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My Faith
Soo...I dunno what's gunna go on this page, but this little e-mail thing that circulates around struck me in a way that made me wanna put it up on my page...I guess it's something I have to work on cuz I'm not all comfortable sharing with people, but hopefully in this way I'll reach someone...I dunno who wrote it...
The Room...
In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room.
There were no distinguishing features except for the one wall covered with small index card files. They were like the ones in libraries that list titles by author or subject in alphabetical order. But these files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endlessly in either direction, had very different headings. As I drew near the wall of files, the first to catch my attention was one that read: "Girls I have liked." I opened it and began flipping through the cards. I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the names written on each one.
And then without being told, I knew exactly where I was.
This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog system for my life. Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and small, in a detail my memory couldn't match. A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me as I began randomly opening files and exploring their content. Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a sense of shame and regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching. A file named "Friends" was next to one marked "Friends I have betrayed." The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird. "Books I Have Read, "Lies I Have Told," "Comfort I have Given," "Jokes I Have Laughed at." Some were almost hilarious in their exactness: "Things I've yelled at my brothers". Others I couldn't laugh at: "Things I Have Done in My Anger", "Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath at My Parents." I never ceased to be surprised by the contents. Often there were many more cards than I expected. Sometimes fewer than I hoped. I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived. Could it be possible that I had the time in my 20 years to write each of these thousands or even millions of cards? But each card confirmed this truth. Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with my signature. When I pulled out the file marked "Songs I have listened to," I realized the files grew to contain their contents. The cards were packed tightly, and yet after two or three yards, I hadn't found the end of the file. I shut it, shamed, not so much by the quality of music, but more by the vast amount of time I knew that file represented.
When I came to a file marked "Lustful Thoughts," I felt a chill run through my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to test its size, and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed content. I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded. An almost animal rage broke on me. One thought dominated my mind: "No one must ever see these cards! No one must ever see this room! I have to destroy them!" In insane frenzy I yanked the file out. Its size didn't matter now. I had to empty it and burn the cards. But as I took it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, I could not dislodge a single card. I became desperate and pulled out a card, only to find it as strong as steel when I tried to tear it. Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot. Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying sigh.
And then I saw it.
The title bore "People I Have Shared the Gospel With." The handle was brighter than those around it, newer, almost unused. I pulled on its handle and a small box not more than three inches long fell into my hands. I could count the cards it contained on one hand. And then the tears came. I began to weep. Sobs so deep that the hurt started in my stomach and shook through me. I fell on my knees and cried. I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all. The rows of file shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes. No one must ever, ever know of this room. I must lock it up and hide the key.
But then as I pushed away the tears, I saw Him. No, please not Him. Not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus. I watched helplessly as He began to open the files and read the cards. I couldn't bear to watch His response. And in the moments I could bring myself to look at His face, I saw a sorrow deeper than my own. He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes. Why did He have to read every one? Finally He turned and looked at me from across the room. He looked at me with pity in His eyes. But this was a pity that didn't anger me. I dropped my head, covered my face with my hands and began to cry again. He walked over and put His arm around me. He could have said so many things. But He didn't say a word. He just cried with me. Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files. Starting at one end of the room, He took out a file and, one by one, began to sign His name over mine on each card. "No!" I shouted rushing to Him. All I could find to say was "No, no," as I pulled the card from Him. His name shouldn't be on these cards. But there it was, written in red so rich, so dark, so alive. The name of Jesus covered mine. It was written with His blood. He gently took the card back. He smiled a sad smile and began to sign the cards. I don't think I'll ever understand how He did it so quickly, but the next instant it seemed I heard Him close the last file and walk back to my side. He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, "It is finished." I stood up, and He led me out of the room. There was no lock on its door. There were still cards to be written.
"I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me." Phil. 4:13
"For God so loved the world that He gave His only son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life." John 3:16
So here's my version of what I guess I'd wanna share with people. From my perspective...I've always gone to church ever since I was little and learned about stuff, but never really paid THAT close of attention. My mom was always like, "Let's read the Bible together!" and I would dread it because it was so boring and it would put me to sleep. The only thing I remember from Sunday School when I was young was learning that Covenant meant Promise. I don't even remember who taught me that. NEwaiz, church was never that important of a part of my life because in the middle of our big Korean church splitting up and dividing, I didn't have a home church anymore. So I started going to an American church for awhile, but that didn't feel like home either.
So the reason I started going back to church was because a friend from school invited me to go to Icthus—her youth group at Colonial Presbyterian Church. This was my sophomore year in High school. The main reason why she knew I would go and why I wanted to go was because I had a crush on this cute older boy there. (He will remain nameless! Hehe :P) So I went because of him in the beginning, but then when I went on a canoe trip with the group, I began to realize that there was something else out there. Something more than what I had been living. I went through this mildly rebellious stage during middle school and the beginning of high school, but after the canoe trip, I realized that I was just looking for a place to fit in. Wanting friends and closeness. So I found that at Colonial. I started going to Icthus and got really involved in the SIA (Servants in Action) to help lead the group. I made some friends and really enjoyed my time at church. (I still had a mild crush on that guy though. Hehe..) Our trip to Bethany really opened my eyes to what kind of life I could live as a Christian. Not just being suppressed by rules and not being able to do what I want, but knowing that there is a God who really knows what's best for me. And wanting to know, follow, and love Him.
Then, my senior year in high school, I kind of went through some more turmoil. To say the least. Without going into any of the gory details, I pretty much fell away from any sort of relationship with God that I had formed the previous year. I had other problems on my mind.
SoooI went to college at Rice, hoping to get away from all the mess I had created for myself, but I realized that I was just running away from my problems. My problems followed me. Freshman year was rough. Spiritually, I improved, but I still didn't feel right.
Sophomore year was another rollercoaster, but second semester, God decided to show me the error of my ways. I felt like I had no real spiritual fellowship because I wasn't happy at church and felt like people were passing judgment on me as though I wasn't a good enough Christian. Second semester, I really wanted to change churches, so I started going to New Life Fellowship and did all I could to find rides since it was so far away. I finally felt like I had found a family. I had leaders around me, people teaching me, and new friends who didn't judge me. For the first time since I became a Christian, I really felt like getting involved in the church, leading the younger members, reading my Bible, and just spending time in praise. The people who I used to think were weird for being so big on praise and worship became my leaders and role models. This past semester has really been a blessing. It's been a time of great friendship, fellowship, worship, and praise.
The thing that has been the biggest thing for me these days is really knowing what I believe. Really understanding why I am a Christian. Seeing a lot of the Christians around me sometimes makes me a lil disillusioned and the other people I hang out wiht seem to be so much more...down-to-earth and real. People I enjoy spending time with. They care...they really truly care and I feel so much more comfortable with them. Everyone always says Christians are hypocrites...and i mean, mebbe that's troo..But if so...i mean, i dunno. I'm not perfect. I believe in God and Jesus and just like everyone else, I don't always know what I believe and why. We all struggle, right?
Basically, God is perfect. He made everything on Earth and lives in heaven. He loves each one of us more than we can fathom. It's a different kind of love than the kind of love humans share. It's something you have to experience to understand. He loves us to the point where he wants all of us to come live with him in Heaven once our work on Earth is done. In order to go to Heaven, we have to be washed away of all of our sins. That's what God has the power to do. Since ALL of us sin, he has to find a way to bridge the gap between man and God in heaven.
(Ooops...i have to go back to work. TO be continued!!! :D)
