“When in Rome, do as the Romans do.”

It’s a popular saying that I used for the first time this past weekend. I emailed some friends about a potluck Easter dinner we were having Sunday, and I excitedly announced in it that we were going to have ham, because I learned that Americans eat ham on Easter Sunday.

“When in Rome…”

Let me tell you, God has a good sense of humor.

After a beautiful day at church witnessing baptisms of beloved friends, basking in previously hidden sunshine, and really celebrating the joy of Christ’s resurrection, I was excited for the dinner. Sounds silly, but I was really excited for the ham. I had read about it in the grocery store sales paper: 14 lbs of pre-cooked honey ham at just 78 cents/lb. That meant no crazy kitchen antics, no hiding away from guests to prepare food, and no eating away at our budget for another huge party; for me, it meant a continuation of the already beautiful day.

After the infamous post-church nap, I headed out the door to run my errands on high spirits.

Let me tell you again, God has a good sense of humor.

After picking up a paper from my classmate, I jumped onto the 71A headed to Giant Eagle, the monopolizing Pittsburgh grocery store. Soon after finding a seat, I luckily realized that I didn’t have my wallet with me and couldn’t pay for the bus fare with neither student ID nor cash. The bus runs right past our apartment, so I called Melanie so that she could jump on and hand me my ID. No worries. However, due to some miscommunication, she never made it onto the bus, and I began to panic. When I panic, I just sit there, half laughing at myself, half wishing I could all of a sudden not exist. A mile or so into the trip, I decided that I needed to do something. I approached the bus driver innocently and told him my mishap. To my surprise, I received no sympathy: “You are paying for this bus ride.”

We were moving farther and farther from home, and I had no more options, so I did the only thing I could: I begged.

I have never ever needed to beg for anything in my life, and it was absolutely agonizing to overcome the shame to do so. My first instinct was to ask the nearest Asian to me, surely they would sympathize. “Sorry, I only have a twenty.” I truly felt defeated.

“Do you need money?” I turned around to find a man already pulling out his wallet. He was unshaven and adorning scraps for clothes, and from what I could see, was probably the poorest man on the bus. His thin wallet was further evidence of this. He handed me the bills, smiled, and stepped off the vehicle. I quickly uttered a “thank you,” and I could finally pay the $2 to get off the bus. I walked back to Giant Eagle, and ironically, I never got my ham. It was closed early on Easter.

It would seem that whole trip was useless and I’d go home empty-handed, but like I said,

God has a good sense of humor.

I got a phone call from the campus police informing me that they had found my wallet, so I walked the length back to their station. On the way home from there, I was met by the pleads of a beggar asking for spare change so he could get home.

“When in Rome…”

Normally I would heed the voice in my head telling me that this guy was up to no good, that he was just going to use the change as drug money. But God in his humor had taught me a lesson. He put me in the shoes of a beggar desperate for help, and he rescued me using a man I would have otherwise scorned.

“When in Rome, do as the Romans do.”

I handed him $2, the amount he needed to get home, the same amount I had needed. More importantly, he was the first ear I got to share with about what God had taught me.

Truly, what a beautiful day, praise the Lord.

“For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me…I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.” (Matthew 25:34-36,40)

Nothing short of miraculous:

I let the biggest knife my life has ever seen drop to the ground. (refer to previous post)

Evidence enough for a doubter like me to believe that when one repents, God willingly and graciously redeems.

Honestly, when I was writing about it, I had no expectations. At the time, it was some sort of confession, not at all a resolution to change. To be truthful, I am not even sure if I had faith enough to believe it was possible. But at 3:51 in the morning, I just let it fall. God is good, no?

(Sorry for the clandestine nature of my post, please ask if you’d like to know details. I’m afraid the full story on paper would outlast even the most patient person’s attention span)

To the delight of my parents, Melanie has been cooking more. For the well-being of others, I have opted not to take on such an endeavor. Over break, she helped my mom cook most of the meals, usually a right reserved for my little brother (I know, it’s sad, he’s more marry-able than me).

Her culinary skills are improving, but her basic safety is not. Before the start of every meal, she cordially apologized for the blood that accompanies the food. For the sake of you who are skeptical, yes, she is indeed just kidding. But she really does manage to cut herself each time she wanders into the kitchen.

One time, I witnessed as she dropped one of our ominous Chinese butcher knives. If you are not familiar with this image, the next time you chance a visit to a Chinatown, step into a grocery store and watch the butcher deftly chop up fish/meat as if he were an artist. It’s quite awe-inspiring (not to mention bloody). His tool is massive, sharp, and scary.

So she drops this massive, sharp, and scary thing. At the most inopportune time, her reaction rate is like lightening, and she catches the blade midair. I’m watching all this, and my mouth is gaping. Who does such a thing?!

She replies nonchalantly that “it’s a normal response; anyone would do the same if they were in my situation.” Then she walks away to continue cooking her chicken, not even aware of the large cut across her fingers.

I still cannot understand.

I was reminded of this event yesterday when a friend asked me if I were improving. There are a lot of areas in my life that have taken a turn for the worse since I got to college, encompassing various adverbs: physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually, etc. Almost as if on cue, I make a resolution to quit/improve/fix/start something on new years, after spring break, and other convenient times.

Convenient. Maybe that’s the problem. I do things on my own timetable when I want and how I want. It’s what’s convenient, it’s what’s easy, but it’s not what works.

Whenever I drop the knife, my reaction has always been to catch the blade midair. I cut myself and the scars accumulate, but I nonchalantly tell myself and tell others that “it’s a normal response; anyone would do the same if they were in my situation.” Then I walk away, continue with whatever hurtful activity or thought I was engaging in before, and I’m not even aware of the price I pay. What’s worse, I am even less aware of the price my Savior paid for it.

I still cannot understand.

I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do. And if I do what I do not want to do, I agree that the law is good. As it is, it is no longer I myself who do it, but it is sin living in me. I know that nothing good lives in me, that is, in my sinful nature. For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. For what I do is not the good I want to do; no, the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing. Now if I do what I do not want to do, it is no longer I who do it, but it is sin living in me that does it. (Romans 7:15-20)

Today was a breakthrough.

The sun was out, the temperature reached the comfortable sixties, and people were beginning to grin again.

It reminded me of our second day back from winter break. No, this is no fable: it was January 7th, it was Pittsburgh, and the 70-something degree weather was reminiscent of early summer. Who knew such a combination could exist?

Today, just like that day in January, the weather prompted me to go jogging. I actually hate running and really only ever do this on “breakthrough days.” Today’s jog, however, was uneventful and lasted no more than five minutes. Instead, let me tell you about last time’s.

I was really excited. I decked out in my under armour, running shorts, and pro running shoes, and I was off. I decided to explore a new part of Pittsburgh I hadn’t been to yet, really enjoying the variety of houses and old architecture. By this time, the skies were already darkening. It is also important to note that I wasn’t wearing glasses. All these details are an attempt to half-justify my

Fall.

Yep, just minutes into jogging I fell. Not just a clumsy trip, but a full tumble. Bystanders were in close proximity, so in my embarrassment, I pretended nothing had happened, got up, and ran again at an even faster pace. When I got home, I found many open wounds in strange locations: my right shoulder, the left hand, the left knee, and my chin. (It doesn’t really make sense if you think about it).

Looking back, I realize how comical I sounded when explaining my bloody mess to my roommates. But even more so, I realize why I fell. I was busy looking around at the pretty houses; I forgot to focus on the path itself.

The unfortunate and not so comical thing is, this story has been replayed over and over again in my life.

A prime example: Mexico. A few years ago, I went on my first mission trip to Juarez, Mexico with Youth for Christ. I’ll save the details for another day, but simply put, it was amazing and my life was changed (rather cliche, but true). Upon returning to the States, I was excited. I decked out in my new outlook on life, a new burden God had placed on my heart, and I was off. I decided to explore new areas of ministry I hadn’t been to yet, really enjoying reaching out and sharing God’s love with a variety of people. Fast forward two years. By this time, the skies were already darkening. It is also important to note that I wasn’t wearing glasses; I stopped seeing things with the same perspective. All these details are an attempt to half-justify my

Fall.

And you can remember how the rest of the story goes. I fully fell to the ground, forgetting the purpose for the things I do, the reason behind the goals I pursue. The most dangerous part of it all is that when I fall, people close to me see and in my embarrassment, I pretend nothing happened, get up, and ran again at an even faster pace. And the story replays over and over and over again…

Father,

How many times need I fall before I cry out for help? Reveal to me my weaknesses; open my eyes to how pathetic I am each time I start running again without you and without reason. Help me to train my eyes to look to the path you have led me and are still leading me on. Amen.