Meeting Wairua

Her feet settled in comfortably into the sand as she placed them one in front of the other continually. They felt like they belonged. As did she, right there on the beach with the cool waves gently washing up around her ankles. This was home, and she was settled. At least, until it's time to move again.

The sunlight was beginning its retirement journey for the day, and even though it would have felt more normal for melancholy to settle in around this time of the day, her feet still felt light. She was beginning to gain momentum when she noticed a solitary figure keeping pace with her not too far off in the distance. She knew right away who it was, but this time the figure was dressed in a red, white and black finely woven top with what looked like a Hawaiian skirt.

She smiled and gave a slight wave of acknowledgement. It was comforting to know that she hadn't wandered too far since the conversation at the coffeeshop. But the distance between them confused her. She didn't feel as distant from *Wairua as their footprints in the sand reflected. As much as she wanted to close the distance between them, the voice in her head kept saying, "Ohhh, watch it. Watch it!"

Her eyes were fixed on the feather on Wairua's headband as she started inching closer, trying to ignore the voice in her head. "Ahhh, scheiße!" she yelped, as the pain shot straight from her foot to her heart where that old wound laid wide open as if salt had just been rubbed directly into it. Refusing to let that first shot of pain stop her, she tried again, but could make no more progress than she did the first time. She felt the first tears coming on and tried desperately to blink them back, but they spilled out as if the floodgates had finally been open.

She looked back up to Wairua, the pain on her face as raw as the fresh stab on the old wound. She hoped for a band-aid or perhaps a magic carpet that would smooth over the broken bits of shell that covered the distance between them, but all she saw were the tears on Wairua's face and the rays of sun reflecting from the little bottle of liquid she wore around her neck.

Chills went down her spine as she recalled the last time she saw that bottle. Suddenly it was like time flew backwards by three years, and she was meeting *Sarayu for the first time. She wore a bottle around her neck the same way Wairua did. Her body went limb and she fell upon the sand, and as each piece of broken shell pierced through her skin, the pain shot straight to her heart the same way the first one did.

It couldn't be the same bottle Sarayu had, could it? The pain and hopelessness of those years suddenly felt so raw all over again. But Sarayu had walked her through those days of sitting in the dark corners wanting to have nothing to do with this thing called Life, and gently put every one of those tears she shed back then into that bottle she wore around her neck. That she could feel as light as she did walking on the beach just a few moments ago was something she celebrated everyday. So where was this searing pain coming from now?

"My child," Wairua whispered, "This isn't about three years ago anymore. Back then you knew me as Sarayu, as Papa, as Jeshua. I'm still Sarayu, Papa and Jeshua, but in Aotearoa, I'm also Wairua, the Spirit of Life. These shells between us are the broken pieces of you, connected between your heart and the people and lands you have been with. You heard it once earlier tonight. Change sometimes hurts. My child, you have been hurting for so long and I don't know why you keep trying to hold up this shell. You and I both know that you do change better in vulnerability to community than alone, and yet you keep holding back from genuine community. We talked about this during those eight hours in that airport, didn't we?

As long as you're not living life here with complete abandonment,
As long as you're not giving your heart away freely and completely to this land and this people,
You're still living in fear.

And giving your heart away doesn't mean simply giving love away. It also means being vulnerable to receive love. You are not less of a person simply because you are broken and empty. But you will become less and less of a person if you keep trying to give away love without being willing to receive Agape in return."

Wairua knelt on the sand, and with her bare hands began brushing off layers and layers of sand from the first piece of shell, cutting her fingers over and over again in the process. She wore a gentle smile on her face as her tears mixed in with the crimson droplets. The smile grew warmer and bigger as more and more of the cream-coloured shell revealed itself.

The first piece of shell finally came loose, and as Wairua dusted off the last sand bits, her smile became one of victory.

"This, my child," she said, as she set the first piece aside and began working on the next one. "This is my blood, shed for you.

As often as you do this, remember Me."


* Maori for "Spirit"
* Borrowed from William Paul Young's The Shack

Soul Food From Aotearoa

Haere Mai. Welcome.

Too much time has flown by since the last time I blogged.

No, I take that back.

The amount of time has been right, but so much has happened. As much as I enjoy crafting words, I don't know that I have the sufficient vocabulary in any human language to describe all that has happened in the last couple of weeks.

I guess the most important thing I have to say here for today though is: I'm now in Auckland. And for that I am thankful.

I've been here less than two weeks now, and already my soul is so filled. Do I still have doubts about whether Auckland is the right place for this season? To tell you no would be a big fat lie. I'm still waiting for the day that we actually formalize the visa process and for the immigration folks to tell me, "Sorry. Denied."

I guess I should back-track a little.

Yes, I made it to Auckland. But I'm here on a tourist visa at the moment because I'm still waiting for a background check in the States to be processed for the visa application. The whole process is kinda complicated (but mostly just annoying) to explain, but simply put: If we waited for the background check to be processed, it would take at least another month from the time I mailed the request to the States to the time we would hear anything back. So we figured I'd come in on a tourist visa for now and apply for the work visa after the background check comes in, seeing as I have enough financial support for now so that Westside doesn't have to pay me yet.

Clear as mud? I'd be happy to explain all the details to you eventually, but that's not the point of this entry today.

The point is, I'm here. I don't have a clue what I'm doing, but apparently Things are happening. And I'm blown away by the fact that simply because I finally decided to stop shuffling my feet around and come in spite of immigration regulations, I get to be a part of Things here. And somehow, trying to put these things down on pen and paper (or keyboard and screen?) makes me feel like I'm cheapening the spirituality of all that has happened. And the fact that my soul has been so, so filled makes it hard for me to not be cynical about it.

I've been having an internal debate between myself and the conversation Jenny and I had back when I heard back from Chad that the folks at Westside had given the go-ahead to continue conversations with me about coming over. A big part of me finds it difficult to believe that good things can come so easily. After all, there were still so many questions left unanswered.

• Would I fit in theologically?
• Would I find the soul friends quickly enough to help me process transition the way my Anderson community had before I fall back into my unhealthy coping measures?
• How the heck is the Greater Being going to equip me enough to work with kids?

But those are not the important questions for now. The scariest thing is that there already are people here who will walk this journey with me. They've listened to some of the ridiculousness of the questions I've been asking. They've helped me try to balance out the head and heart sides of ministry. They've been so intentional about taking care of me physically, spiritually and emotionally. Part of me wants to say, "Yeah, but I'm new. How long will this last?" while another part wants to say, "Shut up. Just because you've had your share of church folks hurting one another doesn't mean you're allowed to stop believing in the power of Agape."

But again, that's still not the point. I can keep rambling, and keep digging for cynicism then further still for truths that combat cynicism, and still completely miss the point.

The point is, I'm here. I've done a good job so far of covering up how tired I really am, and how I feel like I'm running on nothing. This year has been long. The journey to finally be physically in Auckland has been exhausting. The ability to simply sit and let Things happen is clearly coming from a Being far greater than me right now. The truth is, Things will happen at Westside regardless of whether or not I'm here. I get to be a part of these Things not because I'm a good person, or because this is a reward for my willingness to let the world be the village that raises me.

I get to be a part of this because Agape knew this was my love language. And for that, I am in awe.

I apologise if I haven't been very coherent. The desire to finally put some of these thought bubbles down into words has been great, but even greater has been the desire to simply sit quietly in awe of all that has happened and the One that has weaved these stories together.

Love you all, and appreciate each one of you so much for being a part of my village.

Coffee Shop Conversations

She sat behind her computer typing away furiously with a slight frown. Occasionally she would look across the rows of trees below to let her thoughts breathe for a few seconds, and the frown would ease up just that little bit as she sipped her cappuccino.

For that few seconds, she let her mind race back to the last time she was in that coffee shop and a slight smile crept up on her face as she continued typing furiously. It was the beginning of a summer that was about to change her life, except she didn't realise it yet. And the people around that table--an eclectic group nonetheless--seemed to fit in so well with the fact that they were just outside of Berlin, Germany. "If Portland was the capital of Weird in the US, Berlin would probably be that equivalent for this part of the world," she thought to herself. Of all the places she had traveled to, it would of course make sense that these were her top two favourite cities. She was, after all, weird and proud of it.

She took another sip of her cappuccino as she furiously tried to put to words all the thoughts and theological implications that had gone through her head in the last week or so. "In every circle of friends, there has to be an old soul," she smiled as she remembered that comment she made in passing in one of those conversations. That was when she realised she had so many people in her life to fulfill the many layers of human relationships that were required for healthy human functionality. Each one of them gave her something different to be thankful for, and something else to think about. And she was becoming increasingly confident that regardless of where in the world she went to, it wouldn't be difficult to establish these circles again from next to nothing.

So lost was she in the attempt to process the current theological ramblings that she jumped when she finally looked up again and saw him sitting there.

"Holy crap, Papa! Don't do that to me again!" she let out in a harsh whisper. He simply smiled back.

"How long have you been... Never mind, don't answer that." She knew. He had followed her from the house to the bus-stop, to the train station. Then again, she was pretty sure he was at the airport with them earlier that day as well when the kids in the youth group decided to head there after church. And the last time she was at that spot. And the day she moved to Anderson. And TKGS. And...

"Ok, ok. Got it. I'm guessing we need to talk?"

Again, he said nothing and simply smiled.

"I know I've been doing a lot of thinking, and very little feeling," she finally said after some time passed since his silence. "And we both know that I've been doing a lot of thinking so that I can avoid feeling. I'm frustrated because I'd rather be in Auckland. But truth be told, this whole process has worn me down a lot, and I'm not even excited anymore. Everyday is just blah because I want a sense of "normalcy" and don't laugh because we all already know my life has been and will continue to be anything but normal. But that's not what I mean. Even if it turns out that Auckland would only be for a little while, I want to feel at "home" somewhere for that little while. I want to be able to walk into a shop somewhere and say, "I want this for my living space, and it's reasonably-priced and sized," and be able to buy it instead of thinking that it won't be able to fit into my two pieces of luggage. I've loved being able to drop everything at the last minute to go spend time with people because I don't know when's the next time I'll get to see them, but a loose schedule like that for more than just a couple of months is about to drive me crazy. I may have spent a lot of time with the Kenyan sisters this summer, but I'm still used to having SOME kind of structure. Am I ranting?"

He still said nothing and simply smiled.

And that was when she understood. Through all these transitions she craved nothing more than just one constant. That Constant had created all the circles she had just been so thankful for to hold her through each change, but Constant was still constant. And Constant constantly gave her space to think as she needed to think, feel as she needed to feel, not feel as she needed to not feel...

Constant constantly gave her space just so she had space.

"Hopes told you you had the gift of giving space," he finally said after she caught her breath.

"But I only have space to give because YOU give me space," she said.

"My child, I don't need answers from you. I don't need you to figure me out. I don't need you to rant when you're frustrated, sing when you're happy, or cry when you're upset.

I just need you to be you."

The [Truth?] About Worship

In a recent conversation, we were for one reason or another talking about how worship is structured in churches these days. So when I heard a song that had the lines, "You are love; You are life" in its bridge in a congregational setting recently, it made me stop and think.

What's the purpose of this thing we call "worship" anyway? To sing songs of adoration to the Leader of our faith? To tell the One we believe to be Creator how thankful we are for our existence? And was it mandated that we only sing songs surrounding the existence of this Creator? And if so, does that make our Creator a self-centered being?

As usual, I don't claim to have answers, but a thought hit me today. Sure, I believe in the existence of a Being that is love and life, but I'm wondering if that's all I sing about regardless of where I am or who I'm with, wouldn't that get kind of annoying to the people around me?

I mean, if a good friend of mine is head over heels in love with their spouse, sure, I would enjoy hearing about their spouse from time to time. Heck, if they didn’t talk about their spouse at all, I would probably be worried. But if all that they talk about is their spouse, then clearly their relationship with their spouse is of such high importance that my relationship with them doesn’t matter.

Or let’s just put it bluntly. If all this friend talks about is their spouse, then that’s just plain annoying. I might even start wondering if they have an unhealthy relationship that leads to them not being able to talk to other people.

That being said, if all this friend talks about were their parent, favourite political leader, sibling or best friend, I would probably be equally concerned, if not annoyed.

Now I acknowledge that this Being that is love and life is a little more supernatural than the average human being, so the relationship would also be a bit more supernatural. But doesn’t this Being also teach that the greatest commandment is to love the Lord your God with your heart, soul and mind AND your neighbor as yourself? I may be interpreting this wrongly, but I believe loving your neighbor also means being in enough of a relationship with them that we don’t just talk about our spouse/parent/favourite political leader/sibling/best friend all the time.

And also, if this Being that teaches that one aspect of the greatest commandment is to “love your neighbor as yourself,” then I’m not sure I would be able to think of this Creator as the aforementioned self-centered being.

Streaming it down a little further to my personal belief that one revelation of this Being comes in the form of Jesus of Nazareth, also known in some circles as the Christ. I find myself guilty of forgetting his humanity from time to time. I tend to think that the only form of humanity he took on was the ability to suffer so that he can empathise with our suffering. But I’m starting to wonder if his humanity also required him to learn how to love. At least in the Christian circles, we don’t find it difficult to believe that he loved the Creator – if he didn’t, he would not have taken on the human form to redeem creation. But his ability to love people out of his humanity? I think if we didn’t catch that from reading the Gospels, we’ve already missed the whole point.

Which leads me to my next thought… Isn’t this what it means to be “evangelical”?

This will be for another time. But for now, I looked up “evangelical” on the Merriam-Webster dictionary and found this:

: of, relating to, or being in agreement with the Christian gospel especially as it is presented in the four Gospels

2

: protestant

3

: emphasizing salvation by faith in the atoning death of Jesus Christ through personal conversion, the authority of Scripture, and the importance of preaching as contrasted with ritual

4

a capitalized : of or relating to the Evangelical Church in Germanyb often capitalized : of, adhering to, or marked by fundamentalism : fundamentalistc often capitalized : low church

5

: marked by militant or crusading zeal : evangelistic evangelical ardor of the movement's leaders — Amos Vogel

Interesting, huh?

Also, a friend of mine posted this some time ago that I thought was interesting food for thought to throw into this mix.

Thoughts?

Penang Highlights Part #2

The Peranakan Culture
Even before the TV series “The Little Nonya” came out on Channel 8 a few years ago, I’ve had a fascination with the Peranakan culture, but I will have to admit that the TV show was what sparked the interest to examine this people group more closely. I am an anthropologist after all. So when we had the chance to visit a Paranakan residence on our last day in Penang, I was naturally excited.

Peranakans are a people group known as Straits Chinese that exist only in this part of the world. They are Chinese ethnics who, upon their arrival in parts of Malaysia, Singapore and Indonesia, took on the ways of the native Malays and some of the British-influenced European lifestyles. The men were called Baba, and the women Nonya. They tended to be wealthy and influential Chinese who worked in close alliance with the British colonial government and had the opportunity to travel to parts of Europe.

As an anthropological nerd, I could probably go crazy writing about this people group, but that will be for another time. I will say this much though: The fusion of the Chinese reds and golds with the darker, richer streaks from the Malay ethnics, combined with a touch of European décor make for a very unique interior design. The Peranakan home is fascinating because of this very reason.

I Met Love at Kek Lok Si (極樂寺)
Kek Lok Si is a Buddhist temple that is considered one of the landmarks of Penang. It stands out as one of the tallest buildings in the state, and if I’m not wrong, the only religious space of that magnitude of grandiose.  According to Pastor Sunny’s wife, a Christian prayer summit that happened some years ago caused the head of the original building to fall off. It has since been reconstructed with a bill that came up to something like RM40,000 (S$16,000 or USD13,000).

Since we were all about being touristy, we visited this temple because there were a bunch of cheap touristy shops leading up to the top of the temple. It was quite a hike so we didn’t make it all the way up although I would have liked to if the weather hadn’t been as dreary as it was that day. On the way up, there was this elderly lady sitting at the corner with a little plastic container with a few coins in it. Something about noticing her sitting there haunted me for a while, and I couldn’t figure out what it was. She wasn’t the first beggar we had come across, but it bothered me that she had come to the temple to beg.

We kept walking a little further and finally my mum and Auntie Audrey decided they were tired. I went up a little more until I got to what appeared to be the bottom of the temple, and for a while, just stood in awe. There was something about the Buddhist chants that seemed so calming in the midst of all the other chaos that was going on in my life at the time, and it reminded me of the couple hours in the Japanese Gardens in Portland with the spirituality guru, Cassie Trentaz. But I couldn’t shake off the image of the lady still haunting me, partly because I knew I was going to see her again when I started my descend.

There in that courtyard, I finally figured out what it was that was so haunting. As the BFF might put it, there was “The Voice” saying, “She’s clearly looking for something or she would have gone begging on the streets instead of within religious space. Funny, ain’t it, in times of need she would come to the Buddhist temple when you don’t see her sitting in the Church.” I kept trying to rationalize “The Voice” away, and we ended up having a conversation that went something like that:

Me: She was probably raised Buddhist, so of course in times of need she would turn to the only form of religion she has ever known.
The Voice: Or could it be that Christianity never quite offered her what she was looking for because Christians were too afraid of stepping into the space of other “false religions” to notice her?
Me: But if I offered her anything, wouldn’t she assume I was sent by Buddha, even if I was trying to represent Christ?
The Voice: But if you didn’t offer her anything, what chance of a conversation would you even be able to have with her?
Me: But we’re in a hurry so I don’t really have time for a conversation anyway…
The Voice: What if she wasn’t really looking for sympathy or for help? What if all she needed was to know that someone saw her? You claim to see spiritual things, say the words, “I see you” from the movie Avatar so easily, and believe in Namaste, but what’s the point of seeing these things when you don’t actually see?

Me: Crap.

The Voice won. Of course.

If I had the opportunity (translate: if I hadn’t been such a wuss), I would have told her that I saw her because I saw Love, and I had Love that came from a source that was bigger than me. Did I have the capacity to Love a stranger? I’m not sure. But I knew Love saw her, and Love wanted her. Love didn’t want her to be compliant to a list of rights and wrongs; Love just wanted her.

As I started making my way down from the courtyard, I scrounged around for some loose change. There wasn’t a lot, probably not even enough for a full meal. But Love said, “Look her in the eye. See her.”

I met Love at Kek Lok Si.

Go here for pictures

New Blog Series: The [Truth?] Shall Set You [Free?]

In light of some of the conversations I've had recently, I've had some things being tossed around in my head. They mostly challenge the ideas of truth and freedom that I have held for a while, and some of the things that have been said or that I've said have surprised me as well. So I'm starting a new blog series that I'm titling "The [Truth?] Shall Set You [Free?]" to wrestle with some of these things, and I'm inviting you to participate if you'd like.

This blog space has not historically been very interactive so I'm not sure if it will become more it will get following the launch of this series. But in light of the possibility of more participants, let me lay a few ground rules before we begin:

I write this coming from the perspective of someone who grew up in a Christian home but not completely around Christian circles all the time until I went away to college. I have a relationship with Jesus Christ, and I see the world through the lenses of my relationship with Christ, even if some of the things I'm about to write may challenge that notion.

1) If you would like to contribute more thoughts into this dialogue, please clarify where you are coming from and through what lenses you see the world. It would be helpful to assume that there are others who may want to participate who do not share your faith or religious views.

2) Please be respectful of others. This space is not open for bashing others' thoughts, and comments will be moderated. Disrespectful or offensive posts will be deleted.

3) Keep an open mind about things. My hypothesis for this series is that, when it comes down to the bare essentials, we are all trying to make meaning of truth and freedom.

I'm looking forward to the interactions we might have in this space.

Shalom.

P.S. Don't worry, the other usual stuff that appears on this blog will still make their regular appearances :)