|
| Words of Wisdom
You won't find any here. Words of wisdom, that is.
I've found that the more I write, the more I end up sticking my foot in my mouth. The world doesn't need another person peddling their opinions and diatribes for all to see. Consider it my act of community service, my New Year's resolution for perpetuity.
Even here, there was much that was better left unsaid or said more charitably. Now that I've dusted off this much neglected space, I can see myself getting back into it...
But I do not like the taste of my own feet. | | |
| The Cost of Compassion
I’ve had a nagging sense of irritation over the critical reactions of South Koreans throughout the hostage situation in Afghanistan. That irritation has turned into a full-blown rash of resentment.
It all came to a head when I read this: South Koreans Turn Anger at Hostages
Granted the article is trying to spin a story, it’s still sickening to find how this sort of sentiment is pervasive enough to warrant such an article. Regardless of their true intentions or motives, 23 Korean nationals traveled to Afghanistan to help their fellow man. Even from a secular standpoint, this would be considered a compassionate and noble effort. Two of their number were executed, the remaining 21 facing the constant fear of death and captivity in a hostile land.
And yet it seems like most of South Korea’s efforts to secure the release of these hostages were to prevent further embarrassment rather than genuine concern for the safety of the hostages. I’m sure many South Koreans expressed relief that the captives were safely back at home, but to see that quickly give way to resentment and anger, what does that say about that nation? If anything, it shames the country more than anything they can blame on those 23 hostages.
It’s that mentality of sweeping things under the rug to save face that really bothers me. It was present in the aftermath of the Virginia Tech shootings, and I see the same thing now. Whatever deluded notions of nationalistic pride South Koreans may have, it is no excuse for this. Granted I am a little more critical towards South Koreans, but they’ve really outdone themselves this time.
News stories relate how some of the former captives collapsed upon hearing that two of their members were killed—they didn’t even know. Early statements from the hostages express apologies for the distress they’ve caused their country. “I can’t sleep due to concerns that we caused so much trouble,” Yoo Kyung-sik, one of the freed hostages, stated in an interview.
To add insult to injury, the article mentions that South Korean officials hinted at seeking compensation from the former hostages for expenses incurred in obtaining their release. This is the most backward, asinine thing I have heard in a long time.
It’s not enough to endure six weeks in the hands of terrorists for trying to help a person in need. It’s not enough to know that two of your friends and colleagues were executed. It’s not enough that the sentiment from your countrymen is not, “Thank God you’re safe,” but, “it’s your fault, and you shamed our country.” But now you’re going to bill them?
I have never felt more justified to use the F-word in my life.
There are probably countless people in South Korea that do feel genuine sympathy and relief for the former hostages. Perhaps even the overwhelming majority, but most of that charity will never be reported. This I understand, but to think that even a vocal minority would hold to such a critical view of the former hostages is reprehensible.
What I find so mind-numbing is that the popular opinion in South Korea very may well be that the hostages were at fault and they ought to feel ashamed for putting the country through this. I’ve found this documented at every stage during the hostage crisis, an air of criticism towards the hostages for getting themselves into this situation, even from churches.
"Of course, the country has a duty to protect its people, but I'm worried that the status of South Korea will slip a lot in the international community," said Kim Kwang-ho, 32, an employee at a consulting firm.
Come hither, sir. I’d like to give you a swift kick in the baby-maker.
Then there’s the whole matter of alleged ransom paid to the Taliban and making concessions to terrorists in general. Again, there probably was legitimate concern for the safety of the hostages, but to deny that South Korea wasn’t motivated at all by saving face is being naïve. Even if it was only a minor factor, to know that it was a factor at all disgusts me. The government didn’t even try to mask their feelings on the situation. Come on, guys, at least try to lie to us.
What I find even sadder is that the church has felt the need to apologize and make excuses. The government has no place to restrict what the church does or where it chooses to go. For a nation that is so heavily Christianized, there is a tremendous disconnect from what people profess to what they practice. This is true of Christians anywhere, but for a country’s government to concede to terrorists that Christian ministry activity will be prohibited, that’s going too far. The call of the Gospel can not and will not be thwarted by the hands of men.
As critics have levied, perhaps the activity of missionaries in countries like Afghanistan have been rash. Perhaps the former hostages could have studied the culture and situation more. Perhaps they could have chosen a country that was less hostile to foreign aid and mission work. But that isn’t the call of the Gospel, to go to just parts of the earth most amenable to us. It’s countries like Afghanistan that need the Gospel the most because they are the ones that want it the least.
The Church, capital C, wasn’t built on prosperity or riches or good reputation, but the shed blood of Jesus Christ. The Church continues to grow through the blood and efforts of those who sacrifice everything for the name that will NEVER be shamed. It’s frustrating to see how a nation so outwardly Christian, even the church within the country itself, doesn’t seem to make that connection. But to be fair, it’s difficult even for Christians to understand the cost of the Gospel. I guess for all my ire, it’s hard for me to be too critical, looking at the failings in my own Christian life--the gracious irony of it all.
It’s my secret hope that most of the churches in South Korea will give a big middle-finger to the government and continue their mission efforts in secret. Am I being too optimistic?
I prayed for the hostages and the persecution they were facing at the hands of their enemies. But now I’m afraid more prayer is necessary for the persecution they face at the hands of their neighbors.
| | |
| Sympathy for the Devil
edited on April 18, 2007 at 5:34 PM
People are trying to find answers and meaning behind the worst mass shooting in US history. Details are scarce about the “eccentric loner” that murdered 32 people before taking his own life. The note that Seung-Hui Cho left behind in his dorm was a laundry list of grievances, with rich kids and religion topping that list. Much of what’s on the news has been speculation or fragments of truth.
We all want details. We all want to know why.
The usual suspects are being cited: violent video games, troubled domestic life, and depression. Perhaps by pinpointing an outside cause, we can satisfy our desire to quantify our problems and eliminate the attending sources. The other option is to demonize a figure, emphasizing any aberrations and anomalies in an effort to distance ourselves as far as possible from such a monster.
This was no crime of passion, judging by the staggering human toll. The emerging details point to someone that was unflinching and remorseless. By all appearances, this was mechanical extermination, not an emotionally fueled act of anger. What kind of person would be capable of this?
I’ve been trying to piece together an explanation based on anything I could gather from the news. There are facsimiles of the bizarre and violent plays Seung-Hui Cho wrote in college, which peers and former teachers cited as warning signs. There are anecdotal accounts from high-school friends, saying Seung-Hui Cho was an avid Counterstrike player.
Based on family and life details, one could conclude that maybe Seung-Hui Cho suffered from feelings of inadequacy and failure. He had an older sister that attended Princeton. He was 23 years old and still an undergrad. For those of us that are Korean, issues of cultural expectation come to mind. Can the question of motive really be answered by adding variables like this together? Can a sympathetic face ever be put on a person who so methodically and efficiently destroyed 33 human lives?
There are no cut-and-dry answers, but the observation I found most striking was that it could have been anyone.
It could have been me.
I was 12 years old. My parents had gone through a long, bitter, and violent period of separation and divorce. Everything I had known and taken for granted was tossed to the wind as my dad, my brother, and I loaded up everything we had into a van and lived as homeless nomads until settling in Atlanta.
I was not the picture of well-adjustment.
School was an ordeal of self-imposed isolation and alienation. There were a few friends made, to be fair, but only skin deep, to be honest. I rarely spoke and shunned social interaction religiously. I never ate lunch all throughout high school, preferring the quiet confines of the library and my mind rather than the bustling scene of a cafeteria.
My artistic and literary output at the time would have been a case study in juvenile pathology. I wrote a novella when I was 15 called “Shard of Glass.” The story followed a troubled young man who killed his abusive father and proceeded to exact bloody, methodical revenge on those whom he hated at school. The story ended with a climactic and suicidal plunge from a bridge, the young man shot to death by law enforcement officers, with the titular weapon in his hand. It was illustrated, too.
To be objective, it made “Richard McBeef” and “Mr. Brownstone” look innocuous by comparison.
One incident prompted my 9th grade science teacher to lecture on the importance of believing in Jesus as Lord and Savior—in a classroom, no less. We had created a timeline of the Earth’s geological and evolutionary development. Mine started with a giant pentagram with letters written in vivid red, “Satan created the Earth 4600 million years BC.” Unfortunately, I wasn’t there to hear my science teacher’s undoubtedly unconstitutional plea—I had already moved to another school.
Contemplating suicide was a common pasttime. Do I jump out the picture window during dinner in the hope that I would sever a major artery and be killed by the fall? Would ingesting a bottle of shampoo be enough? Would anyone even care?
Those that knew me can attest to expressing a great deal of concern about my well-being. There have been teachers and professors who’ve shown various levels of alarm and compassion for that reclusive young man. Friends from college have told their mothers that they’re afraid of a boy who might shoot the whole class. I’m sure many of them are secretly relieved now.
It could have been me. But it wasn’t.
If you search through sites like Facebook, numerous groups have been created with names like: Cho Seung-Hui does not represent Koreans, Cho Seung-Hui is pure evil, and Cho Seung-Hui is a coward and will rot in hell!
There’s a lot of anger and grief and bewilderment over what happened. People cannot fathom how a person could commit such a profound act of destruction. I don’t have any more answers than the next person, but instead of confusion and anger I’m left with an uncomfortable feeling of familiarity. More than being too close to home, it feels too close to my own face, like looking in a mirror.
News sources have cited that Seung-Hui Cho mentioned the failings of religion as to blame for what he did. I can’t help but think if he only knew what I know. My 9th grade science teacher would have been happy to know I came to believe in Jesus.
It’s no trite or cliché thing for me to say that knowing Jesus as Lord and Savior was what rescued me from death. It could have made a difference in Seung-Hui Cho’s life, too, if he believed. I wish to God someone like me could have told someone like him about the Gospel.
Thirty-two innocent people died in a senseless and terrible way. One other person died in a similar and senseless and terrible way. And hundreds more will suffer in the aftermath of what that one person did on April 16, 2007. I don’t think anyone can say what is the greater tragedy.
I can say that there was a young man that had a profound emptiness and hopelessness in his life. And I know he wasn’t alone, and that there will be no shortage of those like him. I was one of them. What can we do for those that remain ignored and unreached?
The cure for this suffering isn’t political action, changes in legislation, improved response time by law enforcement, public apologies, psychological screening, or anything else we can come up with as a society.
The only cure for this suffering is a result of what someone else did 2,000 years ago, something that was beyond our reach but was made known to us through grace and mercy and love.
Some may object and ask, “Where was God when all this happened?” If there is no God, then what happened was truly senseless and meaningless and nothing can ever stop it from happening again. We would be a people without hope, relegated to despair and death without any purpose. It would be a world where April 16, 2007 makes perfect sense.
If there is a God, but he couldn’t stop what happened, the end is the same. How could we be certain that a God that has no control over human events can do anything at all? For all we know, God couldn’t do anything about his son being murdered on the cross except put a positive spin on the story. There would be no lasting hope, only the unrelenting grip of despair.
But there is a God whose power can overcome even the most horrific and senseless of human tragedies, even using them for his purposes for the good of those that love him. Jeremiah 28:11 says, “‘For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.’”
God has not abandoned those promises but keeps them even today. And it is a God that has remained true to those promises that saved me from destruction.
There’s been much backlash about people using the Virginia Tech shootings as a hobby-horse for a political agenda. This isn’t a political statement. Lasting peace, restoration, and healing can only come through the Gospel. People are open to disagree, but I stake my life as testimony to the truth and power of what God has done.
If there ever was a time when people needed prayer, it’s now. If there was ever a time that people needed the good news of Jesus the Christ, it’s now.
Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. - Jeremiah 28:12-13
| | |
| Another Year, Another Yeti
I got married. And now I'm back. End of story.
Yes, I am pulling the "marriage" card to explain my long hiatus. But to say that marriage has changed me is a myth on the order of the fabled Four-Legged Horse. It just ain't true.
The fact that I am married has only recently struck me. And it happened like this: Christina got a new box of checks in the mail. Her name is printed as Christina Jeong on them. It was then that I realized I had hit the jackpot.
But now with the irrevocable fact of marriage firmly planted in my head, it's time to dust off this keyboard and update. So here are a few pictures.
Here we are, celebrating our first Christmas. Oh, olive oil dispenser,
how I've longed for thee...
Here is the reason for our happy, smiling faces: a totally sweet A/V setup.
The rectilinear perfection of our couch.
This is where I spend most of my time. You think I'm kidding,
but you'd only be half right.
Our office. Yes, I picked the colors. Laugh all you want, but the room requires
no electrical lighting, saving us 42% on our energy costs each year.
I had this fish tank installed in the master bath. I raised the whale shark
from birth. People come from all over to take pictures in our can.
I'm just kidding. The fishtank is in our basement.
I'm sure this has been an illuminating look into the most beloved and cherished of institutions--capitalism. Looking at these pictures, though, you can see what I've been up to. Painting. That is the mystery of marriage. But now that I'm done painting, I can move on to my other marital duties, like vacuuming and dusting.
Hey, allowance doesn't grow on trees. And apparently, neither does coherent thought. Good night, my fair Sasquatch.
| | |
| A Series of Unfortunate Events
The dutiful police officer last night gave me a citation as a wedding gift around 4:00 AM this morning. To be fair, though, it looked like he was really choked up about giving me the ticket. I imagine things would have been better for me if I told him that I was getting married that day, but I think the guilt would have driven him over the edge.
I had just dropped off one of my groomsmen at his apartment. We had spent the previous four hours trying to decorate the sanctuary for the wedding. In the process, we nearly suffered decapitation, dismemberment, blunt trauma, and vertigo. Tim and I nearly killed ourselves, wrestling with a 20 foot extension ladder. As tired and sick we both were, we could barely lift the ladder or maneuver it into position. Several times we almost dropped the ladder on ourselves or toppled over into who knows what kind of horrible demise.
Tim's the best friend a guy could have, but he let me climb the ladder, which wobbled and shook unnervingly as I went up to try and hang the banners. And when we finally hung one up, we understood completely the concept of diminishing returns. Christina would kill me if she saw what I was trying to do and the lengths we were going through. But by the grace of God, we realized that maybe it was time to call it a night.
For most of the week, I had been struggling with a cold, that just got worse and worse as the week went on. At the rehearsal, I hacked and coughed through the vows. But as I woke up this morning, the sun was out, and my illness was greatly diminished. Now I'm holding out for the chance that the police officer will show up at the wedding and tear up my ticket.
Things were getting a little hairy towards the end, but it was a reminder that despite all my best efforts and preparation, we are continually sustained through God's provision. And here I am now, carried by God's grace, humbled by my foolishness, and anticipating the joy that is to come.
| | |
|
