When I arrived, a large sign read “Happy Suwon.” It is their city campaign, to be seen as a welcoming city. And so far, it is a great place to again be a “stranger in a foreign land.”
The people here are very respectful of authority figures. That includes teachers and pastors. I am here as both. Moreover, they have a penchant for serving. They offer to cook meals for me, buy me clothing and household needs, and drive me to various locations that may interest me. Some days, I think to myself—“Wow, I am lucky. I really enjoy all of this attention.” Other days, in the midst of culture shock, I find myself feeling—“Whoa, this is too much. Would you please leave me alone for a while?”
One night, while eating dinner, Principal Yu heard me request water from the waitress. (It is common for Koreans to drink only after their meal. More room for food, I guess. I, on the other hand, am used to drinks served before, during, and after. So, some times, I enjoy a bottle of water to “wash it all down.”) But she immediately looked hurt, and she said, “Why didn’t you tell me you were thirsty? It is my duty to make you happy.”
I have been thinking about that a lot lately. What really makes us happy? Is it really others’ job to make us happy? Is being happy a matter of circumstance—or exactly that…a state of being, flowing from character? After all, we don’t call it doing happy or owning happy. I read a good quote shared by the mother of an amazing family that said, “Don’t put the key to happiness in someone else’s pocket. Keep it in your own.”
One afternoon, at school, I met Grace’s father. She is the other teacher here, and he was on his way to a conference. He stopped by to say hello. Their family is originally from Hawaii. He now plans to plant a church in Daejeon city. I told him, “You are from such a beautiful place! Do you miss it?” His reply was genuine, though it could have sounded cliché, if he wasn’t a man of true faith. He said, “Hawaii is beautiful. South Korea is beautiful. Texas is beautiful. All places are beautiful when you know Jesus. He makes all things beautiful, because He lives in your heart.”
I had to take pause. I was reminded again of true happiness. It is not where you live, what you eat, how you look, who you know…unless it’s Him you know. For me, I may even have to take that “pocket” quote one step further. Perhaps it should say, “Keep it in His hands.” After all, knowing me, I am not sure that I am smart enough to figure out the right key on my own or, even if I was, responsible enough to keep up with it. I might lose it or keep trying to go through the wrong doors. He is the door (John 10:9). The good news for us—He will hand us the key if we ask (Matthew 16:19).
“You have made known to me the path of life; in your presence there is fullness of joy; at your right hand are pleasures forevermore” (Psalm 16:11). And so it is: In the days that I walk on His path, find my home in His presence, and seek the pleasure that comes from His right hand…Happy Suwon, indeed.
Saturday, April 24, 2010
In All Seasons, He Is Evergreen…
Life took another turn for me as, while leading a trip to Kenya, I once again felt the call to serve overseas fanned into flame. So almost two years back from China, during a season of life best described as a “spiritual winter,” God has brought about a new season. I am now serving at Evergreen Church in Suwon, South Korea!
Regarding life here—I am the "missions" pastor, of sorts. We hope to engage South Koreans with the gospel, by providing English-speaking ministries. I am preaching the 2pm service every weekend. Plus, I am helping at the school, called English Village, teaching from 1-6pm every week day. The school was opened to bring in families from the community. Thus, I have also been inviting the families of my English students to attend our church, and I would appreciate prayers in that!
Church is a great experience. Though it is mostly all in Korean, there is a point where I feel the Spirit just show up and dwell with us. We begin with praise and worship. Then, it turns more formal, with hymns and the Apostle's Creed. A time of prayer and repentance precedes the sermon. And we close with the Lord's Prayer and a blessing. The services last about 1 hour. The first service is at 11am. We have lunch together as a body. Then, we join again for the 2pm service. It begins with praise and worship in English and Korean, then my sermon.
They are printing the church program with English headings now as well, so I can follow along just fine at the 11am. Grace (the other teacher at the school) is helping with translation for my sermons. They have also asked me to start a youth program for middle school and high school. I will start a Bible study on May 2. Some weekends, I help with outreach for the church (and advertising for the school). Also, I am getting ready for our first school program for the parents on April 30--where my students will be singing, acting, and reciting poems in English. It's keeping me busy!
Pastor Lee speaks good English, and he has been amazing. He is humble and kind. Hardworking for 25 years, he has a dignity about him, like a crown of faithfulness. Last week, he prayed: “Even in this cold winter, we know you will warm us with Your Spirit.” His sermon this past Wednesday night was simple, yet powerful—“Be satisfied. Share what you have.” I am grateful to have heard the prayers and petitions of saints from around the world.
Principal Yu is also a nice lady and the worship director. In Korea, the pastor is also the worship leader. So, she arranges the songs and readies the small orchestra. He and I lead the singing for our respective services. Yep, I am at a small church again, where the pastor does a little of everything. I am the associate pastor, missions guy, worship leader, youth minister…and, some times, janitor!
We have great lay leaders too. Elder Jung lived in Georgia for a while, and he and his wife speak great English. He may be one of the funniest people I have ever met, too. Also, I just moved to a new place with a great roommate--Young Gwang. His name is Korean for “glory.” So, I am now living in the House of Glory, as I call it! I enjoyed the first house, but having his company is even better! Everyone has been welcoming.
Please pray for Evergreen Church. When you do, please think of the passage from which we draw our name: “O Ephraim, what do I have to do with idols? It is I who answer and look after you. I am like an evergreen cypress; from me comes your fruit” (Hosea 14:8). In all seasons, may we seek Him who is evergreen!
Regarding life here—I am the "missions" pastor, of sorts. We hope to engage South Koreans with the gospel, by providing English-speaking ministries. I am preaching the 2pm service every weekend. Plus, I am helping at the school, called English Village, teaching from 1-6pm every week day. The school was opened to bring in families from the community. Thus, I have also been inviting the families of my English students to attend our church, and I would appreciate prayers in that!
Church is a great experience. Though it is mostly all in Korean, there is a point where I feel the Spirit just show up and dwell with us. We begin with praise and worship. Then, it turns more formal, with hymns and the Apostle's Creed. A time of prayer and repentance precedes the sermon. And we close with the Lord's Prayer and a blessing. The services last about 1 hour. The first service is at 11am. We have lunch together as a body. Then, we join again for the 2pm service. It begins with praise and worship in English and Korean, then my sermon.
They are printing the church program with English headings now as well, so I can follow along just fine at the 11am. Grace (the other teacher at the school) is helping with translation for my sermons. They have also asked me to start a youth program for middle school and high school. I will start a Bible study on May 2. Some weekends, I help with outreach for the church (and advertising for the school). Also, I am getting ready for our first school program for the parents on April 30--where my students will be singing, acting, and reciting poems in English. It's keeping me busy!
Pastor Lee speaks good English, and he has been amazing. He is humble and kind. Hardworking for 25 years, he has a dignity about him, like a crown of faithfulness. Last week, he prayed: “Even in this cold winter, we know you will warm us with Your Spirit.” His sermon this past Wednesday night was simple, yet powerful—“Be satisfied. Share what you have.” I am grateful to have heard the prayers and petitions of saints from around the world.
Principal Yu is also a nice lady and the worship director. In Korea, the pastor is also the worship leader. So, she arranges the songs and readies the small orchestra. He and I lead the singing for our respective services. Yep, I am at a small church again, where the pastor does a little of everything. I am the associate pastor, missions guy, worship leader, youth minister…and, some times, janitor!
We have great lay leaders too. Elder Jung lived in Georgia for a while, and he and his wife speak great English. He may be one of the funniest people I have ever met, too. Also, I just moved to a new place with a great roommate--Young Gwang. His name is Korean for “glory.” So, I am now living in the House of Glory, as I call it! I enjoyed the first house, but having his company is even better! Everyone has been welcoming.
Please pray for Evergreen Church. When you do, please think of the passage from which we draw our name: “O Ephraim, what do I have to do with idols? It is I who answer and look after you. I am like an evergreen cypress; from me comes your fruit” (Hosea 14:8). In all seasons, may we seek Him who is evergreen!
My Journey Thus Far…
When I consider where all I have been, the many fellow sojourners and kindred souls that have walked various lengths of the road with me, and the tremendous life lessons I have learned…I cannot help but be overwhelmed and grateful. I could write a novel about names, places, and faces that bring such a smile to my heart.
But I also lay down at night. And in my heart I hear the haunting, yet powerful chorus of We Speak to Nations (sung by the anointed Judy Jacobs)—“Hear the sound, the sound of the nations calling. Hear the sound, the sound of the fatherless crying—who will go for us? Who will shout to the corners of the earth that Christ is King?” I also see the names, places, and faces that make me pray, weep, and remember.
I am reading an amazing book right now called A Sacred Sorrow by Michael Card. In the foreword, Eugene Peterson writes, “For at least one reason why people are uncomfortable with tears and the sight of suffering is that it is a blasphemous assault on their precariously maintained American spirituality of the pursuit of happiness. They want to avoid evidence that things are not right with the world as it is—without Jesus, without love, without faith, without sacrifice. It is a lot easier to keep the American faith if they don’t have to look into the face of suffering, if they don’t have to listen to the laments, if they don’t have to deal with the tears.”
I have tried to “go home” many times now. It doesn’t work. I can’t “un-see” the things I have seen, or escape the fact that I carry with me the many pictures of pain and suffering all around the globe—yet also deeply feel the undercurrent of beauty and hope and redemption, like a flower springing forth on a desert cactus. I have abandoned the worthless and fleeting pursuit of happiness. That is an American treadmill that takes you nowhere. No, I cannot deny that the real pursuit is love—of God and others. Amazingly enough, when you pursue that love—then, and only then, do you actually find joy eternal.
I still have dreams for my life. But in my dreams, I also remember…
1.) My first mission trip to San Antonio. Where the children would be locked out of their homes, to “play” in the scorching Texas heat, until their parents returned from work…or if at all. Where I saw the body of a homeless man on the sidewalk, lifeless from lack of food and water in the summer. Yet, where a couple lived in the apartment complex, caring for the children along with their own. And where a young black girl gave her only pair of shoes to a younger Hispanic girl, because she said that she didn’t want her friend to get blisters.
2.) My next trip to Los Angeles. Where we daily worked with the amazing staff of the Dream Center, who rescued kids from gangs (even if it meant formally adopting them), fed the 100,000+ homeless people in the eight city-block area called Skid Row (even if it meant skipping their own dinner), and pulled people from lives of drugs and prostitution (even if those people stumbled again and again). Yet, where they had to put bars and gates around the church, because of constant opposition and attempted drive-by shootings.
3.) My first overseas trip to Romania, where we saw thousands of acres of abandoned vineyards, now left fruitless after the fall of Communism and the lack of financial support from other countries in the aftermath. Yet, where they still give thanks for their freedom—weeping for the martyrs who ministered from the mountains at night time. Where I met pastors who walked to 7 churches on a given Sunday, to preach and collect enough offering to feed their own families. Where we visited a city with an 86% unemployment rate. Where women wept when we gave them simple potato peelers, because it made dinner prep easier.
4.) My time in China, where I couldn’t speak openly about my faith and church gatherings, as it may mean deportation. Where babies didn’t cry in the orphanage, because they gave up on being held when they did. Where I met men and women who walked with limps from beatings they endured for being a Christian. Where my teacher was drug through the streets during the Cultural Revolution because he was “caught” studying English and therefore labeled a traitor. Yet, where the Church is adding to their numbers daily, because pastors are still faithful to preach the gospel.
5.) My recent trip to Kenya. Where the elder of an IDP camp (Internally Displaced People) said that the most difficult time is night time—because screams ring out from tents, when the people dream about the atrocities they faced in losing their families and friends. Where I saw wounds of children thrown back inside burning churches, when they tried to escape. Where mothers with disabled children were rejected by families for keeping their baby and labeled accursed…Yet, where the ministry of Comfort the Children now provides these mothers jobs and child care. Where CURE provides medical care for the children. Where Naomi’s Village will open soon, to care for the orphans. Where they dance and sing and made me feel like the poor one, because they are emotionally strong and spiritually rich.
Sometimes, when I close my eyes at night, I cry out, “I still see you! I still see you! And I will not forget you.” And I pray that I never go back to the place where I only look in the mirror and see my life alone. This is my journey thus far…
But I also lay down at night. And in my heart I hear the haunting, yet powerful chorus of We Speak to Nations (sung by the anointed Judy Jacobs)—“Hear the sound, the sound of the nations calling. Hear the sound, the sound of the fatherless crying—who will go for us? Who will shout to the corners of the earth that Christ is King?” I also see the names, places, and faces that make me pray, weep, and remember.
I am reading an amazing book right now called A Sacred Sorrow by Michael Card. In the foreword, Eugene Peterson writes, “For at least one reason why people are uncomfortable with tears and the sight of suffering is that it is a blasphemous assault on their precariously maintained American spirituality of the pursuit of happiness. They want to avoid evidence that things are not right with the world as it is—without Jesus, without love, without faith, without sacrifice. It is a lot easier to keep the American faith if they don’t have to look into the face of suffering, if they don’t have to listen to the laments, if they don’t have to deal with the tears.”
I have tried to “go home” many times now. It doesn’t work. I can’t “un-see” the things I have seen, or escape the fact that I carry with me the many pictures of pain and suffering all around the globe—yet also deeply feel the undercurrent of beauty and hope and redemption, like a flower springing forth on a desert cactus. I have abandoned the worthless and fleeting pursuit of happiness. That is an American treadmill that takes you nowhere. No, I cannot deny that the real pursuit is love—of God and others. Amazingly enough, when you pursue that love—then, and only then, do you actually find joy eternal.
I still have dreams for my life. But in my dreams, I also remember…
1.) My first mission trip to San Antonio. Where the children would be locked out of their homes, to “play” in the scorching Texas heat, until their parents returned from work…or if at all. Where I saw the body of a homeless man on the sidewalk, lifeless from lack of food and water in the summer. Yet, where a couple lived in the apartment complex, caring for the children along with their own. And where a young black girl gave her only pair of shoes to a younger Hispanic girl, because she said that she didn’t want her friend to get blisters.
2.) My next trip to Los Angeles. Where we daily worked with the amazing staff of the Dream Center, who rescued kids from gangs (even if it meant formally adopting them), fed the 100,000+ homeless people in the eight city-block area called Skid Row (even if it meant skipping their own dinner), and pulled people from lives of drugs and prostitution (even if those people stumbled again and again). Yet, where they had to put bars and gates around the church, because of constant opposition and attempted drive-by shootings.
3.) My first overseas trip to Romania, where we saw thousands of acres of abandoned vineyards, now left fruitless after the fall of Communism and the lack of financial support from other countries in the aftermath. Yet, where they still give thanks for their freedom—weeping for the martyrs who ministered from the mountains at night time. Where I met pastors who walked to 7 churches on a given Sunday, to preach and collect enough offering to feed their own families. Where we visited a city with an 86% unemployment rate. Where women wept when we gave them simple potato peelers, because it made dinner prep easier.
4.) My time in China, where I couldn’t speak openly about my faith and church gatherings, as it may mean deportation. Where babies didn’t cry in the orphanage, because they gave up on being held when they did. Where I met men and women who walked with limps from beatings they endured for being a Christian. Where my teacher was drug through the streets during the Cultural Revolution because he was “caught” studying English and therefore labeled a traitor. Yet, where the Church is adding to their numbers daily, because pastors are still faithful to preach the gospel.
5.) My recent trip to Kenya. Where the elder of an IDP camp (Internally Displaced People) said that the most difficult time is night time—because screams ring out from tents, when the people dream about the atrocities they faced in losing their families and friends. Where I saw wounds of children thrown back inside burning churches, when they tried to escape. Where mothers with disabled children were rejected by families for keeping their baby and labeled accursed…Yet, where the ministry of Comfort the Children now provides these mothers jobs and child care. Where CURE provides medical care for the children. Where Naomi’s Village will open soon, to care for the orphans. Where they dance and sing and made me feel like the poor one, because they are emotionally strong and spiritually rich.
Sometimes, when I close my eyes at night, I cry out, “I still see you! I still see you! And I will not forget you.” And I pray that I never go back to the place where I only look in the mirror and see my life alone. This is my journey thus far…
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