Eureffinreka

One issue I've had trouble with came from within church.

I grew up thinking that I was precious to God, that I was His treasure and He needed me as much as I needed Him. I learned that in preschool.

Through Youth Group services, one theme that repeatedly springs up is this: you are worthless, God does not need you, He will go on with His plan without you.

Hypocrisy? In church? The skeptics will have a field day with this one.

I was confused. I was doubtful. But the answers do come around.

My sacrifice, O God, is a broken spirit;
a broken and contrite heart
you, God, will not despise.
-Psalms 51

I am not worthless in God's eyes, but I must make myself worthless. But why degrade myself to such a level of insignificance?

Because the deeper the pain, the greater the comfort of God.

I saw Mike's analogy truly effective. Imagine 2 people. One person just came back from a steak dinner, while the other hasn't eaten in weeks. There is a rack of ribs on the table, but who is more satisfied by it?

By becoming worthless, by letting go of my pride, by truly humbling myself, I can experience God in such a more marvelous way.

But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us.
-2 Corinthians 4:7.

It's all becoming more clear to me.

Because God's strength is made perfect through my weakness, yes, I am worthless to the world.

But God has made me more precious than anything the world could ever offer.

Feeling Good

Yeeeeahhhhhhh!

Praise

I play bass for the praise team at church.
Or so I want to believe.

10th grade. My friend James who was the bassist at the time IM'd me one day and said," You should play bass."

I actually wanted to play. But in my heart I felt like it was the wrong time, you know, sometimes you get that feeling. I said," Nah, it's ok. I don't want to play." But James wasn't satisfied with that. He started interrogating me, prodding me for reasons why. What could I tell him other than that I didn't want to? I eventually got angry and signed off on him, and James started texting me apologies, which I ignored.

Next day was a class trip to boating, and he apologized for his aggressiveness, and of course I forgave one of my best friends. Deep down, I also apologized for my unwillingness to let God in.

I was up on that stage eventually, with the Fender bass complete with "furry" strings. I loved it. I absolutely cherished every Friday and Sunday, every opportunity to play. I took pride on being on praise team, it was my unique way of giving my praise to God.

Like all new members of praise team, I focused on the music. I was made aware of this when Charles teacher pointed James (who was playing acoustic guitar) and me out for staring at the music sheet while playing. He said to let our mind off of the music and focus on what it means.

Well that's stupid, an immature me told myself. If I don't look at the music, how will I play? I'll mess up!

The more I played, the more I matured. Praise team wasn't just a time to look freakin' awesome holding a bass. These garage-band sessions became something wonderful. It was an experience so perfectly beautiful that I'm having trouble finding the words to describe such an unreal experience.

I loved praise team. I loved it so much I stopped calling it "praise band" and started saying "praise team". Because in a band, you play and perform for others. In a team, you work together. My mentality when I play is that I give my everything through my worship, and my example will inspire others to worship with the same intensity.

There would be some praise times where you get totally lost. Lost in the most greatest way. It is truly an out of body experience, where you let some powerful, mysterious force to play the notes for you, and it sounds so beautiful. Michael (the drummer) and I used to call these moments "spontaneous worship", and it really was. I like to think of it as the time where Peter and the disciples spoke in tongues when the Holy Spirit fell upon them in Acts. "Spontaneous Worship, I Love It!" became a common saying.

For me, there have been no spontaneous worships any more. I don't know when they've stopped, but I have felt nothing marvelous from praise team. Why?

Maybe it was the environment. Jonathan was replaced as praise team leader by Esther. New style, new worship. Maybe I wasn't used to the typical, "boring" songs she picked. Maybe I wasn't emotionally comfortable with a new praise band leader.

Maybe it was a change in the team. Michael abruptly left the praise team, which honestly, left me so hurt and confused. To be frank, I looked up to Michael, even though he was younger than me. The most experienced member of my age, I was inspired by his spiritual zeal, his passion. Even in China, we talked as brothers about our problems, our praise team, and how we were going back with a new fire of determination. How could he leave the team? How could he leave me?

Anyways, we had a freshman girl, Julie, fill in for Michael permanently. When she played, I had no feeling for praise. The drumming was different from Michael's style, an explosive, passionate style I grew up playing along with. It was different. I hated it. But I realize now I was the same, and perhaps time will fix it all.

James had been gone for a while, around a year before the shake-up after making some mistakes outside of praise team, it was agreed that we couldn't have him any more. I was surprised then, but also agreed with the decision.

We had another freshman girl come in, Irene, as guitarist. Jonathan had played guitar before, and it's the same story. I couldn't connect with the style, it just didn't feel right.

I felt like a veteran among rookies. What was I supposed to do? Was I supposed to step up and become praise leader?

I had the chance. I blew it. But it's a guilty part of my past that I wouldn't dare share.

Regardless of these massive changes, I still sensed a spiritual eagerness from these new members. It actually inspired me to also continue doing my best. So I did the only thing I could do: wait. I waited. How's it going?

Terrible. I will give only a few examples that bothered me to the maximum.

Yesterday at Friday worship practice, Irene looked at the song set in disgust. "Five songs? That's too much!" she said.

The hell? Haven't you been playing enough to realize that praise is something wonderful? I've seen you play before, and I know you love it too. What's the matter?

We have a djembe for Friday worships since we have them upstairs. You would think the drummer would continue their duties and play the African drum. What was Julie's excuse? "I don't know how to play!"

Are you kidding me? It's a freaking African drum. You play on drums of 5 pieces, and you can't hit a simple beat? I actually picked it up one Friday and played it for worship, reluctantly I will admit.

Then there's sports. Those two girls have joined sports this year. They have Friday practices, and Saturday events. There goes our Friday and Sunday worship. They know there's no one to replace, and yet they choose to go out for their school life.

Is there nothing valuable to praise team anymore? Why is it just a side-hobby for the weekend. Why do you leave us? WHAT MAKES YOUR TIME ANY MORE GREATER THAN GOD'S?

Today we had a Saturday practice. I was up there with a bass and a microphone. Why a microphone you ask?

Months ago, we had no male voice, and so praise team attempted to recruit one from the youth group. No one stood up, so they forced me to sing. Actually, I wanted to sing first. I volunteered myself, and for the next weeks I sang. It was not a pleasant experience. I found myself giving half effort to playing bass and half effort to singing. I realized this, and immediately gave up singing. Some time later, Mike asked me to sing again. I said no, it hinders my worship. He retorted, are you sure? maybe you just need to pray about it more. I knew arguing with Mike was pointless, so I gave in. I would sing, and Mike agreed that no one would bother me on how I did it, I just had to sing.

So anyways, today I was on my usual duties of bassing and singing. It was a burden, but nonetheless I took on my duties with spiritual pride. Then Jonathan and Esther suggest I start harmonizing, weary of the trouble I was already having with singing in the first place. I tried to politely refuse, but the pressure was on. I became extremely frustrated and angry, almost to the point of throwing my bass down and walking away. I have never been told how to worship, and I never plan on being told how to.

I stayed for that practice, and left angry and hurt and confused and all these feelings of a loser. Times were not the same.

Now it wouldn't be fair to criticize praise team and leaving myself standing woundless.

I am nothing but a pathetic and selfish sad excuse for a praise team member who doesn't know how to take control. I have not given my full effort, and I have created a shell of hatred and anger around my soul. I am a fake, I am a liar, and I have failed the youth group but most shamefully, I have failed God.

I am not the same. I am not proud of myself.

But what can I do?

I pray.

I wait.

Health

I am diabetic.
I was diagnosed with type I diabetes when I was... I don't know I don't remember meaningless things.
I inject myself with shots on average 4 times a day. They don't hurt.
I'm supposed to be testing my blood 3 times a day, I rarely make one.

Funny story how I got it.
When I was a little kid, around 5th grade I think, I had this huge headache/fever. It felt like flu. So my mom took me to the doctor and he said," It's just a cold, it'll go away eventually."

Hah.

After that, my mom bought me burger king (uh oh) and I fell asleep in her bed.

I woke up around 5 pm, I knew because the sun was dim, and threw up on the carpet next to my parents' bed. I felt absolutely terrible. I crawled to the bathroom and started throwing up some more. I called my mom, she was at church. I was terrified, I thought I was going to die. My last memory before passing out was I was on the top of the stairs, holding a green cup of water. Then, I don't remember anything else.

I woke up in an RV type of thing, it turned out it was a hospital. I later transferred to the building, I don't remember how long I was in there. I remember it was really dark at night, and sometimes one of my parents slept on the chair next to me, God bless them. In that moment of my life I did not want to be alone. I remember I got some visitors, which was super awkward, and such. I got out on December 24th, and went to church to see the Christmas play. Michelle Teacher took me outside, and gave me a Lego Bionicle (something I already had), but I took it anyway. Some of my older cousins bought me a pet gecko, which was pretty cool.

Life was not the steadiest ship from that point. The monotony of painful injections every day was not my cup of tea. I will admit, I dramatized the pain many times. I wanted to be pitied, I wanted others to think,"Wow, he doesn't deserve this." But still, diabetes was not something I accepted easily. I remember looking at the fatter people around me and asking myself,

"why not them?"

I refused to believe I would be stuck with this disease. I looked on the internet for solutions, herbal medicines, ancient rituals, foreign operations, but they all seemed too fishy. My mom took me to Korea during the school year, because we wanted to get this stupid herb, jinseng, which would "cure" my diabetes. Crap didn't do anything, and it tasted stupid bad. Then my mom started getting into these supplements, MSM, Red Marine Algae, but was it for me? I don't know. She told me very specifically, that in 6 months of consuming red marine algae religiously, I would be cured.

Nope.

Later on, my doctors suggested I get an insulin pump, a sort of contraption that was stuck into my hip externally and I could let insulin in through a IV-drip sort of procedure. No, I was totally against it. I did not want a reminder that I had this disease. I looked online for insulin pumps, and to my disgust, these kids were naming their damn devices. How sickening. That is just what corporations want.

In my radical, skeptic side, I believe there is a miracle drug out there. But greedy American drug companies won't allow it, and I completely understand why: the market is too good. 200$ for medicine, another 100 for supplies, there too much money to be made. But they're still jerks.

But if I had to choose one thing I hate about diabetes, it would be the doctors. I hate them. I want to burn them. The first appointment I ever had with them was a disaster. Some fat lady, a dietician haha, straight up told me if I don't get myself into controlled levels, I would die. Great advice for a 5th grader, you fat excuse for a human. I cried, oh how I cried. I felt that everything was my fault, and there was no answer that could help me. I want to kill those doctors. Just recently, January 2011, I had an another appointment, and as always, very bad blood sugar levels. Because I was turning 18, a social worker came in to discuss my transition to a new doctor. Somehow the conversation turned into something so mindeffingly outrageous, you would think it was a practical joke.

She questioned me,"Do you know what happens if you can't control your blood sugar?"
I replied,"Yes..." obviously not wanting to remind myself of these deadly conditions.
But no, she goes a step further,"Can you tell me what they are?"
Almost absentmindedly, I answer,"Kidney failure...blindness...liver disease.."
Eff this whore, she says,"And do you know what happens next?"
Was she enjoying this? Did she find complete joyous pleasure as I spoke my death to her? What the hell was she thinking?
I scream at her,"I die."
And there, like a pathetic baby, I cried. If she was aiming to humiliate me, she did it. Congratulations, Kaiser Permanente.

Needless to say, I slept a very long time that day. I did not want to think about living, because with living, comes dying.

I am not suicidal. In fact, diabetes is a theme in my life.
In 2 Corinthians 12:9, Paul states,“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me."

So go home Kaiser Permanente, I'm going to live forever.

Philosophy

I live life unhindered by social standards and the opinion of others. The only thing that matters in my life is what I believe.

However, there are very basic ground rules in which I genuinely try to live by.

1)Humble
To think that you are better than anyone else is enough reason for there to be people that hate you. I've learned that in my life, God is a baker; and he loves to bake humble pies. If you cannot humble yourself, God will humiliate you for you. There is a fine line between confidence and pride, confidence is "I can do it", while pride is "I can do it, better than you". Whenever you talk about yourself, leave it to yourself.

2)Slava Bogue
When I went to Ukraine, there is only one phrase that sticks to this day, that is, "slava bogue". It means glory to God. This is something I repeat daily, to remind myself, this is not my life, rather, it is a medium in which the good news can be proclaimed. If I am to live by this, it means that every thing I do, every word I speak, must contribute to the kingdom. Does anyone force me to do this? No. This is something I've set as goals, and the reward I get is something I can understand.

I will consider whatever you say, but there is a slim chance I will listen. Over my life, through trial-and-error, I know what's best for myself. This does not mean I ignore you, but it is very hard to change who I am, unless you are someone I hold high respect for, because then I can trust you.

Overall, stay positive, because negativity is too much of a hassle to deal with.

Dad

The relationship I share with my dad is not the best. At most times, I find him annoying. When he comes home at 7:30 every night (except Tuesdays), he walks into my room and criticizes the lack of clean in it. Then he proceeds to hover over my shoulder when I'm on Facebook, scanning the computer screen, sucking into my personal space like a leech.

Or if he finds me playing xbox with my friends, he would always complain and tell me that I play too long.
First of all, you hardly see me at all, who are you to tell me that I play too long?
Oh I would have many things to say to him, if I could. However, I prefer to sleep in bed than outside on the street.

I don't see him much. On average, I probably see him face to face about 30 minutes a day.

He doesn't know how to communicate with me. He tells me things I don't want or don't need to hear. He says things that anger me, he says things that sadden me. Things I was not supposed to hear.

Despite all my complaints, I do not have a bad father. I have the greatest dad ever. Every morning he wakes me up at 7:25 (5 minutes before my phone alarm goes off) to prepare me an egg. Then he cuts up an apple and puts them in a ziploc bag and sets it on the corner of the counter over my daily $5 for lunch. Who does that?

I remember one day I forgot to grab the apples, and I checked my phone at lunch. 5 missed calls and 2 texts messages and a voicemail, telling me that I forgot the apples. Who does that?

He used to own this crappy Toyota pickup and sat me on his lap when he drove and let me change the gears on the road. Who does that?

The main point is, although he's not the typical catch-playing father figure I see in the movies, I wouldn't take a dad any other way than what I have now.

I don't know why he's so obsessed with those apples, but whatever.

It must be a Dad thing.

Religion

Why do I go to church?
I want to sleep in on the weekend, wake up watching cartoons, stay out late with my friends.
I want to drink like my family, I want to smoke weed like my cousins, I want to cuss like my friends.
Why have I allowed religion to bring me down to such a lowly standard of "cool"?
I am not cool.
I am just a church kid.

It comes up every day.

It has never been just religion. It just so happen to be the way I live my lifestyle corresponds so perfectly with God.
No. I don't smoke or drink (aside from a little sip with family, but nothing to excess). I condone anything that does not allow me complete control over my body.
Unfortunately, this rule is always broken by temptation.
Temptation.
One more step and you sin.
I always find myself in this sick cycle of falling deep into sin and convincing myself God has forgiven me.
I hate every part of that process.
I always tell others that words lose their meaning over time, and ironically my "sorry" is nothing more than a complete lie.
And so because of this utter failure I find myself on the verge of self-destruction, and the opiate of the masses becomes detrimental to me.

This is not the case.

It is not that becoming Christian is a one-time press-a-button step in life. It is a continual process of sanctification, a process of becoming clean again.

If there's one phrase I could describe God with, it would be: He is a God of many chances and choices. As much as I would love to be a worshipping robot for the kingdom, everything is ultimately my choice. I choose to go to church, I choose to participate in praise team, i choose everything.

I guess I should figure out why I go, since it's my choice. The main reason is that I pretty much don't have anything to live for. Ok, no that's too emo. The real reason is that I don't know what else I would do. Church has become such a continuous pattern that taking it out would be crazy.

I can't imagine myself today as someone who didn't go to church. Actually, I'm going to stop saying "go to church" and say know God. Because God is the only reason why religion exists, and is the only reason why I go.

Can you say that church has made me a sheltered child? Yes, I admit it will. I don't know how to "experience" the world, however, I have no plans to.

God is said to be never-changing, merciful, fair, gracious, all these good things. I find that ridiculously hard to believe. How could something that perfect exist? From a psychological standpoint, it's easy to figure out why someone would believe in God, it fills up something inside the soul that we don't know how else to fill. So in this case, God does not exist, only the idea of God does.

In a way I surrender to this fact. In a inconsistent world, God is the only consistent part of me.

And so I commit myself to a life of following God and His ways and the promise of life given to us through the crucifixion of Jesus Christ. But no one told me it would be difficult, mind-shattering, stressful. My life is a tug-of-war between God and the world, and I'm getting torn up.

I see my friends and even my family members going to parties on a regular basis, drinking underage, inhaling smoke from their hookahs, and all these things that would be "sinful" in God's eyes. But why are they so happy? Why are they happy and I'm stressed out thinking over this conflict?

Life's not fair, and since life is God's work, is God not fair? Doesn't that go against everything He stands for?

One of the most important things I learned to consider is how the situation looks from God's eyes. And how can I, a simple-minded human, look through the eyes of someone so glorious as God? And so I cannot. I can only trust. I can only trust that God's plan is right and is for my own good.

So I take these struggles as a path to my victory, towards my inevitable salvation that is eternal life in heaven.

All of these things are illogical, and I don't expect anyone to understand my thoughts. But God is beyond logic, beyond anything a human mind can compute.
I stay satisfied despite the fact I can never understand who God truly is. But the things He's done and the miracles He's allowed in the world and even my life are enough to reason the existence of God.

There is so much on my mind about God I could type, but I'm too tired.

But I suppose I could end with this statement:
F you world, you're not taking this one.