Cars require gas.

I’d been reluctant to fill up on gas because of the insane prices (I pay about $70 per trip to the gas station!), so I watched as my car meter told me how many more miles I could go before my tank was empty: 30 miles to 0 . . . 25 miles to 0 . . . 20 miles to 0 . . . 10 miles to 0 . . .

I considered filling up before church today, but I decided to wait. After all, I thought, I still have 10 miles to go. As I pulled into the church parking lot, I had 5 miles to 0, but I wasn’t concerned. The nearest gas station was definitely within 5 miles.

Many of the Bible study girls were on vacation or away this week, so it was a cozy group of three tonight. Instead of meeting in the room at church, we decided to have Bible study at Starbuck’s. I volunteered to drive & decided I’d get gas on the way.

The car sputtered a little when I started it (it’s not usually a sputtering car), but I thought, Pah, I’ve never run out of gas before. It won’t happen now. I’ll make it to the gas station. (Big, big logical fallacy.)

We were within sight of the gas station. It was just 15 seconds away. Then the car gave a last sputter & stopped. Died. Nothing. And the meter still said I had 5 miles to 0!

We walked to the gas station to look for a gas can. All I needed was a little bit of gas to make it to the gas station. No gas can there. “Try the auto store next door.” It closed at 8pm. “Try Walgreen’s across the street.” No gas can. “Try 7-11.” No gas can, & the 7-11 cashier kept suggesting I try using kerosene. Finally, we called someone from church. Rescued!

Bible study was supposed to start at 8pm. We ended up starting at 9:06pm. I’m so thankful those girls were good sports & considered it more of an “adventure” than a disaster.

Moral(s) of the Story: (1) Your car needs gas, unless you have an electric or push-pedal car; (2) Just because you never ran out of gas in the past doesn’t mean you never will in the future; (3) I blame it all on the gas prices.

Haha, just kidding to (3) . . .

For some reason, since this whole no-gas episode, the phrase, “No praya, no powa!” keeps echoing in my head. Funny brain.

But our eyes are on You.

“We do not know what to do, but our eyes are on You.” (2 Chronicles 20:12 — part of King Jehoshaphat’s prayer to the LORD)

I love that. I mean, I can’t relate to having some “great horde” of an army coming against me, but in the greater and lesser things of life, I can relate to the “we do not know what to do” and the fear and quavering of heart that often accompany that.

Yet, he says, “But our eyes are on You.” That’s exactly where they should’ve been.

Jehoshaphat’s response must have delighted the heart of God. It must have, because God then told him that He would fight for them and He would be with them.

We’ll look somewhere for help — if not to ourselves & our own devices, then to another. But Jehoshaphat turned his eyes to the right One. And that’s exactly where ours should be, too, whether a horde rises against us or whether we are just fearful of Tomorrow’s tidings.

We can fill in the blank with anything, but always: “________, but our eyes are on You.” (And then to stay our eyes on Him!)

No lasting city.

For some years now, this verse has been such a balm (in a different way than Acts 20:24 has been) to some heartache or another: “For here we have no lasting city, but we seek the city that is to come.” (Hebrews 13:14)

& Hebrews 11 has been a passage that I’ve returned to again & again to pore over, pray over, cry over, & rejoice over. What a cloud of witnesses (Abel, Enoch, Noah, Abraham, Sarah, Isaac, Jacob, Moses . . .). What encouragement & strength gleaned from the lessons of their lives. What a testimony to the faithfulness of God, the very same God who calls me to walk by faith & in faith today.

I take heart from the example of Abraham, who obeyed & “went out, not knowing where he was going . . . for he was looking forward to the city that has foundations, whose designer & builder is God” (vv. 8-10); from the example of Sarah who “considered Him faithful who had promised,” even in things that were humanly impossible (vv. 11-12); from the example of Moses, who “refused to be called the son of Pharoah’s daughter, choosing rather to be mistreated with the people of God than to enjoy the fleeting pleasures of sin . . . consider[ing] the reproach of Christ greater wealth than the treasures of Egypt . . .” (vv. 23-26); & from the example of others, who “were made strong out of weakness . . . were tortured, refusing to accept release, so that they might rise again to a better life . . . suffered mocking & flogging . . .” (vv. 32-28).

All of these in Hebrews 11 did one thing in common. One thing they did commended them: they looked on God with eyes of faith. “Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. For by it the people of old received their commendation.” (Hebrews 11:1-2)

They took God at His word, even when things visible did not necessarily affirm His word or His promises. They “considered Him faithful who had promised” (v. 11), “died in faith, not having received the things promised, but having seen them & greeted them from afar” (v. 13), & “endured as seeing Him who is invisible” (v. 27).

Their sights were set on God. Nothing else mattered. It didn’t matter if circumstances did not make His Word likely. It didn’t matter if human reason argued against the fulfillment of His promises. It didn’t matter what happened to them here. Here was not where their lasting city was anyway. Here was not where their treasure was stored anyway.

After their years here, they reached their lasting city. They reached the place of their rest. They reached where their heart was, where their treasured was laid up.

It is on this basis — this rich history of what God has done in the lives of His weak, embattled people — that we are exhorted to “run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder & prefecter of our faith” (Hebrews 12:1-2).

These wandered the earth as pilgrims & as foreigners, citizens of a more lasting city. In the moments when I feel like a wanderer, I’m reminded that others have journeyed much farther & have faced greater trials & heartaches. This isn’t to diminish my aches but to put even the smallest aches into perspective & to magnify the God of faithfulness, the God of grace sufficient, who sovereignly led His people in all kinds of different circumstances throughout the ages.

Let us, too, acknowledge that we are “strangers & exiles on the earth. For people who speak thus make it clear that they are seeking a homeland. If they had been thinking of that land from which they had gone out, they would have had opportunity to return. But as it is, they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for He has prepared for them a city.” (Hebrews 11:13-16)

Excerpt from a hymn written by Fanny Crosby, a blind believer:

All along my pilgrim journey, Savior, let me walk with Thee . . .
Lead me through the vale of shadows, bear me over life’s fitful sea;
Then the gate of life eternal may I enter, Lord, with Thee.
Close to Thee, close to Thee, close to Thee, close to Thee,
Then the gate of life eternal may I enter, Lord, with Thee.

Let’s sing with her until our faith gives way to sight, until our wanderings lead us Home: Close to Thee, close to Thee.

Strength in hope.

Where’s my hope?

Jeremiah remembered God. He remembered who God is; he remembered the unchanging character & purpose of God. In the midst of destruction & despair, in the face of a hard providence, Jeremiah preached truth to himself:

This I recall to my mind, therefore I have hope. The LORD’s lovingkindnesses indeed never cease, for His compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness. “The LORD is my portion,” says my soul, “Therefore I have hope in Him.” It is good that he waits silently for the salvation of the LORD. (Lamentations 3:21-24)

It amazes me that a man like Jeremiah could say he hoped in the LORD, even after all he had witnessed. For over 40 years, he preached a message of repentance & of God’s coming judgment on Judah’s sins. No one repented. He watched as calamity fell on the people of Judah; he saw the destruction of Jerusalem. With his finite eyes, what could he see but devastation? What could he see but no future, no hope for Judah?

But his hope wasn’t in anything that his eyes could see. His hope wasn’t in the possibilities or probabilities considering the present situation. His hope was in God, his portion.

Habakkuk, too, hoped in God in the midst of confusion & uncertainty. Regardless of circumstances, his hope (& joy) was in God.

Though the fig tree should not blossom & there be no fruit on the vines, though the yield of the olive should fail & the fields produce no food, though the flock should be cut off from the fold & there be no cattle in the stalls, yet I will exult in the LORD, I will rejoice in the God of my salvation. (Habakkuk 3:17-18 )

Jeremiah & Habakkuk looked to God. They looked nowhere else, because they knew hope was found in God alone. They knew hope in God would not disappoint, no matter how hopeless things may seem. They had the kind of strength-giving hope G.K. Chesterton refers to:

Hope means hoping when things are hopeless, or it is no virtue at all . . . As long as matters are really hopeful, hope is mere flattery or platitude; it is only when everything is hopeless that hope begins to be a strength.

There are those like Jeremiah & Habakkuk.

Yup. And then there are those like me.

I put my hope in the possibility of changed circumstances. I put my hope in the fulfillment of certain wants or plans. I put my hope in people. I put my hope in events. I put hope in myself — my meager abilities & my own devices. I put my hope in the possibility of deliverance, not the surety of the Deliverer.

I put my hope in things that I can see, because I think that what is seen is more sure than what is not seen (at least, not with my physical eyes). I forget that hope that is seen is no hope at all; & when my earthly “hopes” fail me, when I don’t see circumstances or hearts changing, I become sorely disappointed, discontent, or depressed.

I might say, or I might want to believe, that I’m hoping in God, but as long as I continue to be “hopeful” in these other things, my hope toward God is just vocabulary without reality.

But I’m thankful that false hope causes me to despair. My hope and expectation should be in God & in His word. This is true hope.

“And now, Lord, for what do I wait? My hope is in You.” (Psalm 39:7)

“For You are my hope; O Lord GOD, You are my confidence from my youth.” (Psalm 71:5)

“Remember the word to Your servant, in which You have made me hope.” (Psalm 119:49)

Only in the Lord do I find strength-giving hope for times of disaster, for times of despair, for times of grief, for times of discouragement with sin, for times of relentless circumstances, & for times of disappointment. He is my hope — nothing else, no one else. In Christ alone, my hope is found.

I can anchor my heart, my expectation, my everything in Him & in His promises.

Sometimes, things seem really hopeless. But this is because our hope is often misplaced. Our hope was never meant to be put in the things we see. Our hope was never meant to be put in people (how can we expect so much from man?).

Our hope is to be in God. And as we hope in Him, we find strength to wait upon Him. We find strength to persevere until our expectation is realized through Him, in Him, & for Him.

“Be strong and let your heart take courage, all you who hope in the LORD.” (Psalm 31:24)

Laughing at myself.

Some things I laugh at (or at least smile at):

1. I sucked my thumb until the summer before 7th grade. I didn’t stop until the orthodonist humiliated me in front of the whole office, waiting room & all: “You’re almost 12 years old & you still suck your thumb?!” Well, from that day forth, I did not. Thank you, Dr. Quan.

2. I slept with my childhood blankie until I was 21. On my 21st birthday, I took a picture of it (see photo to right) & then threw it away in the name of adulthood. (If you’re wondering why some of the bears have holes in them, that’s a whole ‘nother story.)

3. Sometimes while I’m talking to someone, I’ll suddenly realize I can only focus on one of their eyes at a time, & I won’t know which eye to look at. It’s awkward (in a funny way); you should try it. :]

4. Songs get stuck in my head so easily it’s sad. For example, if your phone goes off, I may obliviously begin to hum your ring-tone a few minutes later without knowing where the tune came from. And it’s difficult for me to get songs out of my head. I’ll try singing another song, but once I’m “not paying attention,” the old song will creep back in.

5. I have no natural sense of rhythm or beat. With some practice (& by God’s grace), it’s become better over the years, but it does not come naturally. I’m not a natural musician or a natural dancer. And you definitely do not want to ever hear me try to rap.

What are some things you laugh at yourself about? :]

A simple faith.

Sometime in the past couple of years, the truths of Scripture didn’t seem so simple anymore. I hesitated more often before giving responses to straightforward questions, as Scripture and experience (my own reasoning) fought for supremacy in my mind. Faith didn’t seem so simple anymore. There were too many variables in the equation, & I needed more information before I could proceed.

But then came the piercing question: what ever happened to childlike faith? Not a faith that is blind to the odds, and not a faith that immaturely scoffs at any sort of planning or preparation, but a faith that looks to the God who can do all things & whose purpose will stand. A faith that is simple & uncomplicated. A faith that says it is enough to know that He says it, that He promises it, & that He who says it & promises it is true. A faith that says, “No matter what it is, where it is, or who it is, my God is able.”

It’s challenging to keep trusting God wholly as weightier responsibilities come every year. It’s challenging putting away childishness while preserving childlikeness.

But I pray that I never mistake complexity for wisdom or self-reliance for maturity. Oh, always for a simple faith like that of a child.

“For the Bible tells me so.” (That it would always be that simple . . . because it really is.)

One Face.

I once heard a conversation between a certain Six-Face & a certain One-Face . . .

Six-Face: I am weary of my six faces.

One-Face: Then why not trade your six faces for just one face?

Six-Face: But I cannot keep the same face in every context. I’ll be sure to lose some friends.

One-Face: Therein lies the issue. If your aim is to please the One, you only need one face. If your aim is to please the many, you will need even more than the six faces you currently have.

Six-Face: Can’t I please the One and the many all at once?

One-Face: No. It’s impossible to run simultaneously towards two goals that lie in opposite directions.

Six-Face: Do you then care nothing for man’s esteem? Do you not fear the rejection or scorn of man?

One-Face: Not without faltering, but I choose the fear of the LORD. When I look to Him, man’s esteem is as the common dust that blows in every which way.

Veggie Tales of LBC.

An absolutely mindless post during a much-needed break on a study day:

Kara sent me an email titled “What Chefs Do When They’re Bored.” I picked some of my favorites from the email . . . they reminded me of people from LBC.

Kevin & Mabel.

I love you, J(cough)nn . . .

Ranger!

Steven, David, & Stanley! (or just as easily: Cindy, Cathie, CindyTsausar)

Step-funny & Jen Shin (Guess which one’s which.)

Jin & Grace. That was an easy one :]

Pastor John K. & Pastor Patrick C. (or just as easily: Mike Has & his hairstyle transitions over the course of college freshman year).

I better not say . . .

LBC Choir (one of them is Cho-Cho).

East Flock/Chi Flock (Peter & Jinny are in there somewhere . . .)

Awww, Dana . . .

Indiana ’til Sunday.

I’ll be flying out to Indiana tomorrow morning for Jamie’s college graduation. The last time I was in Indiana was 4 years ago for her high school graduation. They have beautiful cornfields there that stretch for miles.

She already called to let me know that she scheduled a facial for me Friday morning. I’m not exactly sure what happens during a facial (I think it involves slathering different chemicals in both liquid & lotion form onto your face — hehe, maybe I overly dramatize the process just a little bit), but I’m sure it’ll be interesting fun.

When I was 14, I visited Jamie for the first time in Indiana, & her aunt made a tremendous impression on me as a teen. I didn’t know it was possible to know & love God like she did. I remember she’d take her Bible everywhere, & she’d spend the spare moments of her day reading it intently (while waiting in the car to pick up her kids, in line at the store, at the library while her kids were checking out books . . .). I thought it a bit strange back then, because no one I knew did that. She also woke up early to pray (on some days, “early” meant 4 in the morning). To this day, when I think of her, I think of a humble woman who simply loved her Maker. I can’t wait to see her again.

I’ll be back Sunday with a melted face.

;]

A “clear” day.

I love my grandpa.

In the past, he fluctuated between “clear” days (days when he’d remember who we were & where he was) & “unclear” days (days when he didn’t know us & thought he was in a prison or somewhere else). Most of this is due to a combination of Alzheimer’s, dementia, & the lasting effects of traumatic brain injury.

Since last September or October, the number of “clear” days was less than 3.

But yesterday afternoon, he made eye contact with me when I greeted him. I couldn’t remember the last time he even made eye contact with anyone for a sustained period of time. I tested him to see if he knew me: “Do you know who I am?” He answered in Korean, “Granddaughter.”

It was the first conversation we’d had in a long time. He remembered God’s love for him. He remembered Christ’s death for his sins. He remembered God’s keeping power. He remembered God’s care for him.

As we reviewed these things, he held out his hand to me; & for the first time in my life, I saw my grandpa cry. His body shook as he silently cried. God knows his weariness, & God knows to give him comfort upon comfort through reminders of His love. Such is our good God. Such is Abba’s heart.

It was difficult to eventually leave, because I didn’t know how long it would be until he had another clear day . . . or if ever he’d have another clear day as his mind & body progressively deteriorate.

But when I see Grandpa, I see a visual reminder of 2 Corinthians 4:16-18:

So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.

That’s another passage, besides Psalm 23, that we read often. & we don’t lose heart . . .