The Kind of Stuffs I Make

I've been trying to find time to blog (*cough* brag) about the things that I've cooked so far. Unfortunately, most of the time, the very things that I whip up disappears in a matter of seconds. So, I've been trying to learn the art of capturing food shots faster than the hands that grabs.

Here's some of my attempt at making bento. I made some kimchi fried rice and some japchae. All I did is to put it into the appropriate container and, then, decorate it with some omelet. Notice the shape of the omelet. It doesn't look too good and I seem to have spelt my friend's name wrongly too. Bleh. At least the food tasted good.

Japchae

Kimchi bokkeumbap

Then, over the weekend, I made some pineapple tarts too. I wasn't sure if it would turn out the way it should, but it turned out so well that even people who hated pineapples couldn't resist eating it.

The Filling

The End Result

That's all for random blogging. ;)

Disillusionment

Currently, I am growing disillusioned with the church that I am attending. It’s been more than a semester since I started attending Beltway. I guess a lot of the reasons I chose this church in the first place was because I liked its lively, youthful atmosphere. I mean, what else could attract young people such as me than through booming music, theater-like atmosphere, slick cool sermons and tons of friends?

I used to be really quiet and reserved before coming to the States. Then, I changed. Poof! I became talkative, open and “extroverted”. Over last semester, I became really different (not just the looks, if you’d noticed).

This semester, however, I’m learning to appreciate quiet times and privacy. Aren’t you tired of people telling you that if you’re not out with people, you don’t have a life? Honestly, I’m here to declare that that’s nothing but the LIE of the devil! I’ve found out that there’s time for everything: time to be alone, and time to be with others (Ecclesiastes 3).

Knowing that, and realizing that I’m changing, yet again, I’m beginning to feel really disillusioned with the megachurch I’m attending. I’m starting to question my original motives for even attending the church. Yesterday, while the people around bunched up to pray in groups, I left the prayer abruptly. The doubts surfaced during the middle of the college group prayer meeting, rendering me to desire to just sit down and just think. Why am I even here? Why do I feel like I’m worshipping people rather than God? Am I attending this church just to feel good about myself?

My struggles really reflect one of the Footstool Player’s bygone dramas. If I remembered correctly, it’s the one with Dorothy (now happily married to Desmond! Congrats again, Des!) taking orders at McChurch’s drive thru, or something. That’s what I feel about the church I’m going. It’s like going to a restaurant, happily munching with people, without a shred of awe for the God who was, is and is to come.

If the friends, music and theatrics of this church are causing me to fall into idolatry, then I’m leaving. Although I sound all gung-ho, I have to disclose that this is a big decision, one which makes me anxious and fearful. So, as I pray for discernment and wisdom from God, people, friends, please do pray for me too! Blessings.

It's Gonna Be Temporary

It's gonna be temporary, says Caro.

I've just got a year older a few days ago, and it was most profound that I was emo during that day. I was deeply incapacitated to do anything these past few days. All I did was to avoid people, place myself in the library -- laboriously studying -- and talk as little as I could. I became estranged from God. In America, with all sorts of concepts running around, it's really hard to know what's truth anymore. There's no truth, in essence. That's what I hear around. Everything is subjective.

There's extremes on both sides. Telling a conservative friend about my struggles would only warrant me a that's-the-devil's-voice-so-don't-listen-to-it explanation. Going to a "liberal" friend, I would only become even more confused, when she tells me that there's really no way to proof God's existence. So, all I did was to beat around the bush. No way out, trapped. I felt angry, frustrated. What the heck am I doing here? Who am I? What's the point of just praying, reading the Bible? If God's just so far away, why even bother trying to please Him? I felt redundant, so purposeless. I suck, everyone suck. Die and burn, world!

As soon as I got really depressed, life went on and I calmed down over a few days. I began to talk to people, go back to my regular jogging and live life as best as I could. In this renewed state, I was not only able to function normally, but I could actually begin sorting why I was even depressed in the first place. It's kinda like tired Elijah who ran away from God, even after witnessing God's miraculous feat. I ran away from God, possibly due to the state of tiredness -- not just physical tiredness, but spiritual and emotional tiredness. Worse, in this state, I was confronted with a volley of different views and opinions, which clouded everything. Once I confined myself to just thinking, I have already set myself within a dungeon. Kah Wan once told me that humans were not built to be just thinking machines, but also organisms capable of spirituality and emotions. Humans are also physical beings, as well.

Now that I have relocated myself in quiet of the wilderness, God's whisper-like voice seems to be clearer. I was just reading Bonhoeffer's book, Cost of Discipleship. There's a wonderful poem that just sums up what I felt over these past few days:

Who Am I?

Who am I? They often tell me

I stepped from my cell’s confinement

Calmly, cheerfully, firmly,

Like a squire from his country-house.

Who am I? They often tell me

I used to speak to my warders

Freely and friendly and clearly,

As though it were mine to command.

Who am I? They also tell me

I bore the days of misfortune

Equally, smilingly, proudly,

Like one accustomed to win.

Am I then really all that which other men tell of?

Or am I only what I myself know of myself?

Restless and longing and sick, like a bird in a cage,

Struggling for breath, as though hands were

compressing my throat,

Yearning for colors, for flowers, for the voices of birds,

Thirsting for words of kindness, for neighborliness,

Tossing in expectation of great events,

Powerlessly trembling for friends at an infinite distance,

Weary and empty at praying, at thinking, at making,

Faint, and ready to say farewell to it all?

Who am I? This or the other?

Am I one person today and tomorrow another?

Am I both at once? A hypocrite before others,

And before myself a contemptibly woebegone weakling?

Or is something within me still like a beaten army,

Fleeing in disorder from victory already achieved?

Who am I? They mock me, these lonely questions of mine.

Whoever I am, Thou knowest, 0 God, I am Thine!

Before reading this poem, a really good friend of mine, Caro, shared with me her testimony. She told me of how she was born a child to a single mother, whose husband left her for another woman. Caro, who's probably had worse miseries compared to me (or anyone else) had the say one night, when she told us that it's about a race. This race needs to be filled with prayers and with hope, because that will remind us just how temporary these feelings and doubts currently are, compared to the joy that we will ultimately have in the end.

I may not understand everything, but that's not really important. I just thank God for provision, that I have whatever it takes to get me to the next day. In the end, everything we experience here, our pain, fears, and doubts are just gonna be temporary.

It's gonna be temporary.