Wonder of Easter

I did it, nearly 2000 years ago. Yes, it was I. The Son of God spent almost three days in the darkness of his grave because of what I did (had done and would have done). I betrayed him; it was I who falsely accused him and gave a false to testimony at Sanhedrin. I was warming my hands at fire close the gate, while denying him three times, for I did not have guts to plead allegiance to the King of Kings before a few servants of the "high" priest. And then again, I cried my chest out saying "Give us Barrabas" and after that "Crucify Him! We've got no king but Caesar!" Indeed, I slapped his holy face and spat on him mocking him, "Prophesy who hit you!" When he walked under the weight of a heavy wet log of wood, it was my guilt that was pushing him down, yet he would walk and walk... till he got to the Skull, wherein I waited for him with hammer, nails, and a spear. I pierced his hands and saw him groan after each time I'd hit every one of the three nails. And then I mocked him both from the cross on his left not fearing even death and then from the crowd when I advised him to call upon Elijah to save him. It was I, who pierced his side to see if there was a bit of life remaining in him... and there wasn't. He was dead. The eternal Word of God became flesh to suffer like this under me, whom he came to save. Isn't it ironic? The body that used to be so full of strength that everyone remembered energetically ministering, preaching, and performing miracles - this body is now in the tomb. Yet early in the morning of the first day after Sabbath he rose and changed it all. IESUS VICTOR! He overcame the sting of death and moreover, he told me about it. I betrayed him, I denied him, I did not want to believe in him, I crucified him and yet he told me he won the battle and wants me to come home with him. It's been 18 years now since the first time I felt his love and I still can't comprehend this. Despite all I did to him, regardless of all my inadequacy, no matter how sinful I have been, this Crucified God loves me and will do so forever, for he cannot deny himself. Thank you Lord.
Happy Easter.

On the humbling beauty of fasting

There is something about fasting that always humbles my knowledge-desiring mind. What is it then? Well, an honest response would be - I do not know. There is an immense intrinsic beauty in fasting. One, in the moments of either vast desperation or just simple joy (or both), gives up on something in order to express his or her absolute dependence on the living God. What is it? Can fasting in and of itself change the circumstances? No, only God can. Can mere fasting get one closer to God? No, unless it flows out of one's heart of worship. This beautiful, indeed splendid sense of dependency and devotion to the One who alone can change the course of things, or otherwise express his divine reign. Beauty... what a beauty one experiences not eating and remembering that this peculiar feeling in one's body is only a small reminder of the blessedness of this time of fasting. When we fast we in fact declare that the present time, just as both the past and future, is in God's hands alone. May your will be done. Abba Father.

On Being Hurt

All of us were, have been, are, and will be. Hurt. Wounded. Broken. Family, friends, acquaintances, the unknown, or enemies... sooner or later. Anyone can hurt and get hurt. I've been praying and reflecting on this very notion and I thought that this cannot be the end, that this cannot be the status quo... that we cannot remain like this - i.e. hurt(ing).

How shall we then live? How shall we than avoid all of that? As I was sitting quietly in the awful presence of God a thought came to my mind. The wounds of past can heal our present as well as future. As I'm reflecting on some past wounds, I'm reminded how these have shaped my character and how my present responses to these crises would be so much different. Not because of me, not because of my "ability to learn." Because of him; the gracious Father, who allows all of this to happen for our learning and consequently - for his glory.

I hate being hurt, I fear all pain; however, I love my God and I will follow him. May you, dear faithful reader, also be encouraged in your time of pain. The better day is to come.

The New Exodus

As I reflect on this day, the same "cliché" thoughts enter my mind more powerfully and more vividly than any other time... it's a Good Friday. I need to admit that quite frequently I find myself ruminating on the Church calendar, seeing its strengths and weaknesses, yet I can't help but acknowledge the genius of the Good Friday.

We live in the day and age, which overflows with definitions of good and bad. "How are you? I'm good, what about yourself? (whatever the word good means)." Food tastes good because our western taste faculties were trained to to like it. American Eagle is a good brand, because one can buy a pair of pants for a good price without being suspicious about the child labour in its production (although all of us who have them will concur that their volume usually doubles after a year of use and washing). My coffee is good because my addiction and state of sleepiness make me say so.

So what about this Good Friday? What is good about this man who died by a shameful death of a criminal - naked, ridiculed by the very people who a few days ago had shouted "Hosanna to the Son of David. Blessed be the One who is coming in the name of the Lord"? Why do we celebrate a day which disappointed the Jewish apocalyptic hope in a Messiah that would set them free from their political oppression? What a tragedy! The dead man... the foolish death of the Cross. What's so good about it?

It is obvious that none of our definitions of "good" line up with the one embraced by those who found it appropriate to set aside one day a year to reflect on this "glorious disaster." The Good that comes out of this horrible pain and disappointment is to be shown on a third day, when the shame shalt not be exposed anymore, for the glory of Jesus' victory is revealed. However, the glory of the resurrection - the New Genesis, would never come about without the Cross - the New Exodus, which Jesus fulfilled in Jerusalem (Lk 9:31) and we, the people of God may share in.

The foolishness of the Cross, the most ridiculous way of salvation one could ever imagine, found favour in God's eyes. Indeed, it's THE Good Friday today - the day, when Jesus Christ laid his life for you, and even for such shameless and unworthy sinners like me. He bought us all (2Pt 2) via his precious blood... and yes, I'm using a Christian cliché again and I am not ashamed of it for a second. The perfect atoning blood of the perfect undamaged Lamb, namely Christ, made this terrible day into a Good Friday.

Happy Easter.

Exodus

It is a little more than two months of my stay herein, until the glorious day of my "exodus" comes and I shall depart indeed. 'Tis the season of expectation and a perpetual delight in knowing that there are those that are awaiting my arrival with love and care. I cannot help but think of my grandfather, who drove three times to the bus station to see if I had come yet or not, when I arrived home last year. I cannot help but think of the moment when I learned that - I simply could not help but undergo the emotion of this experience with tears in me eyes. Seeing my dear mommy, who had to willingly let me, her grown up son, go to the far world with uncertainty in her heart, if I should come home safely or not. Seeing my grandmother, with her sincere joy and emotional outburst of tears seeing her beloved young world traveler - the only grandson she has ever had. Seeing my younger and only sister, my best friend, ... I cannot help but get emotional myself due to the terrible feeling I undergo when I become aware of how much I truly miss her. Yet this exodus will be different from the previous one. Substantially so. This summer, I am about to experience an honor, pleasure, and delight of getting to know and spending the time with someone whose voice warms my heart and whose words are the source of much of my happiness. Thus, my great anxious and fervent expectation of the prettiest third of the year. Thank you Lord.

Grace

A few words that you said
And left
And came again
And then left
And then came again
Made me wonder
Made me fear
Made me plead
Knowing
You'd already said
"Yes"
Long ago.

Some thoughts on the weeks to come

It seemed appropriate to spend these few minutes of my insomnia by reflecting on the time that is ahead of me and thus sharing the outcomes of that reflection with you, dear faithful reader. The beginning of the next semester, to tell the truth, is in my case marked with strong unwillingness to commence it. The time of silence and solitude was so much needed and even more than that, it was deeply appreciated and well used too. Frankly, I do not know whether I am truly ready to face the plethora of faces that I have not been seeing for this short yet significant while. The time of solitude is the time, when the hermit is the one to decide whom and when he would meet other individuals. Indeed, this has truly been the mark of this time. I cannot help but think of the moments, when sights of the people will pierce me through not knowing how painful will all those innocent glances will be like. Maybe it is just a matter of a new ethos, which I must get tuned in. Perhaps the following three months will go by quickly and I will soon undergo a much needed exodus. Home. That's what these lines are all about.

A New Joy from an Old Hymn

There are indeed times when all the concerns one has got seem to surpass all the hope, all the joy, and all the purpose our gracious Father has promised for us. The great times of distress have always come unexpectedly, breaking into this paradigm of trust, which is so imperfect on our own part, yet so eternal and safe on God's part. No matter how dark that valley might be, the faithful Father is still there, closer than any of us could ever imagine. No one feels him at that moment, no one can see his face when the darkness blinds our finite carnal eyes. Yet he is still there, patiently walking alongside of us - the wonderful Paraclete.

On the one hand, it seems little unfortunate that one can usually perceive this faithful hand of God only when the major distress is over; when he breaks into our world in the manner which only he can perform, there is no question, no doubt that the Sovereign God has entered the play (though he has been the main actor from the very beginning). I could not help but think as to how do I, a sinful and fragile human being, deal with my times of distress. How do I live through pain and suffering. Where do I go when the wounds are bleeding and I feel helpless. And again, the cliche remains to be the true answer to this present dilemma. 'Tis the cliche of our past. A simple chorus that encompasses the truth I so often fail to live out.

Turn your eyes upon Jesus, Look full in His wonderful face, And the things of earth will grow strangely dim, In the light of His glory and grace.


Post Scriptum:
"Why are you cast down, O my soul,
and why are you in turmoil
within me?
Hope in God; for I shall again praise
him,
my salvation and my God." (Psalm 42:5, 11, 43:5)