Tale One

I have two tales to tell: the first is a comedy, the second a tragedy. Perhaps those labels should be switched; I’ll let you decide. The first I’ll tell today, and the second I’ll leave for tomorrow.

Last night I came home from my presentation completely exhausted. Monday night and early Tuesday morning I worked on my almost 14-page paper for Contemporary Literary Theory. I had a really difficult time figuring out where to go with it—it frustrated me to no end.

After I turned my paper in on Tuesday, Ariel, Janelle, Emily (back from Oxford, visiting from Texas), and I went to Michael’s to buy art supplies for Ariel’s final project in Figure Studies. We dropped by Wal-Mart and Albertson’s to buy food, and then came back to the apartment. Emily was kind enough to cook us dinner while we worked. We sat down to a delicious meal of baked chicken, Spanish rice, and—Ariel’s favorite—stuffing. Yes, she likes stuffing. By itself.

Emily also whipped up some double-chocolatey Ghiradelli brownies (in round pans), which we nibbled on as we Google’d the flower that I brought back from The Point staff dinner. Turns out we’ve had a chrysanthemum decorating our kitchen table for the last week and we didn’t even know it. And who knew that Chinese Lantern flowers look like, well, Chinese lanterns?

After dinner, Ariel and I headed back to campus, to the art studio and Welch computer lab, respectively. I ended up working on my website until 2 am, when the lab closed. I made a call to campus safety to drive me across the street to Lido. I went straight to sleep when I got home.

Wednesday morning I woke up early (for me, anyways) and tried to work on my British Mystery and Detective Fiction paper. I didn’t get much done though; instead I headed back to the computer lab to finish up the last details of my website. I won’t even begin to detail the kind of grief that website gave me.

But, to my relief, I had it all done by three in the afternoon. My presentation later that evening was eventful, other than forgetting everything I wanted to say when it was my turn to explain my site. I think my professors liked it anyways. Plus, I was the last to go up.

I had a hard time concentrating when I came back to the apartment, mostly because I was so worn out. Ariel and I figured that it was more productive to get some rest first, and then wake up really early to finish our work. We woke up at 6 this morning and sat in bed, computers on our laps.

I worked all the way up until 11, when Ariel coaxed me out of the apartment to crash her Fiction class’s pizza party at Gondola. Buck was awesome and invited Emily and me to share in the pizzas. We had a good time schmoozing and joking around. We even had a chance to sneak our green foam brain onto Buck’s seat for him to find.

Toward the end of lunch, I turned my head to say something to Emily, when out of the corner of my eye, I noticed something lime green flying straight at me. The green brain missile smacked me in the head, bounced off me, and landed right back in Buck’s hands, much to his delight and satisfaction.

Well, I had already suffered one blow, I wasn’t about to get caught unaware again. After another few minutes, the meal began to come to an end. As people began to get up to leave, I kept a close watch on Buck’s movements. This time, I was prepared for Buck’s second attempt to clock me on the head with the brain. Unfortunately, I hadn’t taken into account the surprising force of his throw and the complete inaccuracy of his aim.

I raised my hands to try to grab the brain mid-air, but I was too late. The brain avoided my grasp, clipping the top part of my fingers and continuing out of my reach. I watched in horror as the green foam missile flew over my head and over the shoulder of a tiny elderly lady, who was as startled as I was embarrassed.

Buck, of course, had the nerve to leave as soon as the brain left his hand, and never knew the trauma he caused to that poor little lady. She looked around slightly dazed, wondering what exactly had come flying at her and why. To get a more accurate picture of what happened, see Exhibit A.

**Art work by Ariel Okamoto

A bit long but very important...

“Every church has its problems.” We say that all the time; sometimes we say it to justify the glaring deficiencies within our own churches, to defend ourselves against criticism. Sometimes we say it as a way of reminding ourselves that—while some churches are definitely more godly than others—every church needs God’s grace in order to grow and function. No congregation is exempt from the baggage that sinful human beings carry with them when they enter the doors of the church.

One thing that my time at Biola has taught me (particularly in my Theology classes) is that my perspective on the church was very unbiblical. Growing up in the church, it was so easy to be both highly critical and overly cynical in my attitude towards it. I felt truly convicted by the teaching of my professors, reminding us of Christ’s promises to protect and perfect His bride.

Who am I to deny the love that Christ has for His church, so that He gave His life to redeem her from her sin? Who am I to deny the hope that the church has in His promises, to ignore His declaration that “the gates of Hades will not overpower it” (Matt 16:18)?

This morning, our Cantonese pastor, Pastor Ho, preached to us in the English service. Normally, when he crosses over to our part of the congregation, he brings an interpreter and preaches in Chinese. Today, however, he opted to use English. I was telling Grace how much I appreciate his willingness to use a language that’s uncomfortable for him, in order to meet us where we are. Even our new Mandarin pastor has used English during second service, even though it limits his ability to express himself fully to us.

Anyways, I started thinking about all of the different ways that God has really blessed me through my church, and I put together a short list:

1. Adelphe – Several inspired, proactive women in our church decided it was high time we started a women’s ministry at FCBC, so they got talked it over and got organized. We meet once a month, enjoying cute decorations, hilarious games, great worship, and yummy snacks (some of those women can REALLY bake). But even more than the encouraging prayer time ad inspiring messages, the thing I take the most delight in is getting to know women in the church that I would normally have little or no contact with otherwise. We get such a beautiful array of women from the Mandarin, Cantonese, and English congregations, ranging from college age up to a few of the senior citizens. We come from all different walks of life and life experiences that we get to share with each other. Some of the women have such amazing testimonies. I feel so blessed to get to know the women of Adelphe.

2. ROCK – I remember when I first came into ROCK. I believe we averaged maybe 8 to 10 people on Friday nights—on a good night, that is. It seemed like we were hemorrhaging people as we went. Even though I was a new freshman, I ended up leading worship on my third week. Sometimes it was really disheartening, especially when I would hear other people complain about ROCK. Frankly, a lot of the criticism came from people who weren’t even coming anymore, which I found even more frustrating. But there were some people who remained faithful and never gave up hope. Over the last three years, ROCK has gone through a lot of changes—new sponsor, new counselors, new groups of collegians. Through it all, I’ve been so encouraged by God’s amazing faithfulness to our fellowship. I’ve always had a soft spot in my heart for ROCK because I grew up around ROCKers. We seem to always have so much fun just being together and hanging out, going out late at night for food or finding time to go bowling and karaoke. It’s been fun building relationships with each other, and also pushing each other to continue to grow in the Lord.

3. Chinese class – This is along a similar vein as Adelphe. Being in the Mandarin class has given me a chance to interact with people I wouldn’t normally get to know: mainly some of the older women from the Mandarin congregation. It’s so much fun to walk around church and say hello to them, practicing (or butchering) the little bit of Mandarin that I’ve learned. It’s also really neat to see their willingness to serve God in this ministry.

4. The Faithfulness of God’s servants – Our church has gone through a lot of rough patches over the last couple years. Right now we’re searching for several new pastors to lead us. At the same time, we’re making a lot of changes, trying to figure out what we do well and what needs improvement. I’ve been (pleasantly) surprised by the openness that our congregation has had (at least comparatively) towards these changes. During these difficult times, we’re bound to lose at least a few people from our congregation. But there are those who have remained and have continued to serve faithfully—leading and planning worship, preparing training classes for the teachers, serving food to the seniors every week, remodeling the bathrooms, so on and so forth. Whether we have acknowledged them or not, I think many unlikely persons have stepped up and volunteered in the effort. The church does not belong solely to the pastor, or to its deacons, important though they are our spiritual shepherds. The church, though, is the people of God who come together as the visible body of Christ, so—at least in my mind—responsibility for the health and growth of the church belongs primarily to us, the congregation. And it’s a blessing to see that there are those who are willing to work hard together for the sake of our church.

Now that I’ve begun this train of thought, I can think of several other examples of God’s abundance in my life through the blessings of my church. From our concern in missions to our commitment to God’s Word, there are so many things to be thankful for. FCBC, like any other church, is far from perfect. I will be the first to admit to that. But praise God for the faithfulness, power, and grace that He has shown in and through my church family!

Back from hiatus

I guess I was too careless. I stood in front of VJ a little dumb-struck, wondering how I had overlooked such an important piece of information. Why hadn’t I asked where the interview was going to be held? VJ looked up at me with a trace of alarm in her expression.

“No, the interview is down at Student Services,” she said. “You know, the area where you go to chapel make-ups and housing? What time is your interview at?”

Mechanically, I reached into the side pocket of my bag, cringing at the ripping noise of the Velcro as I pulled the flap opened and dug around for my phone. 9:27 am.

“You brought your car? You’d better go.”

Nodding, I said a hurried goodbye and walked briskly down the hall of the Journalism office, trying to look as casual as possible. I rushed out to my car and took the winding path through campus to the parking lot next to the gym. As I approached Student Services, I saw a large line of students beginning to form.

I could feel my stomach immediately clench in my stomach. Did I miss something completely? I wasn’t even going to apply at all, since I won’t be here in the Fall. 9:32 am. Now I’m late to my interview. What should I do?

I had two ask two different receptionists before I was finally directed to the conference room where the Media Board was meeting. I wasn’t sure exactly what I had to do with the Media Board, but I tried to put it out of my mind. Aside from my initial anxiety, I didn’t feel worried because all of my interviews for The Point staff had been with Tamara. She knows me really well, so I had nothing to fear.

Why did she come down here to hold the interviews? I thought, as I looked at the wooden door in front of me. I shrugged to myself, figuring that she had something to do on this side of campus and needed a closer location for convenience’s sake. Slowly, I cracked the door open just slightly.

The first person I saw was Tamara, who waved me in. As I opened the door further, though, I felt my heart sink again. This time, I almost felt sick to my stomach. The conference room had a long oval board room table. Around it sat the entire media board, including professors and the chief editors for the other on-campus publications. I sat down at the head (or foot) of the table and tried to put on a brave smile.

“Sorry I’m late,” I said quickly. “I had a hard time finding you guys.”

Ugh, that was a stupid thing to say. Who says “you guys” during an interview? I didn’t know there were going to be so many people interviewing me. It’s like one of my recurring nightmares. I can’t believe I’m wearing basketball shorts and a t-shirt. They must think I’m unprofessional.

I barely remember any of the questions they asked me—there were too many people staring at me, intimidating and unsmiling. The interview is a blurry mess in my mind. I answered their inquiries as best I could—how I would approach the magazine as the editor, what I would do with the budget, my plan to work with the magazine after I study abroad this fall. I tried to sound confident; I’m not sure that I came across that way.

Why am I smiling? I must look like a grinning idiot to them. I’m so glad Tamara is here. And Dr. Lister. And even Dr. Longinow. At least they know me. I wish I had been prepared for this interview. Am I making any sense at all?

After one final awkward moment of silence, they ran out of questions, thanked me for coming, and sent me back out. As soon as I shut the door behind me, I heaved a huge sigh of relief. I realize now that if I had known about the interview in advance, I might have spent a lot of time fretting and worrying over it. I’m glad it’s over and done with. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see what the Media Board decides.