The Post-Xanga Revival

Compassion, Stewardship and Darkness

2012-01-26T12:59:00.001+08:00

God spoke the words compassion and stewardship into my life this morning at EMP. He spoke to me about zeal without his knowledge, apart from his will -- that is bad. I realize I have stumbled badly, even in this fast, when I spit fire without the Lord's flame on me.

My character was tested in several ways yesterday. In the most memorable instance, I met my former colleagues for lunch. One woman has changed. She has become even more confused in her heart. (Maybe how a colleague has treated her unjustly has affected her.) She could speak neither Cantonese nor English. She spoke that strange, capricious mixture of both. She was a reed swaying desultorily in the wind of life. No greater vision, purpose or meaning in her language. I had a difficult time speaking with her since I only speak Cantonese, or English, and not both at the same time. Ultimately, I chose to lay my English on her.

Her beliefs also challenged me. At a point in our conversation, like my friend earlier that week had done, she said to our mutual friend that my Cantonese was not very good. I jumped on that and told her not to say that discouraging word again. I speak Cantonese well. I told her that I would score well on the Cantonese IELTS if there were one. She neither knew me nor the nine years of my learning Cantonese in Hong Kong. In addition, I told her that she spoke English well. She did not believe me, unfortunately, and said hers was poor -- oh, the irony of her speaking only English to me and not permitting us to converse in Cantonese, which she permitted between our friend and her. For her troubles I changed my words and confirmed what she said: she did not speak English well. I played into the hand of the enemy and withdrew my encouragement and support.

I forgive her. And I forgive myself. It is OK for me not to be around her anymore. We were friends in a different season of life.

Ultimately, I voiced my discomfort in speaking with her, and I reminded them of the better meetings before this one. She said she was sorry for making me feel this way, but I knew she, like M earlier in the week, did not realize the extent to which those scourges -- discouragement and achievement -- have influenced her life. I hate those scourges, and I cry for God to stir up compassion in me to heal the afflicted. Break my heart for what breaks yours, Father. In my frank sharing with these people these days, I feel that I am just breaking hearts now.

These encounters are stressful and exhausting. They stir up the deep in my heart.

I just sensed the fear of being misunderstood in this woman, my friend L from last week, and all the people who speak that incomprehensible language of English and Cantonese. These people feel they can neither be loved nor understood. Creating a new, narrow language is their coping mechanism in the same way that in America, obesity is a coping mechanism. People under these lies further marginalize themselves by creating a spoken language that even fewer people can understand. In contrast, people speak a common language so more people can understand them. Likewise, not speaking at all has the same effect as creating a new, narrow language. Not giving an interlocutor a choice because of fear that the interlocutor would not understand otherwise is a symptom of the same lie -- indeed, this selfish behavior does not consider the interlocutor's ability and skills to make meaning. People who live without this lie can speak a language plainly, clearly and be confident that the interlocutor can respond in an appropriate way if the interlocutor does not understand.

Anyway, I need lay down and humble myself all the more. I do not have the answers. I am not righteous apart from God. And I am not much of a judge when these standards are applied to my own heart and actions. May God lead me in stewarding well the mind and heart he has given me. May these be soft to receive and to provide love in a way that people can understand.

More Visions

2012-01-26T12:57:00.001+08:00

God reminded me of his part in my decision making. He imparted his wisdom to me. Decisions are no until God says clearly yes. And I pursue righteousness not by works but by faith.

I was running the race in my lane. Fog covered the lane, the entire track, in fact.

Do not sell yourself short in a work. I am worth much more than that. You hunger for something more. For "Jacob I loved but Esau I hated."

What happened yesterday was matter of trust. I have trouble trusting God about his preparing me and my spouse to be together. And then I realize that I have an even more difficult time trusting that God is preparing me to be a super husband and father!

As I was walking down the hill this afternoon, I realized I do not know how to love people in a way they can understand. That was a humbling revelation. I wanted to cry.

God then spoke to me. He gave me the word, renewal. I am entering into a season of renewal. My mind is being renewed to be like that of Christ. My heart is being softened. Compassion and stewardship are returning to my life. Praise God.

In sum, a lot of breakthrough during this fast. God moved the prophetic spirit in me by visions and words of knowledge. People were blessed and encouraged. The first two weeks were a smooth, connecting flight with my father. The last week was rough. I was difficult, and placed my desires ahead of my relationship with God. (I realize now how much pleasure I get from these things.) Yet, I am being renewed. Praise God.

Finally, one vision after the fast: I have mulled over "pulling the trigger" in my relationships with girls so that, at last, I will select one. As I was walking down the hill (I am always walking down hills, aren't I?) I saw my hands clasped on a revolver, my finger on the trigger. And then I saw Jesus behind me, his arms stretched beside mine, his hands holding mine, his finger on this trigger. I only need to let the Lord help me to aim, and to pull the trigger. He will help me to select. I can trust him that with him, my aim will be true and straight. I will select the right girl for this season in my life.

Mizuno Fat Choy Run 2012

2012-01-26T12:44:00.003+08:00

I woke up this morning feeling as if I prefered a warm bed to a cold run. I was unexpectedly tired, and cold too. I checked the temperature: 45 degrees. That was an unfamiliar, extremely cold temperature, and it reinforced my fatigue. I did not know how my body would hold up in this weather. So srew the homefield advantage, I mumbled to myself, I am going back to bed. Into bed I climbed. Thankfully, however, no sooner did I do this than the ease of participating in this event weighed all the more heavily in my mind. I knew the route, and the distance to the venue was short. In spite of my grogginess, couldn't I just treat the race as a tempo run? I hopped out of bed.

I drank fast a cold can of Nestea coffee. I then began the slow ascent to the Peak. At 3.5 kilometers, this would I would be to a race venue all year. But my warmup to get there would be the hardest. I wondered if I would have anything left in the tank after running uphill for 3.5 kilometers. At least I knew I wouldn't be freezing after such a warmup!

At the Peak, I quickly got my kit and headed into the mall to change. As always, my body wanted to drop all its deuces and thankfully, God provided yet another clean, mall toilet for me to do so. That was good -- although I wonder how my body will react, and how God will supply when I have to run a half-marathon in the early morning in a week and a half. Please no poop!

Since the weather was so fierce, the crush at the line only began ten minutes before the start. My knees were shaking. I felt the chill in the air and in the wind. The people beside me helped only to a degree, maybe one or two degrees Fahrenheit. I longed for the gun to go off.

In spite of the wet road and cold temperatures, this race was fast because of the pacemakers. For the first half of the race, I followed two familiar faces: the Postman and Choi Tat Ming. Later, I followed a CSD officer who had surpassed the Postman's pace. I followed this man through the narrow undulations on Lugard Road. He tired at first on the final hill. I saw my chance and sprinted by him. However, I grew complacent in my charge and did not complete it to the finish line. (Perhaps I would have had I both knew precisely where the line was and turned my head to check on the CSD officer.) When I let up slightly, 20 meters from the finish, although I had such strength to persevere, the CSD officer passed me. He beat me by one second. That was an embarrassing gaffe on my part. Nonetheless I shook his hand and congratulated him on being an even more strategic runner than I. He deserved to beat me.

Nonetheless, I was carried to a PB. I ran 26:42, 12th overall and 5th in my group. This was better than my 27:49 in 2009, when I came in 10th overall and 5th in my group. I ran with sub-36 speed today. Maybe one day I'll have an opportunity to run, officially, a sub 36-10K. At this point, I feel running a sub-81 half-marathon is likely and a sub-80 is, in fact, within reach!

I went home immediately after the race. With the wind in my knees, I felt weak. I couldn't wait to sit in my shower and soak in the hot water.

Visions

2012-01-18T09:46:00.003+08:00

During this fast, I received many visions. The visions are for me and for others. Here are but a few that God has given for me in particular:

I am sitting before the king on his mercy seat. He breathes on me. I see the white wisps of his breath envelop me and enter me. His breath is like a fog covering me inside and out. He breathes life into me.

I was a jar of clay, a clay pot. I was an empty vessel to be filled by God's spirit. God filled me up. And then I was poured out like a drink offering. I was a living sacrifice. The spirit was being poured out from me over the people for whom I pray these days. I was poured out over and over, but I never ran out of the spirit. Praise God.

I was in the deep, black waters with Jesus in a boat. I saw an image of my family to come, and then a little farther off an image of my family with grandchildren and then farther off, with great grandchildren and even farther off, more generations which I will observe from heaven at those times. God by His Spirit implored me to look further ahead.

Excerpts from Letters

2012-01-18T09:46:00.001+08:00

I've been sharing with my brother a lot. I realize there are a lot of important experiences being shared. Here are few that I raided from those letters:

Although my younger brother and I are closer now than we have ever been before, my being open with him is still hard not least because he isn't a believer and some sticking points in his heart are still obstructing our deepening relationship. My paying back my loans from Notre Dame has been a sore point for him. It's hard to explain why. I suspect there is a degree of self-righteousness since he became the lone signer for his student loans and believes I should do the same and not let my mom be a co-signer. My brother has been pretty obsessed about this and this bespeaks some serious hurt and hardness in his heart. Please pray that when I talk to him, I can share God's grace with him and be patient with him and his weak points that God is healing.

My church may be starting a men's group. I'm in touch with the head pastor and the men's fellowship leader to discuss some ideas of what the men's group will be about. I invited the men's fellowship leader to the men's group I attend at another church. Praise God. This is good!

I called my friend in Korea yesterday evening and expressed my desire to start a (long-distance) relationship with her. She said no -- she is engaged and set to be married this year! She wants to remain friends.

This has happened to me before, which made the disappointment hurt: two years ago, the girl I liked ended up already having a child out of wedlock, at 23 years old! I wondered and cried out to God about why I fall for girls who can't drop a clue as to their relationship status.

Praise God that I am different now. I have definitely changed for the better from two years ago, and definitely from a year ago when I was desperately trying to pry myself away from a girl who fed my emotional needs.

Regardless, I was still upset and disappointed. This morning at early morning prayer, I cried a lot. I couldn't make sense of why this had to be this way. I thought I had followed the Lord, only to receive this. It was hard for me to let go of the negative outcome and to focus on the beauty of the process. It was hard to let go of my desire, and my lack of trust stemming from this episode and to see what God saw in this episode.

Praise God for He is faithful. God spoke to me several times over the past 15 hours. In bed, last night, he told me the next time would be a "yes." This morning on the way to early morning prayer, he told me how proud he was of my stepping out in faith in this way; that he celebrated the process in heaven and not this momentary outcome. And during prayer time this morning God showed me an image. I was in the deep, black waters with Jesus in a boat. I saw an image of my family to come, and then a little farther off an image of my family with grandchildren and then farther off, with great grandchildren and even farther off, more generations which I will observe from heaven at those times. God by His Spirit implored me to look further ahead. I'm finally starting to look ahead, and to keep my eyes open in the present too.

Return of M

2012-01-18T09:32:00.002+08:00

I am not hugging people with my words these days. I am throwing daggers into people's heart. The sharpest daggers. Cold blooded. They pierce the heart and cut it up.

I wonder if my brother has noticed this change in me during the fast.

God is bringing back the past, but I see them with the blood now. First, L, and now M.

She has changed to a degree. A hardness in her face, which I observed while she was on the phone. A few more greys -- but I still possess more. A few more negative comments about my Cantonese.

She told me my Cantonese has gotten worse. I told her, albeit in more words, that my Cantonese has gotten worse because I am with her.

She still touches me as if boundaries were nothing to her. She still serves loyally.

Everything suddenly made sense. All her behavior and comments. The child. The smoking. She's trying to earn something she can never earn on this earth. She's so insecure.

I saw that in her eyes. This was a different look. I see it in A sometimes. These two girls are peas in a pod.

The words I spoke made her cry, twice. I told her in English who she is, her true identity. She is a daughter and a princess. God loves her with a jealous and furious love that man could never provide. She can never earn this love; nor will this love ever be taken away. She has nothing to prove in Christ Jesus.

The first time, I also expressed how uncomfortable I was around her and how I was glad our meeting weeks ago had been cancelled. I told her I only felt a modicum of safety with Inti by our side.

The second time I added how I had loved her two years ago and would accept her and her circumstances. I had changed in the ensuing period. But God's love is even greater for he would always accept her for who she is in Christ Jesus. God sees not only her physical beauty but the beauty inside her heart. Write all that on your heart, I told her.

In the moment, inside the Sheung Wan MtR station, I should have paid more attention: she was a child again. She puts the scarf over her mouth first. Then she tilts her head forward. She looks in my eyes. Her arms are beside her. I am holding her by the arms and imploring her. Tears come out.

She has been in these situations before. I should not be her parent. Only by the spirit can I be a vessel for advocacy.

I was too terse and dismissive of her sorrow. She was really sorry for how she made me feel. She did not know how these words were coming from her mouth. I should have openly forgave her. Instead, I was dismissive to the degree that I said she did not hurt me.

I do not know if I will see her again. Praise God.

Sunday Notes 15.1.12t

2012-01-15T19:09:00.002+08:00

How is my identity being changed during this fast?

So you feel anxious about the fast at this point. Press on. God loves you. Deepen the relationship now.

God, I am hungrier for you than I am for music, drinks and media.

God, how have you been speaking to me? Lord, you have told me to look further ahead, far afield. You have spoken to me about identity in you, for me and for others. And you speak to me always about relationships, and your plans for me where we go.

Men's ministry, Father, what do you require of me. How deep do I go into this and how does this work?

God, you keep me going. One more week. Indeed, I exist for your glory and I repent for succumbing to my weaknesses during this fast. I do not want to break this fast! I want to stay in the spirit of this fast.

Saddle up. Heavenly Father had shown me and Jesus riding on horses in green pastures. Now, my dad shows me, a small child, sitting on top of his shoulders. He holds me and secures me by my legs. My dad is big. I am tiny, yet, I see what he sees from so high. Praise my Father.

Daniel 10

Fasting and prayer opens up our spiritual eyes. (verse 7)

Fasting and prayer sets us in God's presence. (verses 9&10)

These bring God's encouragement. (verses 11&12)

I just received another vision. Holy Spirit admonishing me not to compare. I am in the deep waters with Jesus. We are in the boat. Zoom out. I see all the other boats with everyone else in them. We run different races. Yet we are all in the same place because Jesus is with us. We are all on the water with him.

Fasting and prayer brings God's answers (verses 12&13)

Nameson Cup 2012

2012-01-15T19:02:00.002+08:00

A few seconds over thirty-seven minutes. I had sub-37 speed but fog and wet road conditions clipped my pace, especially along the smooth Ma On Shan Promenade. Overall, in spite of the inclement weather, this result is an improvement and it satisfies me. Praise God!

I greeted the three runners who finished ahead of me. Each responded differently, and even in a quick handshake and pithy words do people's characters come out. I know now who of these three I can talk to and who I should avoid.

Choi tat ming and the long run kid bested me. The latter, I believe, had the race of his life -- praise God! He was fast from the start. He even had the lead on choi tat ming and the eventual winner for the first five kilometers, as I followed them for the first half of the race. For the second half, as first and second place pulled away from the long run kid and me, I followed the long run kid. I liked how he spied me sometimes on his shoulder and he would sprint ahead a few meters, only for me to catch up. Ultimately, he put about ten meters between us at the end.

The organizers held a parent-child race. All the kids appear to be under five. I see the kids and parents celebrate after the race. Everyone is happy. I pray one day God will put me in the place where I can share running with my child.

I opted not to try to drop a deuce in my room. I ended up dropping it in New Town Plaza, the toilets of which are a class above those public toilets in Shatin Park and Sports Center -- I realize my body will drop everything in its bowels before a race, whether or not with caffeine; as a result, I need to develop a toilet strategy!

I opted for caffeine by Red Bull this morning. I think that choice was not wise, for my stomach felt upset even after I had relieved myself in New Town Plaza. Perhaps I should go back to gels.

Finally, in addition to buying new flats for the half-marathon, I will start wearing thicker socks to fill up the space in my Lunar Spiders. I decided not to sell them since they're already pretty worn. I might as well continue using them for short races and learn never to wear a half-size large again.

An Identity Shift

2012-01-15T18:55:00.003+08:00

I noticed this apostolic streak in me these days. Gone is my pastoral touch. I am speaking truth into and calling fire down on people's lives when, in fact, I realize in hindsight that a hug would convey a truth as important as the truth I convey in pithy words. I have very little tolerance for deviance from the way these days.

Yet, am I compassionate in a way that people can understand? I am basically telling people that their lives are jacked up and that they need to experience some truth in Christ. Wouldn't a hug and then a few consoling words be good enough this season? Apparently not. There was a season to be a pastor. This season God moves me in the apostolic and prophetic spirit. Praise God.

I recall distinctly my terse words these days, to two brothers and then to three adrift acquaintances, sisters in degrees of confusion. My being a good soldier of Christ, to share in his sufferings and then in his glory, demands obedience, and to a degree, ruthlessness against the lies and assignments of the enemy over people's lives. I will capture my thoughts for Christ but when it comes to assignments, lies, vows and curses, I take no prisoners. Kill all the things that separate us from the Father or be killed in certain ways on this earth.

Drawing the Boundary Line

2012-01-14T11:37:00.002+08:00

It was her eyes. She has always had that longing look in her eyes. The way she leaned in, and turned her head slightly, these only accentuated this look.

Four years ago, I remember vividly, at dinner I saw that look, over and over, and was overcome with a desire to sleep with her. Praise God I did not.

Yet that same look in no small way led her and a man, both Christians, to sleep with each other two weeks ago.

Small wonder when she faces trouble, she seeks men. Small wonder, although we hadn't met in years, in fact, she sought me in her inconsolable state after her time with that other man.

Only when I saw this look again tonight did God show me what it was. Love addiction. I wanted no part in enabling her: my imploring words were not as important as her realizing who she is in Christ: a daughter and a princess; she had no need to beg with her eyes; but she was inconsolable and unreachable so long as her deep wounds remained unhealed.

I offered to take her to church. Later, on the street, when my discomfort had become unbearable, I stated that I would only meet her again on the condition that we meet with her trusted sisters in Christ, whom she has yet to meet. At that point, she abruptly left me. I did not feel guilty. I am free to draw my boundaries. (Indeed, praise God, I drew the boundary line this afternoon Clara via text message. There should be fewer, if any, strange, desperate phone calls from her.)

I trust God that I am drawing closer to Him and therefore, my spouse. This episode was a good case as to how the Lord has changed me over the years!

Successive Nightmares

2012-01-10T15:35:00.003+08:00

During this fast, I have experienced successive nightmares.

This evening, I awoke at 02:00 after being attacked in my dream. I was being chased through several scenarios by a hillbilly. When I passed by his property he came out with a sling -- or was it a shotgun -- but I evaded him and his cohorts. I evaded again through another scenario. But ultimately, I turned a corner and he, masked and more menacing, had a bow and arrow trained on me. I avoided those shots but then I blocked his shot while jumping into him. The dude pulled out a knife and attacked through this projectile -- it seemed like an apple -- to attack my wrists. In my dream, I screamed as he tore me up. I then awoke. I do not remember if I was alone in this dream-chase scenario. Most likely I was.

A few days ago, also during this fast, I awoke after finding myself in a car -- I do not remember if there were passengers in the car. Against my will, I had been running people over, including infants. I recall it being daylight while I was doing this. I felt someone else was trying to control the wheel while I was in front of it. That sucked.

Finally, I recall a *nightmare* in Daegu during my first evening there. I screamed myself awake as I think I was back on Mounthaven Drive. Through my front door peephole I spied a bright light moving toward the house on the other side of the road. As it moved toward the doorway, I opened my door. Suddenly, the bright light turned course and began fast approaching my doorway! I screamed as I shut my door and the bright light arrived outside. I screamed in real life but I do not think Steve heard me.

I don't have nightmares in general, but I don't remember my dreams in general. The enemy is attacking, definitely. But I continue to praise the Lord and deepen my relationship with my Father. I won't be swayed.

There has been much breakthrough in my life, for which reason the enemy attacks while I sleep. Even today, my church has sown the seeds for a men's fellowship. And tonight, I may find a girlfriend. Praise and glory to God!

Finally, I felt much physical pain these last two days as I have walked around town to assist an exchange student from Japan. My legs hurt! Yet, I accept that so long as I operate out of love and not out of performance, exchange and ultimately, ungratefulness. I felt these creeping onto me at times these past two days as my legs gave way. It is hard to tell how thankful this Japanese student is, but that's beside the point! I've had to fight to operate and to love out of freedom in Hong Kong. This battle to live completely in grace and mercy rages on. My faith needs to rise and see the treasure in the heaven. I look toward no earthly reward.

Diabetes Run 2012

2012-01-08T18:43:00.002+08:00

I wrote all this before realizing that the course was short. Nonetheless, God be praised!

God be praised. I did not expect to run the race of my life. My Father had other plans for me. He surprised me with a 35:33, by nearly even splits of 17:45 and 17:48. My Father cheered me all the way.

I beat my previous best time by over a minute; so significant was this feat. I know I am not worthy of such an accomplishment, but like many things these days, this I receive openly by God's grace. I turn this blessing back into praise for my Father.

This was my first run during the church fast season in years. This was a special run in that way.

Maybe the fasting and prayer help in practical ways, even. I fell asleep at 09:30 and awoke refreshed at 06:00. I was at peace in my preparations.

My preparations did not change much. I couldn't defecate in the morning but so soon as I arrived at the venue, it was time -- I suspect either my mind or the compressing underwear and windpants combination does this since I had not taken caffeine by the time I had arrived. Thank God that, like the last time I experienced such discomfort before running a personal best, God provided an empty, clean mobile toilet for me. While people queued for stalls, I slipped into the portojohn and praised God for such physical relief! Afterwards, I took caffeine in a gel and felt good. Although I felt as if I wanted to urinate at the start, I knew my body was no more than tricking me.

The crush of people at the starting line formed only ten minutes before the start. I had plenty of time to stretch and to secure a spot at the front. I spied many Asics Tarthers whifh piqued my interest in the shoe. I did not noticr many elite runners.

Only when the gun had sounded and we had dashed off did I recognize a few people. At first, I fell behind the young man whom I had passed in the second half of the feet of fire 10K 2011. I knew his pace, from 37:30-38:00, so when I flew by him just a kilometer into the race, I had no idea what to expect. Later, I set a certain bald guy in my gun sight. I knew this man was a class above me, a sub 36-runner easily. Yet, he was in my sights the entire race. Praise God. This guy paced me to my personal best run!

Finally, this was my first run on this Tai Po course since I had first run sub-37 a few months ago. This is an especially fast course, running in whichever direction, since I had run so fast in my previous race here. Last time, in fact, I ran an even faster first leg at 17:40, but gassed badly in the end with a 19:05. This time I ran far more smoothly and evenly. I believe this course is faster than the Shatin courses.

Where do I go from here? I never thought it would be possible for me to run a sub-36. After all, it took me several years to run a sub-37 and I had calculated the impossibiliy of running a sub-36. But all things are possible with God. Forget about a sub-82 half-marathon. Maybe I should seriously consider a sub 80-half marathon run. That is possible with 37:30 splits!

Coffee Diplomacy

2012-01-04T21:28:00.003+08:00

My relationships in Korea turn on coffee, it seems. Coffee is the prime lubricant for my conversations. I have spent most of my social hours in Korea in coffee shops -- my first evening in So Delicious; my time in Daegu at Cafe Detasse; and this afternoon at first Holly's Coffee and then at Cafe Pascucci on the SNU campus. Caffeine addiction comes easy easily as friendships in Korea -- no decaf at these cafes. One more Americano, please!

I reunited with a special girl yesterday. I had met her at HKU a month ago; and it was good to see her again. In fact, I felt really happy with her and shared that with her in an email I sent last night. God willing, maybe a long distance relationship will blossom. I am willing, particularly after my 48 hours in Daegu.

In fact, I met many girls yesterday. I met Sunny and her best friend. Later, I met Kangon while on the bus to SNU. Ultimately, I met the SNU postgraduates, all girls, on campus for coffee. In general, I have met many girls on this latest Korea trip. Only in the Daegu community have I been around men often, with only female servants in sight.

I wonder what this means. Obviously, the girls I meet are friendly, and on the one hand this may be because they are Korean cultural representatives to foreigners. On the other hand, most of these girls, like me, are all relatively young and single. They put themselves out there in the same way that I put myself out there socially. Whatever the confluence of reasons, I am thankful to have met them all.

In doing this, I learn so much about my heart condition. I am close to something new. My infatuation with my former student is gone. Although I have many leads now, I want to drop them all for one stable relationship. I hope it is that girl, but I will try with one soon.

In sum, I can meet girls easily, even in Hong Kong, if I put myself out there by God's grace. (In other words, God has blessed me with the ironically beneficial situation where I do not need blind dates to meet girls. Everyday is a blind date with God watching closely.) But this ability is no more than a means to what I witnessed in Daegu. I want to trade this ability for something better. As God shapes my heart, I am preparing, almost ready for something greater.

48 Hours in Daegu

2012-01-04T21:27:00.002+08:00

I know what it feels like to have plenty. I know what it feels like to have so much lavished on you that you can do no more than receive. I cannot pay back such hospitality shown to me in Daegu over the past 48 hours.

I received a lot of love in Daegu. Everyone welcomed me. Even with the language barrier, it was easy to meet people. Everyone was kind. I came to Daegu bearing gifts and leave Daegu with an even greater assortment of gifts. People treated me to many massive meals.

It seems that everyone heard about what had happened in Hong Kong. People heard about my assisting the Daegu mission team one day and then coming to the aid of Steve the next. Praise God. These are good testimonies. And my time in Daegu only adds to that. This was a harvest of righteousness. God is so good.

I look forward to the day when I am in an even better position to be hospitable to visitors to Hong Kong. I long for those relationships and accommodations with which to lavish my guests. This also makes my studies even more meaningful. This makes all aspects of my work, especially my possible studies at Cambridge more meaningful. God will ultimately provide the means for his will to be accomplished. In my life, this may be finishing my research well, with excellence.

After this trip, I feel more comfortable entering into a relationship with someone special. I have been around good people and model families. I felt their love and the power in their relationships. God's glory is magnified in our families, and I want to enter into that season soon. Praise God for he also opened my eyes all the more to what I need in a partner: this emotional openness is important; this sharing about all sorts of interests is another. Maybe my partner will be a Korean not least because Koreans and I could share so much. The quality of our conversations was deep, and I appreciate that.

The one danger I face is feeling lonely after such a full 48 hours. I was around people for 48 hours non-stop. The only time I wasn't with others is when I slept. (I slept for 11 hours last night. I haven't slept for that long in over a year.) I was incredibly lucid in the crowd. Though I will be around even more friends for my last few days in Korea, there will be times when I am alone, again. If I'm not working diligently, I had better be developing my identity in Christ!

Korean New Year's Eve 2011

2011-12-31T21:26:00.000+08:00

I'm on a KTX to Daegu. My seat mate just gave me a Jeju Island tangerine. Both the kind act and the tangerine were sweet. God favors me greatly in Korea.

As my brother and I were sharing two days ago, it is easy to make friends in Korea. I can chat up people freely and these people do not view me with suspicion. For example, on the flight from Hong Kong, I met my two lovely seat mates and we practiced Korean, and English for the entire three-hour flight. I got one lady's contact information and we've arranged to meet again on my next journey to Korea.

In addition, this afternoon, I stopped by the Isaac toast stand by my guesthouse in Myeongdong. I was speaking to the man and woman at the stand. As they complemented me on my Korean, I boldly asked them where they were spending the new year. "At church," the woman replied. I excitedly said I would do the same. At that, the man said he was even more pleased to meet me. We were followers of the way. In fact, the owners of the Isaac toast franchises are Christians -- "Ah! Isaac the prophet!" I exclaimed to them. Praise God for surrounding me with such a great cloud of witnesses.

My friend and I were having army-camp stew for dinner. We were sharing lots about how Korea and Taiwan were more similar than dissimilar; and how Korea and Taiwan could be contrasted well with Hong Kong and Singapore, both of which can be contrasted well too. Basically, my friend and I agreed that in Korea and Taiwan, a national cultural identity was a core tenant of those states, not least because this makes mobilizing people easier and this makes foreign bodies trying to conquer these people more difficult. They are net exporters of culture, and all which that term entails, and not importers. In contrast, Hong Kong, in particular is a net importer of culture. In fact, as I have said previously, Hong Kong is a black hole for culture: culture does not escape Hong Kong because it doesn't exist in Hong Kong. An important element of the British colonial policy was to stifle the development of such a national cultural identity for the very reason that Korea developed one: the British needed to more easily control the Hong Kong Chinese people; and what better way for a foreign body to conquer than to obfuscate identity in a place, in effect, bankrupting common experience in Hong Kong state. Hong Kong is the most stratified place on the planet! Therefore, while it may seem that people in Hong Kong share a common language in Cantonese, they actually do not share common knowledge and understanding about it, Hong Kong history and Hong Kong culture in general not least because these important national cultural identity mechanisms aren't fostered in formal education. In sum, these cases suggest that culture is developed, and most importantly, standardized, in states with looming enemies, and in the state where the enemy as already upon them, stratification -- or more euphemistically, free choice and free markets -- abounds. I am blessed to be able to develop this idea with my friend, a Korean, who has spent time in Hong Kong, Singapore and Taiwan. That's special.

Unfortunately, in spite of the myriad friendships, I still feel a bit lonely. How can this be? Although I am around people all day, the moment I am not around people I feel a bit lonely, if I'm not fully engaged in my work. This dynamic in my heart is incredible. Indeed, that I quickly forget that my heavenly Father is with me is all the more incredible. I repent of my vacuity continuously.

God is so faithful even when I am not. He doesn't give up on me. In the same way, I don't want to give up on myself, even in the midst of my struggles. I want to overcome and persevere in Christ. This is my life's challenge. I can do all things through Him who gives me strength. So what shall I do and in what ways does God give me the strength to do those select things? I work this out with fear and trembling.

I look forward to meeting more friends at the end of this train ride. I also look forward to a lighter load in my luggage, and a lighter load in my heart for the coming year.

Even More Relationships

2011-12-29T21:24:00.000+08:00

I became infatuated with someone. I had not felt that way since January, when A had me in her grip. I interpret this infatuation as a good sign: I know I am very interested in someone -- to the natural extreme.

I do not think she is as interested in me as I am in her. I actually do not know what she thinks because her response rate is unreliable, just like many other girls I know. This is curious, and I wonder what these girls have or do not have in mind when they do not respond to messages -- maybe these days these unresponsive people stand out more because I am increasingly around very responsive people that answer calls, texts and emails fast. At the very least, I would like to take her out and learn about what she is about. Dinner and another activity would be nice.

I wonder what the infatuation triggers are for me. Well, M, A and R are incredibly beautiful girls. They had degrees of responsiveness and they had sweeter dispositions. They were not cynical or closed off completely. They were younger than me too. They were all Hong Kong Chinese to degrees.

Finally, on the topic of relationships, my brother, mother and I were talking over Christmas. We continue to be more open with each other: I am especially, implicitly, hearing about my brother's felt needs: what triggered him to anger when I called him last was his "reminding" me to pay off my student loans so my mom would not have to. That matter has been settled between my mother and me; but why my brother reacted to my delinquency in such a way has not been brought to light. Indeed, he said he was disappointed in me: that is a potent sign of...something in him.

I am contending for my family, and my dating life this year. I fast to have the Father move in me powerfully in these areas of my life.

A New Vision

2011-12-19T21:15:00.001+08:00

God is good. He gave me a vision. The vision was born last evening at the HKU Centenary dinner, to which I had been invited since I was a postgraduate student representative on the Faculty board. The dinner was an unfamiliar experience for me in that I was surrounded by the older, powerful generations, the established figures in HKU's academia and very important people in Hong Kong.

I was thankful to be a part of this celebration because I could observe carefully how these generations celebrated together.

This morning I was thinking about what I had witnessed last night; I was also contemplating the brokenness in the system about which I had been complaining last week what with my marking of students' examination papers and my hearing significant complaints from HKU undergraduates; and I believe God spoke to me then.

Broken people lead broken systems. Whole people can transform systems. Be patient, David, and you will be placed in a position to transform the system. This may be realized many years from now.

I humbly accept and obey my Lord's commands. I will go where he leads me. For now I pray to prepare and to persevere here, to pursue excellence for my Father in the way I research and in the way I love others.

Clear Guidance

2011-12-19T21:14:00.003+08:00

No joke. After a rough evening marked by a pushed bedtime and a homosexual ambush in my dreams, I was taken to a deeper level with my Father today. God is so good.

This morning was different, not least because of the vision God gave me concerning my future place in the education system. In general, I was very sensitive in the Spirit, on the verge of tears because struggle mixed with joy. Like yesterday, today I prayed in tongues lots.

The dating and the girls bothered me greatly.

I was so bothered that I asked a sister to pray with me about this matter. And no sooner had this pact been made then God really began speaking to me about who I am and what my needs are.

This downloading happened in the middle of a date. I these days had been seeing this friend and had been troubled greatly because, at last, I realized I neither had to nor wanted to enter into a relationship with her because she was pursuing and was open to me. Today God spoke to me clearly that she was not the best choice. I realized she doesn't really care too much about what I have to say. In fact, I cannot open up to her, even, and share today's surpassingly great revelations because she does not seem even remotely interested in my superficial tastes, preferences amd experiences. I want to be with someone who gladly hears and receives both the shallow and the deep of my life. (I also recall this same spiritual discomfort while speaking with my former accountability brother who also could not convey a sense of genuine caring about my concerns.) It appeared she was concerned less about hearing me out than waxing superficially. I praise God because I know I should start to stay away from her.

Of course I have to maintain my boundary and discontinue our activity or drive it alongside people I trust, namely, my brother. I need to watch what I say so I do not continue to date her in this way, if I date her at all.

Some Mercy Stories

2011-12-15T11:44:00.001+08:00

Just now, as I boarded the 13 bus across the street from Paisanos, I waved an elderly man ahead of me. He could board first. But before he could do that, a woman had come from his other side to vie for the entrance. He stopped, and waved the woman forward. I witnessed this double shot of mercy. One act begot another for free. Praise God!

After a heavy sigh, the bus driver just waved a car out of its parking lot and another into the parking lot. At least the waving is good, and multiplying.

There are lots of lost people in Central. God blessed me with an opportunity to bless two last night. First, as I was leaving the IFC, an elderly man with a Chinese face stopped me. He had a small suitcase beside him. He asked me where this curious building was, Yee Woh4 Daaih6 Hah6. Since I am not familiar with Building's Chinese names, I could not help him. I planned on taking him to the concierge but his calling a friend stopped that. I spoke to his friend and he gave me the English name, Jardine House. Ah! To confirm, the man and I asked a real estate hawker. He generously whipped out his smartphone and confirmed. We thanked him and set off. My smartphone with GPS led us.

In fact, the man had lived in Hong Kong, more than thirty years ago! I laughed and commented that where we were walking was no more than the sea when he last lived here. The man had been a doctor in South Africa. He was returning to Hong Kong to visit his friends.

After dropping him off at Jardine house, blessing him and receiving his thanks, I praised God for this opportunity to make this difference. After all, I do not think anyone would have gone out of their way to assist him. With me, he had a one stop shop. But that was not the biggest difference for which I gave glory to God. The greatest difference was my indifference to his dropping English language responses on me while we spoke. I forgot in which language(s) I responded but I know I handled his ambiguity without the anger that had characterized me in the past. Indeed, the proof is I could go out of my way. Angry and self-righteous, I could not go as far as I did with that man. Praise God.

Later, as I boarded the 13 bus (that evening), a young woman with a Chinese face asked the driver where the bus going. I asked where she was going. She said HKU and I told her to follow me. We talked and discovered that we both live in Graduate House and have a NYC connection. It was pleasure to lead her from the bus down the hill the our dorm. She had never taken this bus and campus route before.

A taxi driver scowled at us as we waited for him to make his turn before we crossed the street. We laughed because we know vehicles have the right of way in Hong Kong. The man was angry and bellowed, "Do you guys study at university!?" and I bade him peace as he grumbled and drove off. I explained to my acquaintance that there are many angry people in Hong Kong and what happened was not our fault but a result of his heart condition. Our conversation diverged a bit when she started talking about Hong Kong people's anger and their pathetic lives. I disagreed but used my discretion to express it. I will hold on to the good in this cap to my evening and give God the glory!

Track Triumph

2011-12-15T11:41:00.000+08:00

I praise God because that young man who spoke so poorly about my Cantonese in September has transformed markedly in December. In fact, he even said goodbye to me as I exited the stadium when I had no intention to say goodbye to anyone. I suspect he looks up to me as a younger brother looks up to an older brother. This is often the case with orphans. If God has called me to love my brother in this way then I will humbly lead him and others on our team.

Indeed, I think our breakthrough has been built on the Holy Spirit working on my character. Although I still do not socialize much with my compatriots, I have engaged them more, through my actions. This year I have humbly trained with the younger runners even while the faster teammates do their own training. I have followed my coach's orders. In following, I am actually leading. My actions impress more than my words.

These last few weeks exemplify this change. I have trained with the younger kids, and I am the fastest in our group. Over these few weeks, I have made it a point for us to run together, even if it only entails our starting together. I have also emphasized individual ownership of our workouts: each member must lead a lap and play rabbit; everyone goes in turns. I have chosen my words carefully over these weeks as this routine has developed. I go from chastisement to encouragement. My job is to keep everyone together. If this young man's attitude towards me is evidence, then this leadership approach is fruitful. Praise God.

Finally, I met a fellow last week and he spoke to me in English. This week, while at the shower with my teammates, I was speaking Cantonese with the team captain when this man interjected to the person beside him, wondering how I could speak Cantonese. I overheard this and thought this curious. I was more on the verge of fear than anger, neither outcome ideal.

As everyone headed into the shower, I asked the young man at which secondary school he studied. He studied at a Tuen Mun school which I did not recognize. The man wondered why I had such a question and I explained his reaction to my speaking Cantonese was strange. It appeared he had never spoken to a Westerner in Cantonese. In response, in fact, he assured me this was not the case. He only had to know I speak Cantonese to speak Cantonese with me. That was a good outcome, praise God.

I have a long way to go before overhearing such a query about who I am will no longer set off any alarm in my heart. There will come a time when other people ask about me, in front of me, and I do not even flinch. In fact, I do not even bother to follow up, regardless of emotion. I will be so confident in who I am in Christ, my real identity, that nothing else matters about who I am and what I can do.

Feet of Fire 10K 2011

2011-12-15T11:20:00.002+08:00

I like this race because of its languorous nature. People gather and are not in such a hurry to queue at the start. There is a comfortable start at this second-tier event. I enjoy sitting in the traffic median, the sun on my back, watching jumbo jets take off, all this before the start! Indeed, I was able to wend my way to the front, where I started last year, with fifteen minutes to go. Before that, I took my time on the journey to Tung Chung by chatting merrily with my dorm mate who was visiting the big buddha. We went from HKU to Tung Chung together, slowly. The entire pre-race experience was enjoyable.

I was noticeably tired on the journey to Tung Chung this morning. I am glad I kept my computer in my office. I need more incentive to sleep early.

I took caffeine by gel this morning, thirty minutes before the start. That was an improvement to an extent, because although I dropped a deuce this morning in my dorm, by the time I arrived at the race venue my bowels began grumbling again. I realize this is more a result of my mental preparations than a caffeine-induced laxative effect. I do not know how this discomfort impacted my time, though during the race I felt fine; and post-race I still feel fine.

I neither warmed up nor stretched. I should warm up and cool down next week. The habit is more important to me than the physical effects of this activity.

I ran off-pace today. I finished slower than I finished last year on this course and also last week in Shatin. I am not disappointed not least because I realize how special last week's race was; and even last year's run was the race of my life to that point: I do not think it is easy to put together a race of my life: internal and external conditions must be perfect. God must deem that moment extraordinary in my life. Anyway, I finished in 37:24; that is a standard time for me this year. I praise God that I can put together 37:30 easily this year.

A dude sprinted past me with fifty meters to go. Good for him. That reminds me of last year!

I had difficulty breathing during the race, more than my trying to breathe regularly, in rhythm with my stride. I suspect I caught a cold which the cold, dry air exacerbated. As I sit in this MTR car, I still can't breathe too deeply. I cough at times too. Likely a cold. Regardless, I should consult coach on how to breathe when running.

The weather was not as formidable as I had expected. I was able to run comfortably in my usual attire in fifty degree Fahrenheit or ten degree Celsius temperature. This might not have been the case had the wind blown fiercely, or had the temperature dropped just another degree. I will keep this in mind for the rest of the winter running season: at fifty degrees sans gusty conditions, I can run without additional clothing.

Ultimately, I do not think I will run this event again. I am not getting anywhere with this race: no personal best; not even improvement; and no trophy. Next year, if I am around, I will take my talents to another event.

I figured out why the fastest man in Hong Kong runs this race, when no other elite runner joins: the first place runners receive free air tickets to Taiwan! That is deal: run thirty one minutes for two hour flight to Taipei, Taiwan!

Neighborhood Outreach Seven

2011-12-15T11:19:00.000+08:00

The enemy attacked me on the ride to the venue. It also reminded me of why I am in Hong Kong. I dropped two items on the minbus. No one moved to reach them for me, although they were closer to the objects than I. One woman, at least, pointed at my water bottle on the floor. But neither she nor the old man sitting over my bottle deigned to pick it up although they knew where it was.

God's grace is enough. He loves these people dearly and I need to press into Him if I am to do the same. I considered this a reminder of my mission in Hong Kong and a warm up to the outreach.

I was paired up with Priscilla, the outreach leader, and two newcomers from my church. We were dispatched to gau2 yuh4 fong1. After a quick prayer we peaked into a small godown where squatted a small, elderly woman. Her voice belied her age. She had been to many countries. She was especially proud that her eight children neither drank nor gambled: praise God!

She was bold enough to invite me inside for a seat, since I had been kneeling beside her outside. I crossed the threshold and took a seat on a stool facing her. My partners kept their heads inside the gates. She shared lots.

Although she worshipped idols and boasted of her self-reliance, she did receive prayer for her legs, which were weak and prevented her from walking long distances. Her helper was connected to our Indonesian pastor by mobile phone, and she would attend a party the following day. Everyone played a part in the beautiful outreach outcome: praise the Lord!

I think we should have prayed more together before selecting a shop to visit. I also found it especially difficult to work with one partner who spoke so fast and furiously she could not listen to anything. I sensed her anxiety. In fact, it was harder to love her in a way she could understand than to love the elderly woman in a way she could understand. Praise God, for there is meaning and purpose, even in these teams. I have to listen closely to the Father, in spite of the distractions, to love my teammates in a way they can understand. This outreach and the mid-autumn outreach remind me vividly of this truth.

To be sure, I could not get a straight answer from this partner when we had to decide who would share. She told me to share without consulting me. When I asked her directly about her desire, she evaded a direct answer: It's OK is an opaque answer. Reminded of that woman from the postgraduate research conference, I shut down my conversation with this partner. I would deal with sharing by the Spirit. I told her to do what was necessary.

In fact, I relish this challenge to love. Small wonder I am partnered with these people: in this way, I can press into the Father and listen carefully (easier said than done!) to his still small voice while ministering to neighbors and teammates. How do I love people?

I told my pastor to partner me with newcomers from my church and experienced people from the other churches. I think this is a potent kingdom-building mix.

Finally, I was inside a Subway talking with Rosie, who was preparing my food, and her colleague at the cash register. We spoke merrily to each other, and we were both glad to have a lively conversation instead of a dull transaction.

A middle aged woman walked to the counter. Rosie gave the woman a warm greeting and in reply, the woman gave Rosie a cold, concise reply: coffee set. I laughed and continued speaking to the woman at the register. The woman suddenly blew up, said something under her breath about laughing and stormed out of the shop. Rosie was dumbfounded. I explained to her that what had transpired: anger; no matter what our reaction would be, she would be angry. I hold on to the good in this subway incident and I recognize the mission God has given me in this city.

The Smoking Neighbor

2011-12-15T11:05:00.003+08:00

I just moved into Graduate House. I realized my neighbor was smoking: I received emails warning residents about the punishment for smoking at HKU and inside the Graduate House; I saw the no-smoking signs on my floor. I smelled cigarette smoke outside my neighbor's door. I smelled the same lingering in our shared bathroom.

I complained a few days ago. Immediately the staff put up big red signs outside the fifth floor elevator, and more brazenly, outside my neighbor's door!

Anyone who smokes inside his room in spite of the repeated warnings and severe penalties for doing so is an addict and troubled in the heart.

That evening, I woke up at 03:00. My windows were closed. My room was filled with cigarette smoke. I could not breathe.

I rushed outside. The stench of cigarette smoke was on my neighbor's door. I went downstairs and alerted the security guard.

In hindsight, as I learned later when I complained again, I should have alerted a tutor. The security guard could not smell the smoke outside my neighbor's door. When he tapped on the door, no one opened. Pure impotence. I realized so long as this neighbor did not open the door and so long as he told lies, he could do as he pleased inside his room.

After that episode, I went to the fourth and sixth floors. No smell. My neighbor's door held the stink.

I did not sleep well following that. I was so exhausted that morning that I hurried back to my room in the afternoon to nap. Later, I complained again to the security head who told me what to do if this happened again.

Later that day, Holy Spirit convicted me to speak to the culprit. Better to tell him the real effects of his actions than hang the unlikely punishment over his head. Besides a gentle word can break a bone.

I was thinking about writing him a letter. Later I became so convicted as to approach him directly.

In fact I had met my neighbor inside our shared bathroom the evening I had made my first complaint: young man from the mainland; first year; EEE; extraordinarily long nights at the office, presumably, he said, working on experiments. That is a lonely, isolating, troubling experience, I thought to myself. I did not mention his smoking in our first conversation.

I would not let that slip the second time, especially after what his smoking did to me. The evening of the my sleeping disaster, I awaited his return. When he came back around 23:00, I knocked on his door. He opened it, I asked if we could talk and I walked myself into his room, my eyes scanning everything in sight. He offered me his chair.

How do I love this man who harms me?

I explained my day to him, how it began with a disastrous awakening at 03:00, how my morning was ruined, and how I had checked the fourth and sixth floors only to discover that the stink lay only before his door.

Knowing the unpredictable nature of his heart, I was as delicate as possible in talking to him. He admitted to smoking but not to smoking in the room. He apologized for disturbing me, although he apologized more for the noise than for the smell -- he did not admit to smoking in his room; and I didn't push him for this. He did say that this type of disturbance would not happen again. In fact, I made him promise so, as I told him I trusted his word.

Praise God. That was a good outcome. Since our talk, the smoking stink has not returned. It, like the harm it has brought, has vanished. Of course, if it returns, I will work for my neighbor's eviction because he will not only have trespassed on me, but also on his word. My clear boundary is that he and I have no dispute so long as his word holds. When it doesn't, and our trust is broken, he needs to feel the consequence of that, more so than the consequence of his physically harming me, in fact.

What Se

2011-12-15T10:55:00.001+08:00

I experienced something new last night: I stayed over at my workplace in a dormitory where one of my students live. I slept in the bed of his roommate, who had left campus for the evening. I showered in the dorm, went to bed early, rose early and ultimately left the dorm.

I slept over because this was the most prudent action at the time. I had to invigilate until 20:30. After dinner with this student, the clock had already struck ten. I would have another meeting the next morning at 09:30, less than eleven hours away. Were I to go home, I would expend at least two hours to travel back and forth. I would entertain a daring attempt to make better use of my time.

My friend hatched the plan. The plan's success hinged upon the female security guard being on duty that evening since she did not require students to tap cards to check into the dorm. (The male guard required students to check in, my friend lamented.) With her, I could assertively walk into the dormitory and not be stopped.

My friend and I passed through the main entrance. I spied the female security guard speaking with a resident. I did not make eye contact with either of them. My gaze fixed before me, I quickly strode to the elevator, pressed the button and stepped in.

Bat yeh sihng: that is the best way to describe this hall life in Cantonese. Wilder than my times at Siegfried, Morrison and Graduate House, my evening in my friend's dorm was loud. Boys and girls, living on the same floor, yelled in the hallway. They even played soccer, it seemed, just outside my room. Thankfully, all this rancor fast melted away because my friend had supplied me with some wax earplugs. Never sleep in a dorm without them! One nightshade later, I was dozing off before 23:00.

The hall was eerily quiet when I awoke at 07:20. I slipped out of bed and into my clothes. I left the dorm. Mission accomplished.

I am thankful for this what se experience. This may be the only time in my life that I get to sneak around in this way. That was exciting! Experiencing student life at my workplace was worth the effort, and worth an evening. However, as I subsequently shared with my friend, I would not be able to survive in that environment for longer than a few days without making significant changes to my lifestyle and other people's lifestyles: I would have to do what I did to my smoking neighbor, relate to my neighbors in such a way as to change them from harmful to responsible. That is love. From this experience I learned that policy enforcement at my workplace vacillates. Or it is lax. This is not like the HKU situation, where there are generally no policies but when there are, they are strictly enforced (e.g. tapping cards and signing in when entering a dorm). This is a different set of affordances that I could get used to.

The Fear of Being Misunderstood

2011-12-15T10:43:00.001+08:00

That is a great fear which binds many people in this place. Small wonder what with so many languages swirling about and ambiguous standards for and knowledge about these languages to support their usage.

Neih5 mihng4 mh4 mihng4 ngoh5 yi3 si1 a? That is a question which someone who fears being misunderstood asks.

I do not think I have had this fear, ever; if I did, it is long gone.

Therefore, I find loving people gripped by this fear difficult. I do not know from my own experience what they are going through; and I definitely do not know what they had gone through to get to where they are, by me, at that moment. God knows that. He also knows how to love these people in a way they can understand. I realize I need to connect with God deeply when speaking to people gripped by fear. Only he has the ways and the words to calm the storm. The strength of my connection to the Father must be improved at these crucial moments.

The middle-aged woman works as a janitor, presumably so she does not have to collaborate with anyone (She rarely speaks with others.) and so she does not need to take any risks. Same old tasks, every day. I later found out she isn't married not least because she has not put herself in such unpredictable situations as to find someone to marry; besides, like me, she has not opened herself up to any one individual enough to allow a deep relationship to form. I asked her this morning if she had the keys to the locker where the newspapers are stored. She surprised me with an answer tinged with anger, bordering on reproach: of course she did not have the keys. When I shared this woman's reaction with a friend, she mentioned how the woman reacted angrily when my friend first starting greeting her around the office.

Thankfully, the woman ultimately warmed up to my friend. In the same way, after a little while, the woman became more approachable with me this morning. The newspapers arrived. She cheered. As she put the papers onto the racks, we talked about our preferences about our newspapers, and our accommodations. (She lives in a dormitory nearby.)

That conversation was good. I thanked God for the opportunity to talk with her since I had lamented to God how I did not know how to love her earlier when she reproached me.

However, my flesh had its way when the woman asked, seemingly innocently, if I understood what she was saying. I jumped on her leading question and stumbled badly. I did not love. My connection with the Father broke. I told her if I did not understand, I would tell her. Why did she doubt, I asked. My inquisition intensified when I asked her to reflect on why she has this fear of being misunderstood to begin with. Finally, I tried to convince her of her jih bei. That was not cool. I was not a loving brother.

Ultimately, I confessed this to my friend and then we prayed. I confessed the same to the Father and repented. We prayed for ourselves in this place, for that woman, and for the people in this city. Praise God. He is good!

...Today was a little better. I arrived in the morning. The woman was cleaning up the common room. I asked her where she was going for Christmas and she launched into tirade about how she lacks money while I, it seems to her, possess enough. The spirit of poverty was all over her. My rational arguments about how everyone has money but the decision whether to accept that money as sufficient is a personal one fell on deaf ears, obviously, since poverty is more a condition of the spirit than of the mind. The woman went so far as to say money is more important in this world, and to her, than love -- that was twisted. I thank God, nonetheless, for the opportunity to share with her once again. I boldly proclaimed that our sharing was free: she did not have to pay me to encourage her and to console her, I said; likewise, I added that I did not expect to pay her to receive this fellowship. No money required for fellowship. This quieted her and she left. Next time, may the Lord well in me to the point where I declare that the Lord loves her so much. May the Lord open her heart to receive well this good news.

Tim Tebow's Marketplace Ministry

2011-12-06T09:50:00.001+08:00

Dear family,

Jungmin, Paul and I had dinner a few weeks ago and on the topic of marketplace ministry, I shared the incredible story of Tim Tebow. Tim Tebow is an American football player. He has won at the high school and collegiate levels, and is now winning at the professional level while boldly preaching the gospel. American football is his marketplace. He praises God openly with his teammates, with the media and to a global audience.

He is the most polarizing figure in American sports today. I believe this is because, as a player, he is very unconventional. I also believe this is because he openly shares his faith with others. This combination of innovation and proclamation upsets American "football" purists and militant atheists. At the same time, he encourages and draws out other believers, even media broadcasters, from the woodwork. (Praise God for that!) Even the mainstream media suggests that this unorthodox combination may be fueling his success. After Tim Tebow's latest win, the Christian Science Monitor, among other media outlets, ruminates on this confluence of Tim Tebow, Christianity and American football.

The Tim Tebow case demonstrates transformation in a marketplace through our partnership with God. Indeed, God put us in our respective spheres of influence, in fact, to influence them for His kingdom purposes! We can all make the difference of grace in our marketplaces, no matter our places be large or small. It's our connecting with God in these places that will spur on our success and transform lives.

Finally, a few Tim Tebow facts:

He was also recommend for abortion from his doctors but his mother refused.
Tim Tebow's success as a home-schooled student at the high school level was the catalyst for several "Tim Tebow" bills in state legislatures.
Tim Tebow is the first collegiate underclassmen to win the Heisman Trophy, which is awarded to the best American football player at the collegiate level.
His practice of writing Bible verses on his eye paint was the catalyst for a "Tim Tebow" rule whereby college athletes are not allowed to display messages on their eye paint. Wikipedia describes his practice and its incredible effects:

During his college football career, Tebow frequently wore biblical verses on his eye black. In the 2009 BCS Championship Game, he wore John 3:16 on his eye paint, and as a result, 92 million people searched "John 3:16" on Google during or shortly after the game.^[76]^[78] Additionally, later, when Tebow switched to another verse, there were 3.43 million searches of "Tim Tebow" and "Proverbs 3:5-6" together.^[79] Tebow stated of the searches "It just goes to show you the influence and the platform that you have as a student-athlete and as a quarterback at Florida".^[79]

5. Finally, Tebow's success, and his habit of praying openly in a particular way during important moments in American football games was the catalyst for a global cultural meme, Tebowing. Wikipedia describes this practice:

"Tebowing" is a neologism derived from Tebow's propensity for kneeling and praying. The origin of the phrase is credited to fan Jared Kleinstein, who posted a picture with friends onFacebook, in which they mimic a pose by Tebow that was caught on camera following the Denver Broncos' improbable overtime victory over the Miami Dolphins on October 23, 2011.^[151]The popularity of the picture led Kleinstein to set up a website showing pictures submitted by people depicting various interpretations of "Tebowing" all over the world.^[151]

Bless you guys in your marketplaces today; see you tonight!

Mizuno Shek Mun 10K 2011

2011-12-04T19:31:00.001+08:00

I praise God. At last, I ran the race of my life, finishing in 36:36. I give this race back to the Lord. It belongs to Him. After all, only he could turn the most tragic conditions into a series of triumphs, moving me from positions of weakness into incredible moments of strength.

First of all, I am not going to drink Red Bulls first thing in the morning ever again. It has taken me several race days to realize that the Red Bull laxative effect takes hold too late for my comfort. I do not like to feel like my bowels are going to burst thirty minutes before the race, especially when I had already loosened my bowels once that morning. I will find another way to infuse my body with caffeine, without such unwelcome discomfort.

My bowels began troubling me on the train ride to Shek Mun. By that time I had already regretted drinking the Red Bull and decided to never do that again.

Inside the Shek Mun MTR station, the queue for the men's toilet was too long for my taste. I went outside and proceeded to the men's toilet nearby. Not only were all the stalls occupied, there was a growing queue for them. I decided against waiting. I would tough it out.

I regretted toughing it out. I turned in my backpack only to have the bloating in my stomach almost convince me to turn back. My stomach was such a disaster that I contemplated going home and starting over next week. I felt very weak.

I went back to the toilet. The line had grown longer. Twenty minutes before the race. I would not have time to piss and to run. I chose to run.

On the way to the starting line, I had the clever idea to run across the street to the public housing estate to check for a public toilet. I scrambled around the estate and found the estate office. The pungent smell of sacrifice wafted in the air. The estate officers told me a toilet was not available. I left in despair. I did not even think I could run slow with my bladder and my bowels in such disrepair.

The Lord placed a construction site across the street from the estate. He turned my head so that I would spy it (and think, "Where do construction workers relieve themselves?") and spot those two toilets hidden behind a gate. Praise God. He cares for me in the most exciting ways.

I dashed across the street. I slipped behind the gate. I selected the portojohn to the left. The door opened! The insides were not a mess. In fact, there was toilet paper on a roll, for me! I received gladly, and emptied myself, everything.

I flushed diligently. For such grace, such a small courtesy is demanded.

I sprinted to the start. The crowd was already at least thirteen deep. A little despair. The weather is perfect, I thought to myself, but for me to achieve my goal every second counts and I need to be further along in the pack at the start. At the very least, I felt so empty that the packed start did not dampen my joy much. Although I wanted the run to be the race of my life, I was thankful for everything that had happened already. That was good enough in my book. I did not jostle the others much to move closer to the start line. (I feel very convicted in my heart to not do this but to manage my time in such a way as to avoid this, always. As for overzealous, anxious cutters, may the spirit teach me to extend grace more and more.)

I thank God that the entire line moved forward. In that movement, I positioned myself even closer to the start. I was only four deep now.

There was an anxious runner behind me. I asked him about his time and when he replied thirty-three, I told him next time to show up earlier. He whined that he showed up late. My point exactly. We were so packed together that we could not advance further. Once the race commenced, I saw him sprinting ahead to join the lead pack. At the seven kilometer mark, I saw him jogging. I passed him easily.

(I recall seeing him at the start of the quarter marathon a few months ago. He tried the same queue jumping stunt five minutes before that race start and was successful in positioning himself -- right in front of me! I chased him for a kilometer before he outclassed me. That young man and I both have a lot to learn about love.)

The air horn went off. I ran out with the crowd, passed many and finally caught up with my training partner. He would pace me for the first five kilometers until he outclassed me on the way home. We ran our first two kilometers in 7:05 -- that is a bit fast! I held on tight. I thought this would be one of those races where I start strong only to hang on for dear life at the end.

I had read a NYTimes article on how proper breathing enhances athletic performance significantly. Although I do not know how I should breathe, I did concentrate on matching my breathes with my arm motion. I wanted to establish a coordinated rhythm between the two. At that point, I did not know to what extent I should breathe deeply. Maybe this is a question I should pose to coach.

My stride length was also a focal point.

My splits surprised me. I ran an 18:06 first five kilometers and ran the second half in 18:30. Not bad. Praise God! Perfect weather. Perfect bowels. Perfectly flat course.

I felt God cheering for me on the backstretch. That was special. My heavenly father loves me and he turns up for important events in my life.

No trophies. Just a heart of thanksgiving for the race of my life. Praise God.

Finally, after the race, I was speaking with my training partner. As I spoke to him in Cantonese and he used English with me, he stopped us suddenly and insisted I speak English as he wanted to practice. I believe him and followed his order. In fact, I appreciated his straight talk and applaud him for that. This was a refreshing change from the opaque communication etiquette that many Hong Kong people have employed with me. Indeed, I will gladly comply when our expectations are clear!

The Birdhouse Factory

2011-12-04T19:23:00.001+08:00

Two nights ago I took my friend to see this San Francisco-based circus. We got a bargain.

Indeed, what made this all the more memorable was the clown who, after scouring the audience with (yes!) an erect tape measure, selected my friend and me for some improvised comedy.

He gestured for me to come out of my seat. He measured me, approved and told me to go to the back. As he led me away, unbeknownst to me, he turned back and sat beside my girl!

That was funny.

And then the clown gave me my friend's bag and then took her to the stage. She had her stand still. (She was quite frightened at this point, she told me later.) The clown then disrobed her a bit, taking off her jacket and scarf. He threw them on the floor, only to pick them up, wave me over and give them to me. (My friend had quietly scolded the clown for so flippantly discarding her attire, haha.)

I sat down. He made my friend become an improvised antenna for an old radio. When he realized that this arrangement prevented him from dancing well with her, he beckoned me to the stage. I grabbed his hand and leaped onto the platform.

The stage is bright. I never realized I could not see the audience with all the lights on me. The crowd was no more than darkness. A gazing, black void. Wow.

I became the improvised antenna. The clown danced my friend. Then I danced with my friend. (I whispered to her, "We're on stage!" Apparently, I was not leading well so the clown removed my friend, made her the antenna again, and danced me! I recall distinctly he using a single-leg, judo-style take down to get me to lean over. That was funny. Actually, we improvised our dance well, praise God.

Ultimately, creeping up on my friend-cum-antenna, the clown's boss came back. (This freaked out my friend.) The clown and the boss had more business to take care. To a round of applause, my friend and I walked off the stage and scurried back to our seats.

Several people later approached my friend and me to praise us for our fearless performances. I praise God. That was fun! I also learned lots about my friend and feel more comfortable about trying to know her more deeply. I thank God that he chose her to share an indelible stage experience with me.

Letting Go

2011-11-30T10:32:00.001+08:00

How do I reignite this passion? I loosen myself from this idolatrous knowledge. I do not need to understand these university students' practice. In fact, even if I studied this phenomenon for eternity I still wouldn't be able to understand. I cannot understand.

Instead, I need to love these people. We have a lot of orphans on our hands. Will what I do in Korea, years from now, be any different? Is this not preparation for even greater things in my life?

I felt convicted to let this go. I just deleted the photos I have taken of their posters and practices. I do not need them anymore. I need to pray, and I need to love. I will not be double minded, especially about these people.

What's next is understanding for what reason this phenomenon captivated me. This is an investigation led by the Spirit. And I am curious about the results.

My Graduate House Dream

2011-11-22T07:47:00.001+08:00

My first day at Graduate House. I was in a large common area which resembled a dance studio. Many residents had gathered. I had received my room number.

I had then received a number to queue. I stood in line with everyone else. The line was less of that than a mess. The beginning, where I was, was definable. But slowly, the line widened until it became a swirling crowd at its end.

The other residents and I waited a long time. I saw an open door ahead of me. I awaited my turn to go out the door.

We waited a long time. At one point, I grew anxious, not least because I didn't know why we were queuing! I asked my neighbor and my neighbor said we were queuing to catch cabs to go to the dinner venue, at a nearby shopping mall I believe -- the neighbor also said it was possible to walk.

I was frustrated by the arrangement. We had waited in line for far too long. And for far too long I had not known the plan and its choices. Now that I knew the choices, I didn't even want to take part. Although, I was not sure I wasn't hungry, I was sure I didn't want any part of this event with these people.

I threw a tantrum. Upset, kicking and screaming, I stormed back to my room. I was weeping. I pushed my bed to the side and lay down on the floor, pillow underneath my head. I wanted to forget this event and this day. I felt regret about moving into Graduate House.

I was alone. No one came up to check on me. I refused to go down.

Finally, the room accommodations were extraordinary. Tasteful decor. Lots of mirrors, glass and angular lighting from the walls. Minimal furniture. No more than a bed. Lots of space. Seven star accommodations.

HK University Cross Country Championship 2011

2011-11-20T17:29:00.001+08:00

Dad showed up, and my teammates and I put on a show for him. Praise God.

We improved. The men finished in fourth place, up a place from last year. (We were far from third place.) I had the race of my life, breaking 23:00 on the course. My time of 22:59 was good enough for 18th place, up from 25th place last year.

I had nothing left on the last 200 meters. An HKIED runner passed me on the final straightaway. I didn't mind since I had left everything I had up and down the hills. Usually, I can gauge my effort by how gassed I feel at the end. I felt pretty crappy crossing the finish line (I felt pretty crappy running up the hill too!) so, though a runner passed me, I knew this was a job well done. Praise God.

My form improved. I focused on extending my stride length since this would be the only way I would improve, my coach said, my turnover being already very high. I focused on this in my ultimate practice before the race. I also asked coach for a tip just before I ran: what about stride length going up and down hills? Long down, short up, he said. I applied that in the race and my coach commented that my downhill form had improved greatly. I was running less sloppily this year. I finally know how to run down a hill, praise God!

I went out with a faster member of the team. We ran side by side until the redoubtable hill, when I surged past him. He eventually found his legs again down the hill and he passed me. The game plan was sound.

Finally, my mind was in good shape. Nonetheless, I felt a little more nervous than usual because of the long wait before the race. Usually, at road races, I arrive, warmup and run. No downtime. I'm too busy going through my steps either to think about anything or to let my body do anything unusual. Only at this event, where I arrive and wait two hours to run do I feel my mind and body slipping from me. Thankfully, the Father is with me. I can talk to him and listen to music.

Wallet Found

2011-11-16T12:28:00.001+08:00

I want to share something remarkable about my morning: while walking up the hill to the University of Hong Kong, my wallet slipped out of my pocket (in the same way that my iPhone slipped out of my pocket: H&M pants!) and I did not notice this.

When I reached my office, a man called me and asked for me using my Chinese name. I was like, "Uh?" He said something about my wallet, and I was like, "Huh?" and said goodbye to him and hung up. That was a strange talking point.

He called me again, and more emphatically asked me about my wallet. I felt my pocket and realized it wasn't there. He at last had my attention! I told him I didn't have my wallet. He told me he did have it and he told me to meet him where I had dropped it, on Hill Road. I ran over. (I thank God that my mobile number was listed on a receipt I had stuck in my wallet.)

Praise God, for the man had my wallet! I couldn't believe this not least because of my iPhone experience and because he didn't have to trouble himself in this way. He went out of his way to help me.

He was gruff. But his kind actions spoke much louder than his words. He said he didn't want to trouble me. I thanked him. I told him Jesus loves him and I love him. I blessed him. We shook hands. He gave me the wallet, shouted, "no problem!" and walked off.

I believe this is my first experience in Hong Kong where someone has gone way out-of-their-way to help me. Praise God! This is new and welcome, and for His glory.

Asics 10K 2011

2011-11-13T19:28:00.001+08:00

I may have peaked as a 10K runner. I can run 37-something in my sleep. But to run sub-37 requires extraordinary conditions. Even flatter. Even cooler. More rested. If this is the case, this will be my last season running 10Ks. I am more than satisfied with an unofficial sub-37 10K time. I am finished chasing an official sub-37 10K time.

I put up a 37:20-something. I ran a solid 18:12 first 5K. I then gassed badly on my last 5K, per my past runs on this course and my recent performances, turning in a 19:10-something. Though this time was forty seconds faster than last week's time, the lack of endurance is still glaring. I loose too much pace on the back stretch.

I suspect I need to train more. Ironically, I am resting too much, or, in fact, not resting well. In other words, I need to run more, still at 100% intensity, and when I rest I really need to rest. Laying down, legs off the floor resting. African style.

My pre-race preparations were for the most part satisfactory. I woke up at 05:40 and had sufficient time to reach the front of the starting line. I would only change my choice of drink in the morning from sugar-free Red Bull to either sugary Red Bull or black coffee. I feel the sugar-free delays caffeine to my system and therefore delays bowel movements. That is discomfiting when I arrive at the venue and only then feel as if a deuce is coming.

I was very sick yesterday. That may have impacted my performance today significantly. I will keep that in mind to explain better performance this season.

Finally, God showed up. I needed every bit of his grace to deal with beggars on my team and on my road. I am in an impoverished city with poverty-stricken souls. People who only care that you give them something. People who cannot celebrate the good. In this environment, I easily want to withhold love. I want to be as conditional as they are. At those times, I need to connect with the Father and allow faith to rise. The Father loves these people and me no matter our state. My Father loves me at sub-37 or over-40. He is satisfied. My God amazes.

Neighborhood Outreach Annual Fair

2011-11-13T19:26:00.001+08:00

Praise God! A God fair in Kennedy Town! Lots of people participated. Lots of grace. God showed up.

I manned a table with Thomas. We made balloons for the kids; but first, I had to learn to make something -- a puppy. Becoming proficient enough in puppy-making to serve others was exciting. What an offering to the Father!

Many of the kids were shy. I liked looking into their eyes and wondering about them. The Father loves them so much.

When Elaine showed up, we starting meeting the tykes together. However, no sooner had we started than I spied an elderly woman sitting alone. I went over to her and knelt beside her.

Ms. Lam, 66, and I spoke for a long time. She cried a little. We prayed a bit. I held her hand. We spoke about our homeland, Taishan, and this city, Hong Kong. We spoke about marriage and dating, in my life and in her family's life. (She found my singleness incredible. I thought this outcome, even with my explanation of what God was doing, was obvious!) We in sum loved on each other. I praise God for this divine appointment.

She had been attending church for a season with her daughter. She had just accepted Christ. Praise God!

A worship "performance" pulled me from her. I went to the main stage to worship with my pastor and a worship team member in front of them all. That was an exciting offering for our Father not least because I had to lean on him heavily to give him all the glory. I do not desire any of it. Only if the Father calls me to receive plaudits than I will receive. Yet it is hard to do something for free, eh, and expect nothing in return. That is real grace.

A Week in Arguments

2011-11-11T19:50:00.001+08:00

This has been a breakthrough week in my life. I got into two arguments and I praise God for them because they show how emotional walls have come down around the people I love. They feel close enough to me, and safe enough to shout at me or to disagree fiercely. First my brother in Christ and yesterday, my mom!

I called my mom yesterday and we spoke for a long time. For a while she was angry. She wept. She shouted into the phone. She said several times, "You don't tell me what to do!" All this was in response to a suggestion I made: that she let out her emotions in this season in a way that doesn't hurt herself or hurt others.

Praise God that she responded so violently to my words of suggestion: she let her emotions out fiercely; and no one got hurt; in fact, this was a moment of healing. It took 30 years for us to be this open emotionally to each other. Praise God!

I finished sharing Father's heart for our family. I shared what I feel is God's promise for our family. I told her that our Heavenly Father loves her unconditionally whether yelling, crying and screaming or joyful and content. He approves. She has nothing to prove. In the same way I told her that I loved her. She can be as angry or as upset as she wants at me. I still love her.We prayed in thanksgiving for Father's heart to continue to be revealed in her life and in my family's life. We prayed for my mom's health and joy.

That, along with my call to my brother, represents significant, incredible emotional closeness. Real breakthrough in our family. God is demonstrating His love in new ways. I wonder for how long this season will last. And what about my intensity? I put down Pure Desire and am reading other books these days. Do I need a fresh fire already?

My Brother is Back

2011-11-08T18:10:00.000+08:00

I spoke with my mom yesterday. She was emotionally closed off. It took me 30 years to realize this.

I spoke with my brother today. We have opened up to each other considerably since that fruitful phone call a few months ago.

We talked about our mother. Fear. Fear of death. Fear of losing control. She was hurt, wound up, grasping onto what she could, holding onto her dear, precious life. From her behavior when other people were in the driver's seat to her hammering into my brother her worries and fears over my brother's job prospects every day just a few years ago, my brother and I agreed our mom was governed by something formidable. Nonetheless, we love our mom and appreciate what good she has done in our lives. We want to help her. God wants to free her.

I shared how I experienced Father's heart this past weekend. My testimony struck something very deep inside my brother, who, when I talked about our Father's absence and unresponsiveness at important junctures in our lives and about our shameful family experiences, interrupted me to share how hurt he felt when no one attended his high school graduation. He started cursing in describing how terrible an experience it was. Indeed, even I felt his pain when he described this. That really hurts, and that impacts us.

My brother was very responsive when I shared our heavenly Father's heart for him, for our mom and everyone else in our family. I asked him for prayer requests, he gave his, and we prayed together. In fact, he even said aloud, "In Jesus' name we pray, Amen" when we had finished. Praise God. My brother is back. Sarcasm has been dashed. My brother and I had never been this emotionally open to each other. My brother is closer to the kingdom now. He's very close. He's responsive to Jesus, the Gospel and Father's heart. I'm going to keep praying for my brother and await the divine appointment during which He will receive gladly Jesus as Lord and Savior. Praise God!

OKCupid Dating Flowchart

2011-11-08T14:15:00.002+08:00

I signed up for OKCupid. At this point, I'm not sure if I will do anything with it not least because I want to focus on my relationships with God and then my family first. Besides, I already have many lovely ladies in my spheres of influence.

I do like answering questions on OKCupid. This is a more curious, perhaps unreliable way to assess compatibility in comparison with the comprehensive personality assessment on eharmony -- or was it match.com? Anyway, I also like these cute flowcharts and metrics. Though valid within the context of OKCupid questions, I don't believe these are very reliable measurements of whether or not I would go on a date with you! Like many things in life, I think dating is highly contextualized and the variables that influence dating cannot be so easily isolated.

A Praiseworthy Argument

2011-11-08T14:05:00.000+08:00

I contacted my brother without consulting the Father. This was a capricious decision like one made by a reed swaying in the wind.

My brother and I met at the HKUSU canteen. I had wondered what had changed since we had last met. Like the encounter before that, our last encounter resulted in the most significant breakthrough in our relationship.

His countenance was heavy-laden. He was tired. Work burdened him. I have heard the same self-righteous rhetoric for years. A lot of anger, this time turned in on himself.

I pointed this out. We prayed not once, but twice in the midst of our conversation.

Our food was delayed. My brother was anxious. He wanted to eat. He wanted to go to class. His desires were painted on the contours of his face, and on his eyes.

I started sharing what had transpired these past few days. He listened and replied with his perfunctory grunts. I felt he still didn't care about what I said. He was more anxious to eat. He was more anxious for his turn to talk. He was more interested in looking at his watch. He never says anything edifying about what I share. He can only say, "Oh, that's good. (My turn to talk.)" As was the case with my mother in the morning, I never finished sharing my testimony. Too many distractions.

Indeed, his anxiousness for his food bothered me so much that I stopped our conversation to fetch his food for him. There had been an inopportune delay. My brother scarfed down his food, and he took some extended turns. I never did finish.

I did notice the hardened shell around his emotions. Like my mom, he was closed up. I felt open with my emotions, at least with the Father. To him in quiet I cried out about how painful it was to talk to someone who seemed so pent up, and selfish. I wondered if I had made a mistake in inviting this situation.

The breakthrough came in one of my pauses, where I could rejoice no longer. "You don't care," I said. I felt the dynamic of our situation had not changed.

"Now wait a moment," he replied sharply.

This was the turning point in our relationship. We got into an argument about whether or not he cares.

We both said we loved each other. I said I was sorry and that I believe him when he says it is true he cares. I did not tell him I thought he was selfish. I did not tell him in my heart I didn't believe. His actions still belie his words. I can't believe him when he says he cares but doesn't demonstrate it. I have repented for not speaking the entire truth.

He left for class. I called my accountability brother. I shared with him. He spoke into my life. So soon as I said the word argument, he exclaimed, "Oh, really? Praise God!" We should rejoice, he said, not least because this is the first demonstration of my brother's assertiveness, ever. No matter how closed off he might be, that he was spurred on to actively disagree with me was, in fact, a real glimmer of hope, a real change in his demeanor. He came out swinging, throwing powerful punches, for the first time in our relationship. He was combative, not passive, hallelujah! At the same time, we agreed, my brother doesn't intentionally hurt me. In the same way my family and I have been hurt so much in our past that we cannot help closing ourselves off and in the process, hurting other people. My brother doesn't purposefully show disdain for other people.

I rejoice and give thanks to the Father. My Father has given me a good family, by blood and in Christ. He has assembled brothers to love another as themselves and to partner with him. Only God could turn an argument into a cause for celebration. This is a breakthrough.

Grandma is Gone.

2011-11-06T12:01:00.000+08:00

I wept again. When I returned home, after running the race, after receiving a real revelation of the Father's heart for my family, I received an e-mail from my mom. My grandma passed away. I cry.

I don't where she has gone. I know my heart is heavy with giving and taking away by the Lord. I can only rejoice and praise the Lord with all my strength. I hold on to the good, the beautiful memories I've shared with my grandma in this life. I also look forward to the Father fulfilling what He has promised for my family. He's true. Even my grandma's passing is a moment for hope, that the good shepherd calls his flock together. He will bind the broken and heal the sick.

I won't make her funeral, in the same way that I didn't make her husband's, my grandfather's funeral -- indeed, I haven't even visited his grave. In both instances, I've been away from home. But that's not an excuse. It's just a symptom of the vast chasm in my family that the Lord will close and seal up.

Family Boundary and Shame Memories

2011-11-06T11:54:00.000+08:00

On Mr. Roger's prompting, I told the truth to my mom: I had spilled shampoo on the carpet. She did not respond kindly in the fashion that Mr. rogers suggested: instead, she flew into a murderous rage. I felt betrayed: telling the truth only brought pain.

I remember my mom's murderous rage one evening after I hurt my younger brother; I had fled into my room, into my tent. I was almost asleep when my mom swooped in and whooped me in the tent.

In general, whenever I physically attacked someone in the house, I would flee to my room and lock the door. That became a game: attacking with impunity. No explicit consequence.

My siblings and I had a locked door routine for a season. I recall picking my older sister's door's lock to access her secrets. Covert operations.

I recall striking my brother hard, to the ground, as I rushed out the door to my awaiting ride. My brother wailed. I felt incredibly guilty.

I recall my paternal grandfather feigning suffering on my living room couch and my bringing a blanket to him for comfort.

I remember my mom tutoring my younger brother lots, at the dining room table; there, he also received gifts to motivate him when I received no credit for what I did, though I outperformed him in school. That engendered resentment in me. I also realize now that I felt shame.

Shame. Lots of it. I recall my dad checking girls out as he drove me home from high school. I remember my dad's dirty magazine stash under the bed. I remember snitching on my dad as in the garage I had found negatives from when he had been photographing nudes. My mom was the cop.

My own forays into pornography. I started a long time ago, and was enabled. Sometimes surreptitious. Other times more explicit.

Speaking of which, my siblings and I fought over the computer lots. My mom could not regulate.

I remember my sister's addiction to fantasy role playing. That was her special coping mechanism. I teased her lots about it and at other times lambasted her for it. Little did I examine myself at the time.

I also recall my teasing my sister unceasingly about her middle school axl rose crush. Small wonder she unmercilessly heaped scorn on me during my freshman year depression.

I got lost often when I was young. My mom and I could not find each other in the mall and the amusement park.

My dad wasn't around. He was not at my big events, if there were any. Sometimes my mom would come. Not much support or encouragement from my dad in my formative years. Not a strong, deep relationship. Small wonder my curious reactions to male authority figures in my life.

My dad would just come home very late at night, by the time I was asleep. He had his own physical space, apart from us. I didn't know how to react to his space.

One of my earliest memories is me sitting at the kitchen table with my siblings and with my mom. My dad approached my mom to plant a kiss on her cheek. She brushed him away. Affection FAIL.

My dad's dad wasn't much better. It is hard to develop strong, deep relationships with your children when your dad didn't do the same for you. Troubled marriages are generational.

My dad struggled too. Everyone in my family struggled and coped. Pain, harm and shame, in spades.

The Father's heart for his children is real. His spirit reveals this hurt in my life for my healing. How He has already restored and healed my family. Oh how he loves us and will do even greater things in our midst.

God just spoke to me so clearly. Come take a walk with me, he said. No need to take your achievements. You can lay them down. I have got big plans for your family. You just wait; you ain't seen nothing yet. I will show that I am a Father for all your family.

I can only weep. Hallelujah!

Jesus is the good shepherd. He binds the broken. He heals the wounded.

Shatin 10K 2011

2011-11-06T11:52:00.001+08:00

First, I am surprised that I came in second place overall, all the more so since I ran so slow. 38:08.

Praise God. His love endures. He came to the race to watch me. He cheered not only me but everyone on. I saw him in the stands. His still small voice spurred me on with two kilometers to go. He is my Father. The Father's heart is real for his children, even, at the races.

That there was no crowd at the line fifteen minutes before the start was curious. No anxious runners. Just some folks milling around. I am thankful for a position at the very front of the pack, and for not having to endure such a long, stifling wait for the start.

The MC had a sense of humor. He reprimanded us in advance in the event we did any of the stupid things which we he warned us not to do. Lulz. Praise God.

I went out with the fast guy. I kept up with him for about four kilometers before I faded. There was no one running behind me. I was in the deep waters, again. 18:40 first five kilometers. Slow.

It seems that my endurance peaked a month ago. Now I don't have such endurance to run at personal best speed. Maybe I need to train more. Or I may still be running with an injury -- but I doubt it. I may have exhausted myself recently -- likely, but negligible for such a drop in performance over the last few weeks. I am still convinced I am not training enough. Twice a week, seriously, between races. I need to prove I can manage my time for breakthrough. My Father wants me to do well in all the things I do in this life. I therefore may need to rethink, to reprioritize my weekly activities.

I mixed up my routine today. I drank a sugar free red bull. Later I double-deuced. That was unexpected, and unpleasant. The last deuce was in a grimy public toilet without TP. Nasty! I should bring tempos next time. I stretched and then ran a few laps.

I woke up at six and had enough time to position myself at the start, even with my double-deuce. Next week, I will have to get up at 05:30, at the very latest. I do not want a repeat of last year's start.

Lots of prizes. Everyone goes home happy. Praise God. What a race!

A Revival Vision

2011-11-05T14:45:00.003+08:00

I was sitting inside the Dumpling King restaurant when I had a vision:

I was standing on a street corner outside the shop. I was on a soapbox. People were gathering. We were on Des Voeux Road. I am holding a megaphone. This was an appeal:

Hear, Hong Kong, the Lord is one. The Lord is here, God with us. There is no need to fear; no shame; no need to worry about having enough to eat, having enough money. You don't even need to fear death. Rejoice! The Lord loves you. He has great plans for you. His grace is enough. His hand of mercy is on us.

How God is merciful, when I received this vision, I asked God for confirmation. Indeed, I want to obey and I will obey if the Lord equips me. He will equip me well. This partnership goes deeper and wider. He provides the sign for me to be a sign of a greater reality than ourselves in Hong Kong; He is equipping me.

Finally I wonder why there hasn't been this type of Methodist-style preaching in Hong Kong. Maybe this is because there hasn't been revival in Hong Kong.

Relationship Breakthrough

2011-11-05T14:31:00.000+08:00

Yesterday, at early morning prayer, I felt convicted about men. I feel God is speaking to me more and more about men, and a group of men in this church. I can be open in this group and the group can be open to me.

I felt so convicted about this that I wanted to flee my house church, where there are many girls but only two other men. And then I thought about the other ministries in which I participate. The same thing. Many women. A smattering of men. My friend's name came through clearly in my prayers. I will consult him about men's fellowship.

All this is happening because God is working in the area of relationships in my life. In this season, He works in one specific area which requires healing and surrender on my part. For this reason I've been convicted about this.

From relationships, to men, and now to my father; I've been devouring the Pure Desire book which my friend gave me. Praise God, for He is showing me how real a Father He is, what kind of Father He is, and why I desperately need Him.

Father issues. He more or less abandoned me. He was neither reliable nor faithful -- after all, I did see what he looked at. His absence and his futility impacted me in the same way that my dad's dad's lackadaisical, impotent ways affected my father. I love my father, but he achieved the horrendously unintended: depriving my siblings and me the first, the strongest male presence in our lives; and with that the support, faith and love we need to grow and to be fruitful in human relationships. Small wonder my other sets of cousins are married: the difference is those other sets, in spite of their mothers, had strong fathers leading those families; and those fathers didn't come from my bloodline.

Far from embittering me, I embarked the Lord all the more. I was on the 971 bus. The Lord spoke to me clearly: He is faithful; He will never abandon me; He is available and trustworthy. He is responsive and always around. He listens, and He speaks to me. He loves me deeply. For the first time, these words took on a new meaning. My mind was renewed. Praise God. He is all the Father I need.

To think all this breakthrough and revelation began with another cycle of disappointment and rejection. My dream girl is seeing someone. I verily rejoice with her but I stumbled when I wiped the sweat off my brow, thinking, "one less girl to think about." Then I turned this relief into opportunity. Thankfully, the girl I invited knows God is working in my relationships and declined my offer. When I returned to my old coping ways, the tide turned. Everything is changing now. What I felt broke when my dream girl drew a boundary is really breaking now in the heavens. I know in a new way that I can trust God with my emotional needs.

One final thought: a byproduct of my father's absence is my curious reactions to male authority figures in my life.

Dreaming about Her

2011-11-01T15:02:00.003+08:00

OK, I wonder if this is the answer to a prayer; I have asked God to open my eyes to someone. People have been praying the same over me.

She has been in my dreams twice in the past week. In both we were in a relationship. We kissed and held hands and that was the extent of our physical intimacy. (Indeed, in my dreams, I had taken curious measures (Think cushion.) to create physical distance between us.) We weren't eating. We walked around and had explored different geographical environments.

As a result, I've been talking to her lots. My focus is there. Stay tuned.

A Battle Against Terror

2011-10-30T14:39:00.000+08:00

She is probably someone's mom. She is probably someone's wife. She is probably a sister. She is a daughter. She is a friend. And she was walking in these relationships with some deep hurts and dangerous demons on her and in her.

When was the last time you witnessed terror? Think back to the last time you saw someone terrorized. I recall this woman this evening. Her terror was supernatural. I saw the spirit of terror clinging to her like a small child clings to his mother.

Self-righteousness; defiance; anger; terror wasn't the only stronghold in her.

My battle against terror began on the last lap of my interval training. I was rounding the final curve in lane six, until then running unobstructed, when I saw the woman ahead of me. She was in my lane, walking slowly. I called for her to move. She didn't budge. I went around her.

I had noticed her weaving between lanes during my run. After I had crossed the line, I turned around and approached her. I was walking in her lane. (True to form, she was now in lane seven.) I wanted to tell her I was using lane six and to be more aware of other runners and which lanes they are in.

"Sorry, ma'am, just before I was using lane six --"

Her first words were defiant: "Did you rent lane six? Tell me. Did you really rent lane six?"

"OK, ma'am, did you rent lanes eight, seven and six?" I pointed to the lanes as I spoke. I think I kept my composure. I was going with her rhetoric.

She spoke more loudly. Her voice was tremulous. Her face shrinking in disgust. "I don't want to talk about this," she shouted. She continued walking.

"Ma'am, I do not want a misunderstanding." At this point, I placed my left hand gently on her left elbow. Big mistake. That was the trigger for the spirit of terror. That demonic spirit seized her.

"Don't touch me!" she screamed. She shrank back. Her face was a mess. Not a trace of kindness or understanding on her countenance. Only severe anger, mixed with a curious fear.

"Peace," I declared. "Ma'am," I repeated calmly, "I do not want a misunderstanding. I do not know you. I do not know your heart. I do not know what happened to you. I know I do not want this misunderstanding." "Peace," I repeated.

She did not turn around. The terror was heavy. "I do not want to talk," she shrieked.

"Peace," I called. "Bless you, ma'am."

I ran my two cool-down laps. While running, I prayed loudly, volubly. I gave thanks to God; I declared who God is, to me, to her, and to this city. I prayed to set that woman free. Her bonds to be broken on earth as they have been in heaven. I spoke in tongues.

I passed her once. She was on the phone.

By the time I finished praying, I had finished my laps, out of breath. I saw a man in a yellow polo accompanying the woman. They were approaching me on the straightaway.

The man hailed me. We spoke. In short, the woman had complained. Therefore, the man explained in unclear terms that she and I could use the lanes freely. Basically, he had no more of an argument than the woman had complained about my running in one lane and my informing her of this.

More importantly, he emphasized she was scared. He used the word scared several times.

At this point, I pointed out how scared she was: about what, exactly, I asked the man. I asked him to think about this with a sober mind. Indeed, I was speaking to him, a stranger, and he showed no signs of fear, let alone such insurmountable fear which manifested in her. He had no answer. I then asked him to think about her incredible response, the contortions on her face, her voice rising as if in mortal danger when I touched her elbow. I touched his elbow. What could have prompted such a thing? He did not know. I concurred. We both do not know what happened in this woman's life so that she responded in such terrifying fashion.

When it appeared the man wanted to defend the woman and repeat her complain, in the process interrupting me, I interrupted him and asked him to let me finish.

I noticed the man convulse in his breathing at times, as if his nasal passage had seized up. He shook when this happened, about three times. I spoke peace to him. I do not know if this convulsion was a supernatural assault.

Finally, I asked him to fulfill my purposes. If she is complaining, I will complain as such: she should not respond in such unkind, hostile fashion to people. She was a terror. I asked the man to tell her to treat people who use the track and who want to dialog more politely. I do not know if he delivered this message. I am not sure asking him to talk to her was a good idea. That could only be more fodder for her terror and hostility.

I stretched. I saw the man walk briefly with the woman. I thanked the man as I left the seating are and went inside.

It is finished. God is good and faithful. What was the meaning of this insanity but to give God all the glory and thanksgiving. I pour myself out now in the way that the Lord has positioned me in this curious city. Praise God.

Prophetic Prayer

2011-10-28T01:01:00.000+08:00

My church's thanksgiving revival services began this evening. Holy Spirit showed up. What a party.

Towards the end of the service, Pastor Rob asked us to let Holy Spirit speak to us with an answer to this question: God, in what area of my life are you now working? My first word was "relationships." I declared who God is, and prayed in thanksgiving for that.

There was prayer time after the service. I received prayer from my brother. God was speaking to me through my brother. He told me that I was confident not in myself but in the Lord. Very confident. I was strong. In fact, the word "giant" was used to describe me. OK. Praise God! I received that encouragement well.

While he was praying, I saw angels walking behind me. I was on the walkway by the church being followed by angels lined up in widening rows which formed a triangle. We went three-four, deep. That's a reason to be confident when God backs you up with a holy entourage.

My brother then asked me to pray for him. I began with thanksgiving, this evening's sermon's theme, and then invited Holy Spirit to lead this prayer. After all, how can I pray?

God gave me an important word, "rest," for my brother. Upon hearing that word, my brother opened his eyes in shock. He then moved convulsively as I continued praying. Something was happening. Later, I received "renewal" to follow that rest. OK. I delivered that.

Afterwards, my brother said he received the word "rest" yesterday when he was praying. This was confirmation. That was amazing. Praise God!

No sooner had we finished praying for each other than I was receiving prayer from a sister. This sister had just become a Christian. She had also envisaged me last evening during her quiet time, for which reason she prayed for me then, and I asked her to prayer for me this evening, again. Although she didn't appear confident in doing this, she acquiesced with much encouragement. Indeed, I had shared with her my word of knowledge which confirmed my brother's, so she had an idea of how Holy Spirit can lead when we don't know how to.

The first word she got was "relation." She then became very specific and prayed for a release of my girlfriend into my life. That was a new type of prayer! This sister then prayed for success in my Cambridge scholarship application.

Praise God! When we had finished praying, I told her that her first word, "relation" matched the word I received from the Lord an hour earlier. God has spoken to her; she received; and we were both blessed.

Breakthrough Prayer

2011-10-25T11:12:00.001+08:00

Father, I thank you for your faithfulness. You are faithful even when I am not. How your mercies are new every morning! You are a healing God, a God that redeems and restores. You appointed the time when you by your spirit spoke to me about my brother; at the same time, you spoke to my brother, and compelled him to contact me.

Father, you have seen us through the seasons and have loved us with an everlasting, furious, jealous love. I thank you for changing my heart in these seasons so I could meet my brother in love and not in resentment. I thank you Spirit for speaking truth into my brother's heart through me. Yours is a mighty healing work in him. May this brotherly love that he and I have for each other be for your glory.

Father, I pray for continued renewal and transformation in our lives, in our relationship, and most of all in our relationships with you. Speak to me, oh Lord, about the time and the season to return to this friendship. In the same way, I pray you continue to guard my brother from the enemy's lies, cancel the enemy's assignments to him and increase the healing and softeness in his heart. May he love as you love, oh Lord, with intensity and fury, without fear and shame. May a peace that transcends all understanding guard both his heart and mind and my heart and mind in Christ Jesus. Fortify our Godly boundaries, Father. Let us continue to run together. I love you and in Jesus' name I pray.

Breakfast at the Cafe de Coral; and Tea time

2011-10-19T12:03:00.000+08:00

This morning, I met my friend Holly in Shenzhen. We decided to have breakfast at a Cafe de Coral near the Lowu train station.

We were sitting beside a window facing the sidewalk. We had just prayed and had begun eating.

We noticed a man standing beside us. He was on the sidewalk, staring at our food. The glass window separated us. His countenance was swarthy; his coat was several sizes too large. He knocked on the glass.

I pointed at him; and then at my food. He nodded. I pointed for him to come inside. I told Holly I would buy him a meal, got up, and went to greet him at the door.

Holly told me later that as I did this the people sitting beside us beseeched us not to cater to this beggar. I didn't know this at the time.

I met him at the door and led him to the menu. I gestured for him to select something. The attendant waiting on us noted his selection.

At the cashier, I paid for the man's meal. I asked the man for his name and for his province. Jian from Hubei, he said.

When the cashier asked whether Jian wanted to dine in or take out, he said take out.

By this time, Holly had joined us. I asked her to convey our blessings to Jian. She did, and more so: Jesus loves you, she told him. I shook Jian's hand. Jian went out the door. Holly and I returned to our table.

No sooner had Holly and I resumed our meal than we, to our shock, saw Jian beside us once more, the glass window again separating us. He had unpacked his meal right beside us. This was strange. Holly explained that since he was poor, he would feel out of place and uncomfortable in Cafe de Coral's casual dining environment. People would look down on him, she added.

This scenario was at once strange and unacceptable. I asked Holly if she felt comfortable eating with Jian. Let's do it, she said. I tapped on the glass and motioned for Jian to join us inside. He paced up his belongings and entered the restaurant. Holly and I packed up our belongings and switched tables. Many people stared at us.

Holly and I sat beside each other. Jian sat across from me. Since I didn't speak much Putonghua, Holly and Jian spoke the most, to each other. I kept eating though I listened intently to their conversation.

Jian had come to Shenzhen to find work. He had quit his art job because his boss had been beating him. He resorted to begging because he didn't want to be involved in such a situation again.

Holly translated this for me after he had finished sharing. She asked me what I thought. I said I think he needs to forgive his boss. I didn't ask Holly to convey this explicitly to him -- she did anyway. Instead, I asked her to speak as the Spirit led. I could appreciate our being in the Kairos zone.

Holly and Jian spoke lots. Mild banter and then bold declarations. Ultimately, Holly led Jian in the sinner's prayer -- I could understand that. I high-fived Jian when he had accepted Christ.

We had finished eating. Jian asked us for a dollar because he wanted it to buy medicine. (Earlier, Jian had showed us he only had ten dollars on him, that bill tucked away in his coat pocket.) I explained to Holly my policy of never giving a beggar money. Nonetheless, I told her that was my boundary and not hers. She gave Jian the dollar.

Jian left first. Curiously, he was waiting for us outside the restaurant. He wanted to go to a church. We didn't know of one in the city, unfortunately. Before we parted, Jian insisted I wear my backpack over my chest since Shenzhen is a dangerous place. I acquiesced. He cares about me. Holly and I both noticed this when we debriefed. (Indeed, inside the restaurant, Jian insisted on pouring sugar into both Holly's drink and my drink.) Kindness begets kindness. Praise God.

I had no reason not to trust Jian and his tale. Having said that, Holly noted some of Jian's curious comments: he had met Holly in Wuhan already when she didn't recall this; he had already forgiven his boss; he had already met Jesus; he would find a job so soon as he had his medicine; and he said he was 50 but born in 1987. Holly concluded that he had developmental problems.

Holly, by the way, is my friend who was kidnapped by the security bureau a few months ago because she loves Jesus. At that time, and everywhere, she loves to relay the good news. To be sure, her Godly qualities were demonstrated to me all the more by her agreeing to dine with a beggar, a stranger, in a Shenzhen Cafe de Coral, what passes as a high table. Praise God!

Finally, that was not the only curious testimony of the day. In the afternoon, Holly and I stopped for tea in a restaurant near the Lowu train station. We were talking, in a mix of English, Cantonese and Putonghua, when the man sitting in the booth behind us motioned for Holly to get my attention.

"Big brother," he said in Cantonese, "do you have $10? The restaurant just tacked on $10 to my bill without my knowing and I don't have enough cash. Please help me out."

He got up and walked over to Holly and my booth. He showed us the bill and repeated his plea. He was saying all of this in Cantonese. I had not translated for Holly because all this was unfolding too fast. No breaks.

"Sure!" I said to him. "No problem. In fact, I will cover your meal." I took ahold of his bill, looked at it and then looked at him.

"I'm sorry I don't have the money," he said.

"That's OK," I replied. "You don't have $10, but we have a lot of grace here." I moved my arm in a sweeping motion. "Jesus loves you. We've got grace here. We have lots of mercy." I smiled at him. "I'm covering your bill. Bless you!"

I got up, and the man and I walked to the door. I shouted to the waitress that I was covering his bill. He thanked me all the way out the door. I blessed him and went back to my seat to praise God and to debrief with Holly. I had to explain everything that had just happened to her.

To conclude with a few thoughts about these testimony's application to neighborhood outreach:

Faith, not apologetics, was needed to minister this day: indeed, Holly and I defying social convention required us to see what God sees and not what bystanders in the restaurants see in these people to whom we ministered.
Translation is context-dependent. Holly translated only when there was a lull in conversation, after Jian had finished an extended turn. At those times, she kept me involved by asking me for my thoughts. At other times, she just went for it. In the second case, I just went for it. I didn't translate because there were no lulls. Everything was moving too fast for translation. Only after the encounter did I translate for Holly. Overall, I think we worked well.
Practically speaking, Holly and I kept busy. High-fives an eye contact are important regardless of our listening comprehension.
Kindness in the small things begets kindness.

Feeling Deception

2011-10-19T11:04:00.001+08:00

What does deception feel like? It feels like a massage which confuses the mind and the body, mixing physical signals with emotions. I think my time this afternoon in the Queen's spa confirmed this. H was right: a shared room obviates temptation.

Nonetheless, this return to Queen's spa was cathartic. I know what happened last time. This time I am a different man with firmer boundaries. This time my companion is stronger and firmer in her walk. This situation is, praise God, redemptive.

Breaking Yokes

2011-10-19T10:56:00.001+08:00

By God's grace, I broke my Starcraft yoke. On Sunday, I had received prayer to sleep more. That night, I turned off my computer 30 minutes before bed. Ultimately, I slept at 10:30. Last night, I did the same and slept at 09:45. With that, I could rejoin my brethren at EMP. Praise God.

Nonetheless, the process hasn't been easy. The enemy doesn't relent. It just annoys more and more. On Sunday night, I woke up at 03:45 with a raging stomach ache. It was so painful I could barely stand. At that time, I watched Starcraft and went to the convenience store to eat. 90 minutes later, I was back in bed, feeling better. The next night, I woke up again. This time, I persevered in laying in bed I slept well. Praise God.

Something in the heaven's broke. And I'm going to ride far with the Lord's yoke on me.

A Divine Appointment with D

2011-10-19T10:51:00.001+08:00

Last night, God appointed a time for D and I to meet. Although I had see her several times in the common room, sitting alone, the air con shut off, I had never spoken to her. We had only exchanged curious glances.

Our fruitful moment began as I stretched my legs in the common room. To be precise, I was grabbing my quadriceps when I started to pray in tongues. I had asked God whether I should speak to Doris. The Spirit reminded me to do so if I could operate out of love: until then, I noted the possible tension between us because she liked still, stifling air while I preferred a chilling breeze in the room. I had also played guitar in her presence and hasn't gauged her reaction.

I opened my mouth and D and my journey commenced. She studied in the common room to break her Internet addiction at her desk. She struggled mightily in her research career: late graduation; changing supervisors; and too many changing research questions. We also discussed her research: she had an idea of what she was doing. Overall, however, the resignation, if not desperation, in her voice, her posture and her thoughts, were obvious. She was seeking relief.

I pointed this out to her. She agreed. At this, I began sharing God's point of view. God loved her with an everlasting love, a jealous, furious love, I said. This doesn't change no matter our circumstances and our heart, whether passing or failing. I shared my testimonies about God shaping my research to prove this. I also explained divine appointment, how our meeting was not a coincidence. Ultimately, I asked her if she wanted to receive Jesus. She said she didn't know. I didn't press any further.

However, we did pray together. After explaining how we pray, I lifted her and her felt need to the Lord. I prayed for favor and success in her meeting with her supervisor the following morning. Afterwards, I worshipped the Lord with song. She went back to work.

Praise God. He is good and has the best plans for us.

To conclude, I needed not apologetics but lots of faith to speak with D. What's more, our common experience and my testimonies addressing her felt need were invaluable. She was willing to receive prayer for her felt need. I didn't push her much.

Boundaries in Dating

2011-10-19T10:34:00.001+08:00

I'm learning about boundaries in dating. Two friends told me they were busy until November. They wouldn't be able to go out until then. One went so far as to tell me that Sundays were off limits as she spent time with God and family on that day. I thanked this friend for delineating this boundary clearly. In general, I am thankful to be around people who prioritize, have boundaries and can communicate such priorities and expectations to me. That is attractive!

As I learn about my boundaries and other people's boundaries, I have modified my approach to asking out friends. I asked one friend if she would be free on a Sunday or Monday, this month. While she though my timeframe was lovely, I thought this was a good application of this week's learning. I can respect my time and other people's time.

The Kind Bus Driver

2011-10-19T10:31:00.000+08:00

I met a kind bus driver. I boarded his bus on Water Street, the last stop before the Western Harbour crossing. As I saw the bus rumble across the street, I chased after it. B the time I reached the bus, I thought I had lost my chance to board it since the bus had been at the stop for several seconds, a lifetime in terms of transport stopping. Assuming this, I hopped into the queue for the next bus. Curiously, however, the bus still didn't move. I looked up. The bus driver beckoned me in. He had offered me a precious, curious, only in Hong Kong courtesy: I could be the last person to board an incredibly packed bus. I gingerly stepped in, my heels dangling off a step ledge. The driver closed the door and hit the gas. The red, "Bus Full" sign was turned on.

I thanked the driver profusely.

I experienced his kindness a second time as the bus glided into the Western Harbour Tunnel. I felt as if I were on a roller coaster -- this is physics alive, I thought to myself. Thankfully, I noticed the bus gradually slowing as it approached the tunnel's mouth. It stopped completely a few meters from the tunnel entrance. We wouldn't be speeding into the tunnel -- praise God!

In fact, the driver had opened his window and with his right hand ushered several buses past. Those buses blew by us. The driver told us that these buses were less full and more eager to reach their destinations. "Of course," I replied to him. As if his reason weren't enough, the driver continued to elaborate loudly as he hit the gas. The passengers were treated to a typical defense of his actions, as though he were on trial. I kept affirming his comments. Maybe I could relieve him with encouragement.

I think this driver, unlike the taxi driver, deserves a report. I took down the driver's number and will call New World to commend him. (I haven't though!) I don't take kindness for granted.

Choi Four

2011-10-12T14:49:00.001+08:00

Praise God, for He has appointed time after time for Mr. Choi and I to meet. I bumped into Mr. Choi by the Circle K next to my building a few days ago. Mr. Choi was skimming the headlines. I shouted his name and he looked up.

That was the extent of his eye contact. We talked briefly because he didn't appear to be in a talking mood. His cheer had vanished. Apparently, so did his memory: when I invited him to my church, he thought I didn't go to church; and he wondered, after I had clarified that, what my church's Chinese name was. He wasn't going to church, he told me. His avoiding my gaze reminded me of the first time we had met, after we had prayed for the first time. Something was wrong.

Before I could inquire further, he suddenly walked away. I prayed for him and blessed him quietly in my heart. I went into my building. I'm not sure what happened this evening to him, and between us.

Another Taxi Deception

2011-10-12T14:41:00.000+08:00

I asked God for a route from Kennedy Town to Old Peak Road. I wanted peace on this journey -- no stress -- especially since I was carrying food tonight. I prayed for traveling mercies for me and my brethren.

God told me Conduit Road cab. I ascended to Conduit via the Belchers and HKU. Just outside the HKU entrance I hailed a taxi. I told the driver to take me to Old Peak. Easy enough.

He did not take Conduit. Instead, he took us went down, and down. I was being taken for a ride, again. I started praying in tongues.

The driver received a call while driving. He shot the breeze with that caller, commented on how empty Caine Road was that time of night and cursed a bit. I kept my prayer constant and audible.

After he finished the call, I asked the driver why he did not take me along Conduit Road. He told me that he could not make a u-turn from where he had picked me up. He told me next time to fetch him on Conduit. As if telling me this once were not enough, he repeated himself not once but twice, each time growing more irritable. He was an irascible, voluble fellow. I prayed while he lambasted me.

In the midst of his diatribe, I told him I had learned my lesson. My response did not quench his fury. His rancor ensued. I told him he did not have to scold me. By his persistent scolding, his disapprobation was obvious. Ultimately I bade him peace. Peace, I declared. That quieted him. I prayed in tongues for the rest of my journey.

I asked for a receipt. I learned how to hail a cab on Conduit. Now I debate whether to report this driver and whether to be delivered from this deceptive spirit that hops into cabs with me. I will consult my house church brethren in a moment.

Praise God. I did not melt down. Mine is a changed heart for God's glory!

Ulfenbo Quarter Marathon 2011

2011-10-09T18:09:00.000+08:00

I have a five-year history with this race. The last time I ran this race, in 2009, I finished in a personal best 41:30.

Two years later, I finished in a personal best 38:37. That was good enough for 5th in my group and 16th, I believe, overall.

I also achieved a life goal today. I ran 10K in 36:45, albeit unofficially. In addition, I unofficially ran a 17:40 for my first 5K. Both times are records for me. In that sense, I had the race of my life today. Praise God!

Curiously, this accomplishment underwhelmed me. Though I had waited four years and suffered all sorts of physical, spiritual and mental injuries in my wait, when I looked at my watch at the 10K mark, I didn't feel much. Indeed, I still had more than half-a-kilometer to go! Even now, while I am thankful, I look forward to even faster times and new goals.

God is good. He blessed me. Although it was 27-degree hot, He provided cloud cover and a gentle breeze as I raced beside the Tolo Harbour. He built the Tai Po Waterfront Park where I found a shower room and took a leisurely, breezy shower. God provides beautifully. I praised Him from Kennedy Town to Tai Po. He restores my soul. His peace covered me.

His kindness leads me to repentance. I recall arriving at the starting line with 25 minutes to spare. 5 minutes before the race, some athletes crowded in front of me at the start. I was indignant to an extent.

I don't endorse VIPs in running. Everyone needs to manage their time strategically. Finding time to wait at the start is a part of this strategy. I've realized this. People who are much slower than I have also realized this and they get in line with plenty of time before the start. I endorse that. They can be ahead of me at the start because they chose to use their time in that way and I chose not to. To have people who think they are unofficial VIPS saunter to the front is now way to bolster good sportsmanship in running. (VIPs should be official. Unofficial VIPs are just arrogant.)

I was going to chase after these guys at the start. Ultimately, they were fast and pulled away from me.

I repent not because of their arrogance (Theirs is still sin.) but because I felt self-righteous. I have a point about unofficial VIPs spoiling sportsmanship. But I can't dwell too much on it and use it as a motive for revenge. That's not cool. I repented.

Anyway, I recall a few highlights from this race. I ran beside Choi Tat Ming for the first few kilometers before he pulled away before the 4K mark. Running beside this official VIP was ultimately challenging. Race organization was a boon. Kit, luggage and prize distribution were fast and efficient. Lots of volunteers lined the race route and manned distribution points. Lots of prizes (100 for about 800 runners!) so everyone goes home happy. Overall, a very special race not only for me but for everyone involved.

I was exhausted after the race. I was a zombie in church. A nap and food helped me greatly in my recovery.

Finally, my race preparation was adequate but can be improved. I continued my routine of waking up and drinking a Red Bull. This time I could drop the kids off at the pool. No problem. However, I think I spent too much time (20 minutes) in preparing myself at home. I put in contacts, applied sunscreen, dropped the kids off, and surfed the Internet! Although I woke up at 06:00, I still rushed to the race venue in Tai Po. I literally ran there -- that was my warmup, praise God. Next time, I really do need to put away my desire for information awareness that is the Internet. I need to pack away my computer. That will shave precious minutes off my preparation time at home. This also gives me more time to sleep the night before! Then I can have a few more minutes both in bed and to warm up at the venue.

A Reflection on Relationships

2011-10-05T19:15:00.000+08:00

I am diving a bit deeper into my heart condition. My house church has been helping me with this. I realized this morning that since I never had strong relationships with my family growing up, small wonder I have had such difficulty opening up not only to girls but also to people in general these days. This could also explain why one set of cousins is already married with kids, another set of cousins is married or engaged, but my older sister, younger brother and I are nowhere near marriage or a long-term relationship in our lives. Something happened in our generation in this particular family; but healing begins now. Indeed, I'm only learning now to be intimate with people and to have Godly boundaries around them. Another small wonder my relationships with my family members have strengthened markedly these years though I am no longer physically present with them. Praise God.

Two for One Praise Report

2011-10-04T06:32:00.000+08:00

Dear family,
Quick update-cum-praise report: I bumped into Mr. Choi this evening. He is doing well. His body is not giving him much trouble, and he no longer needs a fan. In fact, he needs a quilt because the weather is becoming cooler these days. He will mention this to the people at St. Barnabas when he visits tomorrow.

Mr. Choi was very curious to understand the differences between churches and denominations. He was also quite curious about my understanding of the church being not an address but a group of believers. (He also couldn't believe that Solomon's Porch doesn't have a Chinese name!) Praise God that I could explain the body of Christ to him. Praise God as well for the opportunity to explain to Mr. Choi how all men are sinners -- I pointed to me, to him and to everyone walking on the street -- and the reason for which only Jesus Christ could atone for our sins.

Mr. Choi and I had a joyful time together. I think one of his love languages is touch. Ultimately, we parted. He went to find something to eat. I went home. Praise God.

Finally, R, he remembers you! "He is so tall!" he said. He wondered why we spoke English to each other.

Bless you; good night; and sweet dreams!

After this critical incident, I received follow-up on another:

A few weeks ago, I had stopped in the Kowloon Tong MTR station to pray for my friend over the phone. My friend had not taken her supervisor's comments on her work well. She struggled. We prayed. The Spirit led. That was it.

I called my friend this evening and she reported that after I had prayed, that same evening, her supervisor had sent an e-mail to her to smooth out their misunderstandings. That is a miracle, she said. Praise God!

This friend draws closer to the Lord. I cast all my crowns at the Lord. That's all him, I won't take any credit and I won't let my friend say otherwise.

National Day Run 2011

2011-10-01T23:57:00.000+08:00

I was battling excuses last night. While I balanced tossing and turning with moments of calm, my mind went over the possibilities: rain; fatigue; sore hamstrings; no desire; all the usual suspects.

Ultimately, I woke up at 06:15 and rushed to Tai Mei Took. I arrived at 08:05 -- twenty-five minutes to the start. I grabbed my kit, stretched with much rapidity, and finally queued up. Seven waves deep. Ten minutes to go.

Curiously, a supernatural peace covered me on my journey from my flat to the starting line. I was not stressed. No weapon formed against me prevailed. I listened to worship music; I was worshipping God lustily. I read scripture; and I prayed. God and I went on a beautiful journey together from Kennedy Town to Tai Mei Tuk.

During the race, I praised. "High, high, high. The Lord's name is lifted high." That was my song as I sprinted back and forth along the reservoir road. The race belonged to the Lord. Afterwards, I shared my thanksgiving with everyone I met. I cried a little on the way home because sometimes I wondered why I am still in Hong Kong, leading this particular life for the Lord.

God held the rain from us.

I bumped into many HKBSA brothers and sisters at the start. They cheered me as I ran. Later, they welcomed me into their group as we waited for the prize presentation. They are my family and I love them dearly. They accept me for who I am. Indeed, they can accept that I want to accomplishimportant goals in my life this year, and that doing this takes me away from them for a season. God's grace and mercy reigns in our relationships.

Ben has returned! Seeing him and giving him a hug made my day all the sweeter. In addition, I reunited with Ken, and a few other HKBSA brothers and sisters whom I hadn't seen in weeks, months and years. In sum, there was a significant HKBSA turnout today; lots of friendly faces; praise God!

As I ambled around after the race, I saw triathletes in the midst of their training. I recognized their toughness immediately: they possess a curious type of fortitude that I don't possess. Being a distance runner requires a lesser degree of tenacity than being a triathlete, I believe; after all, you have to swim a kilometer and bike several dozen more before running 10k in a triathlon!

I made a few adjustments which improved my overall performance. First, I drank the Red Bull first thing in the morning, so soon as I got out of bed. My stomach wasn't upset. The caffeine didn't have a laxative effect on me -- or maybe I had nothing in the tank! Second, I stopped to drink water and to dunk water over my head at each station -- at the final stop, I dunked Pocari Sweat over my head as the station attended screamed and looked on in horror. This helped me greatly, I believe. However, I don't know to what extent it helped me: the runner ahead of me bested my time by three seconds. Perhaps, had I not stopped at each station, I could have ran with him all the way to the finish line. We could have had an exciting drag race. Of course, had I arrived at the venue earlier and made my way to the front of the starting pack more aggressively, I also could have cut my time by a few seconds. In sum, I know drinking water helped me. I don't know how in other ways, specifically, this adjustment may have hampered my performance.

Finally, the result: I finished fifth overall out of 1200 runners. I came in second in my group. My finishing time was 37:41 -- more or less the same as last week; but today's conditions were worse than last week's conditions not least because the mighty headwinds made running back and forth along the causeway difficult; drafting didn't help, I felt. I was awarded a big trophy for my troubles. I half-joked with Inti that I achieved so much because of the language barrier: this race's entry form was written in Chinese; that, along with the location, turns off lots of (fast) foreign runners. Small wonder I could run the same time as last week yet be rewarded far more generously.

Indeed, the organizers put on a good show. I like these less prominent events because there are always many prizes, many people go home with hardware and everyone goes home happy. These events draw out families, and non-school, non-athletics club organizations.

One Body

2011-10-01T04:16:00.000+08:00

I visited my Sister's Bible study fellowship last night. That was a test of faith. From meeting in the Global Lounge, to the way worship was conducted, to the way the brethren prayed and to the way they sanded testimonies, there were many differences between their practices, my church's practices and, more generally, the body of practices with which I am familiar. To rejoice at these changes requires much faith and humility. As Jesus says in John 11, "Removed the stone!". I obeyed insofar as I could.
My visit was as significant and as strategic as the Bible study's contents. Hong Kong is a very stratified city and for Heaven to invade Hong Kong, this city must be more integrated. Even such a small visit as this, during which languages and ways of doing are crossed, is an achievement for God's glory. God gave me this mission in Hong Kong to love my neighbor as myself, to make disciples of all nations and, particularly, to spread the sonship identity to a lost, orphaned generation in Hong Kong. Crossing over is my burden in this city, for God's glory. People from all walks of life can worship together: that is the testimony.
Nonetheless, being on this side of the body tested my faith and my ability to love without borders. Imagine the toe suddenly being grafted onto hand where the thumb was; that is a shock to the toe; and the hand wonders what is going on! Not only to hear different teachings and ways of prayer and testimony, but also to receive them well without judgment taxed me. How my flesh wants to compare and judge! Indeed, the Lord saved me, such that, when I am weak, I am strong.
Finally, there were divine appointments. The sermon featured the same story, (The Death of Lazarus in John 11) that was featured at my Sunday sermon; not only that, but this study complemented the asunder sermon well by focusing on Mary's faith. (The Sunday sermon focused on Martha's faith.) What's more, I met a sister who could support my other sister in Shenzhen. Praise God!

Not Turning Away

2011-09-30T00:32:00.000+08:00

God told me to open my heart and let her try. I did that on Monday night. God delivered. She was responsive and open too. She consoled, comforted and counseled. She loves the Christ. She is confident and has an appealing character.

I followed up on my curious behavior while eating. This time I ensured proper eye contact both while I put things in my mouth and while she put things in her mouth. She did not shy away. She made lots of eye contact too at those times. I felt fine doing this. Praise God.

I tried the same tactic with a friend the following day at lunch. In the main, she averted eye contact while putting things in her mouth, and while I put things in my mouth. That was curious. I wonder what prompts that.

I thank God that I'm comfortable with this eye contact business. I'll continue to run with it.

New Balance 10K 2011

2011-09-25T21:36:00.000+08:00

I await the race results. If I am top-eight in my group, I stay; if not, I go to 10:00 service. I sit on a bench, underneath a canopy. Light drizzle. The man beside me has a small, square radio, which plays that Chinese-style elevator music. Beside our bench rest the QESOSA unified team. Glancing at the teachers' faces brings back fond memories. Nevertheless, I am more in a mood to reflect than to catch up with long-lost colleagues.

My watch says I ran a 37:35. That's an impressive time, given the race conditions (cloudy, light rain, yet hot and humid) and that the race season has just started. I have been training well this season and this result evidences that. Running a sub-37 is only a matter of time; no more than a few weeks away, I reckon.

My race strategy was to follow those familiar faces who run at or slightly above my pace. At the start, I fretted when I couldn't spot them. Thankfully, no sooner had I looked around once more than my pace setters arrived. I saw that dude in the sunglasses; and I saw my HKU training partner. They would pace me.

The guy in sunglasses went out fast, too fast. When I checked my watch and read 3:24 for the first kilometer. I knew this was unsustainable, not only for me but for him. Nonetheless, I followed him and ultimately, passed him a few kilometers later. I don't think I will follow him anymore. His pacing was terrible!

My training partner ran a good race, in spite of his ungrateful post-race comments. He followed his pace setter and they stalked me for eight kilometers. At the 8k mark, they sped away from me. His pacing was sustainable. His was a good strategy. I may follow him next race.

I could also follow the F1 female. She blew by me at the 7k mark. She's faster than my training partner, she is more strategic, and I can distinguish her more easily in the crowd. Besides, I like the idea of chasing down a strong woman. In racing and in life, that resonates with me. I recall the 2008 shatin 10k, where I employed the same woman-chasing strategy. That yielded a personal best.

This course was fast, as were the competitors. My time was nowhere near a top eight in group finish. I have just come from church.

I rested well last night. I woke up refreshed and bit restless since I hadn't run in three days. I arrived at the venue on time; I gulped down my Red Bull an hour before the start; and I lined up at the start twenty-five minutes before eight. My pre-race preparations were almost impeccable.

If I were to do this again, I would skip the red bull, or switch to a milder caffeine source, since, I have realized, caffeine in red bull and in black coffee act as a laxative; and the last thing I want is the discomfort of loose bowels before a race. Next week, I will try the caffeine gel. Ultimately, I may need to take my caffeine much earlier to allow my stomach to settle -- indeed, that works when I train on weekdays.

Finally, I have forgotten how to drink water while running. That is annoying. Next time I need to stop and drink lustily two cups of water at each station, I can dump a cup of water over my head as I run.

Don't Turn Away

2011-09-24T06:21:00.000+08:00

I was spending time with a friend and I noticed something curious about my behavior: when she ate, I wouldn't make eye contact. On the other hand, when I put something in my mouth, though I didn't make eye contact often, I didn't mind as much making eye contact.

That was weird. If this behavior is habitual, I wonder about its length, scope and origin. For how long have I been behaving in this curious way? Do I do this with everyone, just girls, select people, or just her? How did this get started and what are the heart conditions underlying this behavior?

Anyway, I'm having dinner with another friend tomorrow night. I'm going to make eye contact deliberately and prolifically while she eats and while I eat. I'll pay attention to how I feel.

Finally, I noticed my passivity with my friend towards the end of our time together today. She was leading. I was following -- and I don't know if this was in no small part because I was exhausted. In general, I think she took more extended turns in our conversation than I took. Though I successfully opened up a bit, I'm not sure if I should be more diligent in sharing more of what I want to say: that may entail carefully interrupting her. Anyway, I enjoyed walking around with her and listening to her.

I'll pay careful attention to my assertiveness level tomorrow. Maybe I am uncovering some double-minded wholeness-girl versus needy-girl paradigm. Or maybe not!

HKU Cross Country Training Days

2011-09-23T18:48:00.000+08:00

My running performance this academic year has been outstanding. I've noticed it and my coaches have noticed it too. These past few weeks, I've run personal and course records for the 1600 (4:59 personal best on 800 r60; 500 r30; 300), 4K (14:17 personal best at track practice), 5K (17:59 personal best at track practice), and 6K (24:38 course best at CUHK). This leads me to believe that a sub-37-minute 10K time is likely this year: the question is how soon will it come?

The most important difference between this year and last year and, in fact, all the previous years is a change to my training regimen: I rest more these days. Indeed, I rest a lot! I've grown accustomed this season to resting a day between hard runs (e.g. 6K or mile-interval training) and resting two days between longer, harder runs (8K or 10K pace runs). The rest helps: it at once aids my legs' healing and prevents my legs' injuries through overtraining, that which ultimately sidelined me last year. Another difference this year is my emphasis on hitting the gym at least once a week: I want to keep my leg muscles strong to avoid those hamstring injuries which plagued me last year. One final difference is my reliance on running partners to pace me. The more I have relied on them to pace me, the faster I have run. They have precise internal clocks, and I prefer to follow theirs than to follow mine to maintain pace.

For the additional rest, I thank my running mentor Mark who dispenses advice prolifically and openly. He prescribed my mile-training regimen and counseled me on how to rest. As he had run as fast I had run in the past, I followed his advice diligently. And to be sure, his advice is sound because it has produced these improved results. I run less this year but I run faster. At first, this seems ironic, but on second thought, this makes perfect sense to me.

This training regimen works well for the 10K. So soon as I achieve my 10K goal, however, I will transition to the half-marathon and that entails a change in regimen. I wonder how I will transition and how well I will transition.

Neighborhood Outreach Presentation

2011-09-23T03:05:00.000+08:00

[caption id="attachment_2623" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="My Hong Kong Education Experience"][/caption]

[caption id="attachment_2626" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="Ways by which we can divide Hong Kong schools"][/caption]

[caption id="attachment_2624" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="Generalizations about mainstream education"][/caption]

[caption id="attachment_2627" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="The negative spiritual and learning outcomes"][/caption]

Neighborhood Outreach Five

2011-09-17T23:14:00.000+08:00

Although this outreach was organized by my church, it was organized not by the local outreach team but by the children's ministry team. A similar endeavor by a different cognate group within the church; continuity and change; many points to compare.

Indeed, I was the only person in this children's ministry team that went on any of the previous two local outreaches. I am an insider in this church but an outsider in this church cognate group. In that sense, my teammates and I are familiar with each other, but not as familiar as they are with each other and as I am with my local outreach team.

We went to an elderly home at an obscure address in Homantin for this outreach. The children would perform. These contrasted our activities in the local outreach, where we visit accessible venues and aim more to meet and greet, and to establish relationships than to perform.

Nonetheless, praise God, for the outcome was the same: many smiling faces. Everyone finishes joyfully. Even I finished rejoicing after a particularly rough start to my morning. That's good!

The warfare was fierce this morning. I woke up and went to my usual haunt where I have breakfast before church. I have always enjoyed eating there because the food is good, it is priced well, and there is space to read and no pressure to leave. Ironically, this cha chaan teng is perfect for a relaxing meal.

The enemy attacked viciously. No longer is the venue a place for a relaxing meal. Instead of a morning calm, I found myself engulfed in a storm. Something had happened to the restaurant's operations. Orders were mixed up, delayed or lost. I waited 15 minutes for my drink to show up -- I had never waited more than five minutes for any food or drink to arrive on my table at this restaurant. I reminded the staff about my order yet that didn't expedite my order. With the passing of a 20th minute, I could no longer afford such a pace to my morning. A man in a booth complained sonorously about his take-out order being delayed greatly. I saw a couple who had arrived fifteen minutes after me receive their food -- my order -- before I received anything. I melted down. My patience was murdered; my self-righteousness reigned.

I packed up my belongings and left just as the first part of my food order arrived. The staff wondered if I wanted my food boxed for take out; I told them I only wanted to settle the bill. I told them I was very unhappy that I had waited so long. The employee on the receiving end of this lamentation didn't apologize. She did, however, take my money. Symbolically, that was a severance payment. They screwed up once, didn't become accountable for it, and now they've lost a formerly-loyal customer.

At first, my self-righteousness upset me: I had seen someone else, who had arrived after me, receive food before me. Later, disappointment upset me: I was upset that this place screwed up badly, and as a result they had lost me, and I had loosened myself from them. For me, this was a messy breakup.

I dashed over to the Cafe de Coral where these logistical hiccups never happen. Their operations minimize screwed up orders. I had five minutes to eat and my food took 2 minutes to prepare. I scarfed down the food; the milk tea tasted like detergent -- more disappointment. First late orders and then detergent irritated me.

I arrived late to church. My partner turned up later than I did. She had encountered problems with her camera; and then she couldn't find the office. We played phone tag with each other. Major warfare in play.

The cab ride was about as murderous as the rest of my morning: the outreach venue didn't have a street address. The cabbie didn't know where to go; my Google map only helped so much. At Homantin, where the elderly home was located, we got lost. The cabbie drove around the neighborhood, and we wasted time and money. I suspected he, like another cabbie yesterday, was taking me for a ride -- I would be better off trusting they are inept. Indeed, I will no longer have cabbies make route suggestions for me; I'll point the way and ignore their suggestions; of my last three rides, all three have resulted in higher fares because of cabbies' ineptitude, I believe; and so my trust issues with cabbies continue.

I brooded a bit while the team assembled and prayed outside the elderly home. I did my best to calm down, to open my heart so God's grace and mercy could enter and work in and through me. Only when I walked into the home and gazed at all the faces did my heart finally soften. Something broke. I smiled often and widely. I distinctly recall noticing that change in me at that moment.

From that moment on, I was free to love on people. The enemy's tricks only go so far. God's love endures forever. God's grace and mercy in my life outlast the enemy's schemes. Praise God.

HKBSA Report #19

2011-09-17T22:40:00.000+08:00

There were at least 30 runners and volunteers this evening. Praise God, for that is growth. In addition, Galen preached the importance in this group of life improvement, and not performance; changed lives are more important than broken records. This is good.

I joined the group after I had finished work. I had toiled from 10:30 to 19:30, about 6.5 hours of teaching and 3 hours of traveling. That's a long day. Indeed, I trudged up the hill to the training ground, not in any mood to run.

Thankfully, after a lap, I felt good enough to encourage everyone with whom I crossed paths. This was how my participation was meant to be.

Not remembering people's names anguished me. I've already spoken at length about my separation from this group this year, how I've grown apart from this community as I've immersed myself in my church and in activities in several universities in Hong Kong. This results in my forgetting people's names if I don't continue to see them on a weekly basis. What with my missing practices and new members coming and going, it seems as if every face is a new one. My losing my iPhone didn't help.

I was crestfallen when I couldn't even remember the name of the man with whom I ran the last time I practiced with the HKBSA, no more than 12 days ago. That sucked.

Thankfully, when walking back to the sports centre, I heard him behind me. My friend with whom I was walking shouted his name. Praise God.

That my HKBSA brethren welcome me with open arms, regardless of my inconsistency, is the reason for which I continue training with them. That kind of grace is hard to find, anywhere. Unlike at Morrison Hall, for example, at the HKBSA, I don't have to perform; I have nothing to prove. My brothers and sisters are thankful that I find time to help out. They just want me to enjoy training. This is real grace and, unsurprisingly, the reason why I always return.

Nonetheless, knowing my psychic distance from the group, I haven't committed to running any races with them. I'm not doing Coke this Sunday with them; and I can't commit to running the Taipei marathon with them. I've explained to a few brothers and sisters my heart's desire to achieve, ironically, a few performance goals in my life. They are understanding; I'm thankful. Besides, my schedule has become crowded to the point of triage, as my recently missing vacations proves.

Finally, this was the second day in a row that, after showering, I dressed wet. Yesterday, I forgot to bring a towel. Today, while showering, unbeknownst to me, my towel fell on the floor. I wonder what this means, if anything at all. Perhaps, this will be a likely occurrence now that I shower outside my flat. Unlike my sample for taking flights, against which I measure the instances when I miss them, my sample of showering outside my flat instances, for the time being, is too small.

Neighborhood Outreach Four

2011-09-12T04:32:00.000+08:00

I reflect on this September outreach in terms of opportunities and challenges.

As regards opportunities, they were legion; there were many opportunities both to witness and to experience God's grace. My team and I were stationed in the elevator lobby because the building management office to which we had been assigned, in fact, didn't exist. We ultimately witnessed to Meih Lihng, the security guard, and the throng of people passing into and out of the building lifts. Encouraging people and passing out gifts, these were beautiful.

In addition, as more people finished visiting flats and returned to the lobby area, teams from my church decided to take our overflow onto the street: street evangelism! Praise God, for our initial plan to witness to two people produced much curious fruit. First, the old man, leuhng baak baak, accepted Jesus. In doing so, he also drew quite a crowd. Many team members were praying for him; naturally, that drew curious glances from people passing by.

That's how a few of us initiated conversation: we would explain the situation to onlookers. Some no more than shrugged, walking away. Others were more receptive. One was a Christian, even. I recall two appointments in particular: one was with Mr. Lee, the security guard of the building in front of which Leuhng Baak Baak sat. Like Meih Lihng, he received openly our love and our gifts; and like Meih Lihng, he couldn't receive our prayer only because he was on duty. The other appointment of note was with Leuhng Baak Baak's maid, Allen. In my speaking with her, the extent of the misunderstanding between the Allen and Leuhng Baak Baak was clear. Acrimony abounded. Nevertheless, both laughed and smiled as we spoke to them, praise God.

God's performed the most profound work in my heart while I was working with my teammates. I wasn't very familiar with either of them. One of them demonstrated impatience at all stages of the outreach and was focused more on the product than on the process: it seemed as if outreach and its stages were no more than tick boxes on her life's checklist. She spoke in terms of "adding value" and "getting on with it" yet curiously didn't speak to anyone not from our church while on outreach. What's more, my touching her annoyed her greatly, she told me before she left. Indeed, she departed early, and reaped what she sowed: not much. Dealing with her, loving her, and trying to understand from where she comes in her faith journey, these were challenges to me, thank God. Being patient with her, when she was not; and loving her, when she couldn't receive well, these were challenges; unsurprisingly, the most difficult person to witness to was not a stranger, but was a person on my outreach team! God revealed his grace and mercy for her, and for me, today, in a new way.

A Small Sting

2011-09-12T03:35:00.000+08:00

On Friday evening, I was training with the HKU cross country team. Most of the new members were running the 4K time trial; another runner and I were running our weekly 10K.

My friend and I went out very fast, faster than I had anticipated. I didn't understand why we were rushing the first lap in 82 seconds when we had agreed on a 96-second pace! My friend and I, it seemed, were chasing down one runner who was running the time trial and who had gone out quite fast. This runner was wearing a Lasalle singlet -- I knew from which school-cum-athletics program he came.

No sooner had I complained about our pace than my friend and I passed the Lasalle runner, who had run out of gas by the 4th lap, with six to go. At that point, my friend eased up and we began running at a sustainable 90-second pace. At the same time, eavesdropping on the banter between my friend and my team captain-cum-coach for that evening, I realized my friend had gone out fast to pace the Lasalle runner. That runner ultimately couldn't maintain that pace, however.

We had finished our workout. I was meeting a few new runners. I asked the Lasalle runner for his name.

"James," he said.

"Your Cantonese isn't very fluent," he added.

Ouch. That's an impertinent comment to make, in general; that's also not the best line to meet a stranger.

I recall the other specific times in my life when strangers have spoken poorly of my Cantonese and, likewise, of themselves -- off the top of my head, one remains vivid; check the archives for details.

Praise God that He has changed my heart. I can deal with this small sting now. I don't have the urge to kill this guy; I don't have to become angry, or defensive, for that matter. I can shrug off the comment as one shrugs off stupidity.

Indeed, the guy has problems. Anyone who speaks like that doesn't know much about meeting people; someone who goes out so fast at a time trial only to crawl to the finish line isn't familiar with moderation, that is, pacing. He comes from a curious school in a curious education system. Besides, once being a young man myself, I can recognize the temerity and arrogance of youth. As God has had mercy on me, so He understands and has mercy on this young man. May I extend such mercy too!

Nonetheless, I could still feel a small sting; I could feel my heart wanting to be defensive, and angry. My thoughts were walking the thin line between weakness and wickedness. Praise God, for I captured these thoughts for Christ; I won't go back to my old Hong Kong life.

Evidence of that is many more strangers complementing me on my Cantonese. There are many more positive remarks made about my language these days, not least because God has changed my heart first to enable me to interact with people in such a bold way as to elicit these comments; and in addition, I'm at a point where I am ready to receive openly encouragement. Praise God.

Another Bedtime Testimony

2011-09-08T06:36:00.000+08:00

Hi family,
An hour ago I bumped into Mr. Tsoi, the man to whom RA and I ministered on the partitioned-home outreach. Having finished dinner, I was walking home. A few meters from my flat, Mr.Tsoi passed by. At first, I couldn't place his face. So soon as I realized who he was, however, I ran over to him.

Catching up with him was a delight. His left leg still troubles him a bit; but he has decided to see a doctor about it. Curiously, he remarked, he finds walking in Kennedy Town easier than walking in North Point.

At this meeting, underneath a lampost at an intersection, I shared more about my life. The witnessing was good because for all the things in my life at which he marveled, I was able to share that it wasn't by my own strength, as he had thought, that got me to where I am but only by the grace of God am I alive and well. Pointing to everyone passing by, I told him that God loves all these people: the challenge is that people have a hard time accepting this, for whatever reason.

Anyway, that's some good news before bedtime. Mr Tsoi ambled across the street and I went home. Praise God that I had thought I would never see Mr. Tsoi again but God decided otherwise; and good evening!

In closing, allow me to remain,
Warmly,

...

A Bedtime Testimony

2011-09-06T07:14:00.000+08:00

Dear family,
Here's some curious encouragement before bed. This happened yesterday.

I lost my iPhone. It fell out of my pocket while I was in a cab -- I generally never take cabs, but yesterday was an exception because I had to be in Macau at 09:00 to teach. Ironically, I really enjoyed the cab ride, having chatted with the driver -- and that was surprising since I have problems trusting cab drivers in Hong Kong. I recall stepping out of the cab and thinking to myself, "That was a really pleasant ride!" And then I felt my empty pocket.

Thankfully, in spite of sleeping very little the night before and stressed by the ramifications of losing an iPhone -- no password protection -- I taught well enough, praise God.

That was only the beginning. God soon spoke to me by two amazing signs in quick succession.

I didn't go to service yesterday. However, in the late-afternoon, when I returned from Macau to Hong Kong, I did go to church -- to fetch my Bible. I had left it in the sanctuary after Thursday morning EMP. I wondered if I would find it.

I had gotten into the indefensible habit of leaving my Bible and my notebook in the sanctuary after EMP -- I forget when this had become habitual. As a result, I began losing my Bible; my Bible wouldn't be where I had last placed it. The first time I lost the Bible, I recall, I found it in the back of the sanctuary by the long table; the second time, behind the counter where the Bibles are stored; the third, with the other Bibles; and the fourth, after a few days of frantic waiting, the pastor found the good book on the stage. Suffice it to say, I kept losing my Bible because I hadn't learned to care for my Bible.

The fifth time was a sign. I couldn't find the BIble in the sanctuary. I had searched all the places where I had previously found the Bible, to no avail. I was crestfallen.

I went to the toilet before I left the building. Unsurprisingly, I had an honest moment with the Father while taking a leak: repentance welled up within me as I realized how good the Father is, yet how flippant I had been in caring for His word. I don't care enough to guard the word, let alone read the word: I take notes perfunctorily without reviewing them: these signs of inertia troubled me greatly. I repented and asked God for His forgiveness. I resolved to more jealously guard the Word and to read it from that moment forward.

Curiously, I felt compelled to peek into the children's room as I walked to the elevators. The door was ajar. The compulsion grew in strength. My response was to open the door. Darkness. I wouldn't be able to find anything in here. Searching wouldn't be worth the effort. Yet, my head, for some reason, turned as if on a swivel to the left. My head peeked around the corner, and there, on a bookshelf, level with my eye, lay my Bible. Praise God. That was amazing, and incredible.

Something broke with my repentance for chance cannot sufficiently explain a burgeoning compulsion and a prize, from obscurity, laying in plain sight, at that moment. This is a sign.

(I haven't found my notebook. Maybe the notebook is in the hands of someone who will benefit from its words.)

The second sign fast followed the first. I boarded the elevator. The elevator stopped on the fourth floor and two Korean women walked in. One woman did a double-take when she saw me -- I didn't recognize either of them. As we alighted, the woman asked me if I knew TH and whether or not through TH I had received this woman's message. I told her I had not. She then said my name and told me that more than a month ago she felt God had given her a word to deliver to me. My turn for a double-take.

I was like, OK, after one incredible miracle, I am ready to receive another. A double portion. Praise God.

The woman told me that she feels God knows I have been praying diligently about certain things, and that I had felt frustrated in praying about these things without God's answer-cum-action in this season. God told the woman to tell me that He knows this, and that I should persevere in prayer. God will answer. Pray without ceasing (1 Thessalonians 5:17), she summed up, when she finished delivering the message.

The woman then stated the obvious, that she doesn't know me, but curiously this message for me came in clearly to her. I then found out she is a pastor at the other church. I thanked her, and praised God. We departed.

To conclude, God's good; I've resumed reading the One-year Bible; and I think I'll use the church Bibles in the sanctuary from now on :)

Good evening; and see you tomorrow!

Lost iPhone

2011-09-05T03:53:00.000+08:00

My iPhone slipped out of my pocket while I was in the cab this morning. I prayed that the phone will be returned to me today, when I return to Hong Kong from Macau. Otherwise, if God wills it, I will forsake phone service for (only) a few weeks to buy an iPhone 5.

I feel the biting irony of losing my iPhone at the end of a taxi ride which I found to be uncharacteristically pleasant. The driver and I kept up a lively banter. No language tricks. No truculence. He had woken up at 04:00 and had his breakfast. I gave him a $100 bill and he returned $80. I recall stepping out of the cab and thinking, "That was a pleasant cab ride!"

And then I found my left pocket empty.

I had taken a cab because I didn't believe I could spare any travel time today. I have to be inside a function room in the Grand Hyatt, Macau at 09:00. This is because my colleague is sick and I agreed last night on sudden notice to take his spot in today's schedule. Originally, I was scheduled to start at 11:00. When I agreed to this rescheduling, I thought, the earlier I deliver this workshop, the sooner I go home.

On second thought, this momentary boundary erosion must have disrupted greatly the wars in the heavens. The change impacted me greatly. I had to wake up at 06:30, and slept only 6 hours because I returned home from my brother's birthday party late and then lounged for another 90 minutes. Of course, then I woke up, hopped in a cab, and lost my iPhone. Now, I sit on the ferry, tired, disappointed, typing this lamentation away.

If I hadn't agreed to the rescheduling, I would have logged another two hours of sleep. I would have taken the bus and have not sat in such a way for my iPhone to surreptitiously slide away from my person. In general, I would have been less stressed.

The irony of my present circumstance is that, as of this morning, it mirrors well what transpired last year. My colleague and I devised a better plan this year, we had thought; we addressed the problems of reviewing papers under short notice, the inopportune gaps in technology use, and my weekend being spent holed up in my hotel room last year, all of which contributed to a weak overall performance last year. I was tired and stressed last year. This year, because of a seemingly slight, but in fact major disruption, I am stressed and tired again!

I need to listen to the Lord about whether or not to take this job again. My cost is rising: fatigue; stress; an expensive, lost iPhone which needs to be replaced. That my situation hasn't changed from one year to the next rings alarm bells in my head. That I lost something when, in the main, I never lose things shakes the ground on which I walk. That my colleague lost his voice last night, prompting this avalanche of folly, suggests the heavens are alight with the flashes of battle. The warfare is strong. I haven't prayed enough about this job. In keeping with repentance, I will seek the Lord about this matter.

This will be a good boundary test. Can I hold a firm line between what I can and what I cannot accept in this life? Can I trust the Lord in this matter; and, most importantly, can He trust me?

When stressed, everything irritates. Being on a boat, environed by tourists from China, is not an ideal experience when tired and disappointed.

A Returns: Boundaries Erode

2011-09-03T03:33:00.000+08:00

Beware! She returned; I spied her in the common room (Maybe I shouldn't poke my head into every nook and cranny when walking the halls next time.); and I walked in, taking a seat facing hers. My character changed; I noticed it in the midst of my pontificating to her; my discourse's egregiousness became all the more obvious when A's friend popped into the common room. How A roared in delight when she saw her friend. The two girls playfully leapt into each other's arms. Taking the interruption as an opportunity, I fast left the room: I wondered at my weaknesses, glaring when around her.

I play a character. She is helpless and pouting, as always. I always have to be right and spout axiomatic statements; I need to exude sagacity. In fact, I lost my confidence; I believe in appearances; I remove myself from that place where I worship the Lord. That is bad.

Stay away from A, I need to remind myself. Oh, the irony of today's incredible revelations, almost diluted by my weakness becoming wickedness. I need to not only open my heart to that girl, but I also need to demonstrate a consecrated heart to the Lord!

Answered Prayer

2011-09-02T21:35:00.000+08:00

Our Father is the Lord of my research. He not only has approved my PhD studies but has also lit my path in this research.

The latest example of the latter is releasing Case D to me. The other cases had forewarned me of securing Case D. His was a precarious situation in a curious organization: his was also the perfect contrasting point in my research. I wanted Case D badly.

He ignored me twice. Last week, I began praying specifically for this outcome: that he would be released for my data collection. Maybe I enlisted a few brothers and sisters to also lift up this matter to the Father. Like the persistent widow, I would persist in this research objective.

The heavens shook, and last Thursday my supervisor told me that he had spoken with Case D and had traded his precious social capital for my opportunity to meet Case D, if only once. I had to write one more letter; my third try.

At Sunday service, I felt God tell me in no uncertain terms that He would hand over Case D to me. Not only that, but I had to write the letter that evening, and that God's spirit would lead the writing. This revelation so shocked me that I included it in my notes. God usually doesn't speak so clearly to me.

Nonetheless, what with my weakness and my sin, I almost missed my chance to write that letter. Thankfully, at the eleventh hour, literally, I sat down to compose the fateful email. I sent it with 30 minutes left in the day.

At last, Case D replied. That was new. He agreed to meet me once: that was amazing, praise God. God favored me even when Case D and I had to renegotiate our time since I have other blessings to tend to these days. Case D and I are set to meet next Wednesday. This is all God.

I am praying for continued favor in all my Case relationships.

My Avoiding My Girlfriend

2011-09-02T21:32:00.000+08:00

This was one of the most profound revelations of my heart condition, ever. As I was walking down the steps, from the main library, God spoke to me clearly:

Open up your heart, and let her try (to console, to edify and to bolster).

What preceded that revelation was an unveiling of my heart; and a deep dialogue between the Father and me, not least because I couldn't believe, at least, that these were the surpassingly great revelations: I had been made aware of my avoidant boundary: while I have in this season opened up to men, I have closed up my emotions and the deep things of my heart, to women, in general; and this stems from past rejection and also past disappointment: when I have confided in some women, they, including the last woman whom I thought I had loved, have proven impotent; some have ignored the burdens which I have confessed -- ineptitude. In general, I have not felt secure sharing my heart with girls that I have liked. In my heart, I feel as if they are all as inept and impotent as the girls with whom I have shared my vulnerabilities.

Small wonder I wander from one girl to the next: because I can; because while she may have some deep emotional connectedness with me, I don't have that with her. She may be tethered to me, but I am not tethered to her. At a deep level, every relationship I have with a woman is imbalanced: curiously, with the brothers I am around these days, that is not the case.

To be sure, ironically, while I almost always console and strengthen a woman, I have not offered that chance at my heart to a competent girl, a girl rooted in love, Christ-centered. I know a few women who may be of this type. Best to give one a chance now, God says! This is a true way to test her character. I can grow as man, and grow always in the Lord.

Something is about to happen. Stay tuned.

A Reunion: Her Testimony

2011-08-31T18:01:00.000+08:00

I had not seen her in a year's time. We met in Shenzhen. Her friend accompanied us. We had dinner at the Little Sheep Hot Pot restaurant. Praise God! She said I could share her story. This is the story as I remember it:

Previously, two brothers in her fellowship were captured and interrogated.

She was abducted on a Friday at 19:00; and released on Saturday, 01:00. Her two captors arrested her at a house used for her fellowship meetings; and they took her to a hotel, where she ultimately was released. The captors originally posed as possible tenants for a room in the house. When she called the Landlord and enquired for them about this matter, that the Landlord didn't respond alarmed her. At that time, her captors revealed themselves to be police. They showed their IDs and demanded to see hers. She was scared.

Two more officers joined the two captors at the hotel. They, all men, asked her three categories of questions: questions about her fellowship; questions about the foreigners she knew; and questions about a particle leader, an American, who taught many Christian children. She did not betray her friends and allies; and she pleaded ignorance about foreigners not least because she didn't speak English well! Nonetheless, she said that the American was subsequently fired.

After she was released, she met two brothers, one of whom was an important fellowship leader, and the three fled to another city. They stayed there for a week, laying low.

During that time, the chief captor called her and enquired when she would return home. He offered to take her home. When she asked if her friends could join them on the return trip, he balked. Ultimately, she refused to tell the captor anymore. She threw away her SIM card so he could no longer call her.

She shared that during her captivity, she and her captors had dinner. As her captors started eating, she stopped and asked them if she could bless the food. Her captors told her to do as she wished: at first, they continued eating; however, no sooner had she started praying than she began crying; at that point, she recalled, her captors had stopped eating and were all ears to her prayer.

She got to know the chief captor. His son studies in the United States and speaks English -- the chief captor doesn't speak English. She pointed out that his son could, even as she spoke, have become a believer! The chief captor said he hoped so. Indeed, his mother had an opportunity to receive the Gospel but did not become a believer; he hopes his mother becomes a believer.

At this point, she feels that God is telling her to leave that city and province and to seek Him elsewhere. She fasts and prays this season for a vision. She doesn't know what is happening with the fellowship these days.

My few final thoughts: praise God for He organizes and delivers people in a way that the Communist Party cannot understand. My friend and I are thankful for her safety and the safety of those around her; we are also thankful that there were opportunities during her captivity to witness to the captors, who, by and large, seem to be no more than doing their jobs: they do not hate the believers.

Neighborhood Outreach Three

2011-08-28T23:17:00.000+08:00

Our church participated in a local outreach based out of the St. Barnabas ministry in Kennedy Town, by the Whitty Street Depot. We would visit the Baan2 Gaan1 Fong2 people, who, numbering at least 100,000 in Hong Kong, live in small partitioned units. In fact, I live in one, albeit a unit that considerably cleaner and more spacious than most -- and my family lived in one in Mong Kok decades ago; and you know what resulted from that. My stake seemed more significant foe this outreach.

We had prayed to prepare well for this ministry. God gave us a few visions of people whom we may visit. That was cool.

My partner and I were shepherded into a narrow entranceway, where we waited to board the diminutive elevator which would ferry us to our final destination. When we arrived, indeed, the quarters were small; the corridors so narrow that one couldn't pass through if another were in the lane: think MTR train during rush hour.

I stuck to the first person I met. He was called Mr. Choi -- he remembered my name, David! My partner and I, alongside two pastors, ministered to him. He opened up; from meeting us at the corridor, he led us to his small unit. His was more luxurious than the others in that he had windows that opened, barely. He had moved from the fifth floor, where he had lived for several years, to the seventh a few months ago. He paid 1,500 per month. He was unemployed. He rarely cooked.

We prayed for him and asked God to bless Him in a specific way, by providing him with an electric fan. Afterwards, while the others proceeded to another floor, the Spirit compelled me to remain to minister to him. My stake had increased. I sensed something heavy in the spirit -- his head down, no eye contact -- and therefore inquired about his matters. Without much prodding, he admitted his pain when walking. His leg hurt. He lifted up his pant leg and we saw the wastage on his left leg. That skin and muscle looked bad, all the more so when compared to his healthy right leg. By the way he described it, this condition resembled my condition -- sensitivity; allergic reactions; blisters; etc. He wouldn't see a doctor for this condition. My stake was growing.

To my partner I suggested we pray for our friend. He agreed and we jumped in, prayer first. He led, and I followed. (If we were to do this again, I would advise my partner to keep his eyes open to monitor the situation, per my pastor's recommendations when ministering by prayer.) I kept my eyes open and my hands on his wound. Far from being prepared in this matter, however, I didn't know how to pray for healing. Without Holy Spirit, I would have been a mess of words -- thank God for tongues and spiritual authority in Christ Jesus' name!

God healed him. No joke. I asked him to squat and get up and he said nothing was the matter in that instance. I was more shocked than anyone else. "Really!?" I pleaded. To verify further, I encouraged him to walk down the corridor to test his legs. He not only did that but also locked up so he could stroll outside. Praise God. This was a good test.

He changed lots. For the rest of our time together, he was cheerful and open in our relationship. Praise God for he heals in marvelous ways. Our hearts and faiths were strengthened.

Furthermore, I changed after the second prayer. A spirit of generosity possessed me all the way out the door. I offered him my packet of tempos after praying, I noticing what appeared to be tears from his eyes -- he declined and showed me his own packet. As he locked up his compartment, I asked him if he listened to any music -- he doesn't -- and if he read, the Bible, in particular. While he did read, he had no use for a Bible because he could get one at the church. Though my backpack wouldn't be lightened, it seemed, I persisted,

On the way down, inside the elevator, I took out my Chinese medicine and asked him if he wanted my allotment since the recommended it for my condition which resembled his, and the treatment improved my condition. He declined and replied that he already had his own medicine -- despite his not seeing a doctor, it seems.

One last chance to give: at the staircase, I looked down at his plain, white sneakers and felt burdened to give him my nice Nikes, which are incredibly comfortable and would ease his feet. I forced one of my shoes onto him, not once but twice.

He was going to take the shoes. That moment arrived when he had the Nike on his right foot. He said it was a good fit. His voice gave his feelings away. A glance at his face confirmed this.

But then the pride of life swelled again; and he couldn't accept such a gift in spite of my insistence that I wanted to bless Him in this way; that God loves Him and agreed that this was good. The exchange mentality interfered with the grace mentality; he could only accept; and that obstructed everything.

In hindsight, I should have dropped the other shoe -- literally -- and slipped it onto his left foot in the same way that the right had made its way from my foot to his. In addition, my pastor recommended I somehow negotiate an exchange, however small, to keep the peace and to seal this deal.

I had the rudiments of that suggesting floating in my head as he and I walked out of the building, the rain having stopped. He asked excitedly whether I would join the 17:30 St. Barnabas meal, which he had attended infrequently; I could have promised him my attendance, and his, were he to take my shoes. I could have added I had another pair awaiting me. If I ever feel so compelled by the spirit to gift again, I will try these special tactics.

Finally, I noticed my eyes wandering towards a sister with whom I should disassociate for a season, since she is going out with a nice guy and a palatable, weird tension has emerged between us -- I am not sure what transpires in the heavens and in our hearts when a curious tension, such as that between this sister and me, or O and me, emerges. At the same time, this outreach cast a marvelous light on my relationships with other brothers and sisters; I recognized with whom I could have a normal, fruitful conversation and those who would prefer to have normal conversations with other people; that was enlightening . This ministry heightens my spiritual senses; and even my struggles with being right, thankfully, are highlighted for my surrender.

She

2011-08-22T20:55:00.000+08:00

She possesses the rare ability to explain complex ideas in simple terms -- I noticed this when I shared my research proposal with her and she explained my two-minute monologue in two sentences; subsequently, she confirmed her ability at breakfast one day when she explained fifteen PowerPoint slides with another two-sentence overview. She also expresses love through touch and isn't afraid to demonstrate this. What's more, she's sweet, crafty -- chanmori -- and pretty. A remarkable, attractive woman, she is.

Another sister challenged me to look deeper into the attraction, for this description was no more than superficial, she said. By character lasting relationships are decided.

On the one hand, she isn't hearing directly from the Lord and readily admits her lack of spiritual strength. She candidly relays the tragic incidents by which her parents have become murderously suspicious of Christians; and she doesn't have a strong community in the States, where she is finishing her studies.

On the other hand, perhaps religiously, she is with perseverance attending church and praying. She cries; and she cries out; and God has touched her with prophetic words from several people -- for my part, I downloaded "prepare," for her and referenced Joshua 3:5. People love her and God has favored her. She is on the way.

Most importantly, while speaking to her after service one Sunday, as we dug into a carrot cake -- curiously, we've habitually eaten each other's food -- I couldn't help thinking I am going to marry her. I clearly recall this distinct thought while staring into those beautiful, dark, yet inviting eyes. Though in my life I have thought several times about having sex with some girls whilst looking carefully, if lustfully, into their eyes, I am almost sure this is the first time I have had the marriage signal given to my consciousness. If this proposal originated with me, at the very least my unconscious ardently supports this relationship.

Now, what does God think?

At this point, I remain light-years from marriage. In my heart, I have a few issues that, in fact, obstruct me from a deeper relationship with her. I noticed them at our last few meetings. Far from a calm disposition, I exemplified anxiousness, awaiting her as though I were a control freak and not a friend. Indeed, this theme of control crept into my mind several times as unexpected hiccups interrupted our -- my -- plans. I am that way sometimes: when I devise, I intend not to swerve but to plough straight ahead. Furthermore, my hands have been touchy, and my conversation too candid and, likely, abrupt. These interruptions have tested me, and I realize I need to improve by letting go, surrendering all my plans, formed from this weak flesh, to the Lord. Ultimately, I cannot control what happens between me and her. In fact, my mind ultimately cannot control what comes from this mouth or what these hands do. These relationship inhibitors can only be healed by a surrendered heart; I can no longer think about control; my heart needs to be in the right place.

Finally, beneficial behaviors recur around these special girls. I give gifts well, praise God. Additionally, I encourage lots and sometimes, even, am given the right, edifying words to dispense. These are good. I am a work in progress and learnings lots with every season, and every girl.

Sunday Notes 21.8.11 - Matthew 7:13-14

2011-08-22T01:39:00.000+08:00

(Chi; Angeline)

Pastor Eugene and Pastor Carol return to HK; praise God.

Am I living for such a small section of rope? Am I straddling the balance beam rather than going out of my way to serve the Lord? Do I go only when I know and can research online? Trust more; God gives the right direction; head in that way -- Daegu next summer, anyone?

iPhone and MacBook giveaway, anyone? Look ahead of you!

Where is my heart; and therefore, where is my treasure? To leave the American dream, leave America, indeed. Otherwise, when you operate out of fear, you will always say "no" when God tells you to go.

Parallels to Abraham's story:
1) God tells you to leave his comfort and security for the country to which God leads him. (Hebrews 11:8) and Abraham, in spite of never seeing this promise fulfilled, said yes! Moses, in the same way, obeyed without knowing
2)

What does my life look like without risking for the Lord? Less fruit; less people; less trust.

Praise God; that message to encourage the men was spoken through me this morning at service; the message was true: God hasn't forgotten the men at SP and how difficult it is for men to be men. In a small way, may this be a sweat offering to God.

New Programs

2011-08-20T20:39:00.000+08:00

Godfrey is participating in a new co-ed, cross-penitentiary program in which long-term prisoners, at the start of term and near end, are paired together. Two years from release, Godfrey has been paired with a woman just incarcerated for the long-term. He writes letters to her, advises her and dispenses wisdom. I like this type of program because it establishes relationships and fosters encouragement and hope. Besides, Godfrey likes this program because it keeps him busy and away from the insidious idleness which plagues many prisoners. In fact, Godfrey so zealously writes these edifying letters that he even asked his -- printing press -- workshop master for time off so that he could finish his letters. That's favor begetting favor.

The more I speak with Godfrey, the more I noticed his mellow disposition. He is mild gold. Indeed, God is transforming this man into a lamp on a stand, a luminous city on a hill. The guards notice this and favor him, not least because Godfrey isn't gambling, fighting or disrupting. From these products of idleness and banes of prison life Godfrey is largely protected by grace and a persevering industriousness. Not only will Godfrey be released soon, he will be prepared for release, ready to integrate into society. Praise God.

Finally, the Jehovah's witnesses are evangelizing in Stanley Prison. Two affable men have been teaching Godfrey; maybe more so than trinitarian Christians, these non-trinitarian believing men really want Godfrey to believe, and to join. (That's not the best sign of the times, but I keep that thought to myself and persist in my singular mission in Hong Kong.) On the one hand, I celebrated with Godfrey this fellowship; on the other hand, I pleaded with him to continue reading the Bible and not the Jehovah's Witnesses's curious translation of it.

A Little Warfare

2011-08-20T10:40:00.000+08:00

I woke up screaming a few minutes ago; indeed my screaming myself awake very rarely happens. Then the terror in bits and pieces came upon me while I have gathered my bearings. In addition, as I tried to sleep tonight, my self-righteousness enticed me to feel indignant about my brother and the relationship we share and the fruit of which includes this evening's splendid men's fellowship. I suspect the warfare is strong; yet, I cannot help thinking I shouldn't even credit the enemy with such a feat: walking down the mountain after an encounter with God, I have grown accustomed to these shots in the dark by the enemy. These are not land mines and nothing that significantly undermines this evening's gains for the kingdom. No, as I have envisioned before, so I see these attacks as no more than a few flaming arrows shot by those barbarians in the wilderness, in the dark, from beyond the mountain: and the mountain is drenched in living water; I have a strong shield of faith; and the flaming arrows cannot set anything alight.

Men's Group at Elijah Ministry

2011-08-20T06:27:00.000+08:00

This evening was special. Another men's fellowship, this time in Prince Edward, one more opportunity to experience God in a new way, with the guys, hallelujah; and the seeds for a revived men's ministry are sown with a desire to pray for this ministry, in the same way that I prayed for a neighborhood ministry at my church. May I be at the vanguard for bringing this, on behalf of my church, to the Lord's throne room. Be it two years or two months, a time will come for this dream to bloom and to be realized at SP.

Lots of grace mercy tonight; lots of smiles and hugs with brothers, not strangers; jumping up and down, singing about men's hearts; sharing and encouraging each other with back slaps, frank talk, prayer support and jocular quips; overcoming language barriers and awkwardness fast; this fellowship is for rejoicing. Praise God.

Unsurprisingly, the 611 bread of life men's fellowship joined this evening's men's meeting; these men comprised most of the attendees, in fact; and they bolstered this fellowship by their experience sharing and prayer support. We need that, for dozens of churches, many of which do not have a men's ministry, were represented tonight. We need to lean on God, hear his voice for such timing to start men's fellowship, and then connect with established men's ministries if we are to grow successfully men's groups in churches in Hong Kong.

Our God is a consuming fire. He is a jealous God. He wants all the men's hearts. He is coming for us and will show us in new ways that we are his sons, hallelujah.

I met many friends tonight including Dick, Kenneth and Allen. I am praying for Allen this week; and may we see each other again soon.

Finally, curiously, my evening began with helping three more lost tourists from Fujian province to find their way in Mong Kok. Two women and a child; one lady was named Honey. They stopped me on Nathan Road in Prince Edward and wanted to find the Sin Tak Plaza in MK. I used Google maps to lead us in a general direction -- the map was imprecise. After asking a truculent newspaper stand man, and then a phlegmatic money changer, we found a young man who would help us -- 33% assistance rate isn't bad, I believe. We soon found the obscure plaza, praise God! I thank the Lord for another opportunity to go out of my way to help strangers -- almost always female -- in need. Though others may be hit or miss, usually miss, may God use me in such a way that I will always be a 100% hit for visitor support in this peculiar, stratified city.

Chung Hing Cup 2011

2011-08-15T05:07:00.000+08:00

My previous best on this course was 39:57 -- set last summer -- so when I spied a 39:30 on my watch, I was satisfied. When I checked the official result and more fastidiously checked the time on my watch -- 38:21 -- I was blown away. Wow, praise God, for I didn't know I had that in me!

Indeed, this course is a killer and all the more murderous in the summer. Saying nothing about the narrow road on which, like cattle, we run, I had twice raced on this course in the summer, and after each race I had developed heat exhaustion. Whether in the morning or in the evening, my body had fallen to pieces after the race. The sun, humidity and heat have always formed a potent obstacle to my optimal performance both during and after the race.

On the one hand, this race proved the same: when the adrenaline dried up, I was left with a headache and hot skin unable to cool itself. I suffered through this afternoon's sermon. On the other hand, this bout was about the mildest of all my heat exhaustion cases: I could retain fluids; and didn't feel ready to pass out. By the evening, most of my body had resumed normal function; I regained my appetite -- praise God.

This afternoon's sermon spoke into my heart about this matter. I praise God that He has given me certain thorns in the flesh -- heat exhaustion proclivity; asymmetrical legs; even the two torturous blister on my left heal -- to remind me of God's surpassing greatness in my life. That I perform well is not so much to my credit as to God's grace pouring over my life. Despite this outward, victorious appearance, I am weak in the flesh.

Indeed, I rejoice that I finished the race in tact; I am thankful that I finished 12th in my group, enough for another piece of hardware; and my soul sings praise to share the joy of the Lord with my HKU cross country team. The small things, such as catching a cab with strangers to the race venue, and reuniting with long-running friends cheered this heart. Praise God!

Finally, to improve the pre- and post-race experiences, I will wake up 15 minutes earlier to beat the public transportation rush to the race venue -- had God not surrounded me with a great cloud of strangers, one of whom suggested we fetch a cab together, I would have arrived late for the start. In addition, I need flip flops for my feet when I finish running, especially if I blister badly, which I did today not least because i neither applied Vaseline to my heels -- I didn't know I should! -- nor broke in my shoes -- I ultimately, regrettably, decided that wouldn't matter. My bringing a change of clothes, applying Vaseline to my lower back and drinking red bull an hour before the start benefited me greatly and I will continue to do these. I regret bringing my Oakleys but forgetting to wear them during the race!

HKBSA Report #18

2011-08-12T07:23:00.000+08:00

Testify.

I missed practice this evening because I wanted to buy racing flats for this weekend's race. I traded a few good hours with friends in Shek Kip Mei for a few frantic hours looking for a shoes amongst the horde in Mong Kok.

Nonetheless, I had dressed for success. Though I couldn't run with my friends this evening, I could dine with them after their practice. Besides, who would travel this far from home and not travel a bit farther out to visit friends? I hopped on the train to Shek Kip Mei.

Two stops later, I popped out of the station and quickly went over to the local haunt where the HKBSA usually dines after training. They weren't there when I arrived. However, no sooner had I taken my seat than I saw coach, unmistakeable in his black track top, amble in. He entered with a friend whom I had targeted for my date log -- that will require an explanation in another post. Praise God!

I jumped into the booth next to coach. Everyone else would be feasting on hotpot tonight, he said, so we would be a cozy party of three. He ordered the noodles; she ordered the salad. I chose the fried kale in salty fish sauce, yummy.

My embarrassment at selecting shopping over running lubricated our conversation at first. I am thankful my friends held nothing against me for my selfish choice, especially since there weren't enough volunteers this evening.

We talked a bit about running. The segway into my testimony was sharing with V how I, no matter content or upset, liked to talk to God while running. She found that habit curious. Later, she asked me about how I came to know God: Had I been raised in the church, she asked. This was my chance.

That I had until then not taken an extended turn, but then expressed my story for several minutes in fluent Cantonese is nothing short of God's grace in my life. By God's Spirit I spoke cogently about the Lord's work in my life, and curiously, I finished up in five minutes per God's timing, and my mission training!

How God worked in my life amazed coach and V. God's
Story for my life had been pressed into their hearts. Praise God. This was the meaningful, valuable purpose in my visiting the restaurant on the chance that I would bump into some of my HKBSA friends. God had set this up all along.

I even shared last week's surprise rebuke at the hands of the European man in the Yau Ma Tei restaurant. This opportunity arose after coach advised me to guard my heart at the hands of strangers, newcomers who don't know the Lord and may feel pressured by the force of my words. Be measured and prudent in your witnessing, he urged me. Sound advice. Small wonder that is the third time I have heard it this week, praise God!

An Illustrative Testimony

2011-08-09T18:22:00.000+08:00

Dear Pastor Sam,
I just listened to your Sunday sermon and unsurprisingly, the message spoke into my life again. In fact, the message could be a narrative of what happened to me yesterday morning: acts of kindness, and lots of intentional witnessing with several divine appointments.

Before the morning service, near the entrance, I think I introduced two newcomers, K and T, to you. K is originally from Singapore, spent considerable time in Europe, and had flown to Hong Kong for a job interview for a teaching post. T is from Austria. K and T met the day before because they are guests at the same home stay. I had met K several months ago through YouTube: he had seen one of my teaching videos and we started a dialogue, which, invariably, includes an invitation to church.

(Actually, K had introduced me to another woman who had also seen my videos on YouTube. A few weeks ago, she also came to SP. Maybe she will come back. It seems that God has turned my teaching videos on YouTube into a proxy for preaching the Gospel!)

Soon after you bumped into us, we left. Though T had been to church, she had been very uncomfortable with our church, from the welcoming team's welcome, to the pre-service prayer, to the casual, friendly talk in the back of the sanctuary. She looked scared. She coming from Europe, I assume her idea of church was that of institutionalized religion: big buildings; standing up and sitting down; prescriptive and perfunctory. On the other hand, K was more comfortable with our church since he had attended city churches in Singapore.

Our leaving was important not least because this relieved T. In addition, I got to explain plainly my intentions and the intentions of God's people in church because T had thought she had ruined my morning and K's morning by depriving us of church. I told her, first, to have a relationship with her was more important than sitting down inside four walls and listening for two hours; in addition, I told her the purpose of people going to church isn't to sit down inside four walls and listen for two hours but to welcome and to love on everyone, especially newcomers -- indeed, at breakfast I shared this with them and asked them to tell me whether or not they felt welcomed at SP because if they didn't that means we have failed! These words consoled T, praise God!

My decision to leave service that morning was intentional: to leave church to witness and to care for someone who is at a different stage in faith -- and at a particular stage of religion, T admitted.

We ended up spending two hours at Barista Jam where we talked teaching in Europe for two hours.

God is really good: this was the great witnessing surprise he gave us: I realize that God had surrounded us with a great cloud of witnesses everywhere we went that morning. On the way up to the sanctuary, Ka was quite friendly to K and T in the elevator. CL spoke at length and freely to them at the back of the sanctuary. We passed by S, with breakfast in hand, on the street as we left SP. While we were leaving Barista Jam, we bumped into SL, J and ES having lunch downstairs, and the three and K shared at length. Inside Barista Jam, we also bumped into SW and I introduced T to her. T was really impressed not only by the friendliness of all the people who had met us that day but by the sheer number of friendly people who bumped into us everywhere! Praise God: that is divinely good impression. Though T didn't stay for church, God sent the church after her to love on her. The bride of Jesus was everywhere yesterday, haha.

To conclude, when people don't want to go to church, maybe they will want to go to Barista Jam :)

Bless you; and good afternoon!

Warmly,
David

1 Corinthians 9:16-22

2011-08-06T17:36:00.000+08:00

Dear Pastor Sam,

Pastor Sophia recommended I listen to your Thursday morning devotional; and indeed, I did, and praise God, the scripture and your sharing spoke into my heart. Your experience in Japan can certainly be applied to mission in Hong Kong, especially holding one's line, or boundary, and not overstepping that boundary in witnessing; what with all the altars, high and low, in shops and restaurants and on people, I'm slowly realizing that I can't destroy all these idols at one fell swoop; and in fact, I often can do no more than pray for protection and love these people in a way that Jesus loves them, in a way they can understand.

Bless you; and good morning!

Suffering for His Name

2011-08-06T02:40:00.000+08:00

Praise God: this morning, I had the opportunity to reunite with two of my former students. We had not seen each other since my departure from Methodist College in 2008 so this reunion was certainly a boon. We caught up, and ultimately, God provided a curious chance for me not only to share the Gospel, but also to suffer for his name.

One of the students had left his church after a particularly furious dispute. Irreconcilable differences, as always. Nonetheless, he still had faith, and questions about it to boot: this young man wanted to understand, first, how God, knowing all, would allow people to be born, to live and to perish non-believers, be it before, during or after Christ; and second, how God could let this happen to China, in particular. Surprisingly, my answer, entailing arguments about free will, personal belief, technological limitations and curses is beside the point. What interrupted our sharing is this entry's main point of interest.

In the middle of my animated response to this student's question, while, as an aside, I spoke boldly about how investing in God was the best investment anyone could make, a man and his wife -- I assumed -- got up from their table and passed by. The man tapped me on the shoulder and I looked up. He was white; the skin on his face sagged; and his eyes were ablaze. His accent suggested he was continental European, for it didn't suggest he hailed from North America, the UK, or Australia.

"You know people come here for a quiet breakfast and not for you (sic) talking all this God stuff!" He did not speak as a grandfather speaks to his grandson; in fact, he didn't speak as a father would address his son. No, he spoke as one whom indignation, disgust and self-righteousness have consumed. That was obvious.

"I'm sorry," I replied. My eyes were trained on his and impressed kindness and genuine remorse upon him. That was perhaps the best thing I could do.

"I'm sorry too..." he mumbled. His wife did not say a thing. They turned a corner and walked out the door. Judging by his tone, I assume he was apologetic for coming to this restaurant, and not for his disdain for me; I assume this because I know the sound of wrath belying repentance since I have experienced that on occasion; and his words didn't convey that subtle conflict; nope, he was pissed that he came to the restaurant, it seemed!

No sooner had he and his fled than I turned to my former students. They had likely never witnessed such spontaneous, incendiary rebukes for their mouths were agape. I put them at ease, peace painted on my countenance, by calmly telling the truth, "We don't know this man's heart, what he has experienced, and what God has planned for him. This is a good opportunity to live in God's grace. We should forgive him."

In my heart, I rejoiced because I had been counted worthy to suffer for the Lord's name. Just as the apostles rejoiced at being flogged, I rejoiced at this man lambasting me because my mentioning the name of Jesus; everyone in the restaurant was staring, shocked. This was special, for God's glory.

HKBSA Report #17

2011-07-29T20:02:00.000+08:00

When she could recall my name but I couldn't hers, I felt shame. Indeed, to forget someone's name should be no more than a small offense; to forget many marginal names, while clearly justifiable given a succinct cognitive science explanation, still stings the forgotten, and me; they know my name; maybe I should stop meeting so many new people so that these new people can, at last, become familiar. That would be nice.

Twice this evening I commented that while my not attending training often enough to become more familiar with the volunteers and athletes was bad, that there were so many new volunteers and athletes to remember was a reason for celebration. I had been running with this club for more than two years; within the past year and, particularly, within the past half-year, the club has grown rapidly. The numbers increase weekly, praise God. I can hold on to that good.

Coach and I had a rare private moment together. I confessed to him my shame in forgetting so many names and the good and the bad reasons for this. We shared our desires to see our families, his father and my siblings, to be exact, accept the Lord Jesus. When he asked about my dating life, I confessed to him completely about my undisciplined ways; what a contrast in realities: in a temporal sense, my life is replete with regimentation and discipline; if only the same could be said for my heart, where a "flower" mentality still reigns, I lamented. For that reason, I had no girlfriend and knew I couldn't handle one. After all, I added, how could I protect my woman's heart when I can't even protect my own? I'm 30; I have many choices; and I'm picky and lusty. This is not yet a recipe for wholeness. I was unsurprisingly frank with my coach in confessing my failings to him: I suppose this is because we can only sneak away from the team once every few months. Our fellowship time is fleeting: might as well make it accountability time too.

Finally, running with Ah Ging refreshed my spirit, and my sense of humor. We hadn't trained together in many months but nonetheless, I appreciated the continuity that we share, dating back to the first 10K I ran with the HKBSA in September 2009. That was special. To chat with him, and to laugh all the more with him (e.g. we ran away from HKBSA "gwaai2" twice; and outran some junior police corp students who were training at the same time), these were the small pleasures in which I delighted this evening at the HKBSA. Praise God.

The 5:15 Mile

2011-07-28T05:09:00.000+08:00

My brother in Christ-cum-church elder involved me in a curious wager last week. My brother called me, asked me how fast I could run a mile and then explained his wager: his trainer, a prideful man who doesn't know the Lord, boasted he could best any of my brother's church brothers in a race since this trainer knows all there is about training. (As I write this, I feel as if I am describing a heel in wrestling -- pure kayfabe and hyperbole, to be sure!) To back this up, the trainer said he would attend church eight times if he could be beaten; and if not, my church brother would have to pay a monetary sum. I am, it seems, what stands between one man's success and another's failure.

I told my brother I could run, but not that Saturday since I had no time to train -- these guys wanted to consummate their wager fast! I needed at least a month, I pleaded.

All I know about my opponent is that he has the boastings of a 41-year old Goliath. His name and his personal bests at several distances remain unknown to me. I cannot benchmark him.

Thankfully, I need not resort to that. My training partner devised a four-week, interval-heavy workload by which I could run faster in four weeks. My body only needs to learn to run at a set, faster pace, he put it simply. Ignore the other runner and run your race at your pace: you cannot beat him otherwise, he argued. I believe him. After a few interval-training sessions, I feel more ready than not to run at least a 5:15. What could ensure this is an evening race and my feet placed firmly in spikes. At this point, indeed, I feel like a 5:05 isn't such a stretch, not least because I ran a 3:55 1200 this evening -- the first of three 1200s -- and I could easily lop off another 5 seconds in spikes, putting me in the 5:10 territory. If I were running in the winter instead of running in the 90 degree heat, I could facilely complete a sub-5 mile. Regardless, I'll run my time and ignore my opponent. After all, it is not as if by chasing after him I could run any faster; in fact, I would more likely gas myself sooner!

A Near Miss

2011-07-26T19:50:00.000+08:00

I missed my flight to Singapore. I didn't guard jealously my time and thought I could accomplish before an 11:15 take off the following: wake up at 07:00; run 6 miles; shower; eat breakfast; go to university to pick up a few things; buy a few more things elsewhere; and arrive at the airport. Ultimately, I took too long to start my run. After finishing it, I showered, ran over to my Uni, picked up my belonging and a breakfast on-the-go, dashed to the train and arrived at the airport, but my airline's counter had already closed: on the train, I had the decency, at last, to read the ticket confirmation's fine print. No refund; no exchange; game over. This is the first time I have ever missed a flight; I pray this will also be the last. From now on, I will give myself two hours at the airport; and I will read the fine print.

On the one hand, this is embarrassing. I had arranged to meet several people in Singapore. Now all they will receive is an e-mail in which I confess my irresponsibility and apologize for missing our appointment(s). In addition, I lost the airfare cost and will likely be penalized, or perhaps, charged in full, for canceling my hotel booking. Significant financial and social costs have been incurred for a long run, and a general languor this morning. My tail is between my legs.

On the other hand, God just delivered me from evil and humbled me greatly in the process. How I had tampered with God's stupendous plans to prosper me by including on my Singapore agenda meeting someone whom, I know, I shouldn't meet. Nonetheless, though two days ago I promised to re-establish my boundaries, I was meeting someone without boundaries and removing my own at the same time. That is ceasing to struggle; and therefore, in a very unexpected way, that God would keep me from this person is a boon; not meeting the other people scheduled on my itinerary was worth not meeting that one person. (Indeed, I had shared my experience with this person to my house church many months ago; they would be dismayed at my attempted backsliding, but would rejoice that God delivers in this testimony. Maybe, one day, I will relay this succeeding story to them.)

This week I will hide in the secret place with the Lord. I will also be working assiduously on a journal article. This time is free, and blessed, for I had just been rescued from the curious jaws of iniquity and idle adventure.

Re-establishing Boundaries and Breakthrough

2011-07-25T22:26:00.000+08:00

This must happen in the seasons of my life: at times, per God's grace, I realize my life is rife with other people's lives, and not my own: I have forgotten my own rule of saying no to everything first and praying about everything, even the specific things; what's more I forgot to listen to God -- too busy talking to him to listen.

Wherefore, today's word pierced my heart: both Psalm 91:1 and Matthew 6:6 harken me to the Lord's study, where the Godhead resides and into which I can enter to meet Him.  That has been missing in my life the past few weeks what with emergencies and dates and plans colluding to deprive me of my quiet time.  I have decided to quiet my heart, shut my emotions up, and to improve my time of listening to and seeking the Lord, alone.

To begin with, even as the congregation sang "I love your presence," I finished my job of laying out refreshments and bolted for the exit, unable to concentrate, at that point, on entering the hiding place.  Then, determined to return to that quiet, lonely hiding place, I abruptly terminated an appointment with my brother.  My lunch, which I intended to eat alone, was bought.

At that point, my other brother beckoned me.  I had a critical choice: either seek the Lord in the quiet place or compromise, once more, my intent because of an inability to say "No!" I chose the latter and suffered greatly as a result. Inside the cafe, I sulked while my brother, seemingly oblivious to my anguish, continued his extended turn ad nauseam: nothing changes.

Thankfully, the Spirit convicted me to come clean: I asked for my brother's forgiveness since I had made a choice to open my borders once more, irrespective of his feelings, and could not celebrate that choice: anguish and regret, not joy, filled my heart when hanging out with my brother this time. Deep contradiction. Surprisingly, my brother asked for my forgiveness for always interrupting me and never allowing me an extended turn when we speak: I forgave him; praise God.

The latter realization was as important as the former. Until now, our talks had been imbalanced such that I met my brother when I needed to be quiet; indeed, listening, not thinking much, can be refreshing with the right people. My other brother and I had known this about this brother since the forming of our accountability group over a year ago; and I know people in his small group feel the same way: this dude talks way too much, about himself, no less. Yet, that he slowly realizes this, and slowly realizes for what reasons I and others turned away from him, in this pause, God's grace can work in him; not only can he receive this grace, but at this moment he can begin sharing that grace with others in conversation by letting others speak more: undoubtedly, my brother is going to learn to allow others to speak, and, what's more, to ask such questions and make such comments that will cause others to speak more, and more: my brother will become a good listener.

After our forgiveness episode, we remained quiet for the rest of our meal. I savored the silence: awkward it was; but it was the pushing out into the deep for us both. I had grown so uncomfortable speaking with him, knowing he would interrupt and begin another extended turn, that I had grown comfortable providing one word, one phrase remarks before retreating into the solitude of my mind. My responsibility has changed: I must take more extended turns and trust that my brother will respond to them in an encouraging and edifying way. He won't be dismissive anymore.

Return to Home of Love

2011-07-23T20:57:00.000+08:00

The third week in a row: first, alone; second, with a house church; third, alone.  Today I carried a box, ladled soup into smaller pots and counted the hungry; I also guarded the door between food, and the outside.

Regarding the latter, I felt as if I were a sentry at that lone outpost separating civilization and the dangerous frontier.  At the same time, my heart broke at having to deny so many hungry men from a warm meal because they were not officially approved for this food.  Ultimately, however, I realize that from this life to the next is also a gate, through which only a few can pass.  While my heart can break, I must remember that this gate is a tenant of my faith, why I serve, even.  From this life to the next, people will be separated: our choice.

After the approved had eaten, I opened the gate and eleven starving men ran -- literally -- in as if a flood so soon as a dam breaks.  Their hunger must be unimaginable: what that does to the heart and mind, I cannot fathom.  Curiously, I gazed upon this band, lined up at the food counter and thought of the commune canteen lines from the Great Leap Forward. (I am reading Mao's Great Famine these days.) The human depravity and misery I see in these eleven men, multiplied exponentially, was the Mao's Great Famine.  Astonishing and incredible.

The plight of the unapproved is significantly worse than that of the approved. The unapproved are hungrier and more anti-social than their carded brethren not least because their addictions are less likely to be overcome at this time: that they haven't jumped through the bureaucratic hoops to get approval suggests a rebellious streak and an obedience to a more base, insidious authority.  Their hearts are very cloudy, far away from the light of helping hands.  They have the most difficulty in helping themselves.

The small things encouraged me, nonetheless. Many men responded well when I said goodbye to them: they said the same to me; and some thanked me, even. I also noticed that many men carefully closed the door when going out, showing, surprisingly, great care. I appreciated the gesture: they were helping me to do my job! This is good: many men are on the way!

Emergency

2011-07-21T18:55:00.000+08:00

Daegu Misson Team in Hong Kong

I am rushing back to the airport. Steve called me this morning, revealing he had stayed the night at the airport because he had lost his passport, while the rest of the team had boarded the flight to South Africa. I gasped. In my recovery, my mind began to move, to identify the logistical process by which, ultimately, Steve will reunite with his team in Africa. At long last, I also prayed about this matter. With the Lord, I am confident in pursuing this matter.

After all, the Lord alone has swept me away from my day's plans to handle this emergency. Gone are my desires to meet my former colleagues for lunch, and to date a special girl in the evening. There is no hope but in the Lord for restoration of these things: for the time being, in spite of my prodigious physical fatigue and such anxiousness from an undulating schedule, I doggedly pursue the Lord as I ride this bus, and later, the train, to the airport. Glory to God: what unfathomable plan he devised for me, for this mission team, and for Steve. How our paths are crossing once more, so suddenly!

Furthermore, my confidence rests in the Lord because he provided yesterday such favor and delivery that impressed everyone. In the morning, I awaited patiently the mission team to arrive in Hong Kong, their party encountering an unexpected 3 hour delay in Seoul. Later, the pastors and I brokered an understanding of my role in the tour, since I didn't know whether or not to treat my guests at meals because they had arrived late and I had to cancel our dim sum booking. Thankfully, my party and I were granted prodigious favor at both Lin Heung Kui at lunch and Rose Restaurant at dinner: we successfully reserved 32 spots, and I paid for both meals without breaking my bank: our food multiplied, verily. What's more, at both restaurants we were able to witness to the wait staff and managers, who curiously inquired about us. As for carrying around town heavy luggage, we received favor from an SP pastor, who allowed us to store the luggage for the day in his office: that was a veritable blessing, to be able to bump into him, not least because no one else was at church. Even in the evening, before departing, James and I helped a member fast check in liquids at the South African Airways counter in terminal two. These are but a few examples of the Father's favor: there must be more today.

It is a blessing to serve. The Lord has called me to care for Steve, in true Korean fashion, as an older brother cares foe his younger sibling. I have dropped everything to hop on this train; I have trained with a trusted friend this morning to improve my Korean; and I have brought an umbrella -- rain comes, as the Koreans say. Best to be prepared; but even better to trust completely in the Lord for provision.

A quick blessing count: temporary passport; a photomachine that functioned; clearance for South Africa; finding the missing passport; providing help in South Africa; only drizzle; lots of cuisine at Tung Chung; Gong Cha

Entitlement

2011-07-17T01:41:00.000+08:00

While walking back to my dormitory, I thought about what my IRSD tutor told me -- I could easily be an IRSD tutor, he told me. I was reconciling that bullish sentiment with my rejection from Morrison Hall, and my likely failed application to become a Swire Hall tutor. The result? Not that this doesn't make any sense, that I could easily be a tutor for one program but never for another, in spite of their similitude, but that I don't deserve anything at all in this life. Without God's grace, all is lost. These sober thoughts brought me to that humble place again: I am only entitled to death; whatever benefit is bestowed on me is no less than an act of mercy by God.

I need the Lord. I grow weary of so much change, and so many irreconcilable cultures in Hong Kong. First the IRSD people; then my former, Korean house church; at night, mainland postgraduate students in my dormitory; next, a less Korean house church; later, two middle class civil servants; the HKBSA; and of course, strangers everywhere on the streets and in the trains. No integration; no mixing. Such pluralism the Lord has created! Yet, I feel as if I am a glass bottle, tossing over and under a sea of waves, each different from the last. Where is the coherence here?

Once more, I find myself there. I don't deserve any of this, the good and the bad. But God's grace equips me to thrive and nourishes my growth in all these situations. To be sure, I am a work in progress, learning the secret of being content in any and every situation in this place. Sun or storm, I don't need sense; and I don't deserve it. I need God's grace, in me and through me.

HKBSA Walk Away

2011-07-17T01:26:00.000+08:00

I just walked away from a Saturday HKBSA practice: I think I will go home and run a 50 minute tempo by myself. The irony of my move is that I had traveled so far, to Hang Hau, only to meet these people and then flee. What's more, ironically, I barely knew any of this afternoon's participants, though I have been running with this group for more than two years.

In my defense, of course, the group has grown prodigiously in two years' time, such that turnover in athletes and volunteers is high. Not many participants and volunteers, I suspect, know most of the other volunteers and participants, especially since practices are stratified: certain people run only on Saturdays; others either Thursdays or Tuesdays; just as not everyone trains with the group all the time so not everyone knows the entire group. Indeed, I hadn't met the majority of this Saturday's volunteers and likewise, they hadn't met me. Small wonder I could wall brazenly away from them at the MTR station with nary a cry of protest!

Furthermore, not in my defense, I was tired of meeting new people and adjusting to new ways of doing. I had just come from a week with a certain group, and then spent last evening with a Korean small group; I worked this morning with a less Korean small group with the poor in Hong Kong; later, I exchanged language with middle class civil servants; finally I was going to train with the blind; this doesn't include all the strangers against whom I brushed and jostled on the streets and in the train. In sum, so many groups, sub-cultures and change: I can only process so much in 24 hours before my mind grows weary: I need less change, and more quiet time with the Father.

To conclude, I don't think I will attend anymore Saturday training. Either a Tuesday or a Thursday seems best since people with whom I am familiar attend those days. I will attempt to train on either of those days: once a week is a reasonable goal in this community.

Demon in the Restaurant

2011-07-13T16:32:00.000+08:00

She sat at the table in front of mine. From her seat, she began shouting violently at the waitress, ten meters away at the kitchen area. The woman raved madly about the placement of her utensils, a mix of scorn, hurt and fury crossing her face. Her eyes were wild.

I prayed for peace; and then I switched to tongues.

The waitress maintained her calm demeanor, barking back a few responses over the heads of customers before dismissing the woman's allegations. She maintained a professional demeanor, as if she has seen this all before -- old hat. Everyone else, I included, stared incredulously at the mad woman. All was silent but her rage. Her face could break a man's will: children flee at the sight of her tyrannical countenance. Indeed, after spouting off at the waitress, she trained her eyes on a customer: "what are you staring at?" she growled. Curiously, in spite of my eyes following hers, she never did make eye contact with me. I prayed without ceasing.

At last, we had all suffered enough. I stood up:

"Woman, I will treat you to this meal..."

No sooner had I said those words than my neighbor at my table tapped my arm:

"Sit down! Don't do that!" he implored. "This woman is crazy; look at how she stares; don't placate her. She is just manipulating us. I have seen this before--"

"But I don't know what is in her heart or in her mind. I just want to broker peace--"

"Look at her eyes, man. Demon."

"Agreed. That's why I want her to stop shouting; she's a negative influence on the wait staff and on all customers here--"

"There: she has already quieted down."

Indeed, with the man's words, peace fell. Her eyes continued to lurk, slithering back and forth as if those of a snake; yet she ate, despite the utensils not being in a "proper" place.

"She has an incredible baau1 fuhk6 in her," I said.

My neighbor and I nodded silently to each other with our eyes. I picked up my newspaper and began reading.

A few thematic thoughts: first, fear girded actions; the waitress, in sum, said she had placed the utensils as she did because she was afraid of knocking over the woman's belongings, and her food. Second, mistrust was also present: my neighbor told me not to trust the woman, to try not to redress her grievance or bring justice (and mercy) to her by my paying for her meal. She was manipulative, I suppose the consensus was. Nonetheless, praise God, for peace prevailed

A Ridiculously Stratified HK Moment

2011-07-09T17:43:00.000+08:00

Why does this moment become framed in the polarizing local- and non-local paradigm? Look around you, and even at the photos: almost everyone ignores them, regardless of language, color of skin, education, and salary. Would it be better to describe this moment and the people of this moment members of a very narrow stratum in Hong Kong society?

via iReport: A bizarre moment in Hong Kong | CNNGo.com.

With Love, With Nick Vjucic

2011-07-05T04:56:00.000+08:00

I am at this event, presented by the Hong Kong Life 10th anniversary, and I am glad to be here, in spite of who I am.

Indeed, only when my friend called me this afternoon did I dash off to Sheung Wan to pick her up to start this odyssey. I had no idea where I was going. Ultimately, she told me about Kowloon Bay and Nick (Vjucic); my expectations set, I boarded the train with my friend and traveled an hour to KITEC where we hooked up with another friend and his guide.

Upon reaching the bus, I positioned myself to get off. "Where are you going?" my friends asked me. I had mistakenly assumed that I was taking my friend to the venue, after which I was free to go; besides, they didn't have a ticket for me. I told them so.

"Ngoh5 deih6 mh4 wuih5 fei1 neih5" my friend cried. What a play on words; though I cringed not at the pun but at knowing my evening would be spent at this event, with my friends.

That wellspring of selfishness sat me down. How hard-hearted had I been to come so far, only to run away at the first opening; and then to reject in my heart my friends' offer to experience this meaningful event; these convictions set me into repentance; the Lord's kindness, his mercy which carried me to this point eventually caused me to repent. I left my pride at the cross. The bus took off.

I am not sure if my friends noticed my being cross, with myself. My truculence was all me, not them.

Nick is about to step out. I have enjoyed the superb musical performances by those who long to serve, whether or not they are disabled. This has been a fruitful evening of entertainment, inspiration, and repentance.

1)
2) You don't know what you can achieve until you try.
3)
4)
5) Obstacles to opportunities (jeung3 ngoih6 ji3 gei1 wuih6)

Pushing Out

2011-07-04T19:24:00.000+08:00

Praise God. 24 hours ago, increasing the intensity and candor of my relationship with my brother hadn't even appeared on my radar. Nonetheless, that was where God wanted me to press into him and push out into the deep. Amazing.

Only when my brother in Christ mentioned, during a house church meeting after the first service, the absence of intensity in his relationships with family did I realize how much zeal I lacked with my own. How I had shared my desire to see all my family saved and even prayed this at times: my words, however, had proved hollow; desiccated and not in bloom; no good fruit, yet. I relayed this to my house church and added the obstinate effect, or strain, of sarcasm over my relationship with my brother. There had to be a release from this "normalized" stronghold.

At the evening service, Pastor Dominic preached about the aspects of pushing out into the deep and the types of fruit born from such experience. One altar call later, I could no more stand my filial burden than a man can stand his clothes ablaze. I rushed out of the meeting room, grabbed my phone from the bedroom and made the call home.

First, my mother. She received my call well and shared my brother's recent health scare with me: more fuel for the Lord's fire. We prayed together for her, our family and my brother's health.

My mom woke my brother up. In sum, I told my brother that I loved him and ultimately, he told me the same; and I told him that Jesus loves him and our family as well. My brother, at last, forgave me for my trespasses as I forgave him, too. In discussing his health, my brother readily allowed prayer for his curious wound -- not once, but twice; the second time, he willingly placed his finger on the wound. Though the wound wasn't healed completely at the time, I reiterated my commitment to pray for his healing and asked my brother to inform me when he is completely healed. Sarcasm's influence was broken over us; we spoke candidly, from one brother to the next without worry or fear governing our voices. All this was new to our relationship. Praise God. This is the deep. Glory to Him.

Finally, a few other points in the deep end: I will write an encouraging parting note to the Morrison Hall leadership, thanking them for a fruitful experience; and I feel that God also link case study research approach with testimony of who God is last evening; that was cool: testimonies are case studies as they prove theory analytically, supporting

Prophetic Words

2011-07-04T19:22:00.000+08:00

I had a vision while walking into the toilet of all places. We are all seated at the grand banquet table, and for this feast, God has ordered the best prime rib, for God only provides the best for His family. Whether in the high seat or in the low seat, everyone gets a piece; and even the most diminutive morsel melts in the mouth. The smallest piece is delicious, and savored well.

And so it is with prophetic words.

And what about prophets? As I sat at the front, witnessing the imparting of words of knowledge and wisdom, I likened these prophets to mobile phones: an iPhone; a Samsung Galaxy S2; an HTC Sensation; and an HTC Incredible S. Each phone is high end, and though their most specific capabilities may differ, ultimately, they serve the same purpose: to receive and to transmit God's encouragement for our lives. In that way, whichever phone we want doesn't matter; any will do; for God has created and blessed them all; and what He creates is good and fit with purpose, praise Him.

Finally, Holy Spirit had Pastor Victor speak these words to me. The words made sense, praise God.