For the past month, Moses’ story has been resonating with me. Loudly.
For some reason, I started viewing Moses as an arrogant misguided person while living as an Egyptian Hebrew. He knew he wasn’t an Egyptian. Yet he lived like one. And probably had more privileges than a normal Egyptian citizen. He knew that his people were slaves and forced to do hard labor.
It wouldn’t be a surprise to me if Moses deemed himself savior of his people. Who better for the job?
He knows the system of the Egyptian inside and out. He probably received Egyptian education. He probably was smarter than the average Hebrew toiling away day after day. And he probably wanted to free his people from this misery. His people deserved better. And he would be the person to do it, after all, there’s no one else more qualified amongst the Hebrews.

So Moses is walking around, and he walks upon an Egyptian mercilessly beating on a Hebrew. Oh the anger and rage that must’ve burned at the heart of Moses as he watched this injustice unfold before him.
“This is it! This is my chance! This is how I will earn the respect of my fellow Hebrews and be their leader!”
So Moses looked to the left and to the right, saw that no one else was in amongst them and made his move. He helped his fellow Hebrew in danger by killing the Egyptian.
“No need to thank me,” Moses probably thought as he saw the Hebrew scamper away. “I’m doing what I need to for my people.”
The next day, I see Moses walking around, hoping word got around about his heroic deed and hoping that people will start trusting in him and putting their hope in him.
Then he sees two fellow Hebrews fighting, and the rage and frustration burns at Moses again.
“What are you guys doing? Why are you fighting amongst yourselves? We have a bigger fight ahead of us!”
And instead of respect, he was mocked. “What are you gonna do, Moses? Who do you think you are? What? You gonna kill us too?”
That’s not the response that Moses wanted to hear. He wanted respect, but now… was that resentment? Did they resent him? It was scary enough to see that he wasn’t going to be who he thought it was. And now, the blood of an Egyptian, one that worked for Pharaoh, was on his hands. Maybe if he had the support from his people, the blood on his hands wouldn’t be too daunting, but he didn’t and he was alone. He was neither Hebrew nor Egyptian, and he was sure as hell not the leader of the Hebrews.
So he did the only thing that made sense in his head. Run.

And then 40 years, 40 years, later, God called Moses to go and lead God’s people out of Egypt.

This story relates to me, because I see myself so much in the young Moses. (Actually, I think only us Methodist would call a 40 year old ‘young.’)
I want to do things. I want to try things. I want … and then I realized all my prayers and desires started with “God, I want…”
Yes, I think I’m ready. Check that. I thought I was ready for anything. I’m young dammit! Give me a church to lead! But God continued to  stay silent in my life. Or may be the better way to say it is that I was too caught up in myself to listen to what God wanted from me.
I’ve had my fair share of frustrations with the local church, with the district and with the conference. I’ve had my fair share of feeling under-used and not being tapped into the potential that I feel that I have.
And, I would’ve taken things into my own hands, take control of my situations and my life, take God out of the driver’s seat, and start driving the car that is my life. And that would’ve been disastrous.

Maybe Moses was really ready to lead his people at the age of 40, but he wasn’t ready to be the leader God wanted. When Moses was humbled enough, when Moses was broken enough, that’s when God called him. Only because then, would Moses completely rely, depend and trust in God and do things God’s way.

There’s too much “me” in me, and too much “I want…” desires in my heart.
But when I began to realize the error of my ways, I started to see that patience is a virtue and that strength does rise in those who wait for the Lord.
I feel I’m at a grooming process, where God is teaching me and equipping me to be the leader that God needs me to be and that takes time. And a process of dying to myself. Confidence is a good trait and needed in ministry. But it’s being confident in God and not in myself.

In God’s time, In God’s way… a year ago, that was too frustrating and God’s time took too long. How arrogant is that? “God you’re taking too long to give me what I know I can do.”
Now? In God’s way and in God’s time is the only way I’ll survive in life and ministry. All God asks of me is that I simply put my trust, life and faith completely in Him, and I honestly believe God will take care of the rest.

The Wesleyan Covenant Prayer has been resonating with me more and more over the past few months.
God will know when I’ll be ready for what God’s plan is for me. And I feel like now, I’ll be like Moses when God calls: “Who am I…”
And, maybe that’s the only way I can really be useful to God.

I didn’t know if this was supposed to be my calling. If anything, it always felt more like my dad’s calling for me (my dad’s a pastor).

I was very reluctant, and wanted to find a way to break the news to my family that perhaps ministry wasn’t the best of options for me.
Before I got a chance to, my dad encouraged… well, more like forced… perhaps there was a threat thrown in here and there, for me to attend Exploration 2002 in Chicago, IL.

I don’t remember anything about Exploration 2002. I can’t remember what the speakers said. I can’t remember the names of the people I met.
All I remember was thinking, “oh crap.”
At Exploration, there were all these booths with seminary representation and information. I talked to 3-4 of them until a small dim light went off in my head. And I knew that seminary was the next step to me. I didn’t know what I was going to do, where I was going to go, or if I’m really going down this path, but all I knew was God telling me that seminary was the next chapter of my life.
I remember going back to my hotel room, feeling numb. Thankfully, all my roommates were out for the moment. I sat down on the floor, and kept saying “oh crap. oh crap. oh crap.”

So, here I am. 7 years later. Still learning. Still growing. But I know this is God’s plan for my life, and I wouldn’t want to be doing anything else.

Let me say this about Exploration.
I attended with the thought that my questions would be answered, and I’d leave Exploration with a clearer idea of my future (hoping that ministry wasn’t the option.)
But, I left Exploration with more questions than I ever had before. It was a bit frustrating, I admit.
But, looking back, it was a really good thing, because I left Exploration asking the right questions for my life and call.

I wrote this down in my moleskine journal book while sitting at Starbucks (procrastinating, of course).
These thoughts are gathered from various sources.
And I really want to incorporate this type of ministry, given a chance. Though, for some reason, it doesn’t look very “UMC.”

Does anyone think that too much organization can be detrimental?

Anyway, here are my thoughts:
Click Here

No one (but us ‘Skins fans) really thought that the Redskins would be 4-1. No one thought we could beat the Cowboys and the Eagles in Dallas and Philadelphia. But we did.

The thing is, this is the team that Gibbs built. Before the Gibbs II era, Daniel Synder (the owner) was seriously a laughing stock. He would make big signings for big names. But those players never really lived up to their names or their contracts. But Gibbs changed that process.
He built this team. This team has Gibbs’s fingerprint all over it.
But it is Zorn that’s doing wonders with this team. Gibbs built the team, and Zorn knows exactly what to do with the team.

And it got me thinking how churches are like that, especially in the UMC with the itinerant system.
Sometimes, we will never see the ’success’ of our work. Sometimes, it’ll be the person who comes in after us and takes the church where we wanted it to go.
But we can’t be preoccupied about that.
We just need focus on what God has called us to do and not be consumed with the outcome.

I thought about it over and over, whether if I should do this or not.
The idea came to me last Thursday, as I sat in reflected on what happened. I thought maybe this would be a bad idea, as if I’m trying to exploit the people, or maybe my motives were not genuine.
But the more I thought about it, the more it made sense to me, and thought that this might actually help the one or two who read the blog.. or the few that accidentally stumble upon it.

As I was walking around the streets tonight, I didn’t even know how to bring it up in the conversation. Actually, I still don’t know how to start a conversation.
It was funny. Tonight, this big guy called me over and without ever looking at me directly, whispers “Whatever you want. I got it. Just tell me what you want.” I told him I was perfectly fine and didn’t need anything. He told me that I must be looking for something if I’m just wandering around the street. I insisted that I didn’t need anything from him. He said he’ll be waiting for me if I changed my mind. I walked away, and he was sort of following me. I turned a corner, and another corner, and we ran into each other again. He said, “See. I told you I’m here for you. Now what you want? I gots it.” I replied, again, that I didn’t want anything from him. He then looked at me and said, “Then don’t run into me again or else.”
Got it. Understood. See ya. So I made sure I avoided this big guy for the rest of the night.

I came across Reid again. And his friend (who was sleeping last time), Tom. I asked them if they wanted anything to drink. They said beer. (Now before you go and complain or rebuke me for actually going and buying them a beer, tough. Okay, maybe I shouldn’t have done that. But I wanted them to be real with me and I wanted to be real with them. This allowed them to see me as a person more than some annoying Christian guy. If you disagree, I’m sorry. But I had no qualms in doing what I did.)

We talked about all sorts of things, how much they get from pan handling, where they get the cigarettes, how they got here, stories of previous lives, how they eat, what they need from churches who come around, police officers. Tom tried to teach me Korean.
At one point, Reid asked me, What church do you represent when you come here? I replied, no church at all. I’m just here. I couldn’t think of a better answer.

In the mean time, I had no idea how to bring out about what I wanted to do.
I didn’t know if they’d be offended or scared.
But I figured that was my goal for the night, and I can’t walk away without even asking.
So I looked at Reid and Tom and asked them if I could take their picture
I explained to them that I was going to post this up on my blog and also show the kids at my church. I wanted to raise awareness that the people on the streets are actually people. And to actually have someone “concrete” to pray for, instead of the generic “God, bless the homeless,” or such, prayer.
That these people have faces, problems, and are just like us.

For you who read this, I want you to know that I’m not doing this to exploit them or what not, but I want you to actually pray for these guys and not only that, for you to know that there are good and loving people just like Tom and Reid in your community.
I want everyone to start looking into people rather than at people.

Reid is the one on the left and Tom is the one on the right in his GQ pose.

They were ribbing each other all conversation long.
But here was the most coolest part (yes, I said ‘most coolest’): these guys share with one another. Whatever they make in pan handling, they share with one another. The most touching part was that Tom had a 40 in his backpack. And every time he took a sip from it, he’d hand it to Reid. And Reid had the shakes, a little, and Tom would make sure that Reid had the bottle fully in his hand before Tom let go.

So, I urge you. Go out and talk to some of the people in your community. You’d be surprised of how much they can teach you.

I pray that I would be able to get more pictures of people. I think that’ll be a nice conversation starter.
“Hey, can I take your picture?” (I’ve been attempting to save up for a camera, but so far no good. If anyone out there has an inkling to donate a camera with which I can take decent pictures, it’ll be greatly appreciated. [Hey... can't blame a guy for trying... *enter sheepish laugh*])
“What for?”
And then I can explain what I’m doing and hopefully open up a dialogue… (although, that’s how I wanted to start my conversation off today, but was too nervous to. How do you think the drug dealer would’ve replied if I asked to take his picture?)

Go and share a story with someone and start loving and looking into people.

Slowly, I feel that some clarity is emerging.
But the problem I was facing was that I had too many choices.
And late last week, it dawned on me: Who am I following?
And I had this uncomfortable sense of feeling that I was desperately trying to make my own path, trying to impose my will.
Perhaps that’s why nothing was happening, leaving me more frustrated and anxious.

But I made amends. I woke up. I apologized. And I submitted.
As soon as I did that, the strangest thing happened: I felt peace.
At the rate I was going, I may have ended up at Tarshish or worse, thrown off the ship as I made my way there.
I don’t know where my Nineveh is, but God, you have my full attention now, and I will go where you go.

Speaking of going, I get to go to California next Monday.

Some time ago, I had an interesting conversation with a pastor.
He found out that I was going to be appointed elsewhere to start my probationary membership.
I told him that, though it may not matter, I asked the DS and the Cabinet not to place me in a Korean church.

He went on saying that we second generation Koreans are idealizing the “white” churches way too much. There may be some truth to that. Generally, it seems like the American congregation tends to show more grace toward their pastor than the Korean congregations.

He went on saying that every church has its problems. (Of course. Church is filled with and led by sinners)
And he started to talk about all the things that he does in the church: the visitations, the meetings, the counseling, and so forth. He then said, “Do you think that we pastors enjoy being pastors? It’s hard to enjoy being a pastor at a Korean church. No one enjoys it, but things must get done, and we must do it.”

I don’t know why I thought of that today, but I was very troubled by it.
What did he mean that he didn’t enjoy being a pastor?
Being the Koreans that we are, me being young, him being old(er), there was no way for me to politely suggest and alternative approach.

Thinking of that comment made me real sad, because I’m sure that he is not the only Korean pastor who feels that way.
If you don’t enjoy it, how can you convey the love and joy of serving God, or the enjoyment of coming to church?
Am I too young and naive because I still enjoy being a pastor?
The comment reminded me of Reverend Lovejoy from the Simpsons, who has no love or joy for his ministry.
The problem? I think the pastor is just burned out, and the pride and ego of us Koreans would never allow us to admit it.

I’m sure his kids miss spending time with them. My prayer is that his kids will not grow to resent the church for taking their father away from them. (Many Korean PKs resent the church because of this. I am curious to know if American PKs do the same.)

I don’t know why so many pastors refuse to take vacations. The church will still be standing when you return. Members will still attend the church after your vacations. Your lay leaders will not preach heretical things and have you find them worshiping a golden calf upon your return.

I do get annoyed with the little things at church. The paperwork. Many meetings. Some of the youth here and there.
But I still love what I do. And more importantly, I’m desperately in love with God and want to serve Him with all that I am, despite who I am.

I hope that I never come to a point where I’m so jaded that I resent my duties.
I hope that I never attempt to become a superpastor and try to do everything.

I am learning the best thing that I can do as a pastor is to be real and to live out the gospel as best as I can. No one’s perfect. I hope I never pretend to be.

As if things can’t get more confusing in the appointment process, it has.
I have no idea what’s going on.
But it is rather interesting to see where I will end up.
I just wish I could know a lot sooner.
So, the question is, God where do you want me to go?

I’m in the process of waiting for an appointment.
And I have yet to receive word about where I may be when I am officially a probationary member.

This process has been frustrating and has filled me with anxiety. Although it shouldn’t.
My DS has been sick, so I haven’t been able to talk to him since the cabinet meeting.

There’s nothing I can do about it.
I just have to wait and be patient and trust that God has something planned for me.

So here I am, waiting. And trusting.

I’ve been discontent this past week. Angry even.
At myself. At my church. At the Church. Disillusioned a little.
But mostly at myself. And it was eating at me to no end.
I couldn’t bear to look at myself as a Christian. Actually, I just got tired of the label “Christian.”
Comfortable and lazy. That’s what I have become. And really, many of us have become comfortable and lazy in our faith.

Recently, my heart has been breaking for the homeless and the poor. But I didn’t do anything about it. Sure, I started a sandwich patrol program where we made sandwiches on a Saturday and handed them out to the homeless. I knew that wasn’t enough, but I forced myself to settle and be content.

Comfortable and lazy.
But something stirred up in me that I couldn’t deny.
In preparation of my sermon series on discipleship, “your goal is to be like Christ” came into mind. It wasn’t loud, audible voice, but it was so clear that it couldn’t be ignored.
I pondered over it. And because I pondered, there was a struggle and tension that ensued in my heart.

How am I like Christ?
Nothing at all. And I began to ask, would Jesus look at me and call me his follower? I begin to doubt. To be a follower, I should be following Jesus. But I wasn’t.
Jesus went to the poor and needy.
I stayed afar and prayed for them in my comfort zone.

And this drove me crazy today. At my usual Starbucks. So much so, I escaped to the bathroom to just breathe and catch my thoughts.
I’m a Christian. But, so is everyone else, it seems like. People go to church once a week and call themselves Christian. People refuse to acknowledge the poor, and they call them Christians. People refused to attempt to love their enemies, let alone their neighbors, and they call themselves Christian. And I’m include myself amongst these people.

I was tired. I was tired of preaching on Sunday. Then come Monday, just sit there and prepare for the following sermon. I was tired of guiding people but guiding them with words and not actions.
I was tired of being one of those “Christians” I wrote in the paragraph above.
I was tired of not putting my money where my mouth is, tired of not practicing what I preach, tired of not following Christ.

This had to stop. Now!

Which led to a peculiar night, where I traded in 3 dollars for so much more.
Like I said, recently, my heart went out to the homeless. But I didn’t do much.
But tonight was different.

We had a Sunday School teacher’s training that I had to lead. The lesson I prepared was a rather angry, because I still angry at myself and my recent discoveries about me.
As soon as I got home, I told my wife I had to take care of something real important, I’ll try to be back in an hour or so. She tried to find out where I was going, and I told her I couldn’t tell her. At least not at that moment. With a promise that everything will be explained when I got back, she allowed me to go.

So I got in my car and drove to Chinatown. Where many homeless people reside. I parked my car. And walked to the park that we hand out sandwiches. I had no idea what I was doing or why I was even here.
I begin to wish I left my iPod and wallet at home, just in case something happened. But the fear of being mugged paled in comparison to the fear of what I felt I needed to do: strike a conversation with a stranger.

So I walked around the park for about 10 minutes. Not knowing what to do, what to say, how to say it, who to say it to… wandering. At night. By myself. In Chinatown. Circling the park.

I decided to walk up the street just to see what it felt like, looked like, smelled like to be in Chinatown at night.
Many of the homeless people were sleeping on the street. What was I supposed to do?

I’m walking, and this man looked at me and asked for 90 cents. I got out my wallet and saw that I only had 3 dollars in cash. I told him, I’ll give him $3.00, but in exchange, he has to talk to me. So he told me to sit. I did. And I talked.
His name was Reid. He was a veteran that was waiting for the government to give him money that they owe. He’s been waiting 11 months. He had a heart attack and open heart surgery, which was the main reason he was out on the street.
Then out of nowhere, without me even realizing I was saying this, I asked “Do you believe in God?”
He said, of course and I desperately asked “why?”

He couldn’t get through the day without believing in God. He said right now, life is not good, but good things will happen. And that he can wait until they do. But he never doubts God’s presence.
He asked me if I believed in God. I told him I was a pastor who is struggling with the idea of following Jesus’ teachings and actions. I told him all what I just shared with you.
He smiled. He told me not to be hard on myself, not to doubt myself. I told him it’s hard not to.

I realized that Rahel might be really worried about me. I told him that I needed to go. He thanked me for the three dollars. I thanked him for the life lesson.
“It may or may not mean much to you,” I said. “But I will be praying for you, Mr. Reid. Know that.” And he looked at me and asked, “Why don’t you pray for me before you go?”

So there I was. In Chinatown. At night. By myself. Talking to a stranger. Holding his hand. And praying for him.
I thanked him again for this life lesson. He thanked me again for the three bucks. I wanted to hug him, but I don’t think he was a hugging guy. Holding hands was enough.

I walked away. I wasn’t satisfied or proud of myself. That’s almost… inappropriate and arrogant maybe.
But I felt that I was moving forward.
I could picture God looking at me, throwing His hands in the air and say, “Finally! That idiot finally is getting it!” My wife’s sentiment was similar.

The anger has passed away. A sense of hope has emerged inside of me. This is a huge step for me. I never talk to strangers, let alone evangelize. And I didn’t even evangelize. He preached to me. He taught me!

But.
I plan to do this next Thursday too. And the Thursday after that. And after that. I’m going to start practicing what I am preaching. Then maybe I can get those who listen to my sermons start practicing what they hear too. Change always begins with me.
As I was going home, digesting what just happened, John Wesley came to mind.
“The world is my parish” he said.
And I’m starting to understand and realize that more.