Untitled

Andrew Min's untitled blog.

[notandrewmin]

Ache

“Are you in pain, Frodo?” said Gandalf quietly as he rode by Frodo's side. “Well, yes I am,” said Frodo. "The wound aches, and the memory of darkness is heavy on me. It was a year ago today.” “Alas! there are some wounds that cannot be wholly cured,” said Gandalf. “I fear it may be so with mine,” said Frodo. “There is no real going back. Though I may come to the Shire, it will not seem the same; for I shall not be the same. I am wounded with knife, sting, and tooth, and a long burden. Where shall I find rest?”

Gandalf did not answer.

[notandrewmin]

"But I’ve come to the point where I’m not sure anymore just what God counts as radical. And I suspect that for me, getting up and doing the dishes when I’m short on sleep and patience is far more costly and necessitates more of a revolution in my heart than some of the more outwardly risky ways I’ve lived in the past. And so this is what I need now: the courage to face an ordinary day — an afternoon with a colicky baby where I’m probably going to snap at my two-year old and get annoyed with my noisy neighbor — without despair, the bravery it takes to believe that a small life is still a meaningful life, and the grace to know that even when I’ve done nothing that is powerful or bold or even interesting that the Lord notices me and is fond of me and that that is enough."

[notandrewmin]

Library bench-lying kinda day

[cindweeb]

But, I wondered, could I write an honest testimony? Could I, in the Apostle Paul’s words and tradition, write and deliver a testimony that reveals repentance as fruit of the Christian life?[…] I was critical of the stories I heard from my churchy friends and my evangelical culture. But could I be more than just critical of the stories that encompassed me? Could I start a new conversation? What would happen if I just told the truth? Was anybody else out there ambivalent about conversion? Did anyone else see it as bittersweet? Did anyone else get lost in fear when counting the costs of discipleship? Did anyone else feel like giving up? Did anyone else tire of taking up the Cross daily? Did anyone else grieve for death to one life that anticipates the experience of being “born again”? Did anyone else want to take just one day off from the command that we die to ourselves?

Rosaria Champagne Butterfield, The Secret Thoughts of an Unlikely Convert (via cindweeb)

[notandrewmin]

Foggy Sunday morning, a while back

[crpl-pnk]

draw stick figures. sing off key. write bad poems. sew ugly clothes. run slowly. flirt clumisly. play video games on easy. you do not need to be good at something to enjoy the act. talent is overrated. do things you like doing. it’s ok to suck

[notandrewmin]

Boromir and Aragorn and me

I don't like when people hate on Boromir. It takes a noble heart to really care about something more than you even care about yourself. He cares so deeply about his country, his home, his people, and he carries the burden of their livelihood on his shoulders. Can you imagine what it must feel like to have everyone looking to you to lead them, and to constantly fail them? To have people trust you and depend on you, and yet feel weak and helpless? To be willing to die for them, but knowing that your life still isn't enough? Boromir would do anything for them. He only came to the council looking for help. Yes, he's angry and frustrated and impatient, but only because there's so much love in him. How is that not admirable? Have you ever seen the pain of a struggling missionary? It's easy to criticize decisions when you're not the one dying for it.

--

I can't help but connect with Aragorn. He deals with so much fear of his calling and doubt in himself. He's supposed to come back to be the king of Gondor, but no one's sure if he'll actually do it, or if he even can. The looming question hangs over Aragorn, and the answer haunts him. He's afraid. But, that fear tests Aragorn's heart, makes him ask himself, Can I really be the king they need? Do I even want to? Why? For who? For myself? Never... If he's going to do it, he knows it's going to be because he's called. But it was fear that made his calling to the throne not an entitlement, but a cross to bear, an act of surrender. It was fear that tested him, stripped his heart of personal ambition. The battle with his fears refined his heart, and when the Ring was handed to him, he gave it up, because his heart was found pure. There's a scene from the movie Gladiator where the old emperor looks to his general Maximus and tells him that he wants him to inherit the throne. Maximus responds with a shaking voice, "With all my heart, no." The emperor says, "Maximus, that is why it must be you." Ultimately, for Aragorn, It was his weakness that prepared him to be a worthy king.

--

I'm scared, a lot of the time. But fear tests my heart and tests my faith, makes me ask where my strength comes from, why I'm doing this, and for whom. I've seen that at times, obedience without hesitation can be a disguise for ambition; but true surrender is a fruit of humility, the kind of humility that's born in the furnace of discouragement, doubt, and failure. Fear is blinding; but walking blind demands surrender, for the righteous shall walk by faith and not by sight. I don't know if I can do it... I don't know if it'll work out... I don't know if this is the right way or if I'm the right person... But Lord, here I am. It's strange, that fear can help us to see clearly—not that we find the way forward, but that we search our hearts and look to the things that matter.

"Follow Me." John 21:19

[notandrewmin]

Resurrection and Life

Sometimes living is really hard for me. Some days the best I can do is just distract myself with random crap to make it through the day without choking on this vague sense of disappointment in my life, to just survive the emptiness. It’s the kind of day where it’s bluntly clear that there’s no soundtrack to your life, that the difficulties you’re in aren’t part of some process or journey to a bright and beautiful happy-ending, but that things just suck, and that’s it. No one’s crying for you, get over yourself, you’re not that important. It’s not necessarily that I’m depressed, though that's probably true... but that I just don’t know anymore. Things are still moving, but nothings happening. I don’t feel pain, but I don’t feel alive. I feel stuck. I feel dead.

But I’m a really good Christian—a superChristian to be accurate. I’m a pastor. I’m extra spiritual. So I know I’m supposed to deal with it. I know I’m supposed to stay passionate, that there’s “meaning in the mundane,” that God “moves in mysterious ways,” and He’s “working beneath the surface.” I know I gotta keep going, because I’m mature and godly and faithful and steadfast and I WILL PERSEVERE!!! Wow, just.. amen. So I preach to myself whatever I need to hear to deal with my circumstances, or rather my disappointment in them. God has a plan! He works all things for my good! This is not the end of the story! If He brought me in, He’ll take me through!!! My God my God, hallelujah Jesus… Things. Are. Going. To. Get. BETTER. YES! I’ll eventually get what I want, get where I want to be. I just gotta keep going. I need to pray more. Hope more. Believe more.   I guess. 

There’s a story about a woman named Martha whose brother died. She was on her knees for days, asking and expecting Jesus to come heal him. He didn’t. She was disappointed… but she’s a good Christian like me, so she kept her head up. She knows her bible, so she knows that eventually, one day in the future God is going to come back and make everything good, and there's going to be a resurrection party where all God's people come back to life. Everyone knew this—it was a promise from God. They were all waiting for it, hoping for it. So she knew: she shouldn’t complain and just keep on going, standing strong. I trust the Lord! God made a promise, to never leave me nor forsake me! Things suck now, but I know God’s going to fix this and give me everything I need! My brother is dead, but I know later I’ll be with him again! Everything will be good then, and I’ll finally be truly happy!

Jesus shows up, and she gives Him her grown-up superChristian response, letting Him know that she’s gunna keep looking forward and going strong. But Jesus doesn’t congratulate her. Maybe I’m crazy but it feels like He rebukes her… He says to her, Martha. I am the resurrection. I am the life.

I know I’m a pastor, but I’m not here right now trying to “teach” to you what Jesus said to Martha. But I hear these words of Jesus, and I feel Him asking me, What are you looking so forward to? Is there something more you’re looking for, something more you need? Am I not enough? I’m the promise. I’m what you’ve been waiting for. It’s Me.

“Resurrection” isn’t a promise to change your circumstances, to make things better. Resurrection is finding life in Him. It isn’t a successful career. It isn’t fruitfulness in ministry. It isn’t the church you always wanted. It isn’t marrying your sweetheart. It isn’t family reconciliation. It isn’t new friends who truly love you. It isn’t spiritual breakthrough. Your happy-ending isn’t any of those things. It’s Jesus… It’s only Jesus. Resurrection is finally filling that emptiness in life, that deadness in your soul, and Jesus is saying, It’s Me. It’s only Me. It was always Me, and it will only ever be Me. I am the Life. I am the Resurrection.

And on days like these, I lie in my bed, and the Lord helps me pray, God… You can take my friends, You can take my family, You can take my ministry, You can take my reputation, You can take my name, You can strip me of all purpose and passion, snatch away everything I’ve ever dreamed of or looked forward to, leave me naked on the street… God, You can take my happy-ending. But Lord, just give me Yourself.

I know that in the story, Jesus says He’s going to bring Martha’s brother back to life, and He does. God always does good things, He always will. He’s a good God, a good Father, the Father of lights. He changes our circumstances, bears fruit in our lives, takes us higher and deeper than before. He loves to bless. But blessings come and go. Things get bad. Life sucks. You eventually fall into one of those days. Maybe you’ll feel like you’re dying, or maybe you literally are—but even in death, they can’t take your life, because where there’s joy, there’s life. And joy is everlasting, because it was never really in the blessings.

[inkskinned]

When you are hurting, there will always be people who find a way to make it about themselves. If you break your wrist, they’ll complain about a sprained ankle. If you are sad, they’re sadder. If you’re asking for help, they’ll demand more attention. Here is a fact: I was in a hospital and sobbing into my palms when a woman approached me and asked why I was making so much noise and I managed to stutter that my best friend shot himself in the head and now he was 100% certified dead and she made this little grunt and had the nerve to tell me, “Well now you made me sad.” When you get angry, there are going to be people who ask you to shut up and sit down, and they’re not going to do it nicely. Theirs are the faces that turn bright red before you have a chance to finish your sentence. They won’t ask you to explain yourself. They’ll be mad that you’re mad and that will be their whole reason alone. Here is a fact: I was in an alleyway a few weeks ago, stroking my friend’s back as she vomited fourteen tequila shots. “I hate men,” she wheezed as her sides heaved, “I hate all of them.” I braided her hair so it wouldn’t get caught in the mess. I didn’t correct her and reply that she does in fact love her father and her little brother too, that there are strangers she has yet to meet that will be better for her than any of her shitty ex-boyfriends, that half of our group of friends identifies as male - I could hear each of her bruises in those words and I didn’t ask her to soften the blow when she was trying to buff them out of her skin. She doesn’t hate all men. She never did. She had the misfortune to be overheard by a drunk guy in an ill-fitting suit, a boy trying to look like a man and leering down my dress as he stormed towards us. “Fuck you, lady,” he said, “Fuck you. Not all men are evil, you know.” “Thanks,” I told him dryly, pulling on her hand, trying to get her inside again, “See you.” He followed us. Wouldn’t stop shouting. How dare she get mad. How dare she was hurting. “It’s hard for me too!” he yowled after us. “With fuckers like you, how’s a guy supposed to live?” Here’s a fact: my father is Cuban and my genes repeat his. Once one of my teachers looked at my heritage and said, “Your skin doesn’t look dirty enough to be a Mexican.” When my cheeks grew pink and my tongue dried up, someone else in the classroom stood up. “You can’t say that,” he said, “That’s fucking racist. We could report you for that.” Our teacher turned vicious. “You wanna fail this class? Go ahead. Report me. I was joking. It’s my word against yours. I hate kids like you. You think you’ve got all the power - you don’t. I do.” Later that kid and I became close friends and we skipped class to do anything else and the two of us were lying on our backs staring up at the sky and as we talked about that moment, he sighed, “I hate white people.” His girlfriend is white and so is his mom. I reached out until my fingers were resting in the warmth of his palm. He spoke up each time our teacher said something shitty. He failed the class. I stayed silent. I got the A but I wish that I didn’t. Here is a fact: I think gender is a social construct and people that want to tell others what defines it just haven’t done their homework. I personally happen to have the luck of the draw and am the same gender as my sex, which basically just means society leaves me alone about this one particular thing. Until I met Alex, who said he hated cis people. My throat closed up. I’m not good at confrontation. I avoided him because I didn’t want to bother him. One day I was going on a walk and I found him behind our school, bleeding out of the side of his mouth. The only thing I really know is how to patch people up. He winced when the antibacterial cream went across his new wounds. “I hate cis people,” he said weakly. I looked at him and pushed his hair back from his head. “I understand why you do.” Here is a fact: anger is a secondary emotion. Anger is how people stop themselves from hurting. Anger is how people stop themselves by empathizing. It is easy for the drunken man to be mad at my friend. If he says “Hey, fuck you, lady,” he doesn’t have to worry about what’s so wrong about men. It’s easy for my teacher to fail the kids who speak up. If we’re just smart-ass students, it’s not his fault we fuck up. It’s easy for me to hate Alex for labeling me as dangerous when I’ve never hurt someone a day in my life. But I’m safe in my skin and his life is at risk just by going to the bathroom. I understand why he says things like that. I finally do. There’s a difference between the spread of hatred and the frustration of people who are hurting. The thing is, when you are broken, there will always be someone who says “I’m worse, stop talking.” There will always be people who are mad you’re trying to steal the attention. There will always be people who get mad at the same time as you do - they hate being challenged. It changes the rules. I say I hate all Mondays but my sister was born on one and she’s the greatest joy I have ever known. I say I hate brown but it’s really just the word and how it turns your mouth down - the colour is my hair and my eyes and my favorite sweater. I say I hate pineapple but I still try it again every Easter, just to see if it stings less this year. It’s okay to be sad when you hear someone generalize a group you’re in. But instead of assuming they’re evil and filled with hatred, maybe ask them why they think that way - who knows, you might just end up with a new and kind friend.

/// r.i.d (via inkskinned)

[notandrewmin]

Woori abuhjeee

[notandrewmin]

"For that moment, at least, all our doors and windows were wide open; we were not carefully shutting out God's purifying light, in order to feel safe and secure; we were bathed in the same light that burned and yet did not consume the bush. We walked barefoot on holy ground." -Madeleine L'Engle

[notandrewmin]

Tozer, on "How to Be Filled with the Holy Spirit"

Again, before you can be filled with the Spirit you must desire to be filled. Here I am met with a certain amount of puzzlement. Somebody will say, "How is it that you say to us that we must desire to be filled, because you know we desire to be. Aren't we out here tonight to hear the sermon on the Holy Spirit? Isn't this all an indication to you that we are desirous of being filled with the Holy Spirit?"

Not necessarily, and I will explain why… Are you sure that you want to be possessed by a spirit other than your own? That Spirit, if He ever possesses you, will be the Lord of your life. I ask you, do you want Him to be the Lord of your life? That you want His benefits, I know. I take that for granted. But do you want to be possessed by Him? Do you want to hand the keys of your soul over to the Holy Spirit and say, "Lord, from now on I don't even have a key to my own house. I come and go as Thou tellest me"? That is what I mean. Are you sure that you want this?

Are you sure that you want your personality to be taken over by One who will expect obedience to the written and living Word? Are you sure that you want your personality to be taken over by One who will not tolerate the self sins? He will not permit you to indulge self-confidence. Self-love, self-confidence, self-righteousness, self-admiration, self-aggrandizement, and self-pity are under the interdiction of God Almighty, and He cannot send His mighty Spirit to possess the heart where these things are.

I ask if you desire to have your personality taken over by One who stands in sharp opposition to the world's easy ways? No tolerance of evil, no smiling at crooked jokes, no laughing off things that God hates.The Spirit of God, if He takes over, will bring you into opposition to the world just as Jesus was brought into opposition to it. The world crucified Jesus because they couldn't stand Him! There was something in Him that rebuked them and they hated Him for it and finally crucified Him. The world hates the Holy Ghost as bad as they ever hated Jesus, the One from who He proceeds.

Are you sure, brother? You want His help, yes; you want a lot of His benefits, yes; but are you willing to go with Him in His opposition to the easygoing ways of the world? If you are not, you needn't apply for anything more than you have, because you don't want Him; you only think you do.

 ...

I want to be fair with you. I want to do what Jesus did. He turned around to them when they were following Him and told them the truth. I don’t want to take you in under any false pretense. "Are you sure you want to follow Me?" He asked, and a great many turned away. But Peter said, "Lord, to whom shall we go? Thou has the words of eternal life." And the crowd that wouldn't turn back was the crowd that was there when the Holy Spirit came and filled all the place where they were sitting. The crowd that wouldn't turn away was the crowd that made history.

[notandrewmin]

"Can any praise be worthy of the Lord's majesty? Yet still, since man is a part of Your creation, he wishes to praise You. The thought of You stirs him so deeply that he cannot be content unless he praises You, because You made us for Yourself and our hearts find no rest until they rest in You.” -Saint Augustine

[notandrewmin]

Yes

"If you tell me Christian commitment is a kind of thing that has happened to you once and for all like some kind of spiritual plastic surgery, I say you’re either pulling the wool over your own eyes or trying to pull it over mine. Every morning you should wake up in your bed and ask yourself: 'Can I believe it all again today?' No, better still, don’t ask it till after you’ve read The New York Times, till after you’ve studied that daily record of the world’s brokenness and corruption, which should always stand side by side with your Bible. Then ask yourself if you can believe in the Gospel of Jesus Christ again for that particular day. If your answer’s always Yes, then you probably don’t know what believing means. At least five times out of ten the answer should be No because the No is as important as the Yes, maybe more so. The No is what proves you’re human in case you should ever doubt it. And then if some morning the answer happens to be really Yes, it should be a Yes that’s choked with confession and tears and great laughter."

-Frederick Buechner

[yesdarlingido]

In light of the post shared through my link of The Good Women Project’s article on whether or not it’s appropriate for women to communicate interest in men, I’d like to clear a lot of things up. With good intentions, a post was added to my link to correct me, and I want to address the article. I...

[notandrewmin]

Yes I feel awkward posting this because of the title... haha but it’s a great reflection on women and confidence.

[yesdarlingido]

I felt you. You were a pea, then a lemon, then an eggplant. I followed advice. I read a gazillion books. I started a journal for you. Could you tell I was scared? I was. I talked to you and I sang to you. I wasn’t ready, but then you were here. All ten toes and healthy. Big eyes. Dark hair. Long feet. Beautiful. And that day I realized what it feels like to be in love. I hadn’t known until I held you. And so I held you. I shared you with my mom and sister. I realized that I would spend my life doing things to make you happy because that is what would make me happy. There were times I wanted to give up. But you’ve restored my sanity. You’ve made me want to run to my own mother to tell her I get it… And then you smile and say, “Mahm…” in the way that you do. I will open my heart and love will rain down all over you. You will laugh and I will do it all over again. I made you but darling, you made me.

I Felt You 

My mother wrote this for me today. We’ve had such a long journey together. She got pregnant with me when she wasn’t married and put me up for adoption. She decided to keep me hours before she went into labor. It’s been hard, but she raised me and loved me so well along the way. It’s my birthday, but I feel like I should be celebrating her.

(via yesdarlingido)

Momma... T.T

[ohhsheryl-blog]

I am not yours - Sara Teasdale (1884-1933)

I am not yours, not lost in you, Not lost, although I long to be Lost as a candle lit at noon, Lost as a snowflake in the sea.

You love me, and I find you still A spirit beautiful and bright, Yet I am I, who long to be Lost as a light is lost in light.

Oh plunge me deep in love - put out my senses, leave me dead and blind, Swept by the tempest of your love A taper in a rushing wind.