There was a certain other blogger who wrote about an incident he had at a premier fast food restaurant. He mused at a loyal fan’s dedication to his basketball team of choice. In Los Angeles, you would be wise not to wear a San Antonio Spurs jersey, not during the playoffs, not ever. And since the NBA Finals are going on, iIwould rather wear the sign John Mclain wore in “Die Hard with a vengeance” through the inner-city rather than a Boston Celtics jersey. Of course that’s a gross exaggeration, but you don’t know true Lakers fans.

So what relavance does this have to your life?  Some of you never watched a basketball game for its full 48 minutes, so why would this incident matter at all? Well this morning, I was reading the Gospel of John, (a good place to start a summer Bible reading program if any) and got to the part of the whole “For God so loved the World” etc and continued reading. (Just a sidenote, but i always wondered if John was actually at the meeting with Nicodemus, or if Jesus told him what happened after the meeting verbatim)

Well immediately after the whole John 3:16 part that we all love and hold dear, Jesus says “For everyone practicing evil hates the light and does not come to the light, lest his deeds should be exposed. But he who does the truth comes to the light, that his deeds may be clearly seen, that they have been done in God.” (John 3:20-21) I usually skip past this part not because it isn’t deep or anything, but after reading John 3:16 and letting it soak in, i usually can’t take much more from God. But today it caught my eye, and i was able to kinda piece it together with that whole story of that lonely Spurs fan in that fast food restaurant. If our lives as disciples of Christ would be as passionate as this man is about a team that doesn’t even know his name nor care about his well-being, would we get the same reaction as this man did from the workers and from this blogger? Would they peer at us as if we just “didn’t get it”? Would we get snickers and jeers from those who are in the dark? I’m not advocating we should all gear up in outlandish Christian clothing while getting in our cars to bump hackneyed worship music to obnoxious levels. But as Paul writes in 2nd Corinthians 3:3, “You show that you are a letter from Christ, the result of our ministry, written not with ink but with the Spirit of the living God, not on tablets of stone but on tablets of human hearts.”

So it is not with what’s on the outside but it matters the world who we identify with on the inside. He was a Spur’s fan, and I am a disciple of Jesus. That is how I see myself, and i wonder if that’s how the world sees me. I’m sure there would be tension in Mr. Spurs heart if he made a choice in not wearing his jersey for the sole reason that people would torch him all over L.A. That he would be betraying a team that he feels so strongly for. How ironic how sometimes we as christians (myself included) would take off our imaginary Jesus jersey when it is inconvienient to be his disciple. I’m a Laker’s fan all the time, when I am with other Laker fans and especially with Laker haters. But i can’t count all the times when i omitted Jesus from my conversations when i thought it wasn’t prudent. Today’s reading was a sad splash of reality for me, and hopefully you were blessed reading through these scattered thoughts of obedience and disobedience. Though i never denied Jesus as Peter did, but it sure feels like it.

Maybe one of the days i should pick up a Celtics jersey just to remember how it feels to be not of this world.

The True Golden bride of California

Some Monuments around the capitol building

Enoch in front of where Arnold makes it happen

Some pretty fountain?

Downtown Sac

On the way home

Random Trash Can

The San Joaquin Valley

Jane is having so much fun

Carl’s Junior/almost home

I’m sorry the long delay in between posts. There’s no real excuse, but Mid-terms had been crawling into my neck. I haven’t been dilligent in my studying over the course of the semester so my punishment was long hours of uneventful studying.

But on to Sacramento…

I was happily eating some sushi with Mr. David Chung last thursday night, and my weekend seemed to be all sorted out. That night I would hang out with Caleb and the boys, and when thursday bled into saturday, i would probably join hundreds of young asian kids doing the christian rally thing at Revivall.

(Corey Russell (he man that people say I sound like) was preaching, and I never miss a chance to see him preach. This man of God doesn’t play around, he doesn’t do the whole charismatic jump in the river thing. I feel he literally feels the burden of God for the church today and displays it on stage. But enough on my role model and onto the story.”)

As David and I returned to the hub that is Mike’s place, I recieved a call from my good friend Enoch. The conversation started like this.

Enoch: Hey Steve, I’m driving to Sacramento. Do you want to come?
Steve: uh… sure man
Enoch: Really? I’m turning around RIGHT NOW!
Steve: O crap.

And in twenty minutes, I found myself driving up to Sac-town with barely and clothes to last a day.
The trip there was pretty uneventful, with me falling asleep while in deep conversation with Enoch.

When morning came around, we arrived at Enoch’s place. The bulk of what this post is about happens in this location. One of the most amazing people in THE WORLD lives there. More on her later. As I stumbled up the stairs, I slept some more, and after a few hours I woke up to Enoch’s insistent shoving. He mumbled something about eating and gave me a time limit to getting ready. We went to go eat possibly the ugliest more beautiful thing created.

Yes. That is melted Cheeze that you see. It defies the law of gravity!

So this place is called Squeeze Inn. It has the culture of some hole the wall place and it shows. Dirty bathroom, dirty tables, dirty people. O but what awesomeness it brings to the tastebuds. I broke a fast for this and (forgive me God) it was worth it. We met Enoch’s friends there and stuff, but that part is fuzzy being juxtaposed to glory meat.

Enoch took me Thrift store shopping. I haven’t visited a thrift store since I was a little kid, so imagine my surpeise at the wealth of items that neither fit me nor had a use in today’s society (VHS tapes anyone?) Yet through all the dirt, a jewel was found in my bright pink windbreaker which cost all of 2 dollars.

(WILL COMPLETE TOMMARROW, SO IF YOU READ THIS ALREADY, PLEASE COME BACK HAHA)

I work at Starbucks. Starbucks on Pioneer and Artesia to be exact. It is the premium purveyor of all that is coffee, at least that was what was taught to me at Starbucks boot camp. Anyways, in the two years I’ve devoted myself to this company, I have seen a lot of different people come through the door. You name the ethnicity and I’ve seen it, and could probably guess at what they would drink. I could probably guess what YOU would drink with a margin of error at about 10%. Well this post is less about my awesome skills and more about my experience working as a barista. Well last week Wednesday to be exact.

Work has become dull for me. The reason I continue working at Starbucks is because of the awesome benefits that come along with it. I mean who can resist being friends with the guy who can get you 30% off anything in the store?� I also joke that my mom loves my job more than she loves me. She, by her own admission, is a coffee addict. When she discovered that I receive a pound of coffee every week as part of my benefit, she warned me about ever quiting. And so, I press on, engulfed in the monotonous work of making over expensive drinks. So what does this have to do with the rest of my post? Not much, but I wanted to give context to what really wanted to talk about.

Last Wednesday I had work from around 12:00pm to 4:45pm. You’ve got to understand one thing, I hate Mid-shifts with a passion! The time just ticks on by at such a sluggish pace you feel like four hours becomes six. It wouldn’t be that bad but the “cool” people usually don’t work during that time. During the early afternoon, I usually get paired up with the workers that are strict to the rules; all work and no play. And so this just felt like one of the Mondays Garfield always talks about, except it was a Wednesday and Garfield never worked a freaking day in his life. It looked like it would never end.

Yet as i stood gapingly at the cash register, zoning in and out, a man walked in. I immediately analyze everyone who comes in through that door, and this guy was no different. We at Starbucks are supposed to create a “third place” for our customers and so I was ready with whatever spiel I had planned. Yet this guy was different. I actually remember myself stepping aback cause it was all to eerie. Somewhere deep down inside, I realized that this guy was a Christian. He wasn’t wearing those corny Christian T-shirts that have really lame sayings, and he didn’t have those rubber Life bands or the WWJD bracelets. He also wasn’t manifesting or doing some Christian mumbo jumbo. And it definitely isn’t some spiritual discerning power that I possess. So how did i know he was a Christian? I can’t explain it fully, but I felt like light emanated from his very being. Am I being overly dramatic? Possibly. But I can attest to you that this man had the relationship with Jesus Christ. As he walked up to the register, I could feel the presence of God fill up my dry soul. I felt revitalized and re energized, something that rarely happens at the workplace. His voice was so kind and warm, a harsh contrast to 95% of the people that come to my store. Most of the time people are rude, worn, or arrogant, with the worst of them a combination of the three. Yet for this man, there was no impatience. He genuinely asked me how I was doing, going beyond the small talk that I usually engage in. He purchased some hot coffee and a tall hot chocolate for a friend and went to sit down. I was so disappointed in myself, as I wanted to ask him if he did in fact know the Lord Jesus Christ. 30 minutes passed and he and his friend started praying. I felt like that was all the confirmation that I needed, and proceeded to strategize my position so that they would have to bump into me on the way out. I went to go empty out the garbage can out on the lobby as the two men started to leave. I awkwardly interrupted them as they almost reach the door and hurriedly asked them which organization they were a part of. (I guess I asked this question to make sure they weren’t some kind of cult or something. My lack of faith astounds me.) The man on the left replied that he was part of a mission’s organization the man on the right nodded in agreement. I told him I was part of a house church in LA and they didn’t even bat an eye. There was no condemnation or question in their eyes and it showed. Then out of the corner of my eye, I noticed my coworker giving me “the look” so I quickly shook their hands and blessed them. But before they left, I told that man that I knew immediately that he was a believer of Christ. A smile lit up his face as he kindly thanked me. As I watched them leave the store, I had to hold back the tears that were building up. Times of years gone by rushed through my head. As I peered into the bottom of the trash can, I realized that what I really wanted was what he had.

Beyond the joking exterior, I consider myself a very contemplative guy. If I’m not engaged in conversation with either God or man, I’m usually thinking. Contrary to popular belief, all guys don’t just think about girls and food. The topics that run through my head are mostly things of the philosophical/theological nature. And one thing I actively think about is the Christian lifestyle. I don’t want a religion that is powerless. I am not talking about the lack signs and wonders here, but I’m talking about the absence of Jesus in who we are. When people meet us and interact with us, do they see Jesus or a whole bunch of Steven Lee? I don’t want a relationship with God that no one else wants, but I want people to be envious of the way Christ lives in me. I mean, if he is not inherently in us, all we got is words. I’m not downplaying the effect of preaching the Gospel, but I believe that though the Gospel itself is anointed with the power of God, it is another thing entirely to for the messenger to be anointed.

What I’m talking about isn’t even a charismatic thing! It is a basic tenet of every Christian’s life. The man I met that day didn’t carry around anything remotely related to Christian paraphernalia, but Christ so lives in him that he doesn’t need it. Though it is important to actually speak of who God is, a lot of times our everyday actions don’t reflect on what we say we believe. I myself am a hypocrite so many times it’s not even funny. My soul is plagued with crude jokes that indirectly/directly hurt those around me. For the sake of humor I bring down my own sisters and brothers. One of my beloved sisters was hurt deeply recently by what I have said out of jest, and that is not right. One of my brothers was bothered by the way I treated him. Yes, this post has turned unmistakably raw, but this is it. God kill me and raise Christ within me! That I may be like your son Jesus in every facet of my life! O what a wonderful but horrifying prayer.

At the end of the day, I want something real, something truly authentic. A wise man once told me that he wants his life to be raw, and I agree. I don’t want to look like the guy speaking at X Christian conference. I don’t want to be like the coolest guy in the group, or even the guy I met at Starbucks. I just want to be me covered and utterly possessed by my bridegroom.

I’ll end with a story I once heart as a little kid in 4th grade.

A young girl was attending Bible study on Sunday morning. Her teacher told her that when you become saved, Jesus comes and lives within you. The girl left church that day very confused and her mother seeing her daughter frustrated asked her what was on her mind.

“My teacher told me that when we believe in Jesus Christ, he comes and lives within us. But if Jesus lives within us, shouldn’t he be oozing out of us?”

The mother turned solemnly toward her daughter and replied,

“Yes, he should be.”

It’s hard for me to top the first post, as it was fueled with much emotion and contemplation.  You should’ve seen me go through the past two/three weeks starting up posts and saving them to Microsoft Word, always deciding to finish them later.  I have like three or four unfinished “second” posts that I mean to eventually conclude, each with its own unique topic and flavor.  One I wrote feeling pretty down, and another in the back alleyway in downtown L.A.  So I wrestled a little bit about which one I’m going to use, ending up creating an all-new one written at this very moment.   And so here I go… 

I can’t run away, i’ve been freaking trying to for the past three or four weeks.  I’ve told myself countless amounts of times that each new week would be the last week, but it always bleeds into the following.  Every week has its own story.  Super bowl here, CMA there, NBA All-star game yesterday, Single-awareness-day last week, the list goes on and on.  I believe Jessica Doong said it the best, “After you said you were leaving, i’ve been seeing you more now!!”  How “mean” of her, but o so very true.  I’ve become a junkie and it’s been so hard to quit the habit.  I honestly can attest to withdrawal symptoms when I’m away for too long.  Mondays are probably the easiest, as I can go through the day not thinking about UCLA.  Then comes Tuesday, where I can feel a tug in the back of my heart telling me something’s missing.  Wednesday rolls around and I’m in full-blown agony (exaggeration) and don’t even get me started on Thursday.  So here’s what I do that kind of tiptoes around actually visiting.  I drive to Caleb’s work.  I pretend like I’m buying something or ogling the pretty cashier, but my real intentions is to come into contact with a portion of PC.  Caleb doesn’t even know he’s being used as conduit to feed my addiction.  Though the price is high, as I end up buying some clothes and going home, I’m satisfied and fullfilled.  I’ve even gone to Vegas (which is another story, and another post) with Sam and Thomas to come into contact with what is familiar.  SO WHAT CAN I DO?  

Last week was the last week forreals!!!  I keep telling myself that, and I feel like I’m cheating myself when I fall into the temptation of driving on the freaking 405 again.  But recent events seem to help me curb this addiction of mine.  You see, at the CMA conference I met this Hispanic dude named Juan.  He just happened to go to CSULB, (God or odd Jason?) and we’re going to start praying together twice a week to see where God is leading us to disciple people.  It was such an answer to my prayers.  I’ve been feeling stagnant for a while now, feeling as if other ministry chances are passing me by.  I kind of felt regret that I decided to go into church planting as there isn’t any glory in it.  Of course we all know that’s a no-no with Christians, but it always seem to plague my mind.  I would see other people doing kingdom work, and I guess I just wanted to tag along.  But knowing the plan God has for me, I’m glad i’ve waited.

More as it develops…          

It’s kind of ironic that the first post that I have on my blog is one that speaks of goodbye. It’s also very ironic that I’m getting all misty eyed writing to a group of people that I probably will see again and again and again, and furthermore in heaven. I’m not even good at this kind of stuff, as you would probably find me at my best (or worst) laughing it up and telling ridiculous rejection stories round the table. But in my spirit (or soul?) I really want to do this because I love you guys with all of my heart, and each one of you has made a lasting impression that cannot be erased. Yea, I know some of the words tossed around here may be cliché after cliché, and I know my writing skill isn’t on par with some of the others in PC, but just read it alright? Critique me in the comments or something.

I came to Passion church in May of 2007. Wasn’t really my choice, but I came because I was asked by some people at Long Beach to go get deep inner-healing. At this time I had left a teaching position at my old youth group, and stepped down from ministry at CSULB. Hardly a clean break from a lifestyle of doing, I had burnt out and was tired of everything that even looked like ministry. Secretly, I was tired of God. In those days I guess I just wanted to be loved. You may ask me why God’s love wasn’t good enough, and it would be a legitimate question. I asked myself that many times. Why do I need to feel the love of mankind if God’s love is all I needed? Doesn’t some cliché worship song out there say, “All I need is You”? Pondering over this question many times, I came to realize that it was because I had never actually felt loved before. I had never grasped a Phileo type of love. Every time the question of being loved came up, I quickly evaded the question altogether and said all I really needed was the love of God, tricking myself to ease the pain. Don’t get me wrong, all you and I really need is the love of God, but I used it as a ploy to train myself to combat the pain of rejection. It wasn’t because I felt the swirling love of God pulse in and out of my inner-man, but because I didn’t want to deal with reality, that people wanted me around because I was good at ministry.

And I was good at it. I’ve been doing it for so long, I was afraid that if I stepped back from it, my standing in the eyes of authority figures would fall. Sure a lot of my heart really did want Christ magnified wherever I went, but the nagging sensations from the back of my mind were always there. So there I was, first to do the craziest things in the name of ministry, and I got the back taps of affirmation from the people around me. People always use to refer to me as the kid that was fearless in everything that he did. Not that I was fearless, but I was more fearful of having expectations of me lowered. So back in May of last year, it all came tumbling down. Praise God! But at the time I cursed Him.Wounded and forsaken I limped my way to UCLA. I was met by hordes of Christian Chinese (Taiwanese) people, people that I rarely came in contact with in my days at a predominately Korean High School. Initially I didn’t know how to interact with them. I had met Jaeson, Caleb, and Anita prior to May, but didn’t know them in their cultural environment. So for the first few months, I decided to watch and observe.

And I loved it! I loved coming to hang out with you guys. In my eyes you guys were perfect, everything that I wanted in a church family. Yet I kept my joy to a minimum because I knew someday the time would come when something would happen and I would have to leave again. I just couldn’t shake that feeling that when good things happen, some bad thing will come around the corner and bite my freakin head off. I was wary of my relationship with each member of Passion church, waiting for that eventual dynamite to explode. I waited and waited and waited, but it never did.

In fact, the opposite happened. I got closer to many of the you guys. Sure there were some awkward moments here and there, but 99% of my memories of all of you are positive ones. You guys collectively taught me how to love and more importantly, how to be loved. I was afraid to use words such as family because I was unsure what the other party thought, but as it says in 1 John 4:18,

There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear.

And I proclaim that loudly, not because Passion Church has perfect love, but because Passion church has Perfect Love.

And so, I am at this point in time. I’m actually leaving a church on good terms, which is something new to me. If you ask me what I’m really feeling inside, I’d give you a portrait of the most random colors available. To sum it all up though, I would say that I’m terrified of leaving. Not just terrified of what’s ahead, but terrified of what I’m missing out back at where my heart is. I’m unsure what I’m supposed to do, who I’m supposed to work with and such, but I have a feeling it will all pan out in the end. I trust in God and that he guides my steps for reals. All I ask of you guys is to pray for me, not just the type of prayer that one says he/she would do as polite conversation, but the strong power of intercession that calls upon the Lord to release grace on my life and at CSULB. In Him I trust alone, and by His love I am moved. Thanks for teaching me that fam, I love you.