it’s not me…

it’s you.

it’s the fact that you will never be pretty enough. even if you are a model. because i will always find someone with a nicer smile or better skin or more defined cheekbones.

or smart enough. there she is with more knowledge, more understanding, more student loans. she can take the conversation to new depths while your feet are still planted on the shore.

and i like the way this other girl tosses her hair and does her makeup and laughs at my jokes. you don’t always laugh at my jokes. by the way, she happens to bake better snicker doodles, too. (the trick is to add more butter.)

i will come across someone who’s more patient, more kind, more understanding. who knows, maybe we would even have better chemistry. and babies.

all these other girls get me. they get me. why can’t you?

because it’s not like i ever get awkward or lose my train of thought or fumble around for clever lines. i never lose my temper or get out of line or think inappropriate things whether you are or aren’t in the room.

i don’t try to mask my insecurities with nice clothes or smart remarks. i never worry about my money or how i’m going to provide for a family or where i’ll end up in three years. i always obey the bible perfectly and follow through on my every word and never talk bad about others.

no, it’s not me, really. i’m perfect. isn’t it obvious?

Thank God for Surgery

I went under the knife again this past Tuesday. It was the third operation I’ve had in the past six years for the same old nose of mine that seems to give me constant grief. Fortunately, compared to the previous two operations, this one was relatively minor and the recovery isn’t too bad. The doctor used some instrument to shrink the turbinates (the spongy part in your nose) so that I can breathe better. I’m crossing my fingers that this is really my last.

Surgery can be a good thing. It is often needed when things in our body aren’t right, and operations are performed in order to allow our body to function as it should again. For me, surgery was done specifically so that my nose can regain its full function and lead to a better quality of life. For others, surgery can be a process that literally means life or death if something isn’t removed or corrected. I am thankful that I live in a country where I can get the treatment I need from many qualified doctors.

But surgery can be a painful thing, too. This seems to be the absolute theme in all three of my operations. The initial aftermath is difficult and physically demanding, at times unbearable. You might be dizzy or weak from the anesthesia and all the other drugs that they put you on. You might feel numbness and tingling all throughout your body. You might vomit pools of dark blood or scream in agony from the pain caused by urination. It is learning to be thankful for these things that is the challenge.

In these moments, when I am riddled in bed, wholly dependent on my ever-patient mother and father for my every whim, I can react in one of two ways. One is to be bitter and self-pitying. To play the “woe is me” card and to demand from God reasons why accidents happen and why I have to suffer. It seems natural to take this route, but this is the foolish road.

The other is to see the story beneath and above it all. To be reminded of how loving my parents are, holding me up when I walk, feeding me when I can barely chew, caring for me like I was a newborn not too long ago. Or to be able to think and pray for little boys and girls who are suffering even worse, hooked up to wires and machines in hospitals because of their leukemia. Or to remember the little ones around the world who are suffering everyday without food and clean water, those who are living out their darkest days of despair. You can learn to be thankful in suffering, too. This is the greater road that God paves.

Wisdom is the gift that suffering can bring. It’s just hard to receive because it comes in shoddy packaging. The wrapping isn’t pretty and we can’t be prepared to discover what’s hidden inside it all. But if it is given to us let us not forsake it. You might find that the lessons learned in these times are priceless.

As a friend once told me, “Don’t waste pain.” Indeed, pain is one hell of a teacher.

Like Horse & Carriage

I made a trip up to Central and Northern California this past weekend to observe two marriages. One actually becoming official “before God and these witnesses” at a small chapel in Fresno; the other fresh and exciting after a couple weeks spent honeymooning in Europe. Both reminded me of the beauty found in marriage.

Ricky and Jessie came together in a simple yet meaningful ceremony. Pastor Jon officiated the wedding and delivered a memorable sermon. Nothing too long or heavy, but it was full of honest and practical wisdom. I remember one quote in particular in which he said (paraphrased): “In marriage, one half plus one half does not equal one. In this equation, rarely does each person ever give their full share of the fifty. Sometimes you might feel you are giving more, sometimes less. But if you are putting the other person’s cares above your own and you are running toward the other person to meet their needs, then rest assured you two are bound to meet each other somewhere in the middle.” It reminded me of the whole concept of giving, not taking, in marriage. Knowing the kind of man that Ricky is, I have full confidence that he will cherish, protect and provide for her with every ounce of God-enabled strength.

After the reception, Jeremy and I headed on the road to Oakland. The next day, we met up with my dear friend Deborah. We were introduced to her husband Jerry. We spent the entire afternoon and early evening together, going from church service to brunch to J-town to the piers over at Fisherman’s Wharf. It was a lot of activity, running into fobs at J-town and dodging fat birds, but through it all I got to see how Jerry served and loved his wife. They had that sort of chemistry that spoke of deep trust and understanding. I recount how at one Japanese novelty store, Jerry asked the cashier if they had a Domo ear-set to complete her full-body Domo costume. They didn’t have it, but Jerry was obviously looking out for her best interests. (Sarcasm intended.) I became a big fan of Jerry and I am glad that she is well taken care of. (It also doesn’t hurt that his hair reminds me of a cross between Beatles Paul McCartney and Super Saiyan 3 Goku.)

As I reflect on these two stories, I begin to see how they tie together. I think about the Bible and all its talk about marriage being a symbol of Christ and His church. How Christ in all his glory came not to be served, but to serve and make lovely His bride. How even when we fail or falter, Jesus is pursuing us with a passionate and furious love. He is fully committed. And He will not rest until He has us, wholly and completely devoted to Him.

This is what makes marriage special. This is what makes it divine. The world looks in to see what we have. It discovers, as a matter of fact, that it is a love triangle. Indeed, Christians are the most scandalous lovers of all.