It’s infuriating when you get lied to. Take for example, the recent story of Jussie Smollett, who allegedly staged his own attack to advance his acting career. The uproar is in the deception. Writing this, I realize that lying is common practice to get ahead in the world. But I think what gets people is if you take them along for your ride, deceiving them and in the end duping them. No one wants to be played the fool. And no one has the patience to watch you dupe others. That’s what particularly irks me - knowing someone is lying, and watching others buy into it. 

Calling out the liar is tricky. I can think of instances both in the workplace and in ministry when I’ve had to hold my tongue and wait for proper justice. And in the meantime being reminded that I need to watch my own life and conduct. It’s a delicate balance to hold these in tension - longing for the justice of the wicked, while ourselves committing to living rightly.

When you have to describe someone to another person, what do you say?  Usually you offer something that’s readily identifiable as you manage a game of Taboo, avoiding anything grossly superficial or politically incorrect. When Scripture introduces someone to us, it doesn’t abide by our cultural norms. Sometimes we don’t get much information at all. Consider how Abraham enters the scene in Genesis 11 - a seemingly mundane mention in a genealogy. That’s it for a man who later becomes the father of many nations and is commended for his faith. Contrast that with a short description, as in Sarah, whose  introduction to us is as a barren woman with no child. Scripture essentially repeats itself here by saying that she was both barren and without child. That’s a particularly rough way to go down in posterity. 

I have come to see the beauty of these descriptions Scripture gives us. I think we can all relate to the humanity of each. In Abraham we see that he was essentially plucked from the narrative without qualification. In Sarah we all know what it means to long and be without. Their stories speak of a faithful God, able to redeem us from our humanity. 

The other day I was reading about Joseph of Arimathea in Mark 15:43 - “a respected member of the council, who was also himself looking for the kingdom of God.” This desire led him to “[take] courage and [ask] for the body of Jesus.”  Here we have a man who risked his reputation because he was in search of that which was greater. And this led him to be very bold. In the example of Joseph of Arimathea we learn that God calls us to faith out of our various circumstances. It is true that characters in Scripture not only identify with our humanity, but teach us how to transcend them. Oh God, help us so that we may be known for our hope beyond this life.

I have this disdain for filler words because it comes across as less than sure, or at worse, unintelligent. I’ve overheard my share of conversations where the word “like” inserts itself just about every fifth word, and the English teacher in me wants to scream, “Please stop! You’re literally killing me.” Which sparks another debate -am I literally dying? Well, no, but it certainly feels like I’m dying. 

Certainly, repeating yourself isn’t all bad. Repetition can signal something of significance. And when used well, it can, in fact, be so subtle that it’s almost imperceptible. Take, for instance, Psalm 145. Not until after several readings did I notice that the word “all” had been used over 10x in the last section of the psalm. When I looked again, the word stood out in flashing lights, pleading for attention:

[13] Your kingdom is an everlasting kingdom,
and your dominion endures throughout all generations.

[The LORD is faithful in all his words
and kind in all his works.]

[14] The LORD upholds all who are falling
and raises up all who are bowed down.

[15] The eyes of all look to you,
and you give them their food in due season.

[16] You open your hand;
you satisfy the desire of every living thing.

[17] The LORD is righteous in all his ways
and kind in all his works.

[18] The LORD is near to all who call on him,
to all who call on him in truth.

[19] He fulfills the desire of those who fear him;
he also hears their cry and saves them.

[20] The LORD preserves all who love him,
but all the wicked he will destroy.

[21] My mouth will speak the praise of the LORD,
and let all flesh bless his holy name forever and ever. (ESV)

The “all” here is purposeful. It’s intent is to recall to us as people of God that His reign is all encompassing. Is His kingdom not forever? Is there no one that He is not able to save? Is He not good in His works? Is He not worthy of praise from every living being? 

There is a sneaky, persistent lie that tells me He is not able, that He does not see the plight of His children, that a godly life bears no merit. And then I read Psalm 145, and the repetition serves to defeat my cynicism, reminding me that indeed, our God is above all, and with all my being I yet praise Him. 

I pride myself on being a city person, but even I admit to being quite sheltered, even in a major metropolis. It’s easy to stay within the neat, upper middle class confines of the city, while only marginally brushing up against the needy. The truth is, I am regularly confronted with needs around me, but I am mostly consumed with my own lack - the supposed injustice that impinges on my life (the painfully slow commute, the long line for coffee, the people whose problems monopolize my time, to name a few). 

You could say that I’m jaded by the pervasiveness of what I see around me. And yet, another part of me is conflicted by its inequity. I have certain privileges, while others do not. It’s hard to know what to do with these feelings, and perhaps I am like that rich young ruler who in the end could not sell what he had to give to the poor (Matthew 19:16-22). Indeed, what I know is that only God alone is good (v.17). His grace has made possible for my salvation though I was undeserving. And He will overturn all present inequity, promising that the poor in this life who are rich in faith and will be heirs of the kingdom (James 2:5). Thus, I am reminded once again, to long for His kingdom come, while living by faith to see glimpses in the present.

In Psalm 90, Moses declares that from “everlasting to everlasting” (v.2) God is God and beyond human accounting of time: “a thousand years in your sight are as yesterday when past” (v.4). Moses asserts that God’s wrath and anger are within His authority (v.11). He judges His people for their sin (vv.8-9) and we are but toast (translation mine). All this would point to us being given our just due were it not for the bookends to this psalm. It begins by highlighting God’s presence among His people throughout all generations (v.1) and the entire last section (vv.12-17) is a plea for God’s help in the here in the now (v.11, 15) - that is, in the dailyness of our routines (v.14), and in the activities of the present (v.17). How bold then is this prayer, knowing that though God is above all and infinite, we nevertheless ask that He be merciful to us in our present days, even in the mundane.

Sometimes I worry that I’ll be discovered as a fraud, which is to say that I’ve tricked you into believing that I have it all together when really I don’t. This is mostly due to me feeling inferior or deficient in just about any role that I’ve been in. One of the most important things I’ve learned in response to this is to get over myself. That is, to follow the Apostle Paul’s example that “I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live but Christ who lives in me. The life I live in the body I live by faith in the Son of God who loved me and gave himself for me” (Galatians 2:20).

Interestingly, I can also go the other way from feeling insufficient to over inflating my abilities. I’m not certain how both can co-exist, but I know that pride is at the root of my human condition. The minute I make it about me, I start manipulating and striving in my own strength. When I make it about Christ, it’s about loving and building the church as He did. It’s hard to get this just right, as I vacillate between the extremes of inadequacy and achievement. Just when I feel resigned to these extremes of my flesh, I am reminded:

“But if Christ is in you, although the body is dead because of sin, the Spirit is life because of righteousness. If the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, he who raised Christ Jesus from the dead will also give life to your mortal bodies through his Spirit who dwells in you.” (Romans 8:10-11)

There is life, wonderful life, beyond myself because of Christ and the Spirit who resides in me.

On average, I see about one movie a year in the theater. Last year I saw two, but it was the same move twice, so my point is: I don’t go to the movies whole lot. Crazy Rich Asians has generated a lot of buzz, so now having seen it I don’t feel so left out. For many Asians like me, it’s refreshing to see an entire cast who looks like you. A first for Hollywood since Joy Luck Club, really. My question is should this really matter? For many, it matters a whole lot. It’s about equality and long overdue representation in mainstream American culture. And I would agree - historically, Asians have been under represented. I remember seeing Flower Drum Song for the first time and being floored by the fact that an entire 1961 Rodgers and Hammerstein musical centered around a (mostly) Asian cast. Of course, much of it is cringeworthy in this day and time - an entire song about chop suey, really? So then it’s not just a matter of simply being represented - It’s also about being portrayed accurately. 

The only way that the God of heaven could identify with the human race was to send His Son who was able to represent humanity on the cross. It is his simultaneously human and divine nature that allowed for us to be saved from sin forever with his death and resurrection. It matters a whole lot that Jesus represented us fully with His humanity, and that He, being God, represented the divine power needed to save us. This is the one representation that I am exceedingly grateful for.

It’s hard to know when you aren’t well. I think many of us are pretty good at being highly functional, and when cracks surface, we’d rather just patch them over and move on. But sometimes, excavating is needed, as that patch wears away only to reveal greater problems underneath. I’m grateful that the role of the Holy Spirit is not merely to patch our souls. He wants that we are whole, and yet what we fear is that somehow we will be left vulnerable to our own shame. The fact is, until I see what’s wrong with me, the less I know of the graciousness of God. Because what’s wrong will not condemn me (no matter how much the enemy wants for me to believe otherwise). Instead, the Spirit of God says, “Come.” And I must trust that this is the best resolution of all.

Our western culture values happiness as a worthy pursuit. We tell each other, “you do you.” If you aren’t happy, you find what makes you happy. And what makes you happy is completely up to you (though I think even our post-modern culture would say there are limits to this). When Scripture says “blessed,” it has this idea of “happy.” Yet we as Christians can conflate biblical ideas of happiness with how our culture defines happiness and end up with a distorted version of the gospel. Happiness is not an individualized truth that we find within ourselves. Rather, it is found in submission to God (Psalm 1) and our Savior, Jesus Christ (Psalm 2).

I write this to remind myself when I feel like I’m on the outside looking in. When the grass seems greener on the other side. When the heart wants what it wants. When faith seems unsatisfying, and I must preach to myself, ”oh heart, be happy, let your heart find satisfaction in the One who satisfies.”

When I'm stressed, I become very rigid and intolerant. I think I've reached that at various moments recently, and I know it when I find myself more irritated and resentful. I really can't stand people's inability to get with the program, and I can be even more harsh on my own self for not having everything together. I'm not always sure how to remedy myself in these situations. I long to be more joyful, not so easily undone or bothered. I know I have to let go of trying to be and do all things in every situation. I need that proverbial chill pill. I need to relax.

Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom (2 Cor 3:17). This offer to be free is very good indeed, and speaks to the harshest critic in me.