“And the Word became flesh…”

It’s been a while — I’m surprised I even remembered the password to this account. Hah. I’ve been pondering a few things lately and just felt it was easier and faster to process some of it through typing than writing in my journal…

With the Christmas season upon us, I’ve been meditating in the book of John.

He tells us in the beginning of his gospel that “in the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning.  Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind.  The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome.” He continues to go on to describe how “the word became flesh and dwelt among us…” I took a world religion class wayyy back once and while I’m not scholar by any means, it feels like every religion on this earth is trying to describe how the chasm that exists between God and man is closed. Yet, only in Christianity has God taken the initiative to bridge this unbridgeable gap Himself.

The incarnation… the reason for this Christmas season — the moment when God, without compromising an ounce of His divinity, became fully man. Here in the incarnation, God who was unknowable in all of His transcendence became knowable in His immanence. Can we truly understand what it meant that He knew equality with God? Can we fully grasp from what height He descended to be with humankind? HE IS GOD — dwelling in unapproachable light, enthroned with no worthy contender to speak of. He was and is the one and only. There was none like Him. And then, something utterly inscrutable and unfathomable happened. God, who existed from eternity past, He who is limitless, without any bounds, put on limitation and stepped into time. The fullness of God was now dwelling in the fullness of man. The Creator had become the creature. The transcendent, infinite One, now an infant. The invisible made visible. He put on flesh and came in the form of a man…

Without the incarnation, there remains a chasm, a gulf between God and man that we could never cross with all of our weak efforts to do right. Yet here, in Christ, God became Emmanuel… God with us.

At the time Jesus made His appearance, Israel was waiting with eager expectation for a Messiah who would deliver her once again from oppression of her enemies, vindicate her, and declare before the whole world that Israel was, in fact, the chosen people of God. Israel lived with hope of the deliverance from her present enemies. The Old Testament anticipated an emancipating King, who would establish justice once and for all. These scriptures from the Old Testament became like a red carpet rolled out through the prophets on which now Christ has made His glorious and unconventional entry into human history as the Messiah, and in the greatest scandal of all time, has saved us to the glory of God. They never expected the way in which God would choose to deliver. He came in weakness, choosing to demonstrate perfect meekness. He was held captive to every kind of indignity. He was everything the Jews expected and more, but only those with eyes to see could understand it. He came not to deliver Israel from her current enemies, but to deliver from the plague of sin that has infiltrated human nature and branded us guilty before a just and holy God. He came to demonstrate the vast love of God, and make room for us in the divine fellowship of the Trinity.

In Christ, God has done something scandalous, something incomprehensible. And that’s the catch. The incarnation is not for analyzing but for worship. It is it to leave us in awestruck wonder of what God has done in Christ by the Spirit. Though He was rich, for our sake, became poor so that we, through His poverty, might become rich. That we may have life and have it in full abundance. The incarnation begs not for analyzing or critique but for adoration and worship. The right response to the incarnation is not to overlook it (as we often do since we focus so much on the death and resurrection of Christ – which both are also equally important, don’t get me wrong) but the right response to incarnate Christ is utter and total gratitude. It takes humility to see God in such a humble state as an infant lying helpless in a manger. How low one would need to go to approach God wrapped in swaddling cloths in a shelter only fit for animals. Could this truly be our God? Only in humility can we genuinely see God in the way that He has revealed Himself to us. The incarnation begs that we stop, close our eyes, and in uninterrupted meditation, think on what God has done in Christ… and say with wholeheartedness, “thank You.”

You know me.

I have a love-hate relationship with flying. But I’ve always loved when we start our descent for landing — it’s when the plane dips through the clouds and suddenly all of what feels like the rest of the world appears before you. You can finally see all the tiny houses and the cars that have been hidden from view. It reminds me just how small I am. That in my insignificance, I am seen and known by One.

There is Beauty in the Laying Down

I’m a planner. Always have been. It’s very easy for me to see the logical next steps, and my stubbornness helps me persevere long enough to get there. My very “type A” personality complements my stubbornness very well – and as a result, if I may humbly say so myself, I’m pretty darn good at planning.

But what do you do when the very things that you thought were solid promises, the very circumstances that, for so long, you thought would pan out a certain way, suddenly change and the very things that you used to look forward to, plan for, and even dream about come crashing down? The plans that you had for your life that you always knew would happen a certain way and suddenly, they don’t. And reality sets in – the very relationships that you thought would sustain you and be there for you for as long as you can imagine, are suddenly not anymore. And the “shifting” and the “shaking” that you could have never anticipated takes place, and all your beautiful, “good” plans that were suppose to happen fall to pieces.

What do you do when the Lord clearly asks you to lay things down on the altar as a sacrifice? The correct, Christian answer is to obviously lay it down right? It should be that simple. But what people don’t tell you and the truth of the matter is, there’s a fight that happens. Every single time. Our selfish nature won’t go down without a fight – an internal battle that is this constant, annoying back and forth. Shouldn’t it be easy to choose God’s will for us? It’s obviously the better choice – the Bible tells me so. Yet, why is it so hard then to choose it?

“When the will of God crosses the will of man, somebody has to die.” – Addison Leitch

There is no ongoing spiritual life without the process of dying and letting go. At that very moment when we refuse, growth stops. If we hold tightly to anything given to us, unwilling to let it go when the time comes to let it go or unwilling to allow it to be used in ways that God intended, we stunt the growth of the soul.

It’s so easy to make the mistake though of saying: “if God gave it to me, it’s mine.” I definitely have. These are MY relationships, MY friendships, MY career, MY future, and so on. But quite the contrary – it is ours to thank Him for and ours to offer back to Him. Ours to relinquish, ours to lose, ours to let go of, ours to completely lay down.

Life requires countless “little” deaths – opportunities where we are given the chance to say ‘no’ to self and ‘yes’ to God. Paul says in 2 Cor. 4:11 that “while still alive, we are being surrendered into the hands of death, for Jesus’ sake…” I don’t necessarily think that every single thing that has anything to do with ourselves is in itself wicked and deserving of death; in fact, when Jesus said, “Not my will…,” there couldn’t have been even the smallest part of His will that was wicked. Instead, it was a chance to lay everything down – the good that He had done, and the good that He might do if He was permitted to live. All for the love and glory of God. And I believe that this same choice is offered to us.

We weren’t meant to die however merely to just be dead. God couldn’t have wanted that for the creatures whom He has given the breath of life – but instead, we die in order to live. A seed falls into the dark earth and dies; out of its death comes life. It takes faith to believe this. It takes faith to live by it, faith to act on it, faith to keep looking at the joyful end of it all. The analogy that I’ve always loved was this: when we look at an oak tree — firm, stable, tall, strong — we hardly feel that the “loss” of the seed is a very great loss. The more we perceive God’s purpose in our life, the less terrible the losses will seem.

There must be relinquishment. In fact, I don’t think there’s any way around it. At least I don’t know of any. The seed doesn’t “know” what will happen. It only knows what is happening now – the falling, the darkness, the dying.

I hate the laying down. I hate the dying to self. Because it produces uncertainty, and I have my doubts, my insecurities. I don’t know what the future holds. I don’t know where I will be. I don’t know what exactly I will be doing. And I fear the unknown. But heck, if I’m really honest, I don’t even really know what I want – because what I thought I wanted, what I had planned for, all those things fell apart. And the only real option that I have is indeed to lay it all down. As a planner, you can only imagine how difficult it is for me. But I can say with full confidence that I trust the Lord. I trust His leadership. I trust His will for me. And I trust His timing. And as a result I will continue to say my weak ‘yes’ because I want all that He has for me. Because over and over again, He has proven His faithfulness to me. He is for me – now and for the rest of eternity. And I will declare over and over again His truths – that He loves me, that He sees me, that He cares for me. Yes, even when He asks me to lay down the very things that mean the world to me, things that aren’t necessarily bad, I will still declare (maybe weakly at first) that He is good and He is for me.

This brings me to my next point: as long as our idea of surrendering is limited to the renouncing of “bad” and “unlawful” things, we will never fully understand its true meaning. Sacrifice is not limited to not doing what is “bad” but instead, voluntarily choosing to lay down what is “good.” God’s ultimate plan is far beyond our imagination – as the oak tree was from the seed’s imagination. The seed does what it was made to do, without pestering the Maker with questions about when and how and why. We, however, have been given an intelligence and a will and a whole range of wants and desires that can be set against Him – and as a result, we are asked to BELIEVE Him. We are given the chance to trust Him when He says to us “…whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.” (Matthew 16:25)

Our vision is so limited that we can hardly imagine a love that does not show itself in protection from suffering. The love of God is of a different nature altogether. It does not hate tragedy – which is sometimes really hard for me to wrap my mind around. It never denies reality. It stands in the very face of suffering. The love of God did not protect His one and only Son. That was the very proof of His love – that He gave His Son, that He would let Him go to Calvary’s cross. He will not necessarily protect us – not from anything that makes us more like Jesus. It’s the heart that He’s after; the purification of it. Oh the sanctification process – it’s a beautifully painful journey. But it’s out of love – He loves us and gave Himself for us.

So here I am – still uncertain, still scared, still clueless as to what is next or what the future holds. Yet still, I want to choose to lay it all down before Him. I want to wait expectantly knowing that His purpose and His plan is better than anything I could ever imagine. Because Jesus has yet to fail me.

You are for me.

It never gets old does it? The human heart’s innate nature to desire affirmation and love. I don’t think I will ever graduate from it. I don’t think I will ever wake up one morning and say that I am so full of love and affirmation that I don’t need it anymore for the rest of my life. In fact, I count it as a victory when the tug on my heart isn’t so needy. Of course, some days are better than others, but my weak heart will always seem to hunger and desire to be affirmed, to be good enough, and to be loved.

And maybe it’s because I am so in tune with my weaknesses. The insecurities that cripple me with more fear than I’d like to admit. The wounding that’s happened over the years that has accumulated. All which can be traced back to a deeply rooted longing for affirmation and love. And oh how Satan loves to bring up those weaknesses and insecurites!

My independent nature. My stubbornness. My temper that flares when I feel that my insecurities might be discovered. All defense mechanism that I’ve learned over the years to cover it up — my need for affirmation and the insecurities that stem from it. And I hate it. I hate admitting to it. I hate showing signs of weakness. I hate the stark contrast that I am to the Man that I long to be like when I’m operating under fear — fear of not being good enough, fear of rejection. I am made in the imagine of God but with that image debased… feeling the urgency and reality to be taught how to meditate, to worship, to think, and to act.

I have nothing good to offer Him. Nothing but my weak and vulnerable heart that feels beaten and broken and tired. And even then, I still need His grace and courage to come before Him to lay it down at His feet. I still need His grace and courage to muster up the little faith that I have to continue to say a weak “yes” to His perfect leadership and to follow where He leads me even when I’m afraid and I’m uncertain.

But today, as I quiet my heart and sit before Him, I’m reminded of the truth and joy in the Gospel that liberates my heart from my fears and my insecurities: He is for me. He will never forsake me in my weakness. My sin is so overwhelming, yet He came for me. He still came for me. I was worth it. Weak, broken, unimpressive me — I was worth it.

And I closed my eyes, leaned my head back against the wall, and began to declare His attributes – the attributes of Christ, a glimpse of the Father, that so moves my heart to love:

You are faithful.
You are constant.
You are loving.
You are patient.
You are gracious.
You are kind.

What began as just a list became life to me as the truth of those declarations about His character began to sink in:
You are gentle.
You are merciful.
You are unrelenting.
You love me.
You are for me…
Jesus, You are for me.
I know that You are for me.

And the tears began to come as I dwell on that truth and felt His love wash over me yet again, as I rediscovered His love yet again. And for millionth time, still, He gently reaffirms me. For the millionth time, His gentle voice, never tired of doing so, reminds me of His love and commitment for me:

“You know that I am for you. You know that I am for you. I will never forsake you in your weaknesses.”

Learning to Abide.

Such overwhelming emotions today as I sat before Him. The tangible presence of God – stripping me of all my barriers, revealing the frailty of my heart. And there was nothing I could do about it – I was exposed. All my weaknesses, all my uncertainties, all my fears, all my flaws, my feelings, my inability to love well – they were all exposed. And the silent tears come. Tears and emotions that I didn’t even know I was holding back.

“Perfect love cast out fear, My child”

All my fears – fears of not being good enough, fears of being unfaithful, fears of being replaced and forgotten – He knew them all and I heard Him say again:

“Perfect Love cast out fear. Abide in My love.”

And I felt the burdens that I didn’t even know I was carrying lifted off my shoulders; and I sat there, awestruck, once again, with the reality of His gentleness, His loving kindness, His delight, and His love towards weak, little me. I’m far from perfect, made many bad decisions, and made my fair share of mistakes – but He reminded me today the foundational premises in Scripture – that God loves us with SAME INTENSITY that God loves God (John 15:9).

God is love – wholehearted love (1 John 4:16). The very being of God is wholehearted love, and it is the first in God’s personality and in the relationships of the Father, the Son, and the Spirit. From eternity past, God has loved God with all His heart; fully satisfied in the fellowship within the Godhead. The very essence of how God feels and thinks is this wholehearted love. He has great power and wisdom but only uses them to express His love…

And He loves us – with the very same intensity that He loves God. But He reminded me today that it doesn’t just end there: we were called to ABIDE in that reality (John 15:9). It wasn’t an option – it was a command, an imperative statement.

My vulnerable heart – it can rest in that. It can rest in the reality that He enjoys me. Regardless of what I’ve failed at, regardless of what I feel in how I can’t measure up to certain expectations, regardless of how much I try to love well but can’t, His love is never changing. It’s unstoppable, unrelenting. And He enjoys me – weak, dorky, impatient, plain, little old me.

We will not love God more by trying harder to love (trust me, I’ve tried and failed miserably). But we will love more by seeing more of His love (we love because He first loved us).

Abide in His love. Dwell in it. Jesus – fully God, the King of Kings, Lord of Lords, rich and lofty, and highly exalted – chose to put on the garment of humanity for a fallen human race. He didn’t choose to do that when an angel fell from Heaven, but He chose to do that for the sake of love FOR US. For the rest of eternity He is human forever and will wear the garment of humanity till the very end of time. He didn’t come to just walk the earth for 33 years, die, rise again from the grave, ascend to the Heavens and take off the garment of humanity thankful that He could finally be rid of it. No, He is human, and fully God, FOREVER. When that day comes, and we stand before Him, we will see Him, in human form, bearing the symbols of love on His hands and body for all of eternity. We were worth it.

When we focus on the way God loves God, and the way God loves His people, our natural response is love. Our natural response would be obedience to the first commandment. The more you dwell on His love – the more you seek to gain insight on it–  the more you realize your worthiness and your identity in Christ. The beauty of that?– you will naturally learn to love yourself the way God does. We begin to love ourselves through the lens of the revelation of Jesus, His cross, and our great worth to Him. And we have indescribable worth. Seeing ourselves and our new identity, destiny, and worth in God’s love empowers us to love ourselves in Him. And from that place, we have the grace to love others well – the second commandment.

We will never fully graduate from the gospel – there are many deep aspects that we will never fully understand. We will never finish this journey, this pursuit, of Love. There is always more to learn and it’s an ongoing discovery process. Abide in His love – it’s a call to continually live in it and stay focused on gaining insight about it while we’re in it.

Some days, we’ll do better than others. But thankfully, there is grace. He loves us too much to let us stay stagnant for too long :] When we choose to abide, the world will see God and they will see His love manifested.

“Do you know the way you move Me?”

Well, here I am – in a small, little (big according to their standards) town of 20,000 people that is situated in what feels like the middle of nowhere. I’ve never seen so much green and so much nature surrounding me all my life here within the U.S. (I’ve been in cities for way too long…) From a city girl to a small town gal – seems a little silly but the transition was definitely shocking. Suddenly most stores closed by 8pm. I’m in an old apartment complex where the lights seem to only want to work half the time. There are holes and cracks in the walls, which offer little to no insulation. People have already been correcting me on how to say words properly.  “People won’t understand you if you say it that way,” they say. And I find myself in a place where I’m obviously “different” – I’m not from the South, and I’m Asian. And oh, how some people stare – adults have a little more self-control, you catch their eye, and they look away. But children… they just look and look with no shame at all. Sometimes, they even point and their parents have to embarrassingly usher them away. I was different from the types of people they were used to seeing – you’d think I came from another planet.

I moved out here purely based on a promise I believe He gave me – my weak, uncertain “yes” to the Lord, reflected in my move to the South. You’d think the promise in itself should’ve been enough – enough for me to venture out of my comfort zone and trust, which, on a good day, I have no problem doing. But when you’re all alone by yourself, and there is a frightening thunderstorm happening on the other side of your window, where lightening literally lights up your whole apartment, the sound of thunder waking you up in the middle of the night and is deafening to your ears, and you’re genuinely questioning your survival, one really does wonder: did I hear You correctly, Lord?

Now this may all sound silly, even a little dramatic (wait till tornado season hits), and I’m probably just complaining about nothing (southern culture actually isn’t that bad – people are REALLY hospitable and friendly; everyone I’ve met thus far has been great), but here’s the point: I’m sure we’ve all reached a place where we’ve questioned the decisions that we’ve made – especially ones that we’ve made for the Lord. Was it really worth it? Suddenly, all the wary looks that I had received over the past few months from those around me when I first told them I was moving away to the South came flooding back to my memory. Maybe they were right…

But it’s in the midst of the uncertainty, in the midst of discomfort, and in the midst of crying out from that place of weakness, confessing to Him that my spirit is willing yet my flesh is weak that God’s still, small voice comes, gently whispering:

“Do you know the way you move Me?”

And suddenly I remember then not what I had said “yes” to, but who. God – the Almighty God Himself, He who is faithful, He who keeps His promises. It’s the remembrance of who He is that hope comes streaming into my heart. The One and Only who is worthy of it all – suddenly, my sacrifices and discomforts seem so small. Who am I to ravish His heart? Who am I, with love so weak, to be a delight to Him? (Song 4:9-10)

Yes, our sacrifices for the Lord, no matter how big or small, are very real. The heartaches that might come with the sacrifices are also very real.  The process of taking up our cross, dying to our desires and ambitions – even if they are “good things” – is a painful one. Yet, it’s so small compared to His sacrifice – the greatest one known to mankind. The Rich One left His lofty Throne and took on flesh to join Himself to us. When Jesus took on flesh and came the first time, revealing God to the world, the plan that began in the counsel of the Godhead before there was time, became so clear – it had always been about love. God had always wanted us to be in relationship, in partnership, with Him.

And it’s this pursuit of Love. One taste of His goodness and I’m done for. And I long for more of Him – a journey that will indeed cost me everything. But He is worth it. He is the perfect Leader; and every sacrifice laid down, every tear that was shed, He sees and remembers.  And He is more than worthy of it all. It is this sincere heart cry to be a wholehearted lover of God manifested through the genuine pursuit of Jesus, believing Him at His word, and taking that step of faith forward – no matter how weak of an effort it might seem and however inadequate we might feel in the process – that moves His heart so deeply.

Our efforts might still be weak. We might not know what we’re doing — and maybe we never will fully. But… I think I’ve personally learned to be ok with that. We need only to obey and be faithful – He will lead us well and He will do the rest.

At the end of the day, we need only to keep saying a weak but genuine “yes” to the Lord… because that, that is enough to move His heart. And from there, He will lead us on a journey that we would never have imagined.