Sometimes, it takes a lot of work to receive. It takes effort to receive love. There is energy required to extend your hands when receiving a gift.
The most poignant examples all come to mind from recent life experiences:
It was only when I left for college and then graduated that I realized how much I wanted to connect with my parents. And how hard the language barrier made it sometimes. In high school, it was all about rebellion. My teenage self wanted desperately to get away. I wasn’t thinking about communicating at all; in fact, it was the opposite—I wanted nothing but to cut off my communication with my nagging, overbearing parents.
Fast forward a couple more years. Sure, I called home once or twice to cry to my parents when the worst of college and failure hit me. But when I graduated, found a job and stable community, started working full-time… all of a sudden, I realized how fleeting time with my parents actually was.
2020 may be over, but the pandemic is not over yet. With stay at home guidelines, isolation, and low-grade anxiety surrounding almost every decision of daily life… I’m reminded that many people are still far from feeling “okay.”
A church community can oftentimes be a place of support, mutual encouragement, and hope. One thing I’ve been struggling a lot with this past season is figuring out both my place and my “role” within the community. Especially as someone who is working part-time for the church, it can be doubly confusing. Where do my work responsibilities start and end? How do I take care of myself as I take care of others? Is it my job to take care of others first, before myself?
We are ego-centric creatures. And maybe it’s not our fault—we constantly perceive the world through our own emotions, thoughts, and feelings. No wonder it’s hard to be truly empathetic to another human being. No wonder it’s such a breakthrough when you do connect to someone else’s experiences.
Going off my last post about reading Scripture for the simple enjoyment of it, I also wanted to share some thoughts around the ways we do read Scripture. Who are the characters that we focus on? Resonate with? Strive to learn from or identity with?
Maybe it’s not always the person we should be focusing on.
Vulnerability can be described as a “willingness to allow one’s weakness to be seen or known; willingness to risk being hurt or attacked.” In a mental image, I’ve heard it described as “giving somebody a knife, turning around, and trusting them not to stab you in the back with it.”
As I was thinking through 2 Corinthians 12:9-10, I made the connection that there is a difference between our traditional understanding of vulnerability, with what I think this short passage is evoking of a Christ-focused vulnerability
At the crux of the Christian faith, I think, is this concept of being “worthy.” God has a love for each one of us in the sense that regardless of our past, regardless of our present circumstances, regardless even if we actively reject him… he loves us and wants us. That’s the gospel, the “good news” that people are given the choice to believe.
Sometimes believing that is truly hard.
I think as the church, we should talk about sex more.
Perhaps one of the greatest schemes of the devil is to distort something that God intended to be so good, into something that society views as taboo, secretive, or dirty. Many churches issue the blanket statement, “no sex before marriage,” and then leave it at that. A smaller selection of churches are willing to talk about Genesis or the creation story and sex in the abstract sense—sex as union, sex as procreation, sex as blessing. But not too many churches are willing to talk about the nitty-gritty (are you shuddering at the thought?) of sex from all angles—embracing the physicality of it as well as the sacred symbolism.
I had a good conversation with a new friend today, and we were swapping stories about some of our hobbies and interests, current life reflections, and family upbringing. I was sharing about how my parents were born in Taiwan and then moved to the United States later on in life. He looked at me and said, “Bro, that’s crazy if you actually think about it.”
I have to say, I’m a little new to this whole “romantic love” thing. My girlfriend and I have been dating for about a year and a half now. She and I can both attest to it—the relationship is not 100% joy and sweeping each other off our feet all the time. The relationship is not constantly filled with exciting conversations, burning attraction, and romantic starlit evenings together. The relationship is not even always positive or easy. But we still have those moments—or at least, I do—where I understand the meaning of deep connection that people seek when they say they are looking for “love.” When people yearn for being known by someone and not just employed for physical or sexual desire. I’ve experienced those simple stretches of a couple seconds where we just gaze at each other in silence and feel totally comfortable and content.
Everyone loves the popular biblical verse from 1 Corinthians 13: “Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.” But as I have been reading through the Old Testament and musing on real life scenarios, there are plenty of alternative dimensions to love that this popularly quoted New Testament passage seems to be missing.
