I typically refrain from bragging (mostly because there honestly is nothing to brag about), but… I ended school and started summer way back on April 23rd. Almost a full month ago! On the opposite end of the spectrum, there exist an unfortunate many who don’t get out until mid-June. I visited several of that kind last week at Northwestern. (Please forgive me for my lack of sensitivity and empathy).

If it were feasible and time not a constraint, a new hobby I would start would be to experience what a ‘typical day in the life of _________’ is like.

As we were following one my friends around, we eventually made our way over to one of the central locations on campus, where it’s always bustling with activity. In the midst of it, a table was set up that was devoted to raising funds for the recent Myanmar cyclone victims, a terrible event that has been on the forefront of news stories as well as the agendas of humanitarian organizations. In response, my friend’s Christian fellowship had enlisted its members to take shifts to sit at that table with a cardboard collection box and periodically shout out “HELP THE MYANMAR VICTIMS, DONATE MONEY” in an attempt to sell the cause to classmates and professors.

For the forty-five minutes we sat with them and joined in on the effort, I made this one observation (in retrospect): none of the five of us behind the table donated a single penny. What does this say? It says that the ones trying to sell the cause didn’t believe in the cause themselves.

I knew I had money in my pocket. I knew Melanie had money. I knew my friend had money. I knew the other two girls did, too, because somewhere in that time frame they bought themselves some pizza. And additionally from the lack of energy and conviction and compassion in any of our voices, I knew none of us really cared. And I am sure many who only gave us a glance noticed.

Fortunately for the cyclone victims, many on campus enthusiastically and with genuine compassion donated despite our poor efforts. Some even asked if there was more they could do.

Let this be both an admonishment and encouragement to all who profess that they believe in the Good News of Jesus Christ and the new life that results from God’s amazing grace. The admonishment: if all we do is show up at the table when obliged to and periodically shout out our message but mostly care about the pizza or the side conversation, we are marring that message. We need to invest in it ourselves; God calls for a generation who truly believe in the cause themselves, not just table sitters (or pew warmers, for that matter). Like I wrote about in my previous post (‘Art i choke’), it’s all about the heart. Know that if you don’t really care, others will take note. The encouragement: fortunately for mankind, God is able to draw people to himself and to his love story despite our poor efforts. Good thing none of us are capable of screwing that up.

I honesty cannot recall the last time my family had so much fun together at the dinner table.

And of all things, the conversation centered around artichokes – yes – that vegetable that resembles an over-sized brussel sprout.

Earlier today, my mom had announced that she was going to buy artichoke for dinner, prompted by its sale at the grocery store and the fact that she had never ventured to cook it before. Several hours later, the six of us sat at the dining table staring skeptically at the foreign green things.

We listened as Melanie explained the ‘art’ of eating one, her description being a culmination of the information and tips she acquired from wikipedia, artichokes.org, and other sites.

1) Rip off a leaf.

2) Gently clamp your teeth on the leaf.

3) Slide your teeth across the leaf to scrape off artichoke stuff.

If you have not yet, I recommend you try out this vegetable; it’s quite an experience. But as we were quick to find out, it is an experience that amounts to almost nothing. For all the work you put into it, you end up with tasteless flakes of so-called ‘food’ in your mouth. It’s no wonder we’ve never had it before, nobody raves about it, and the typical menu survives without it.

My dad kept suggesting we try and ask for a refund at the grocery store.

My older brother, Timmy, kept commenting on the artichoke’s elusive quality.

“Do you think it’d be better if I just ran my teeth along my plate?”

My mom kept eating it, hoping that after the fiftieth leaf, she’d taste something.

My younger brother, Shelton, kept his focus on the steak while we were all distracted.

Melanie kept throwing random artichoke facts around and quoting her friend Wiki.

And we just laughed. (If it’s not funny, you had to have been there…)

However, all is not lost. Apparently the gem of this green lies in the center, and the real delicacy is the ‘artichoke heart,’ as it is called. You dig through the leaves of vegetable until all that remains is the heart, only the size of your pinky finger. This little thing is the only reason why it’s still harvested.

Now, I could relate this to how we people are like artichokes and we need to not just look at the shallow outside but rather what counts is the inside and… but I can already start to imagine my audience (or lack thereof) yawn and mutter “I knew that was coming.”

No, instead I just want to say that now that I am home and am looking back on the year, it really has been a great one. As I have been learning ever since coming to Pittsburgh and as Gordon keeps reminding us in Sunday school, it’s all about the heart. Sounds simple, and it is, but if there is one thing God has been challenging me with during my college years, this is it.

Thanks artichoke,

Thanks God.

‘Gautam! Gautam!’

I was waiting at the bus stop when someone caught my eyes’ attention. Gautam was from my high school and now a freshman going to Pitt, and even though an entire semester has already passed, we still haven’t seen each other. This was my first sighting.

But he kept walking. Although it is no secret that my voice lacks strength, the real stopping force of my communication here was his earphones.

I am sure this not uncommon for most of us. When we’re strolling around our campuses, a good number of people we pass are listening to their music in their own world, and it’s often difficult to penetrate.

My mp3 player only holds a gig of music, and so I spent a lot of time deliberating on the songs that I would fill it with. It happens that they are all Christian; I prefer no other tune to be stuck in my head. It whispers to me the majesty of our Lord or shouts the praises of the one who saves.

Do you ever wonder what is being fed into the ears of your neighbors? Perhaps lyrics that push them further into depression, songs of happy but empty promises, maybe violence, sex, cursing, money, drugs…

And here am I, with a genuine smile overtaking my face as I listen to words of truth, of hope, and of life.

It’s not even fair.

“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.

My favorite class this semester is social psychology. I love learning counterintuitive ideas. I love learning ways to change my thinking.

One interesting topic came up in class today: priming. It refers to the phenomenon where stimulation can activate an association that temporarily affects a later attitude, behavior, or thought process. For example, when people hear or see the word elderly, they will actually walk slower than if they are primed with the word youthful. Another more everyday example is that when people are primed with words that have to do with failing, it becoms a self-fulfilling prophecy, and they do worse on an exam. It doesn’t even matter how long the you’re exposed to the word; literally a fraction of a second and unconscious priming can alter your subsequent behavior. Pretty interesting, eh?

I know Lent started a week ago, but I have finally decided on what I want to give up this year. Not sweets, not soda pop (I used both names as not to anger anyone), not skipping classes (it’s just not possible). I gave up my mornings. The idea of priming really made me reconsider my behavior. When the sun’s shining and I’ve had a good breakfast, the rest of my day truly is reflective: I’m beaming and I praise God and make time for him. Rain and grey skies tend to elicit the opposing response.

Rather than just reconsidering my behavior, I want the idea of priming to change my behavior. By giving up my mornings to God, I want to start each day with his Word in my head, to remind me that I was given this morning out of grace, and to live accordingly.

How are you priming yourself?

My neighbor is a perpetual liar. And not only that, he is quite skilled at it.

Read this, and tell me if you can imagine anyone else being able to pull this off:

He told someone that there’s this guy who works in our apartment building who’s name is ‘Big Ed.’ The right arm is missing, and in its place is a hook. He has a patch on one eye, and he has a lot of rolls. Not the kind of rolls you’re thinking of, though, I mean bread rolls. He keeps them all by his belly. (Sorry for blowing your cover, Jas).

It’s all somewhat believable up until the point of the bread rolls. And still so many believe him! That’s only one of his lies, his others are just as outrageous at times, but with his panache and experience, he can fool most. The good thing, though, is that they are, for the most part, “safe lies” in that they do not harm anyone, and he never lets someone leave without realizing the falsity.

I happen to be exceptionally susceptible to his lies. After a couple of months of living next to him and falling for his crazy lies each time, I made a decision one day to not be so gullible. He told a story about two kids from church who’s dad had just died because a tree fell on him. I took a stand: “I don’t believe you.”

“It’s true! I’m not kidding this time!”

“I’ve heard that waaay too many times, I’m not falling for it this time.”

And on and on we went until finally he pulled up a newspaper article he had along with an email from a church member recounting his exact story.

I was in disbelief. I was in shame. (The one time he decides to tell the truth, I take a stand!).

Some of us are pretty good at discerning truth from lie, many of us not. In the case of my neighbor, it’s not harmful when we can’t. But what about in other situations? The world spawns liars and thieves in even some of the most discrete places, and I am inclined to believe that many of us have trouble discerning. It could be in television, on your iPod, in the mouth of your buddy, in content on the internet, it could be at church.

It could be at church.

I grew up a church kid, and having known nothing else outside of it, devoured everything I heard indiscriminately. The Bible contains so much text that it is easy for someone to manipulate it and for another to receive unaware. Our world and culture are changing so quickly that churches and youth groups feel the pressure to ‘stay relevant’ to the trend that they abandon hard Biblical truth. Certain teachings have been passed on from place to place, generation to generation, and because they have become popular, nobody thinks twice before repeating it off to the next victim.

My neighbor was certain to reveal his lies as to not harm anyone. Satan is not as considerate.

15 Therefore, this is what the LORD Almighty says concerning the prophets: “I will make them eat bitter food and drink poisoned water, because from the prophets of Jerusalem ungodliness has spread throughout the land.”

16 This is what the LORD Almighty says: “Do not listen to what the prophets are prophesying to you; they fill you with false hopes. They speak visions from their own minds, not from the mouth of the LORD.

17 They keep saying to those who despise me, ‘The LORD says: You will have peace.’ And to all who follow the stubbornness of their hearts they say, ‘No harm will come to you.’ (Jeremiah 23:15-17 NIV)

Last night blended into this morning; the two of us neglected sleep for the sake of studying for our first organic chemistry II midterm. This infamous class among pre-health students is not as impossible as some suppose, but there really is a whole lot of material, details, and concepts that are hard to keep track of and integrate for one’s limited brain. It’s the study of everything carbon at the atomic level, basically everything living. It really blows your mind how it all works together. This was my genuine prayer as I neared the end of the studying period and headed into the exam:

Dear God,

I am thankful that although they make us learn all these things and even if I fail today’s exam, I can rest assured that all of these are in your capable hands and the details are no mystery to you. Thank you for life, thank you for being Creator. Amen