The reason I’m having you get up this early is because I want to introduce the day to you. Morning by morning, there are new mercies you’re going to see. This is your daily bread that I want to give you. And if you try to live off of yesterday’s bread it’s full of maggots and worms. So live for today. Get today’s.

I felt like my heart exploded there and then.

Just now, after asking Him for some direction, I read John 2. It was about Jesus’ first miracle, where he turned water into wine.

When the master of the feast had tasted the water that was made wine, and did not know where it came from (but the servants who had drawn the water knew), the master of the feast called the bridegroom.

And he said to him, “Every man at the beginning sets out the good wine, and when the guests have well drunk, then that which is inferior; but you have kept the good wine until now.”

Wow. 

Jesus didn’t just perform an okay miracle, or a so-so good deed. He gave exceedingly, beyond expectations. The water wasn’t just turned into wine; it was turned into the best wine of the evening.

When God gives us gifts, he doesn’t merely turn impossible circumstances into pleasant ones. He makes them impossibly amazing. I am so thankful for the knowledge that I can learn wholeheartedly on someone who always gives me the best.

I’ve been incessantly worrying about things, things that are minuscule in importance in comparison to the largess of our God.

I’ve been mulling over internships, resumes, defining myself, my future, what people think of me, my image… MYself.

In doing so, I’ve taken my eyes off the Prize: Jesus Christ. I’ve neglected His Word, neglected time with Him, and traded in His truths for the soothing platitudes of the world.

Inevitably it has showed up in my life in not too flattering areas such as my impatience, lack of compassion, and the way compartmentalizing my faith causes the rest of my life to look like disparate, incompatible fragments.

Who am I to make such a big deal out of myself, when it has and always will be about Him?

Instead of reprimanding me with harshness like He has every right to, He sent me a gentle reminder today about His goodness and mercy that has followed me all these years and led me to this position, where I can currently count getting my dream summer internship one of my biggest worries.

Considering how I’ve been disappointed in the recent past by hypocritical Christians, I should be striving even more to not slip into a similar complacent habit. My faith does not lie in Facebook profiles and statuses, Tweets, blog posts or the number of Hillsong songs in my iTunes. But it does lie in a dutiful meditation of the Word, prayer and loving my neighbor.

In my attempt to minimize demonstrating my faith in the former, I must remember to not neglect the latter.

Here’s to a great 2012. Not through my own efforts, but because He is good and gracious and is always for me.

Fast forward to June 8th, 2011: I’m blowing out the candles on my cake in a rural village in Tamil Nadu, India. I’m on a trip with my school’s undergraduate-led sustainable development group, BUILD, and we’re in the village of Thottiapatti to facilitate several projects. My team members kindly planned a little celebration by leading me to the school well to collect water for the construction of our computer center (construction was done by hand), before calling for me to go to the middle of the village, where I find that the villagers had gathered to surprise me with a cake! It’s blistering hot, but everyone is clutching a cup of hot chai and a slice of cake. I turn 21 that day with a group of children screaming the happy birthday song, goats  baa-ing and chickens clucking around me, and the dusty, humid air of the June heat filling my nostrils. I spend the rest of the day digging for stones in the cement mix so that the computer center can have a solid, pebble-free floor.

It was a pretty unforgettable birthday, especially compared to the hotel bashes that my peers in Singapore threw. I couldn’t have asked for a better way to spend it. Still, the moment of adulthood epiphany never came.

So much has changed even since then. My career choices have switched multiple times, from poverty alleviation NGO work to documentary photographer to arts management to Waiting On God. I’ve delved into the murky waters of research and come out deciding that it wasn’t for me. I’ve gotten my first job at Tufts and am learning how to file for taxes. I’ve learned how to cook. My view on Christianity has become so much more nuanced.  I’ve bus-setted around the New England area more times in the last six months than I ever did. I’ve found friends in the most random and unexpected places. And I still don’t really know what I’m doing, or where I’m headed.

I’m starting 2012 on this strangely reassuring yet mildly terrifying note: that I don’t know very much, but that He is teaching me something every day, and that my eyes shouldn’t be focused on the destination but the everyday moments that fall together to form a humbling journey. Perhaps the fact that I am at peace with not knowing is the mark of young adulthood.

January

February

March

April

May

June

July

August

September

October

November

December

Beside me is a plastic bag full of books from Strand. I spent well over three hours in that bookstore today, enamored by stories and knowledge and the power of the imagination. The results:

• Purple Hibiscus by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie
• Oranges Aren’t The Only Fruit by Jeanette Winterson
• Let Us Now Praise Famous Men by James Agee and Walker Evans
• Kafka on the Shore by Haruki Murakami
• Shoplifting from American Apparel by Tao Lin
• Holidays on Ice by David Sedaris
• A Landmade journal made out of cork

Flashed on the screen right now are two clueless-looking little Asian boys. They seem a little bewildered by the pomp of it all, as am I. At the same time, however, I can’t help but watch as the Pope speaks, his voice echoing throughout St. Peter’s Basilica. There is something undeniably powerful about the Catholic tradition, with its intricately laid down rituals and traditions.

As people celebrate Christmas all over the world, I am reminded that He is the only unchanging One in my life. Across oceans, people are laughing, hugging, playing boardgames, eating turkey and opening presents. There will also be people who are crying, lonely, and numb to the bone. Christmas isn’t what you make it, despite what the advertisements tell you. Whether you like it or not, whether you care to believe or not, He came down, and loved you from the very beginning. This makes my Christmas. No amount of mistletoe and snow can add to it, and no crappy present pile can take it away.

Last December, at the spur of a moment, a couple of friends and I started a charity:water campaign through TCF. Our goal was $1000, and we surpassed it to raise $1140, which meant that 57 people were given clean water. 57 people. Fifty. seven. 57 people didn’t have access to clean water before that – they couldn’t safely wash their hands, drink a glass of water, take a shower, wash their dishes or cook without the risk of falling ill due to the bacteria in the water they were using every day. At a time the biggest worry on a lot of our minds is that 20 page paper, or which Christmas present to buy for Dad, it seems ridiculous that over a billion people don’t even have clean water to drink. 

At this time last year, friends from all over came together, gave a little bit of their money, and together we were able to do our little part in helping to solve the water crisis. What was most heartening was seeing everyone come together. Every person who contributed made the campaign work. Every dollar counts.

It takes US$20 billion to solve the water crisis. In contrast, Americans spend US$450 billion alone on Christmas every year. Talk about perspective. We often say that Christmas is the season of giving – we buy, to give to others we love. That seems all too easy. Why not give to those who we don’t know, to those that we have no reason to love, other than for the fact that He loved us when we were yet sinners, and gave it all when we didn’t deserve a thing?

The goal this year is $2000. That’s 100 people’s lives changed. $20 can give someone access to clean water. With the help of just 100 people, out of the 5000 people on this Tufts campus and the many more from our networks of family and friends, we can reach this goal of making Christmas better for someone else. 100 people to affect 100 other people. No matter who you are or your place in life, you can make a difference.

Give extravagantly this season, for He gave so much more.

http://mycharitywater.org/tuftsforcleanwater

Family: It’s not always easy, but they are the ones who matter in the end.

Perhaps I’m being too sensitive. After all, society is saturated with media images of women who fit certain criteria. I really should be used to it by now. Maybe I should just shrug it off.

But that sinking feeling hasn’t gone away.

Because what does that mean for women who are unable to be that skinny, who don’t have those features, and never will, no matter how hard they try? What does that mean for the college girls around me who feel like a skimpy outfit is the usual Friday night attire? And what does that mean for a young woman who is trying to honor God with her gender and sexuality?

In the end, it seems like it has almost everything to do with men’s opinions. Men do wield a lot of power; they play a huge role in shaping what women strive to be. And women seem to have this innate desire to want to feel beautiful, valued and cherished. I hate to perpetuate gender stereotypes, but stereotypes only exist because there is some morsel of truth in them, right?

I’m not sure what to think. Some of my Christian guy friends are amazing people. They are far from sketchy, are extremely genuine and have huge hearts. But they aren’t perfect and they struggle with temptation too. So what happens if even the most sincere, God-fearing man you know/your sincere, God-fearing boyfriend has moments when he thinks that that Victoria’s Secret model is visually perfect? Where does that leave you?

I suppose I would just have to trust that he would still choose me. Even more so, I would have to trust that he sees women with God’s eyes, and while these women in the media are gorgeous, my value would be more than that. Naive? Maybe. But I choose to hold on to that belief, and I won’t settle for anything less.

My wonderful friend Elaine posted something related to this. The full post can be found here, but here’s an excerpt:

“Often, it seems as though short trips are more beneficial to the travelers than to the people at the “mission site.” I must admit, I have loved my own two short trips to Cambodia. I remember those two summers as times of spiritual growth and of getting a tiny taste of what it’s like to be totally outside my comfort zone. When I think about the way all of the wonderful, adorable children were crying as I left, however, I question the benefits of my trip. I had a great time but what did I put those kids through? Okay, maybe I gave them a week of fun games and singing but I also gave them one more reason to cry, one more reason to say goodbye, and maybe – although I sure hope not – one more reason to think that no one loves them enough to actually stick around.

At Love146, we often talk about Love that protects, defends, restores, and empowers. I’d like to add that Love sticks around.”

In BUILD, we essentially talk about the same thing, but using different terms and using a very secular perspective. We talk about cultural relativism and whether or not it is ethical for us to go into a place with the mentality that we have something to offer that they don’t, try and “fix” things, and often leave all too soon. We may have good intentions, but is that enough? Can we actually help?

Despite some negative analyses of the help that the West (or other affluent countries… like Singapore) offers (refer to this and this), I do firmly believe that we are blessed to be a blessing. While I believe that we, as Christians in particular, are called to help the poor, the downtrodden, the oppressed and the marginalized, I also believe that we need to, and can, be smart about it.

Firstly, we need to redefine what “help” means. Jesus’ idea of leadership is opposite of the world’s definition of leadership is. He was a servant leader. He washed the feet of His disciples and took time to make friends with tax collectors and prostitutes. When we go out into a developing country,  do we go in thinking that we have much help to offer, or do we think about serving with all our gifts and talents, like we would serve Jesus?

The second part needs slightly more elaboration. This summer in Nepal, as I was on my third mission trip there, I began questioning whether or not I should be there and if I was truly benefiting others. I was there to visit my friends at Sophia Girls’ Home, to run a few games with the church at their youth camp… and? Would people truly be changed? God reminded me that He can change someone forever. As we prayed for and prophesied over the children, I was reminded about how I was changed forever at Elpizo youth camp in 2004. There are no hard and fast rules when it comes to what He wants you to do.

But that doesn’t mean that we can shrug everything off as “His will” and use that as an excuse to really consider our actions. At one point on our trip, one of the trip members suggested going out into the streets of Kathmandu one day and giving out food to as many people as possible. I remember vehemently protesting. This action might have benefitted us more than it benefitted them. It would have made us feel good for one day, and give people one meal, but what was the long-term impact? What was the message we were truly sending? It seems that this is the kind of action that perpetuates “rice bowl Christianity,” where people claim to be Christian because of the material benefits that missionaries offer. I didn’t feel like my trip mates understood what I was trying to say. In the end, the conversation concluded with “In the end, if God tells us to do it, we will do it.” We didn’t end up carrying out that action, fortunately. But that experience was enough to alert me about the danger of good intentions.

Not every well-meaning Christian, riding on passion and the need to spread God’s love to others, should start a non-profit. We are not all experts. Take the example of BUILD’s project of providing a sanitation facility in the village of Thottiapatti. Building toilets might do more harm than good if we built it near one side of the village and not the other. It might cause tension within village relations. If the toilets are not properly built or well-maintained, and if we do not have an efficient monitoring and evaluation mechanism in place, people might not use them in the first place and the entire thing might go to waste. If people don’t even want these toilets in the first place, they will not use them and who are we to tell them that they need to poop like we do? Considerations like that can be applied to every social justice initiative that we come up with.

Looking back, I have truly benefitted from my mission trips. It was my first trip to Nepal in 2007 that really changed the way I saw things, and it was one of the main reasons why I started on this journey to figure out what Jesus meant by justice. As I said, there is no cookie-cutter way to go about doing justice. If He strongly puts it on your heart to go, then go. But as we follow where He leads, we need to also listen out for how He wants us to help.

Watched The First Grader today, a movie about an unbelievable Kenyan man named Kimani Maruge, who was determined, against all odds, to learn how to read. It’s based on a true story; Mr Maruge passed away just two years ago, in 2009. In the production notes found on the film’s website, Justin Chadwick, the director, describes meeting Mr Maruge:

“He refused to be old.  You’d be sitting with him and he’d go ‘I’m not old! He wanted to go for a walk. So, we helped him up – he was as light as a feather but you could feel the strength inside him. He had this real power and he walked a few steps, and he went to the front gate, and he said, ‘Open the gate’ and he took off down this road! We were in the middle of Nairobi, and there were goats and trucks everywhere! All the nurses started chasing him with a wheelchair, and he was hacking it down the street!”

Richard Harding, the producer, concurs: “He was a wonderful, gentle old man. Even up until the day he was dying, he wanted to learn.  We went back to visit him when he was in the hospice and his desire to learn was just greater than anybody I’d seen. Every single time we went to visit him, he tried to convince us to bring a teacher to come over and teach him. Unfortunately, the nuns at the nursing home would not allow it, because the other residents there would’ve opposed him getting preferential treatment. But, he would constantly ask for a teacher because he missed learning. He was a very lovely, spirited man.”

I’ve so much to learn from this old man. After watching the movie, I thought about how I worry about classes, procrastinate about my homework, and moments when I take my education for granted, and I felt like gathering up all these thoughts on a giant piece of paper, crushing them all up into a ball and tossing them out the window. Who am I to worry? He has faithfully given me my dream education, from MGS, to ACJC and now at Tufts. I could not have asked for a better schooling experience.

To aptly illustrate this, I was dreaming up a 5 year plan (nods to Mao for the term) during class (I know, so much irony in this one sentence). The text document was entitled The 5 Year Plan that Could Get Disrupted Any Moment, and it charted possible paths from here on, including dream internships, living a year in either New York or California, getting a National Arts Council scholarship to go to grad school, starting StoryCorps in Singapore, and a host of other exciting experiences. I guess at the very least I admitted that it was a pretty filmsy plan that is possibly never taking flight if He decides otherwise. But it still shows my impatience and my Type A inclination (I really don’t like surprises. No, really).

Instead of over-planning and getting anxious, I’ve got to learn to be present every day. To be fully there when I choose to be. To give thanks every day (Happy Thanksgiving everybody!), take things one step at a time, and to give each thing my 100%. I want to be basking in the light of His will.