Study br eak.

MBA classes started last week, and I feel like I’m learning a foreign language, especially in my accounting class.  Most of my “colleagues” are managers or have at least a few years of experience under their belt.  I think, in lots of ways, I learn more from them than from the professor or textbook.  In all of my classes, I feel like I’m on the page of one of those children’s workbooks: “What doesn’t belong here?”  :]  But it’s been interesting (really) learning this stuff … especially in light of what’s been going on in the economy lately.
God is sovereign in all things–MBA stuff and the economy alike–and (I pray) I don’t take that fact lightly.

For the past month and a half, I think I’ve sent out about 4-5 resumes every day (except weekends).  Nonprofit organizations were my first choice in terms of where to work, but nothing was going through.  Finally, last week, I found a Human Resources job posting for City Team Ministries, a Christian nonprofit organization that does homeless ministry, youth outreach, drug and alcohol addiction recovery services, and other inner-city work.  And … I heard back from them!  My interview and “tests” are tomorrow.  But if this job goes through, I feel like it’ll be one of those, “I can’t believe I’m getting paid to do this!” jobs.  Neat how God works.  :]

While running today, I was listening to John Piper’s sermon from Resolved 2007 — A Passion for God’s Supremacy and Compassion for Man’s Soul.  If I had to write down all the “quotables” from this sermon, I might as well write a sermon transcript for it … but here’s a snippet from his prayer at the end:

Take these … and burn both these motives into their hearts, and if they don’t feel them right now, if they’re not rising with some measure of intensity, I pray that they would not stop their quest on their face before You, over Your word, until those motives are red-hot … “I am gone for the glory of God and for the rescuing of these people …”

Wait.

I still don’t know who wrote this, but a friend shared it with me during college.

And I emailed this to a friend from our girls’ Bible study group a couple weeks ago. She made me — yes, made me — read it at Bible study tonight. (She had copied it into her journal.) It was a sweet reminder about God’s love & purpose in our times of waiting, so let me share it with you, too …

Desperately, helplessly, longingly, I cried
Quietly, patiently, lovingly, he replied
I pled and I wept for a clue to my fate
The Master said gently, “Child, you must wait.”
“WAIT!,” you say, “Wait!,” my indignant reply
“Lord, I need answers, I need to know why!
Is your hand shortened, or have you not heard?
By faith I have asked and I’m claiming your word!
My future and all to which I relate
Hangs in the balance and you tell me, ‘Wait?’
I am needing a ‘Yes’ or a ‘Go ahead’ sign
Or even a ‘No’ to which I could resign.
And Lord, you have promised that if we believe
We need but to ask and we shall receive.
And Lord, I’ve been asking, and this is my cry,
I am weary of asking, I need a reply!”
And quietly, softly, I learned of my fate
As my Master replied once again, “You must wait.”
He seemed then to kneel and His eyes met with mine
And He tenderly said, “I could give you a sign…
I could shake the heavens and darken the sun,
I could raise the dead and cause the mountains to run,
All you seek I could give and pleased you would be
You would have what you want…
But you wouldn’t know Me.
You’d not know the depth of my love for each saint
You’d not know the power I give to the faint
You’d not learn to see through the clouds of despair
You’d not learn to trust just by knowing I’m there
You’d not know the joy of just resting in Me
When darkness and silence is all you can see
You’d never experience that fullness of love
As the peace of My spirit descends like a dove.
You’d know that I give and I save for a start
But you’d not know the depth and beat of My heart
The glow of My comfort late in the night
The faith that I give when you walk without sight
The depth that’s beyond getting just what you ask
An infinite God who makes what you have last.
And you never would know
Should your pain quickly flee
What it means that, My grace is sufficient for thee!
Yes, your dreams for that loved one
O’re night would come true
But the loss, if you lost what I’m doing in you.
So be silent, my child, and in time you will see
That the greatest of gifts is to get to know Me.
And how often may My answers seem terribly late
My most precious answer of all is still, ‘WAIT!’”

25 Words.

1983
On September 19, my big brother, Jonathan Kyung Tae Han, was born at Alexian Brothers Hospital through caesarean section, because his head was too big.

1984
On October 4, Jonathan was snuck into Mom’s delivery room via Dad’s blue jacket, and from that day on, he had a new title: Oppah.

1985
Dad took Oppah fishing for the first time at Los Banos Creek Reservoir; Dad plunked in a line, and Oppah pulled up a rainbow trout.

1986
At Sea Cliff Beach, Oppah was lost and Mom thought the ocean carried him away, but two women, holding his hand, brought him howling back.

1987
One day, at Grandma’s Fish n Chips store, Oppah found scissors and thought it’d be a great idea to give each other really short haircuts …

1988
Post fights, we were always found hugging – not because we were sorry but because that was Mom and Dad’s punishment (we did some angry hugging).

1989
Sound asleep at four in the morning to hearing Oppah’s, “Letitia, c’mon, let’s play Nintendo,” to secretly playing Nintendo with the volume at one bar.

1990
Oppah played “We’re Late for the Party” with Lindsay and me twice – a game where we’d frantically pack a suitcase and run across the street.

1991
On Saturday mornings, Oppah made my bowl of cereal for me and woke me up early to watch morning cartoons with him before piano lessons.

1992
Dad had two spanking sticks; he told Oppah to pick his first, and Oppah picked the bigger one, to spare me (or so he thought).

1993
The brother who caught spiders and froze them in glass tubes to chase me around with also killed the spiders in my room for me.

1994
When I ran for Vice President at school and began shaking during my speech, I saw Oppah sitting up taller so I could see him.

1995
Whenever we had “Free Dress Days,” no uniform, incentive days at school, Oppah let me borrow his ultra cool clothes: baggy jeans and Gecko shirts.

1996
By far the best summer of our childhood, playing outside with the neighborhood kids – Lindsay, Rudy, Corey, Binh, Thai, and others – from morning ‘til nightfall.

1997
After arguing with Oppah, I kicked the bathroom wall and, to my dismay, the drywall gave way; he laughed and patched it up for me.

1998
Oppah was the one home with me that January 8 night, and he was the one who kept watch at my window for any danger.

1999
My science teacher stopped me after class and asked if it was my brother who gave a black eye to a bully twice his height.

2000
This year was especially difficult, but Oppah’d take me to sit and cry in his room, and he’d tell me about Job’s fortitude in trials.

2001
Oppah faced a number of heartbreaking disappointments this year; but despite personal disappointments, he always entered into my joys as if they were his own.

2002
We went camping, and in the middle of the night, I asked Oppah to paddle me out on the canoe with our dog; he did.

2003
After grandpa’s “near death” and hospitalization, Oppah drove with Dad down to Southern California to visit me and swung me around while he hugged me.

2004
While we were backpacking out, we lost our way and only had one chocolate bar left; he broke it and gave me the bigger piece.

2005
Oppah called, and we talked for hours; he shared about the woman on the plane who encouraged him with Saul-Paul’s life and prayed for him.

2006
Oppah came to San Diego for a business trip; after we ate dinner with his coworkers, he gave me spending money (everything in his wallet).

2007
We argued as I was driving him home; it was really my fault, but like always (and I mean always), he was first to apologize.

2008
At Grandpa’s funeral, Oppah was the one who gave me a tissue and hugged me as I cried while Rachael read Psalm 23 in Korean.

That’s my Oppah. That’s the kind of brother God has blessed me with for the past 25 (minus 1) years. I love you, Oppah Koppah!

(“25 Words” was inspired by Abraham Piper’s website, 22 Words.)

The legend of the stones.

I just read and wanted to share this African legend (key word: legend) about Jesus and His disciples as told by Elisabeth Elliot.

It is only a legend. But I think it’s not sacrilegious and I do believe that there’s a strong lesson here for all of us. It certainly was a lesson that hit me between the eyes. It’s the legend of the stones.

Jesus was walking one day with His disciples and asked each one to pick up a stone to carry for Him. They all picked up a stone. Peter, rather a small one; John, a bigger one. Jesus led them to the top of a mountain and then He commanded the stones to be made bread. The disciples were by this time hungry, and so they were given permission to eat the bread in their hands. Of course, Peter didn’t have very much. John shared with him some of the bread that had been made from the stone he had carried.

On another occasion, the same Jesus took the same disciples for a walk and again asked them to pick up a stone to carry for Him. This time you can imagine that Peter picked up a bigger stone. But Jesus did not take them this time to the top of the mountain. He took them to the river. As they stood on the bank looking with questions in their minds to Him, He said, “Throw the stones into the river,” which they did at once in obedience to His command. Then they looked at Him, expectantly waiting for the miracle that would happen this time.

Nothing happened. They waited. They watched. Nothing happened. Jesus, with great compassion, looked on these disciples whom He loved and He said, “For whom did you carry the stone?”

(Elisabeth Elliot, “For Whom Do You Carry Your Stone?”)

Book Wish List.

If any of you have a spare copy you want to sell (except for the Study Bible; it hasn’t been released yet), or if you know of any site that has sweet deals on any of these, please let me know … :]

ESV Study Bible (Coming October ‘08)
Crossway

War of Words
Paul Tripp

Holiness
J.C. Ryle

Because He Loves Me
Elyse Fitzpatrick

Recovering Biblical Manhood and Womanhood
Wayne Grudem & John Piper

The Missionary Call: Find Your Place in God’s Plan For the World
M. David Sills

When People Are Big and God Is Small
Ed Welch

Shadow of the Almighty (I lost this during college somewhere …)
Elisabeth Elliot

The Pursuit of God (I had the library’s copy for a couple years … oops)
A.W. Tozer

Tres centavos.

A New Old Book
I’m currently reading C.S. Lewis’s The Abolition of Man, or Reflections on Education with Special Reference to the Teaching of English in the Upper Forms of Schools.  I’ve had this on my shelf since I was in high school.  Of course, I finally pick it up now, months after I finished teaching.  How useful it would have been, say, a year ago! I actually never even knew its alternate title until a few days ago when I actually turned to the inside title page. :]  It’s been interesting (hehe — yes, Jenn, I’m sorry; you don’t like my broad, nondescript use of the word, interesting) reading this from a Christian author.  Most of what I read in my credential program was from a very different perspective.  I wonder if there are more books written on this topic?

Sour Notes
I hit some sour notes (about three prominent ones, if not more) while playing during the offertory today.  They were pretty sour.  But what was even more sour than those notes was what God revealed in my heart as a result of those wrong notes.  I was hardly thankful or even mindful of His grace.  I was hardly thinking about whether others were still prompted to reflect on Christ in worship as a result of the song (it was Fairest Lord Jesus).  My mind was stuck on those sour notes.  I was stuck on my errors.  More correctly, I was stuck on my wounded pride.  It’s interesting how these greater heart issues are reflected in even the “smallest” situations.  Even in my walk with Christ, I tend to get hung up about my errors (or again, rather, my wounded pride).  I don’t think I’ll ever be able to knock “humility” or “a single love for Jesus” off of my prayer requests list … it’s a grievous thing to think about how frequently I must grieve His Spirit, but it’s a heartening thing to think about just how soon I will finally worship Him as I long to, in a more lasting city.  No more songs of love to the Savior, there, with hearts still entangled with self-love.  No more sour notes from the heart.

Kindred Spirits
I am so thankful for “kindred spirited” sisters in Christ.  There is so much to learn from sisters who work — in their heart, mind, and life — differently (as far as the graceful bounds of Scripture allow for diversity in those areas); but I’m so thankful He gives those kindred spirits to run the race with, too.  Ones who are so much so stitched together from the same inner fabric, so to speak, that it doesn’t take much to understand them or be understood by them.  He’s been providing me with such sisters here at home, too, and my cup runs over. :]

Absent-minded driving.

Today as I was driving in Saratoga, I decided to stop by the bank before going to tutor one of my students.  My thoughts trailed off, and when I finally came to, I was driving up a steep ramp, trying to avoid the speed bumps.

I was driving up the ramp to my grandpa’s old skilled nursing home.

I miss him.

It is not Death to die, to leave this weary road,
and join the saints who dwell on high,
who’ve found their home with God.
It is not death to close the eyes long dimmed by tears,
and wake in joy before your throne,
delivered from our fears.

O Jesus, conquering the grave,
Your precious blood has power to save.
Those who trust in You will in Your mercy find
that it is not death to die.

It is not death to fling aside this earthly dust,
and rise with strong and noble wing
to live among the just.
It is not death to hear the key unlock the door
that sets us free from mortal years
to praise forevermore.

(Original words by H.A. Malan, trans. by G.W. Bethune, alt. by Bob Kauflin)

Gospel-Centered Counseling.

I’m still not finished processing this conference message from over a month ago, but here are some of my notes from it (and some rough reflections of it).

“Any obedience not motivated by love for God is penance.”

“If you’re serious about God’s commands in/for your life and you don’t live in light of the gospel, [it will lead to] utter despair … because you cannot rest in your own righteousness.”

Elyse Fitzpatrick wrapped up the conference as Session #4’s speaker. Nothing pierced so deeply at the conference than what she had to say during this message. Her message was on “Gospel-Centered Counseling.” (Again, “counseling” could be as we counsel another or as we give counsel to ourselves in the crucial moments of life.)

Honestly, my notes from this session are all over the place. I didn’t want to miss a thing. I wanted notes that I could look over again, as if this godly woman were counseling me again. And just between you and me, I looked down to write to hide the tears, too.

She pointed us to the example of the Apostle Paul — one who determined to know nothing but Christ and Him crucified. She reminded us that gospel obligations (the commands in Scripture) cannot be gutted of their heart: gospel declarations (what Christ accomplished on the Cross). She asked, “In seeking to help others pursue godliness, have you left Jesus behind?”

Gospel Declarations + Gospel Obligations = Gospel-Centered Counseling

To focus on the commands alone, apart from the gospel, is to “strip away the very course and essence of the applications of Scripture.” The commands without the gospel foundation only invite legalism, works-based righteousness. (And legalism never works to accomplish what it promises.)

“Any obedience that not motivated by love for God is penance,” she said. Guilt never breeds love; it does not bring holiness. Obedience is not motivated by the law. If anything, the law is our tutor — to bring us to Christ, to show us our need (see Galatians 3). It is not the road to self-righteousness. As believers, sometimes we only know these truths in abstract, but we don’t know how to actually apply the balm of these truths to our lives.

Elyse shared that a couple weeks before the conference, she had committed a certain sin. It was a sin that was particularly detestable to her. She felt much guilt, and she prayed for His forgiveness, remembering the words of I John 1:9 — that if she confessed her sin, He would be faithful to forgive her sin and cleanse her from all unrighteousness. But after she prayed, she still felt the weight of the guilt.

At this point, if I wasn’t completely attentive to every word she was saying before, I definitely was now. She described what I felt and struggled with every single day.

She went on to say that she realized that she could not release the guilt of her sin because she still clung so tightly to her own righteousness. She kept beating herself on the head about her sin in a “How could I have done that? How could I have sinned in that way?” manner, even after knowing that God forgave her, because she still wanted to rest in her own righteousness.

She said, “When you still hold to the guilt of your forgiven sin in self-flagellation [or etc.], you are spitting in the face of the Righteous One, saying you still want your own righteousness.” We have no righteousness of our own. Christ alone is our Righteousness.

What do we need to remember?

2 Corinthians 5:14-15. We need to remember His love.
(Our love is always responsive in nature. “We love because He first loved us.”)

2 Corinthians 6:16-7:1. We need to remember our adoption.

Colossians 3:1-4. We need to remember our future.
(We have been raised with Christ!)

2 Peter 1:3-10. We need to remember that we’ve been cleansed from sin; we have perfect peace in conscience.

“We aren’t meant to live in light of our sin. We’re to live in light of His finished work on the cross for our sin. Now, take a shower in that and then love God!“

We need to remember the gospel: His incarnation, His perfect life, His substitutionary death, His bodily resurrection, His ascension and reign.

She shared a quote from John Stott’s The Cross of Christ (i.e., John Stott who quoted Rowan Williams): “All progress in the Christian life depends upon a recapitulation of the original terms of one’s acceptance with God.” She followed this quote up with, “Like Luther said, hammer the truth continually into your head,” all the while hammering her own head with her fist. :]

I guess this message was so convicting, because she pulled up certain weeds in my heart and exposed their roots: legalism, pride, … Nothing new, but it was still painful to see these old fiends hiding in yet another corner of my heart.

Why do I beat myself up about my sin? Because I’m prideful. I think I’m “above” certain sins because of some extra inherent goodness that I possess. Why do I have trouble accepting that God has forgiven my sins after I pray and confess them? Not because I haven’t “forgiven myself,” but because I still want a little bit of my own righteousness — one that I can earn, one that I can boast in and say, “Look. That there is mine. I did it.” Why do I view His commands with an “I know I’m going to fail” attitude? Because I’ve forgotten the gospel. I’ve forgotten that Christ is my Righteousness and that by His Spirit, I can put to death the deeds of the body and obey from the heart.

Ah. And how has this bled into my counsel to others? Not even formal counseling necessarily, but the little conversations, the informal accountability?

Change and progress cannot stem from us. The hope of change and progress stem alone from Christ and His gospel. His righteousness imputed to us.

I went up to Elyse and hugged her after this session. God used her to begin shedding light on years of inner trials.

Lulled to sleep.

One of my favorite books of The Chronicles of Narnia series is The Silver Chair.

Prince Rilian, the crown prince of Narnia, has been captive by the evil Witch for 10 years in her world underground. After he is freed by Puddleglum, Eustace, and Jill, the Witch becomes white with rage. She enters the room after he’s been freed, but instead of using brute force to recapture him and his friends, this is what she does:

When she had come to a little ark set in the wall not far from the fireplace, she opened it, and took out first a handful of green powder. This she threw on the fire. It did not blaze much, but a very sweet and drowsy smell came from it. And all through the conversation which followed, that smell grew stronger, and filled the room, and made it harder to think. Secondly, she took out a musical instrument rather like a mandolin. She began to play it with her fingers–a steady, monotonous thrumming that you didn’t notice after a few minutes. But the less you noticed it, the more it got into your brain and your blood. This also made it hard to think. After she thrummed for a time (and the sweet smell was now strong) she began speaking in a sweet, quiet voice.

“Narnia?” she said. “Narnia? I have often heard your Lordship utter that name in your ravings. Dear Prince, you are very sick. There is no land called Narnia.”

… “Madam,” said the Prince sternly, “I have already told your Grace that I am the King’s son of Narnia.”

“And shalt be, dear friend,” said the Witch in a soothing voice, as if she was humoring a child, “shalt be king of many imagined lands in thy fancies.”

“We’ve been there, too,” snapped Jill. She was very angry because she could feel enchantment getting hold of her every moment. But of course the very fact that she could still feel it, showed that it had not yet fully worked.

… [But as the minutes passed,] it didn’t come into her mind that she was being enchanted, for now the magic was in its full strength; and of course, the more enchanted you get, the more you feel that you are not enchanted at all. She found herself saying (and at the moment it was a relief to say):

“No. I suppose that other world must be all a dream.”

… “There never was a sun,” said the Witch.

“No. There never was a sun,” said the Prince, and the Marsh-wiggle [Puddleglum], and the children.

For the last few minutes Jill had been feeling that there was something she must remember at all costs. And now she did. But it was dreadfully hard to say it. She felt as if huge weights were laid on her lips. At last, with an effort that seemed to take all the good out of her, she said:

“There’s Aslan.”

… The Witch shook her head. “I see, ” she said, “that we should do no better with your lion, as you call it, than we did with your sun … Come, all of you. Put away these childish tricks. I have work for you all in the real world. There is no Narnia, no Overworld, no sky, no sun, no Aslan. And now, to bed all. And let us begin a wiser life tomorrow. But, first, to bed; to sleep; deep sleep, soft pillows; sleep without foolish dreams.”

And they all comply and drift into sleep. All but Puddleglum. He walks over the fire and stomps it out, replacing the drowsy smell with the smell of burning Marsh-wiggle flesh. This arouses everyone out of their sleep. The pain in his foot rouses him; the burning of his foot rouses the others; the rousing of all enrages the Witch because her tactics are frustrated.

… Ah, we need more Puddleglums in this world.

When I first moved home a couple years ago, my greatest fear was falling spiritually “asleep.” But interestingly enough, because of that fear, I stayed alert. I remembered I needed to be a soldier, keeping watch at all hours because of my Enemy that never sleeps, my sin that still dwells in me, and my Lord who may return at any moment.

But now that I’ve been home longer, now that I’ve seen that I haven’t fallen away as I thought I would, I’m becoming drowsy. I’ve forgotten that the Enemy’s greatest tactic, the most strategic way for my flesh to have its way, is to lull this guard dog (me) to sleep.

The Israelites, multiple times in their history, grew comfortable and forgot God. They were well fed, had comfortable homes, had peace with the neighboring nations, and forgot God. They were lulled to sleep, and they forgot God. Let me not forget Him. Let me not fall asleep.

In Revelation, the church in Sardis is rebuked for its deadness. They’re told to “Wake up.”

Self, wake up!

Let’s wake up.