity, and ignorance are more like it.

I think kindness to my new culture means not rolling my eyes at things. It means keeping my mouth shut more often. It probably means refraining from judgment unless things truly are against Dad's design for life. But it also means more. A kind person is someone who goes one step further than refraining from being disparaging; a kind person is someone who positively encourages and smiles upon others regardless of differences. I probably will never want to wear a frilly, sparkly dress, but kindness towards my new culture is to understand that the girls here do want to wear such a dress and smile upon them as they do, enjoying their delight in such different expressions of beauty. And if I can become kinder in this sense towards the surrounding culture, I believe I will actually learn to treasure it.

My conclusion is that cultural kindness is in the small things rather than the big things. It's the differences in fashion, manners, food, etc. that seem the most inconsequential, and yet those are the areas where it is hardest to show genuine kindness rather than forced politeness. Kindness is a daily exercise in love and one the biggest testimonies to it when practiced.

A Study On Loving This Culture - Patience

I have been back in my second home for a little over a week now. Tonight, as I was driving in a taxi, I felt deeply moved to love for my host culture. I felt alive and happy to be back, in addition to passionate for the work at hand. I can't wait to get back out there and engage. My heart is burdened with supplication to the Father.

In the midst of the taxi ride, though, I reflected on last year and its hardships. Tonight I was worlds away from the immense frustrations of last year, but I know how easy it would be for that sense of frustrated apathy to return. I reflected on what pushed me to persevere last year and my mind returned to a passage that kept me inspired last year to stay engaged with this culture.

"Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when perfection comes, the imperfect disappears. When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me. Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.
And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love."
Last year, I was reading this passage and it dawned on me that these words of wisdom can, and should, be applied to much more in this life than just individuals. How many times have I thought of this in relationship to a friend, family member, or stranger? Plenty. But how many times have I tried to apply this to my new culture?
When, in the midst of a bad day of pollution, traffic, strange food, etc. have I stopped and said, I will LOVE this culture by being (fill in the blank with any of the above attributes of love?) Last year, I was constantly reminded of "love is not easily provoked" and tried to push myself let go of anger in frustrating situations. This year, I want to go beyond that one attribute. I hope to reflect on each of the attributes of love in connection to my new culture.
The first is patience. If I am going to love East Asia, then I must learn patience with it. And there is so much to be patient with. My poor language skills immediately come to mind. So does the difference in organizational abilities and expectations. Of utmost importance will be patience with my teachers. And I hate hate hate standing in line, which is a daily trial over here.
Oh boy. This is going to be hard. But I don't want to bear the burden of this culture - I want to thrive on it. And to thrive on anything you must love it. And the above passage describes love as being patient. Loving something is a big task. Loving a culture seemingly opposite of my own seems almost impossible. But the Master who created both me and this crazy country also has given me His Spirit which happens to be patient to the utmost with His creation.
So maybe with increased patience, I really can keep on loving this place for the rest of the year.

Thoughts from High Fidelity

"So maybe what I said before, about listening to too many records messes up your life... maybe there's something in it after all... It seems to me that if you place music (and books, probably, and films, and plays, and anything that makes you feel) at the centre of your being, then you can't afford to sort out your love life, start to think of it as the finished product. You've got to pick at it, keep it alive and in turmoil, you've got to pick at it and unravel it until it all comes apart and you're compelled to start all over again. Maybe we all live life at too high a pitch, those of us who absorb emotional things all day, and as a consequence we can never feel merely content: we have to be unhappy, or ecstatically, head-over-heels happy, and those states are difficult to achieve within a stable, solid relationship."
- Nick Hornby

Sights Set on Angkor

Where I hope to travel during this winter break...

A Vagabond Song, By Bliss Carman

There is something in the autumn that is native to my blood-
Touch of manner, hint of mood;
And my heart is like a rhyme,
With the yellow and the purple and the crimson keeping time.

The scarlet of the maples can shake me like a cry
Of bugles going by.
And my lonely spirit thrills
To see the frosty asters like a smoke upon the hills.

There is something in October set the gypsy blood astir;
We must rise and follow her,
When from every hill of flame
She calls and calls each vagabond by name.

The House By The Side Of The Road, Sam Walter Foss

"He was a friend to man, and he lived
In a house by the side of the road." - Homer

There are hermit souls that live withdrawn
In the place of their self-content;
There are souls like stars, that dwell apart,
In a fellowless firmament;
There are pioneer souls that blaze their paths
Where highways never ran-
But let me live by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.

Let me live in a house by the side of the road,
Where the race of men go by-
The men who are good and the men who are bad,
As good and bad as I.
I would not sit in the scorner's seat,
Or hurl the cynic's ban-
Let me live in a house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.

I see from my house by the side of the road,
By the side of the highway of life,
The men who press with the ardor of hope,
The men who are faint with strife.
But I turn not away from their smiles nor their tears,
Both parts of an infinite plan-
Let me live in a house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.

I know there are brook-gladdened meadows ahead
And mountains of wearisome height;
That the road passes on through the long afternoon
And stretches away to the night.
But still I rejoice hen the travelers rejoice,
And weep with the strangers that moan,
Nor live in my house by the side of the road
Like a man who dwells alone.

Let me live in my house by the side of the road-
It's here the race of men go by.
They are good, they are bad, they are weak, they are strong,
Wise, foolish - so am I;
Then why should I sit in the scorner's seat,
Or hurl the cynic's ban?
Let me live in my house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.

Thanatopsis, by William Cullen Bryant

(I've been reading a selection of poetry recently and just stumbled across this one. I like it a lot.)

To him who in the love of Nature holds
Communion with her visible forms, she speaks
A various language; for his grayer hours
She has a voice of gladness, and a smile
And eloquence of beauty, and she glides
Into his darker musings, with a mild
And healing sympathy, that steals away
Their sharpness, ere he is aware. When thoughts
Of the last bitter hour come like a blight
Over thy spirit, and sad images
Of the stern agony, and shroud, and pall,
And breathless darkness, and the narrow house,
Make thee to shudder and grow sick at heart;-
Go forth, under the open sky, and list
To Nature's teachings, while from all around-
Earth and her waters, and the depths of air-
Comes a still voice- Yet a few days, and thee
The all-beholding sun shall see no more
In all his course; nor yet in the cold ground,
Where thy pale form was laid with many tears,
Nor in the embrace of ocean, shall exist
Thy image. Earth, that nourish'd thee, shall claim
Thy growth, to be resolved to earth again,
And, lost each human trace, surrendering up
Thine individual being, shalt thou go
To mix for ever with the elements,
To be a brother to the insensible rock,
And to the sluggish clod, which the rude swain
Turns with his share, and treads upon. The oak
Shall send his roots abroad, and pierce thy mould.

Yet not to thine eternal resting-place
Shalt thou retire alone, nor couldst thou wish
Couch more magnificent. Thou shalt lie down
With patriarchs of the infant world - with kings,
The powerful of the earth - the wise, the good,
Fair forms, and hoary seers of ages past,
All in one mighty sepulchre. The hills
Rock-ribb'd and ancient as the sun,- the vales
Stretching in pensive quietness between;
The venerable woods; rivers that move
In majesty, and the complaining brooks
That make the meadows green; and, pour'd round all,
Old Ocean's grey and melancholy waste,-
Are but the solemn decorations all
Of the great tomb of man. The golden sun,
The planets, all the infinite host of heaven,
Are shining on the sad abodes of death,
Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread
The globe are but a handful to the tribes
That slumber in its bosom.- Take the wings
Of morning, pierce the Barcan wilderness,
Or lose thyself in the continuous woods
Where rolls the Oregon and hears no sound
Save his own dashings - yet the dead are there:
And millions in those solitudes, since first
The flight of years began, have laid them down
In their last sleep - the dead reign there alone.
So shalt thou rest: and what if thou withdraw
In silence from the living, and no friend
Take note of thy departure? All that breathe
Will share thy destiny. The gay will laugh
When thou art gone, the solemn brood of care
Plod on, and each one as before will chase
His favourite phantom; yet all these shall leave
Their mirth and their employments, and shall come
And make their bed with thee. As the long train
Of ages glide away, the sons of men,
The youth in life's green spring, and he who goes
In the full strength of years, matron and maid,
The speechless babe, and the grey-headed man-
Shall one by one be gathered to thy side
By those who in their turn shall follow them.

So live, that when thy summons comes to join
The innumerable caravan which moves
To that mysterious realm where each shall take
His chamber in the silent halls of death,
Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night,
Scourged to his dungeon; but, sustain'd and soothed
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave,
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.

Last Graffiti Pics

More Graffiti Town Pics

Graffiti Town

The students and faculty at a local art school in my city painted their town. Literally. The equivalent of probably three or four city blocks in the US is covered with their graffiti art. Check out the pics - it's pretty awesome.

Funny Cultural Moment

Yesterday Talia and I climbed a mountain in our city. A friend told us where to find a smaller, less traveled path in order to escape the Asian crowds and stair-climbing. The path hosted more people than expected, and it order to stay ahead of the traditional folk song singing crowd, we hiked at a rapid pace. It was typically hot and we did not start climbing until almost 11:30am, so needless to say, we were drenched in sweat. By accident, we ended up on a random path that brought us to the top by way of trash heap.

All of this made for hilarious cultural moment when the two of us popped out of the trash heap, onto the road, and into two very surprised Asian men on a moped tour of the mountain. They stopped immediately, stared, and pointed at us. We had just broken every cultural norm, two big ones in particular: women don't sweat and no one strays from the concrete staircase when climbing mountains. We blinked at each other for more than a few moments before trying to communicate, both sides holding back the mirth of being either on giving or receiving end of laughter. Eventually they drove on a little way and Talia and I tried to figure out our surroundings. We wanted to find a quiet tea house in which to take a break, but did not immediately see one. Eventually, we saw our moped friends sitting at a table at the bottom of a hill waving at us to come join them. We sat with them for a while as they sipped tea and we chugged our water, both parties chewing on some local snacks made of peanuts and sugar. We still wanted to find a tea house, so Talia and I decided to move on.

But of course, the meeting could not end without the typical request by the men to take pictures with us foreigners. We agreed and cell phone cameras were whipped out. I can't imagine what those pictures look like considering I noticed upon standing up that we left wet butt prints on our seats from the sweat. And I can't imagine what they told their friends about us as the proudly displayed their pictures. I head something to the effect of, "Foreign women are so strange. They like to walk through the woods to be eaten by mosquitoes and look at the trash. Didn't they know they could have walked up the stairs to see a beautiful view? They have blue eyes and yellow hair, just like the movies, but they sweat just like men! It would be better if they tried to look more beautiful."

Blindness

"There are a whole lot of people who are blindly stumbling their way through life. But their blindness is made even more powerful and dangerous by the fact that they tend to be blind to their blindness. A physically blind person is never blind to his blindness. He's immediately confronted with the fact that he's unable to see, and he gives himself a whole catalog of ways to live inside the boundaries set by this profound physical deficiency. The scary reality is that one of the things that keeps spiritually blind people blind is that they're not only convinced they see, but they're also convinced that they see quite well! And so they don't seek help for their blindness. Why seek help for a condition from which you are convinced you don't suffer?

So, whenever you encounter a person who sees himself - or herself with precision, clarity, and accuracy, you know for sure that grace has visited that individual. It's only God's grace that can enable blind eyes to see, and it's only God's grace that can produce in us the willingness to accept what we've seen." - Paul David Tripp

"I can't even judge myself. Only the Lord can say, 'Well done.'" - Sara Groves

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the past few years, but particularly this last one, I have started to realize just how dependent I am on the Father's grace, particularly when it comes to seeing my sin. I used to think by default that grace was needed in the act of repentance and the process of change. And of course it is, but how can I know of what to repent or in what direction to change if I cannot truly see what is in my own heart?

The students I know in Asia have particularly revealed this to me because as we talk about sin in their lives, I am forced to wonder about sin in my own life. It is easy to think of common answers to the question, "What do you repent of?" But it is much more difficult to see what is deep in my soul causing fights with roommates, an unwillingness to be honest, fear of man, selfishness. Even in times of reflection and quiet, I find myself simply asking God to reveal my sin to me so I can repent. I know something is wrong, I feel it is wrong in my soul, but I can't see or name it. I cannot create holiness in myself because I am blind to what is unholy about me in the first place.

There is peace in Sara Groves' words "I can't even judge myself. Only the Lord can say, 'Well done.'" It is impossible for me to live by my own standards with open eyes - I'm blind to failings against my own personal code of life. No amount of endless navel-gazing could reveal to me my shortcomings. I can't fully know the recesses of my mind, my heart, my soul. Resting in the Father's grace starts at the most basic level of trusting he knows me better even than I know myself. He is my Creator and my Sustainer whose mercy opens my eyes to areas of sin. Because he knows me, I can know myself. Because he reveals sin, I can repent. Because he has a plan, I can know in what direction to change. I can't judge myself, but rather hold on to the guiding hand of the One who sees and knows all things as he slowly opens my eyes from a sleeping blindness to a glorified wakefulness.

Two Worlds

I LOVE this billboard. It's a convergence of my two languages and worlds. Maybe one day Spanish will be in the mix, too! ;-p

Contrast

I just wrapped copies of C.S. Lewis' Mere Christianity in Hello Kitty paper for friends who will seriously enjoy both. What a funny version of femininity. Guess what continent I'm currently on? ;-)

Whoa, Free Boat Ride For 3!

This is a shout out to Sarah and Chris who woke up this morning and found themselves capable of singing this song - while floating on their bed in a flooded apartment.

Love you lots, girl, and just wanted to see if you're still into your RSS feed thingy. ;-P

I Will Sing

"I will sing for the meek
For those who pray with their very lives for peace
Though they're in chains for a higher call
Their mourning will change into laughter when the nations fall

In spirit poor
In mercy rich
They hunger for Your righteousness
Their hearts refined into purity
Lord let me shine for them
Lord let me sing
Lord let me shine for them
Lord let me sing"

Sometimes I wonder how I ended up over here. But then I hear this song and remember my mom singing it at the top of her lungs along with Rich Mullins' voice coming through the stereo on any given day of my childhood. I am realizing more and more how much my parents shaped who I am and how I've carried on and out their values and beliefs. Listen to the song by clicking on the link below. It's beautiful. And remember to lift up your brothers and sisters around the world.

http://www.rhapsody.com/rich-mullins/never-picture-perfect/i-will-sing/lyrics.html

Why I Value The Traditional Church

I was riding home on a packed bus late one night last week. Bus rides are sometimes a battle against discouragement for me. The vast sea of lost humanity is shoved in my face as I pass sky rise after sky rise and the endless ebb and flow of people keeping traffic moving on the streets. There are just so many people and so few of them know their Maker. There are days when the reality of this city's brokenness seems distant and the hilarity of the bus brings me bubbling joy; but there are other days when poverty, physical disability and pain, perversion, arrogance, anger and temper, and so much more seem overwhelming. And in these times, I find myself crying out from the depths of my heart, wondering if such reality can ever actually change. I sit with people and talk all day, every day of the week, about an alternate Reality which can, does, and eventually completely will change life as we know it, but sometimes when I'm smashed up against the weight of sin on the public bus, that Reality can seem so far away and distant.

So last week, I put on my ipod to tune out everything around me. As I shuffled around, I came to a song by Rich Mullins called Creed and it reminded me why I deeply appreciate the centuries old church traditions. It makes me really sad when I hear people bash the traditions because they give me so much hope and joy. Mullins' singing of the Apostles' Creed reminds me that people have believed this crazy old story of a Reality with the power to change life for centuries, and they haven't just believed it, but these ancient generations have stood and died by it.

And yet, it's not just the ancients whose voices we hear in the traditions of the church. Mullins adds a chorus which declares:
"And I believe what I believe
Is what makes me what I am
I did not make it, no it is making me
It is the very truth of God and not
The invention of any man"
By adding his own voice to the ancient words, he shows that this truth is not stagnant, but alive. He acknowledges the Truth makes him, rather than the opposite, but in doing so, he adds a contemporary voice and perspective to the wisdom of the ancients. What we believe is for all time and all people, shaping us, but allowing us to add our current experiences and discoveries to the story. Man does not create it, but man does live it and express it according to every generation's needs and yearnings.
I might be isolated in a random dark part of Asia, but the voices of the saints throughout time encourage me through that which they have left behind in their creeds. I can listen to their passion and desperate hope and know that I am not alone. The traditions and creeds of the church are the way in which I participate in something older and bigger than me. And that's often exactly what I need in the midst of life over here. When I'm in the middle of millions of people who don't know of, understand, or care about the call of eternity, I want and need something to remind that the Kingdom is alive and persevering. What better way to remember this than to hear the ageless cheering voices of my brothers and sisters and to stand with them in our timeless declaration of what was and is and is to come?

My Awesome Playlist From Last Year That I Just Rediscovered... I Promise It Won't Disappoint!

1. Meditation From "Thais" (Featuring Lang Lang) - Lucia Micarelli
2. La Valse D'Amelie (piano version) - Amelie Soundtrack
3. Tryin' To Throw Your Arms Around The World - U2
4. Come Away With Me - Norah Jones
5. Sur Le Fil - Amelie
6. Blood On Our Hands - Aqualung
7. At Last - Etta James
8. Ever the Same - Rob Thomas
9. Unchained Melody - Righteous Brothers
10. Let It Die - Feist
11. You Can Have It All - Yo La Tengo
12. Baby That's Not All - Josh Ritter
13. Save The Last Dance For Me - Harry Nilsson & John Lennon
14. You're Beautiful - James Blunt
15. Our Love is Here to Stay - Ella Fitzgerald & Louis Armstrong
16. You Don't Know Me - Jann Arden
17. Comtine D'un Autre Ete: L'apres Midi - Amelie Soundtrack
18. Under My Skin - Frank Sinatra
19. Love Is In The Air - John Paul Young
20. Tears Are In Your Eyes - Yo La Tengo
21. Come Fly With Me - Michael Buble
22. Questions - Jack Johnson
23. Samson - Regina Spektor
24. The Way You Look Tonight - Tony Bennett
25. Loving You - Elvis Presley
26. Le Moulin - Amelie Sountrack
27. Please Forgive Me - David Gray

100 Best Novels

So, I really like lists and recently got into top 100 books lists. I still haven't found any that are satisfactory, but here are two of my favorites.

X - I've read it
* - I want to read it
**- I really want to read it!

BBC's Readers' List:

1. The Lord of the Rings, JRR Tolkien - X
2. Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen - X
3. His Dark Materials, Philip Pullman
4. The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, Douglas Adams - X
5. Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, JK Rowling
6. To Kill a Mockingbird, Harper Lee *
7. Winnie the Pooh, AA Milne - X
8. Nineteen Eighty-Four, George Orwell - X
9. The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, CS Lewis - X
10. Jane Eyre, Charlotte Brontë - X
11. Catch-22, Joseph Heller - **
12. Wuthering Heights, Emily Brontë - X
13. Birdsong, Sebastian Faulks
14. Rebecca, Daphne du Maurier - **
15. The Catcher in the Rye, JD Salinger
16. The Wind in the Willows, Kenneth Grahame
17. Great Expectations, Charles Dickens - Read half and couldn't get through the rest!
18. Little Women, Louisa May Alcott - X
19. Captain Corelli's Mandolin, Louis de Bernieres
20. War and Peace, Leo Tolstoy - *
21. Gone with the Wind, Margaret Mitchell - *
22. Harry Potter And The Philosopher's Stone, JK Rowling
23. Harry Potter And The Chamber Of Secrets, JK Rowling
24. Harry Potter And The Prisoner Of Azkaban, JK Rowling
25. The Hobbit, JRR Tolkien - X
26. Tess Of The D'Urbervilles, Thomas Hardy
27. Middlemarch, George Eliot - *
28. A Prayer For Owen Meany, John Irving
29. The Grapes Of Wrath, John Steinbeck - X
30. Alice's Adventures In Wonderland, Lewis Carroll - X
31. The Story Of Tracy Beaker, Jacqueline Wilson
32. One Hundred Years Of Solitude, Gabriel García Márquez - *
33. The Pillars Of The Earth, Ken Follett
34. David Copperfield, Charles Dickens
35. Charlie And The Chocolate Factory, Roald Dahl
36. Treasure Island, Robert Louis Stevenson
37. A Town Like Alice, Nevil Shute
38. Persuasion, Jane Austen - X
39. Dune, Frank Herbert - **
40. Emma, Jane Austen - X
41. Anne Of Green Gables, LM Montgomery - X
42. Watership Down, Richard Adams - Read half and forgot to finish, but I really liked it
43. The Great Gatsby, F Scott Fitzgerald - X
44. The Count Of Monte Cristo, Alexandre Dumas - **
45. Brideshead Revisited, Evelyn Waugh
46. Animal Farm, George Orwell
47. A Christmas Carol, Charles Dickens
48. Far From The Madding Crowd, Thomas Hardy
49. Goodnight Mister Tom, Michelle Magorian
50. The Shell Seekers, Rosamunde Pilcher
51. The Secret Garden, Frances Hodgson Burnett
52. Of Mice And Men, John Steinbeck
53. The Stand, Stephen King
54. Anna Karenina, Leo Tolstoy - X
55. A Suitable Boy, Vikram Seth
56. The BFG, Roald Dahl
57. Swallows And Amazons, Arthur Ransome
58. Black Beauty, Anna Sewell
59. Artemis Fowl, Eoin Colfer
60. Crime And Punishment, Fyodor Dostoyevsky - X
61. Noughts And Crosses, Malorie Blackman
62. Memoirs Of A Geisha, Arthur Golden
63. A Tale Of Two Cities, Charles Dickens - X
64. The Thorn Birds, Colleen McCollough
65. Mort, Terry Pratchett
66. The Magic Faraway Tree, Enid Blyton
67. The Magus, John Fowles
68. Good Omens, Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman
69. Guards! Guards!, Terry Pratchett
70. Lord Of The Flies, William Golding
71. Perfume, Patrick Süskind
72. The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists, Robert Tressell
73. Night Watch, Terry Pratchett
74. Matilda, Roald Dahl
75. Bridget Jones's Diary, Helen Fielding
76. The Secret History, Donna Tartt
77. The Woman In White, Wilkie Collins - X (Why in the world is this one on here???)
78. Ulysses, James Joyce
79. Bleak House, Charles Dickens
80. Double Act, Jacqueline Wilson
81. The Twits, Roald Dahl
82. I Capture The Castle, Dodie Smith
83. Holes, Louis Sachar - X
84. Gormenghast, Mervyn Peake
85. The God Of Small Things, Arundhati Roy
86. Vicky Angel, Jacqueline Wilson
87. Brave New World, Aldous Huxley - X
88. Cold Comfort Farm, Stella Gibbons
89. Magician, Raymond E Feist
90. On The Road, Jack Kerouac
91. The Godfather, Mario Puzo
92. The Clan Of The Cave Bear, Jean M Auel
93. The Colour Of Magic, Terry Pratchett
94. The Alchemist, Paulo Coelho
95. Katherine, Anya Seton
96. Kane And Abel, Jeffrey Archer
97. Love In The Time Of Cholera, Gabriel García Márquez
98. Girls In Love, Jacqueline Wilson
99. The Princess Diaries, Meg Cabot
100. Midnight's Children, Salman Rushdie

Radcliffe Top 100:

1. The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald - X
2. The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger
3. The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck - X
4. To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee - *
5. The Color Purple by Alice Walker
6. Ulysses by James Joyce
7. Beloved by Toni Morrison - **
8. The Lord of the Flies by William Golding
9. 1984 by George Orwell - X
10. The Sound and the Fury by William Faulkner - X
11. Lolita by Vladmir Nabokov
12. Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck
13. Charlotte's Web by E.B. White
14. A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man by James Joyce
15. Catch-22 by Joseph Heller - **
16. Brave New World by Aldous Huxley - X
17. Animal Farm by George Orwell
18. The Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemingway
19. As I Lay Dying by William Faulkner
20. A Farewell to Arms by Ernest Hemingway
21. Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad
22. Winnie-the-Pooh by A.A. Milne - X
23. Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston - *
24. Invisible Man by Ralph Ellison
25. Song of Solomon by Toni Morrison - *
26. Gone with the Wind by Margaret Mitchell - *
27. Native Son by Richard Wright
28. One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest by Ken Kesey
29. Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut
30. For Whom the Bell Tolls by Ernest Hemingway
31. On the Road by Jack Kerouac
32. The Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemingway
33. The Call of the Wild by Jack London
34. To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf - *
35. Portrait of a Lady by Henry James - *
36. Go Tell it on the Mountain by James Baldwin
37. The World According to Garp by John Irving
38. All the King's Men by Robert Penn Warren - *
39. A Room with a View by E.M. Forster - X
40. The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien - X
41. Schindler's List by Thomas Keneally - *
42. The Age of Innocence by Edith Wharton
43. The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand - X
44. Finnegans Wake by James Joyce
45. The Jungle by Upton Sinclair - *
46. Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf - **
47. The Wonderful Wizard of Oz by L. Frank Baum - **
48. Lady Chatterley's Lover by D.H. Lawrence
49. A Clockwork Orange by Anthony Burgess
50. The Awakening by Kate Chopin
51. My Antonia by Willa Cather - X
52. Howards End by E.M. Forster - X
53. In Cold Blood by Truman Capote
54. Franny and Zooey by J.D. Salinger - **
55. The Satanic Verses by Salman Rushdie
56. Jazz by Toni Morrison - *
57. Sophie's Choice by William Styron - *
58. Absalom, Absalom! by William Faulkner
59. A Passage to India by E.M. Forster - **
60. Ethan Frome by Edith Wharton
61. A Good Man Is Hard to Find by Flannery O'Connor - *
62. Tender Is the Night by F. Scott Fitzgerald
63. Orlando by Virginia Woolf
64. Sons and Lovers by D.H. Lawrence
65. Bonfire of the Vanities by Tom Wolfe
66. Cat's Cradle by Kurt Vonnegut
67. A Separate Peace by John Knowles
68. Light in August by William Faulkner
69. The Wings of the Dove by Henry James
70. Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe - X
71. Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier - *
72. A Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams - X
73. Naked Lunch by William S. Burroughs
74. Brideshead Revisited by Evelyn Waugh
75. Women in Love by D.H. Lawrence
76. Look Homeward, Angel by Thomas Wolfe
77. In Our Time by Ernest Hemingway
78. The Autobiography of Alice B. Tokias by Gertrude Stein
79. The Maltese Falcon by Dashiell Hammett - *
80. The Naked and the Dead by Norman Mailer
81. Wide Sargasso Sea by Jean Rhys
82. White Noise by Don DeLillo
83. O Pioneers! by Willa Cather - **
84. Tropic of Cancer by Henry Miller
85. The War of the Worlds by H.G. Wells
86. Lord Jim by Joseph Conrad
87. The Bostonians by Henry James
88. An American Tragedy by Theodore Dreiser
89. Death Comes for the Archbishop by Willa Cather
90. The Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Grahame
91. This Side of Paradise by F. Scott Fitzgerald
92. Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand
93. The French Lieutenant's Woman by John Fowles
94. Babbitt by Sinclair Lewis
95. Kim by Rudyard Kipling - *
96. The Beautiful and the Damned by F. Scott Fitzgerald
97. Rabbit, Run by John Updike
98. Where Angels Fear to Tread by E.M. Forster
99. Main Street by Sinclair Lewis
100. Midnight's Children by Salman Rushdie

Wow, A Clear Day

I'm realizing just how bad the pollution in my city really is. Yesterday and today have been exceptionally clear and after almost 9 months of living here, I suddenly a) realized how close those big mountains are to my neighborhood, b) can see a tunnel in the hill just up the road, c) have a view of the downtown skyscrapers from the other side of the building. Crazy.

Technological Dislike and Responsibility

I tend to dislike technology. It's not that I begrudge the benefits it brings me, but rather I strongly disdain the feeling of being weighed down by it. It so often feels like a leash - one more thing to look after, to be responsible for, to be beholden to. It is expensive, easily stolen, and much to consuming. Most of all, I just don't "get it," failing to understand it despite the endless tutorials and lessons given me by those who do. As a result, I tend to be sloppy and careless with my digital 东西.

Last night, my hard drive crashed and burned. Luckily, I am laid back enough about this sort of stuff, that there were no tears or cussing, despite not having backed up since January. Some things are gone, true, but there is this part of me that almost feels freedom in knowing I am ruled by my computer. There's a kind of messed up pride in me that almost feels proud that I can be so unconquered by the pictures, music, emails, documents, whatever which has been lost.

But today, I started to think the whole situation through, and I realized this is not actually something to feel so unaffected by. Maybe it's true that there is no use in shedding tears over spilled milk; what's done is done. In the end, however, I've concluded that this is actually nothing other than a sign of immaturity and irresponsibility. Maybe I don't want to feel tied down by the things I posses, but if I truly desire this, then I shouldn't posses them in the first place. If I am going to invest money into something which I believe will enhance my life, then I must be faithful to care for it. Maybe I truly don't like the constant up keep and maintenance, but that is part of the deal.

It's been a good lesson in how you can have two opposing opinions or convictions and be completely unaware of it. In addition to my dislike of technology, I have a strong dislike of "throw away" culture. I live in a country where everything from buildings to text books are designed, manufactured, and sold as dispensable - use it while it's convenient and then move on. What is really different from this and my careless attitude toward the computers, phones, cars, ipods, etc. that I have owned? Maybe I make the excuse that is stems from my desire not to be leashed, but really, in the end, it's just an immature and irresponsible way of disregarding the idea of stewardship.

Check Out My Friend Eugene!

My friend Eugene just cut his first EP! It's really awesome! Check his stuff out at http://www.myspace.com/eugeneleesings or http://cdbaby.com/cd/eugenelee.

Heroes

A common question I ask students over here is "Who is your hero?" Of course, they usually return the question, so I've actually had to decide who my heroes really are. Here is what I've come up with:

1. C.S. Lewis
2. Hans and Sophie Scholl
3. My parents
4. Congressman Christopher Smith (NJ-4)
5. Rich Mullins
6. The Apostle Paul

The World United By Street Music - I Wouldn't Complain

This made my heart really happy. I've always loved this song and appreciated street musicians. "If this video doesn't bring a tear to your eyes and makes you smile for the rest of the day, you are a cold hearted bastard."

http://gizmodo.com/5231112/best-video-ive-seen-today-will-make-you-smile

Martyrs and Thieves

There's a place in the darkness that I used to cling to
That presses harsh hope against time.
In the absence of martyrs there's a presence of thieves
Who only want to rob you blind.
They steal away any sense of peace.
Tho' I'm a king I'm a king on my knees.
And I know they are wrong when they say I am strong
As the darkness covers me.

So turn on the light and reveal all the glory.
I am not afraid.
To bear all my weakness, knowing in meekness,
I have a kingdom to gain.
Where there is peace and love in the light
In the light, I am not afraid
To let your light shine bright in my life, in my life

There are ghosts from my past who've owned more of my soul
Than I thought I had given away.
They linger in closets and under my bed
And in pictures less proudly displayed.
A great fool in my life I have been
Have squandered 'til pallid and thin.
Hung my head in shame and refused to take blame
For the darkness I know I've let win.

So turn on the light and reveal all the glory.
I am not afraid
To bear all my weakness, knowing in meekness,
I have a kingdom to gain.
Where there is peace and love in the light
In the light , I am not afraid
To let your light shine bright in my life, in my life

Can you hear me?
Can you hear me?

I've never been much for the bearing of soul
In the presence of any man.
I'd rather keep to myself all safe and secure
In the arms of a sinner I am.
Could it be that my worth should depend
By the crimson stained grace on a hand?
And like a lamp on a hill Lord I pray in your will
To reveal all of you that I can.

So turn on the light and reveal all the glory.
I am not afraid.
To bear all my weakness, knowing in meekness,
I have a kingdom to gain.
Where there is peace and love in the light
In the light , I am not afraid
To let your light shine bright in my life, in my life

There's a place in the darkness that I used to cling to
That presses harsh hope against time.
- Jennifer Knapp

The Orphans

I'm not sure how to start explaining the orphanage. We took an old ferry across the river and disembarked into a dirtier, poorer world than even the one I usually experience in my city. I walked up the hill and around the bend surrounded by ducks, chickens, roosters, and dilapidated buildings. As we passed through the gate, I could see a brightly colored large play-set and was relieved to think the children were better cared for than I expected. We tried to see the infants and toddlers first, but were told they were sleeping. So we left the first building and my idea about the children receiving good care vanished.

We walked around back of the first building to the second. This other building was painted red and yellow, except for half of the top floor. It was painted white and metal bars enclosed all of the windows and balcony. From it, three or four older children flung their arms about wildly as they shouted unintelligible welcomes. All of these children suffered from Downs or cerebral palsy, among other ailments. These were the "other" children, tucked away from sight and contact. We passed through the metal gate which barred them into five rooms. Their ages ranged from infancy to about fourteen. One infant had severe brain damage and had recently started having seizures. His eyes rolled back and forth as he remained unresponsive when held. All of the children just wanted to be held and touched, even the shy older boys eventually warmed up. All of the children had dry snot crusted to their faces. A two year old boy from this part of the orphanage died last month. His short life was spent tied to a toilet-chair because there were not enough workers or diapers to meet his needs. Others are spending the entirety of their developmental years in this same predicament, including the little boy with seizures.

Two rays of sunlight shine in this section of the orphanage. The first is a fourteen year old girl with severe cerebral palsy who knows the Son. Someone once shared with her and she believes. Now it is her mission to love every child she lives with. I am often prone to exaggeration, but I have never met someone like her. She has a difficult time speaking herself, but she works to translate for the other children, putting their grunts and groans into words. She has started to learn sign language so she can translate for the deaf girl. Her hands struggle to move as she wills, but she desires to serve her friend and trains them to speak a language none of the workers know, even with their motor skills fully intact. She is the mother for the five rooms of children and the Son is with her. His hand is upon her life and He uses her to make the warmth of His heart felt amongst the cold darkness within the metal bars.

The second light is a young woman from the city who has come to serve these children with education. Special needs education is unheard of in this country, but she felt a burden for this kind of work and found a pioneering couple in the city who could train her. The children love her and she loves them. She given up money, comfort, and the approval of others in order to engage these children's minds. Her love for the Lord radiates through her as she holds the children, listening to their stories, giving the attention for which they starve.

After we sat with these children, we ate lunch and then went to work cleaning a room full of physical therapy equipment. A large room full of good and useful things to aid the children sits unused since there are so few people to help the children, and of those, most do not understand how to help the children train their muscles with the equipment. The windows were left open in the room and a layer of soot from the city's pollution coated the play mats, exercise tables, cribs, etc. We swept and then mopped three times before the floors started to look clean. The orphanage has a wealth of equipment, but a poverty of people and so the room is left mostly untouched.

The day was almost finished, but first we returned to the infants and toddlers who reside in the nicer, first building. These children at least have the possibility of adoption being deemed more acceptable and less handicapped. I expected to find happy and content children who do not feel immediate need. I was mistaken. We set foot inside their rooms and were immediately surrounded by about fifteen toddlers who were all desperate to be touched, starved for attention. Some of them were soon wound up with energy. People! People who will throw us in the air, tickle us, and play games! Others were quiet and content to simply lie in our laps being touched and held.

Even though most of these children are not severely handicapped, I realized they are not all well. One precious little boy was sitting in a pile of blankets in a box. I laughed and commented on how cute he was and then someone told me he probably cannot walk and this is a way for him to get out of his crib when there is no one to care for him. The only infant in the room is sound asleep. He has a heart problem and therefore no one will adopt him - only perfect babies find a home. I found one little girl who seemed about two years old and looked forlorn. She let me pick her up easily, but would not look me in the face when I did so. I tried to make her laugh, pet her hair, hugged her, but she was despondent. Holding her, I sat down with the others among the rows of cribs and held her for a long time, stroking her hair, her hand. I believed she was content to sit with me and she even snuggled a little closer to me, but I never witnessed emotion in her face.

Maybe these are the "acceptable" children, but they are suffering from their own brokenness. They too are neglected and there are barriers beyond the physical which prevent them from receiving a home. Most of the children are girls, perfect and beautiful, but simply not the gender of their parents choosing. One little girl is particularly lovely and the woman who brought us to the orphanage lamented that her paperwork has not been released. Usually paperwork in order is all that such a lovely girl would need to find a home, but somehow it never seems to come together. And the older she gets, the harder it will be.

We left the orphanage and on the boat ride back across the river, I started talking about the day to my friend who took us. She has seen many horrible things within the orphanages in our city. Most of the orphanages are closed and secretive to foreigners, only putting the best foot forward when they do open up. But she has stumbled across things which can only be summed up as the implementation of survival of the fittest amongst the very weakest in society. She explains that maybe the worst of the atrocities are fading away, but the philosophy remains strong. Why would you provide good care for a child with cerebral palsy if she will never carry her own weight in society? Resources are limited, so limit those who will require use of the resources.

Forgive us, Father. Forgive us for our arrogance when we deny you and plan society on our own. Forgive us for treading on those in whom you delight. Forgive us our pride for assuming the weak are helpless, for forgetting that you are calling them to yourself as much as any of us. Forgive us, forgive us, forgive us.

Flying My Freak Flag

We've all got a freak flag. Mine is sometimes getting choked up by science. Yes it's true. Without a doubt, it's because I grew up in a physicist's household, but I don't understand why more people don't feel incredible awe at what we have discovered in the surrounding world. I especially can't understand those who have a relationship with the Creator of all and disregard or even disdain modern science. I just finished watching an hour long documentary that my dad gave me by the Discovery Institute on The Privileged Planet and while I don't think I could repeat back half of the ideas and scientific terminology discussed, I came away from the film with a heart of deep praise. The heavens declare his glory! All we see is fine tuned to reflect His wonder and point to something beyond us and I wish so badly that believers took more interest in the sciences. Modern science is not our enemy, but rather one of the greatest and most complex paths we can pursue to better understand the infinite beauty of the Creator. And so this is my freak flag - something I can't really claim to understand, but captivates my imagination.

Drowning Out the Sound of Our Demise

By no means am I a cultural expert, especially concerning the culture in which I currently live. But I do try to notice things and observe what exists around me. I struggle with this observation, though, because so often it turns to judgment and furthermore, I haven't decided for myself when it is or is not ok to judge a culture. Allowance for cultural variety and regard for higher morals or ideals do not easily compliment each other and I tend to fall off one side of the horse or the other. For now, my goal is simply to question. I can't come to conclusions and I can't pretend to understand the way people live around me, but I can pay attention and ask questions.

Since moving here, I have started to think about the ways in which people observe death and question whether we can gain insight into the spiritual health of a people through their customs for the passing away of life. It started last fall when I came across a funeral and wrote the following:

Death is a loud and noisy thing when it does not offer hope for eternity. When we do not acknowledge what is truly taking place – that a soul has left this world for the next, either to enjoy an eternity of satisfactory fulfillment and peace or to face eternal and excruciating separation from God – all of the ritual we produce is nothing more than empty, meaningless, destructive, sinister noise. All of the memories, all of grief, all of the talk are nothing more than smoke to cover the eyes of the living, satiating the screams inside them with clattering numbness.

Yesterday, I witnessed my first funeral in East Asia. The empty gaudiness of is made my soul sick. From what I’ve seen, funerals here are no time for meditation or reflection on life and its meaning. They are a time of loud and showy distraction from reality. In this society of disbelief in any higher deity, or for that matter, in any higher meaning, moral, or reality, death has been reduced to a crowded tent in the middle of the street, filled with neon lights, karaoke singers, and bored looking passers-by. Women put on make-up at a table and attempt to look grieved. Family shuffle through the music selection, picking songs that seem appropriate for the memory of the departed.

Christ said, “Blessed are those who mourn.” In this context, in this society, I take those words to mean, blessed are those capable of mourning. Humanity lives brokenness and thus to be fully human, we must know how to mourn it. If we don’t acknowledge our brokenness on any other given day of our lives, death, at least, is a time for our nature to slap us in the face. How wrong not to mourn when such a beating takes place! How can you declare with Paul, “Where, O Death, is your sting?” if you cannot feel death’s knife piercing your heart?

When a people are religious it at least enables them to realize what takes place in death; they are more fully human in their acknowledgment of the eternal and desire to touch the holy. The East Asians need something that is going to make them aware of their own human nature. A prick that will teach them to mourn this existence and to yearn for release from death’s sting. They need something that will force them to turn off the noise machines, to forgo the glittering lights, to leave behind the show, and to bleed with reality for once. To scream in the night for rescue as the noise of distraction is left behind and the heavy silence of eternity settles in their hearts. For no noise we frail humans create can drown out the roar of an eternity without God. But what is more, that awful roar of hell cannot overcome the glorious and surrounding chorus of Jesus Christ’s triumph. The crack of death’s back on Christ’s empty tomb is a deafening sound that echoes throughout time and space, even to the back alleys of my little neighborhood.

Let us pray that it is heard from our lips every time we open our mouths.

There's Nothing You Have That I Need

"16th of June, nine 0 five, door bell rings
Man at the door says if I want to stay alive a bit longer
There's a few things I need you to know. Three
Coming from a long line of traveling sales people on my mother's side
I wasn't gonna buy just anyone's cockatoo
So why would I invite a complete stranger into my home
Would you?
These days are better than that
These days are better than that
Every day I die again, and again I'm reborn
Every day I have to find the courage
To walk out into the street
With arms out
Got a love you can't defeat
Neither down or out
There's nothing you have that I need
I can breathe
Breathe now
16th of June, Chinese stocks are going up
And I'm coming down with some new Asian virus
Ju Ju man, Ju Ju man
Doc says you're fine, or dying
Please
Nine 0 nine, St John Divine, on the line, my pulse is fine
But I'm running down the road like loose electricity
While the band in my head plays a striptease
The roar that lies on the other side of silence
The forest fire that is fear so deny it
Walk out into the street
Sing your heart out
The people we meet
Will not be drowned out
There's nothing you have that I need
I can breathe
Breathe now
Yeah, yeah
We are people borne of sound
The songs are in our eyes
Gonna wear them like a crown
Walk out, into the sunburst street
Sing your heart out, sing my heart out
I've found grace inside a sound
I found grace, it's all that I found
And I can breathe
Breathe now"
- Breathe, by U2 (Thank you for this song, Bono!)

Droves of Filipino Women

Recently, I was traveling with my friend Sarah in Hong Kong. We were walking through Central on our way to ride the Peak Tram and we came across swaths of Filipino women sitting on pieces of newspaper in bus terminals, parks, and church steps. There were literally hundreds of them everywhere and we could not figure out what they were doing, especially since they were calmer, politer, and better dressed than prostitutes or the homeless tend to be and they seemed to have a strong sence of community amongst themselves as they read, played cards, or styled their hair. We researched it once we returned home and this is what we found. Yet another amazing situation of Asian distress which breaks my heart. After reading this, Hong Kong's sheen started to wear off a little and I realized that while Hong Kong's wealth may far exceed my city or other cities in this part of the world, it might not be too different from the rest conerning its inability to care for the weakest in society. Immigration is rough for all involved, but hardship doesn't have to be a done deal.

http://query.nytimes.com/gst/fullpage.html?res=9C0CE2D61F39F93BA1575BC0A966958260
http://ezinearticles.com/?Women-of-Faith---Hong-Kongs-Filipino-Domestic-Helpers&id=1868537

Fruit Stand Reality Check

I went to buy some apples from my regular fruit stand this afternoon and starting thinking about the physical difficulties I am facing here in Asia. My fruit seller has lazy eyes and decaying ears and I buy his fruit not because it is the best, but rather because the man stirs up compassion within me. I don't know what causes it or if it's really as bad as I think, but the edges of his ears are often black and wilting.

My heart often breaks as I think about the physical conditions of those living around me, but today I realized I am not too different from them. The harsh environment of this city created by both natural factors and the falleness of man is taking a toll on all of us whether it is my lungs, the fruit sellers ears, the grandma with no teeth bent over double, or the student with gray hairs. The lives of this city's citizens mirror the buildings surrounding them as they crumble under acid rain even as they are built.

My body often hurts here, but today's trip to the fruit stand was the beginning of peace and maybe even pride in the pain. I am starting to say, "It's ok" and bow my head because how can I expect to be different from the people I live with? They are in pain, too. Afterall, their ears decay. If the people I live with suffer, why shouldn't I? Of course I long for healing and am seeking medical assistance, but my soul is realizing that suffering alongside the residents of this crumbling city increases my love and pity for them.

Two months ago, I was convicted to pursue further indigenization and maybe this is it. I don't want to presume anything, but just maybe this is how my Father wants me to identify with this corner of the world.

A Prayer

My body is weak. Never before have I struggled to have energy and perseverance, but now the promise of my young years is proving to be a trick. Remind me that I do not have any rights, except the right to be your daughter. Nothing is owed me, yet you choose to love me tenderly. Let me know of your compassion even when breathing brings anxiety, and let me rest in the joy of a soul at peace in you eternally.

A Thousand Questions

I can't watch this short film without getting choked up, and maybe even crying. Since high school, I have wrestled with how to hold the beauty of this world and life in one hand and the destruction and despair we all witness in the other. I still don't have any great answers, but I am learning to keep an eye out for those who do. This movie strikes especially close to home because the longer I live in Asia, the more I become convinced that understanding the Creator's larger story of redemption is the only way to accept the majesty and horribleness of existence without succumbing to one or the other and furthermore, that once we understand the story, we are propelled into playing out the story, being given roles and purposes in the advancement of redemption.

50 Things I Like About My Current City

1. The view from my living room window seat
2. Porch nights with my roommate
3. Starbucks mugs are actually cute here
4. Reading ridiculous Asian fashion magazines while eating raisin zhou on slow mornings with Talia
5. Sitting on the little blue square of foam at the front of the party bus because all the seats are gone
6. Christmas parties with brothers and sisters
7. Watching the building under construction across the way get higher and higher every month - how tall will it be in the end anyways?
8. The blind erhu players downtown
9. Watching people do random stuff on their roofs
10. The fabric market in all its craziness
11. The bright lights downtown
12. The skittles building
13. Crazy taxi rides with the windows rolled down on a hot summer night
14. Yummy street food in my neighborhood
15. Carlsberg drafts at the beer garden
16. How quiet the tea house is (most of the time)
17. Pork strips at Asijen Ramen
18. The graffiti art neighborhood near the arts school
19. The red sparkle hot pot restaurant
20. McDonald's chocolate sundays
21. Looking at the city lights from my roof
22. The fresh produce market across the street
23. The lack of other foreigners
24. Cameron and Ben, some of the most awesome little kids
25. The foster kids I get to play with
26. Headwashes are brilliant and cheap
27. Being able to bring my own DVD to watch at the pedicure place
28. Hong Ya Dong - especially the pirate ship and sitting outside at the bar in nice weather
29. Bowling
30. It makes me happy that they have an ice skating rink, but it is a horrible rink, so I'm conflicted on this
31. Oh my gosh, how could I have forgotten about it until number thirty-one?? I LOVE the flower market!
32. The little gang of neighborhood girls who have become my friends
33. The daily surprise of never knowing what interesting thing has appeared in the square over night... especially when a circus comes through
34. The old ladies dance club
35. One song dance parties in the elevator
36. Back room DVD sales
37. Playing Russian roulette with every bottle of red wine I buy
38. Watching fireworks hit the building next store
39. 奶奶们
40. Flying kites at the point
41. Buying fresh mangos, bananas, and apples at the fruit stand
42. Cheap massages

Ok, so maybe I really can only think of 39 things, although I have been working on this list for five days. I will keep adding to it, though. I trust that eventually I will make fifty.