Is sorry puppy always supposed to be sorry?

This blog post discusses the phenomena of feeling the need to constantly apologize for one’s existence. It’s when “repentance” goes overboard.

Scenario I:”You always say, ‘I’m sorry.'”

I had only been talking to him for a couple hours and he was already psychoanalyzing me. Despite the brevity of exposure, his insight into my character was uncanny. After he made that statement I tried semi-successfully weeding out those two words from my vocabulary. Since then I have continued to make an effort to stop apologizing incessantly.

Scenario II:”If you care about what people think about you stand on the right side of the room.”

And there I was, the lone participant in the survey on the right side of the room. The next question was something along the lines of “would you do something that needed to be done, even if others didn’t like you for it?” And again I shared my overwhelming desire to be liked and accepted. When the surveyor asked me why I was on the right side I answered, ‘Maybe it’s because I’m Asian and this is the way I was brought up.’ What I meant was I was always taught to obey and concede, even when I didn’t like it. Speaking up for myself was disobedience and disobedience was a sin punishable by Hell. Therefore, I must always obey. I interpreted that in my mind as I must always do what others want. I backed it up with Bible verses such as, “deny yourself,” “take up your cross,” “consider others better than yourself,” “to give is better than to receive,” etc. Somehow in my faulty exegesis I considered offending others as one of the ultimate sins.

Scenario II: Today’s ESL Class

Fast forward to today. During class, I was sweating bullets because some of my students were whipping through the material I had prepared at lightening speed and they looked bored, while other students were taking their sweet time like tortoises on a leisurely stroll. There I was stranded because I could not please all my students. Each one of my students has a different expectation of me and the fear of not meeting their expectations is what keeps me up at night. It also makes me hate the job that I initially had valued and enjoyed so much. And this scene of struggling with multi level learners has been repeating itself for my whole teaching career. This has been the toughest aspect of teaching, learning that I cannot please everyone.

If you ever taught, you know what it’s like to have constraints. You have your directors who need good test scores. And then you have parents who also desire results (or if you teach adults like I do, you have expectations for jobs and a higher salary.) And finally you have the actual students sitting in your class who have their own preferences and learning styles. In a classroom with 20 students there are so many variables for learning; this transforms the teacher, in a sense, to a juggler attempting to find the magic elixir that once imbibed will give the student the ability to have English flow from their lips as water from a faucet. I put a lot of pressure on myself for my students to succeed and it kills me. Not only that, but the old school I taught at put the blame for any failure of the student solely on the shoulders of the teacher. In the classroom, however, my spineless posture of attempting to save everyone gets me (and my students) no where.

“Get over yourself, MJ.”

Those are the words I said to myself after class today. After the 105 minutes of teaching responsibility were up I realized my fear of letting people down is not sustainable. I cannot cater my class to what my students want. I have to decide what my objectives are, how my students will reach them and how I will assess them on it. I have to make a plan backed up by my own reasons and stick with it. Then when my students disagree, which is inevitable (someone always disagrees), I have explanations. I have a degree in education and experience. I am the expert in the classroom. Yet for some reason I had been conditioned to think that owning up to my ability to teach was pride.

Ultimately it is my class and I make the rules. I do not do this out of the desire to control and dictate, but out of practicality. Nothing can be done and no goals can be reached if I’m constantly second guessing every decision I make.

I’m going to be honest, my personality is riddled with insecurity. I have always compared myself to my classmates and siblings. Am I as accomplished as them? Am I as smart? Am I as pretty? Am I as liked? Not only that, but I have always thought that to think anything positively about myself or any personal virtues was sinful because it stemmed from pride, the number one sin. But life cannot be lived like this. I am tired of being afraid and unsure all the time.

The passive-aggressive spectrum    

I don’t know if you can tell from reading this article, but I am very passive, to the point of passive aggression. In my mind I had somehow come to the conclusion that the way to respond as a Christian and a woman in any and every situation was passively. Now, thankfully I’m learning that the passive response is not the only response. I can be assertive, which means I am direct with my expectations and needs.

I am entitled to preferences and expectations. Before I viewed my role as a teacher/victim. Meaning, I have to jump through the hoops that others have set before me, but that is false. I am a person, just as my students and directors are. I am a human being and I have a voice, and I will use it unapologetically.

What are some lessons that you have learned about disobedience or humility? Do you constantly apologize even for things that are not your fault? Have you experienced a posture of constant apology to the point that it eventually became a hindrance? Do you struggle with speaking in an assertive way, which is neither passive nor aggressive?

Orthodoxy is Gk Chesterton’s account of his journey from secularism to Christianity. It reminds me of a doctoral student explaining his dissertation to someone who is not an expert. For brevity the student will skip vast amount of details to give the main overview. To the uninitiated or poorly informed this is always quite jarring. At the end you find yourself in agreement, but barely understand what happened. Most of the arguments in Orthodoxy are the same way. He speeds though arguments, making tangents that don’t make any sense until his vision is complete. Anything even remotely in his style would be met with only the most puzzled of looks and side comments about how it wasn’t about Jesus. The whole effect is dizzying.

Chesterton’s view of the world, his vision that seems ancient in scope, transmodern in approach shines through the pages like sun into a dark room. Too much of modern Christianity today is compartmentalized into trite slogans that at best offer nothing and at worst demeans Christ. Rationalism and science seem to point away from Christianity, but we find Chesterton taking the view that rationalism and science have inaccurately become unquestionable, yet have extended beyond what they can accomplish. They are false idols and page after page he makes the point that if rationalism is what you want; suicide is what you will have. This was in stark contrast to what I had been taught. Romanticism taught me there was more, but not where it might be found. The church told me that it was best not think about such things and just have more faith. Chesterton taught me to think about such things and see that they are not what they seem to be.

Chesterton taught me that following Jesus is more than acting a certain way; it’s more than believing certain things; it is even more than loving certain things. Christianity is about seeing things a certain way. It is about seeing the world the way God sees the world, not as something to be marched against but as something to be a steward of. Perhaps God wants us to delight in Him, as he delights in his creation. God used Chesterton in a way that made me realize the Joy of God. He taught me that we must love the world without being worldly. “The point is not that this world is too sad to love or too glad not to love; the point is that when you do love a thing, its gladness is a reason for loving it, and its sadness a reason for loving it more…Man is more himself, more manlike, when joy is the fundamental thing and grief superficial.” Perhaps that’s why I can’t take these UBF people seriously when they reduce the gospel into a straight command to make disciples. I have learned too much, seen too much to be tricked by such an illusion. For one who has found a well spring of water can stop trying to squeeze moisture from his sweaty clothes. Chesterton never did a one of one bible study with me, but he has taught me more about God than anyone ever has. He has shown me Christ more clearly than any one to one bible study ever could.

“No one doubts that an ordinary man can get on with this world: but we demand not strength enough to get on with it, but strength enough to get it on. Can he hate it enough to change it, and yet love it enough to think it worth changing? Can he look up at its colossal good without once feeling acquiescence? Can he look up at its colossal evil without once feeling despair? Can he, in short, be at once not only a pessimist and an optimist, but a fanatical pessimist and a fanatical optimist? Is he enough of a pagan to die for the world, and enough of a Christian to die to it? In this combination, I maintain, it is the rational optimist who fails, the irrational optimist who succeeds. He is ready to smash the whole universe for the sake of itself.”

Here is the book for free online
http://www.gutenberg.org/files/16769/16769-h/16769-h.htm

Forestsfailyou

Huffington Post

BK recently submitted an article about Trump and Evangelicals. And it made a lot of sense. But what doesn’t make sense is how much media coverage Trump is getting. He pretty much is the laughing stock of the nations. How is it that a beauty pageant organizer/reality tv star/real estate agent is running for US president? He has no political experience. And yet he has gotten so far in running. Like BK said it’s because he’s all about money and that’s what people value most.

Moreover as Chris accurately diagnosed, Trump is a populist politician. There have been many in every country like Le Pen and Zhirinovsky. This is all true and yet, Trump is the one we choose to talk about. I shamefully confess that out of all the presidential candidates, I’ve read the most about Trump. Our society, myself included, chooses sensation over sense.

$85 Million Net Worth

There is another certain American celebrity who get way more media coverage than she deserves. Her net worth is $85 million. What does she contribute to society? Absolutely nothing, except pictures of her behind that break the internet. I am not even going to write her name here because I don’t feel it’s worth any attention. She does squelch and yet she walks into a restaurant and it’s worth increases astronomically overnight.This is because she works the system. She knows what people value: sensation over sense.

The Sexy Life Syndrome

I’ve been thinking about this phenomena and I’ve coined it the “Sexy Life Syndrome.” I got the idea after reading the first chapter of Ramit Sethi’s book, I will teach you to be Rich. At the beginning of his book he asks, would you rather be rich or sexy? People want the sexy life of risky investments and get rich quick plans. People desire the sensational stories of rags to riches overnight. This is the allure of gambling and lottery tickets.

But Sethi’s argument is that getting rich is about making boring and safe financial decisions and sticking with them consistently for 30 years. Budgeting isn’t sexy, but it get’s results. Our society values the “sexy life,” but not the consistent “raise the children/trade in the sports car for the mini van” life.

Media and Society

Now, I feel there is a need for me to preface my view point. There are always brimstone and fire preachers who warn us of the impending doom coming to our depraved Sodom and Gomorrah-esque society. I’m talking about the ones who say, “In my day we never did what the young kids nowadays are doing…” I never understand people who talk like that. I guess that people remember only what they want to remember. (As if there was a time period in human history where there was no sin).

Anyway, my point is not that our society is messed up beyond repair. My opinion is quite the opposite. We do have a society that values sensation over sense. Yes, our society is largely reactionary. And yes, our emotions are constantly hijacked, especially with the onslaught of the internet and ridiculous stories. Admittedly, media portrays what society values. (Presidential Candidates show what Americans want i.e. money). Media is a mirror of our Society, but Society also controls Media.

I don’t think consumers, the lay man sitting on his couch watching tv after work, realizes his power. Media runs on public ratings, and if people value things worth valuing like: acts of kindness and peace making policies (and politicians who are actually contributing positively) media would change.I’m not naive about what’s going on in the world (believe me I’ve seen a lot of ugly in my life) and I’m not a proponent of hiding your head in the sand or sweeping dirt under the carpet.

But what I do suggest is shedding light on Presidential Candidates who are doing something. Or focusing on Christian leaders who are building up the Church. Don’t let your time, energy and life be sucked into the black hole of sensational stories i.e. fb, youtube clips, pinterest, theological debates that never end, etc. (Ok, that’s enough preaching).

The Thermometer versus the Thermos

The sensible life is possible, but it takes intention and discipline. My mother once told me about the difference between being a cultural thermometer or a thermos. A thermometer reads the temperature. A thermos determines the temperature. Thermometers are passive. Thermoses are active. It’s your choice.

You decide: sensation or sense.

Do you notice a lot of sensation in the media? Do you think there are stories that need to be told, but are not told? Who are the unsung heroes in your immediate circle? What does it mean to be a cultural thermometer to you? Are there any Presidential candidates you think positively of?

Before me lay a vast desert. How long it had been since that wilderness had last seen rain, I could not say. Three years perhaps, or four. Long fissures reached like fingers across the clay-baked expanse. A few sun-scorched crags were the jealous residents of that wasteland. Allowing no creatures, no living things to share their kingdom, they were disturbed only by a light sand, swept by a fiery wind.

As I watched, the silence was broken by a deliberate beat, amplified by the harsh serenity of that wilderness. A legion of men emerged in the distance, marching toward me. Fifty men abreast, they passed not a hundred feet from where I sat in the shade of a boulder. Heads bowed, they trudged by, hooded in dusty brown robes that covered them down to their disheveled sandals. There seemed no end to the column; it stretched for miles, as far as I could see.

I drew closer and fell in the line next to a broad-shouldered man with a plodding step. He did not look at me exactly, but cocked his head slightly, revealing a bronzed face with a gritty countenance. The grizzled strands that escaped from his brown hood matched the stippled growth on his cheeks. Beads of sweat clung to his upper lip, occasionally brushed away by a rough tongue. I greeted him warmly, and was rewarded with a husky grunt.

“Tell me, sir, what is this company?”

“We are marching,” he answered.

“To where?”

“To the End.”

“To the End of What?”

“To the End of Man.” He seemed well satisfied by his answer, and silently trudged on, ignoring my inquisitive glance.

Undaunted, I renewed my query. “Why do you march?”

“It is our duty.”

“To whom?”

“To ourselves.”

This line of questioning bearing even less fruit than the last, I asked him what would become of Them. “What will you do when you get to the End?”

He seemed surprised at this, and retorted, “The End is the End. There is Nothing Else.”

I persisted, “There must be Something at the End.”

For the first time, the traveler turned toward me with a scowl. “There is Nothing Else,” he repeated. “We are Man. It is Enough.”

As he turned back to the road, he pulled from his mouth a small stone, no more than a pebble. Inspecting it, he smacked his lips twice, than placed it back in his mouth, sucking furiously. As I glanced around, I noticed a similar bulge in the mouths of many of the other pilgrims. I inquired of my guide as to its purpose.

The answer was obvious enough to him. “It sustains me,” he retorted with an especially loud smack. “But it cannot avail much against this heat, even for an hour.”

He pulled the stone from his mouth only to glare at me once more. “It is Enough,” he snapped, and popped the stone back into his mouth.

At this, we trudged on in silence for some time. Presently, my eyes were drawn to a small party on the edge of the endless column. Their step was lighter, their heads higher, than their comrades. Some of them peered about restlessly, scanning the desert for… Something.

I inquired about them. “They are the Seekers. Fools, all of them.”

“Why fools?” I asked. “What do they seek?”

The traveler snorted. “They search for More. A waste of time.”

“A waste?”

“Tried it once myself, when I was young; they will never find It. We do not need More. We have Enough. It does not help our Progress.”

At once, a cry rang up from the Seekers.  As one, they rushed toward a boulder set apart from the path the men followed. Shading my eyes against the sun, I could make out the glimmer of a small creek running out from the base of the boulder, bubbling from some unseen spring deep in the ground.

One man collared a young Seeker as he ran by. “Where do you think you’re going, little halfwit?”

“Oh it is wonderful, sir! They have found More!”

His tormentor gave his arm a rude twist. “Bah! Do not waste yourself chasing such dreams! It is nothing but a mirage. You’ll stay right here. Don’t scorn your fellow Man; you’re no better than the rest of us.”

For one brief instant, the young man glared back defiantly. But in the next moment, his resolve seemed to crumple; with a final doleful glance at the other Seekers, he bowed his head and resumed his March.

I watched the other Seekers as they excitedly gathered the water, some drinking deeply, others filling a waterskin and running back to the column to share a fortune with their parched comrades. One returned ahead of the rest, not even pausing to quench his own thirst in his haste to give refreshment to another. He grabbed the first traveler he met and pressed the flask to the man’s lips. “Drink, brother!” he cried.

But his charity was unwelcome; I stared in disbelief as the man shoved the altruist to the ground, spilling his prize on the arid earth. “I am no brother of yours,” he returned. “And I have no need of your pity.”

The Seeker was aghast. “But only the water will fill you! What you have will never satisfy!”

“I daresay that’s as may be,” the man replied, as he drew his precious pebble from between his lips. “But this,” he gestured. “This, is Mine. Do whatever you like for yourself. But as for me, I have Enough.”

Disregarding the Seeker’s pleas and tears, he hurried toward the middle of the column, burying himself deep among his fellows.

By now, all of the other Seekers were returning with water. They ran to the front of the column, and shouted so fervently that the entire horde came to a halt. “We have found it!” they exclaimed. “Drink, and live!”

Their shouts were met with silence by the stoic pilgrims. Finally, one bolder than the rest came forward. Without a word, he accepted a flask from one of the Seekers and turned to face the column, raising it high. He paused briefly. Then, stone-faced, he slowly poured the water onto the ground. Turning to the Seekers, he growled, “Look here. We don’t need your new ideas.”

“No we don’t!” echoed the pilgrims.

“We can look out for ourselves. Man has always marched on, and so He will march to the End. If you are not with us, you are against us. Now stand aside. Do not hinder our Progress!”

A wave of fury rushed over the pilgrims, the first show of sentiment that I had seen from the masses. Once again, the swarm pressed forward.

The Seekers stood valiantly in the path, pleading with all those who rushed past, until, one by one, they all fell, pushed to the cracking clay by travelers who would not be turned aside from their goal. Row after row of pilgrims trudged on, heedless of the groans of their fallen comrades whom they now trampled into the dust.

As the last pairs of sandals pressed on, leaving behind scores of broken bodies, order was at last restored to the column.

One traveler turned to take one last glance at a shattered jug, its spilled prize still running along a small fault in the earth. Removing a pebble from his mouth, he licked his lips. A moment later, he replaced the pebble, turned, and was gone. Onward marched Man.

“If you knew the gift of God and who it is that asks you for a drink, you would have asked him and he would have given you living water.” John 4:10

1. Words have different definitions and meanings, especially food

A common irritation the whole time I was in the Philippines was that words had different definitions. It was most common with food. For example, when I got to the Philippines I was asked if I wanted spaghetti. I said yes and was given some spaghetti. As soon as I tried it I said “What is this? This isn’t spaghetti. It’s too sweet.” Nothing tasted like what it was. This wasn’t always for the worse, the eggs were fried in palm oil and they were amazing. But it made a common joy of life, eating, fraught with anxiety. On more than one occasion someone would spend a lot of money on food for me after I told them I liked that food, they would bring it to me and I would struggle to eat whatever it was I supposedly liked. But it wasn’t just with food. The term “every now and then” which in English means “occasionally” means “constantly” in the Philippines. This led to confusion a lot when I first arrived. I learned very late that if you want to politely ask someone to do something you say “Would you like to…” it is the American equivalent of “You should…” Once I was asked “Would you like to use a spoon?” and I just said “No.” The person was likely put off. I actually talked to a missionary last Sunday. She told me that it was the same when she arrived. She would enjoy a certain food but the American version would be so much saltier, so she would just eat Korean food. I wonder how many missionaries have come the US thinking they like American food and when they get here realize they hate the real thing.

2. No matter how hard you think you are adjusting you never are in their eyes

As much as I felt like I had adjusted and was adjusting. I could tell people didn’t think I was. Off hand comments about me that were not intended as insulting, but always referenced that I wasn’t really adjusting were common. I can only imagine being in America for 30 years and feeling like you are truly American. Then you say one thing a little bit wrong or make some Korean gesture and suddenly you “aren’t adjusted”. It would infuriate me, and it really gave me a realization for how hard it is to be a missionary. Many times I see and feel like because Koreans are not speaking English in my presence they havn’t really adjusted, but when I realize they could if they chose- never speak English. They would probably prefer it that way.

3. You resist changing because you know what is “right”, and because you are “right”, you are “elite”.

More than a few times I had conflicts. These conflicts often occurred because I expected something according to my standard, and then Hope, my fiancé, would explain “It’s not America.” But inside I wouldn’t want to change. That is how things are done. People get straws with the purchase of large Coke. You should be able to order a pizza without the tomatoes on top. I should be able to bring my soda into a store that doesn’t sell soda. I should have hot water in my shower if I pay for a hotel room. I should eat dinner by 5. If there is a conflict I should straight forwardly tell people about it, not just say nothing. Every time I had a conflict I was explained that that is not the way it works in the Philippines. I would agree but in my mind say “But that isn’t how it should be…” It isn’t a stretch of the imagination to see how Korean ideals and culture and this idea of “how it should be…” could cause an issue. My culture and its ideals dictate “how it should be…” What is more, it lead me to feel elite. Because I know how things “should be” it made me feel better. As much as I tried to repress, repent, and not act on this. Even when I acknowledged it I couldn’t drive it away. I don’t know what can be done. Can it be that the missionary must give up their culture to join another? Is this the true calling of the missionary? More and more I think that the missionary life requires throwing off one’s culture for another, otherwise pride will always blind a person from being a true example of Jesus.

4. Love is complicated by conflicting cultures.

Many missionaries marry the native people they serve. I know of at least 2 couples in UBF. To be clear I am using missionary as UBF sense of “any person in a different country who is also in UBF”. One thing I found was that cultures have pretty strict rules on courtship. These rules are so deeply imbedded in people that it can cause huge issues. Filipino courtship is all about serving the other person. The man is expected to carry objects for the girl, hold an umbrella, etc. The woman is expected to serve the man by making food, caring for him in sickness, looking out for his wellbeing, etc. Amercian courtship has all but eliminated chivalry. It is seem as “clingy” or “desperate” to constantly be fawning over and looking after a person. The issue is love is shown by these actions, so it appears that I don’t love her if I don’t so these things. I wonder how many early marriage by faiths failed because of this. How many still do? I don’t have an answer but it seems like a remarkably hard thing. Marrying someone in the same culture is much easier. Remarkably I understand how frustrated missionaries must be when they are trying to show love. I know for many missionaries to love someone is to lord over them, this seems cultural. The concept of love is so deeply imbedded that it causes huge issues, as it does in courtship. I understand now how hard it is. You feel like you are loving someone and then suddenly they are upset. What did I do? I was just trying to love you! Jesus told me to!

And that is a basic summary of what I learned with regards to missionaries. I am interested in what you all think. Remember, to explain something isn’t to justify it. How can we work towards missionaries, should we even do so? How much should a native person change and bear with a missionary? These are all good questions.

When I first discovered about marriage by faith I was in shock. For those who are new readers marriage by faith typically works like this. Your personal mentor, usually referred to as a shepherd, decides you are ready to marry. He asks you if you are ready to marry. If you say no he waits and prays. He might ask you from time to time. But eventually once you say yes he picks someone from UBF and puts the two of you together. You are encouraged to make a choice quickly for God, and once that happens you marry in a short period of time. Your marriage from the start is all about honoring God, which means you are expected to become a missionary, pastor, or personal shepherd yourself. This is the mission of marriage as explained by most UBF people.

All of this seems tame but as I read about this topic and questioned it more it made me uneasy. It is a bad thing to feel uneasy about your marriage, since as I have mentioned it is so important. Here are the things I was uneasy about after reading nearly everything on the internet about the topic, and after speaking with dozens of people all around the world who were married by faith. I am not saying these always happen, but I read about it enough for me to become very concerned about marriage by faith.

• The pastor, director, or shepherd gets between the couple if it is seen as being in the interest of the UBF chapter.
• The pastor, director, or shepherd picks a person who is very loyal to UBF to marry someone who is not so loyal, and uses to loyal member to keep the not so loyal member in the chapter.
• Children are seen as being secondary to world mission and are treated as such. Reports of children being left in rooms alone while the parents were in a prayer meeting were common.
• Pastors, directors, shepherds not sharing to one of the to-be-married people very critical information that someone being arranged married ought to know such as mental illness, homosexual tendencies, stds, etc.
• The families of the arranged parties being very nearly the last thought. Reports of families pushed aside.
• Extremely sudden marriages after engagement.
• Cancelled marriages when one party did not show enough loyalty. In at least one case a kidnapping of one of a bride to be.
• A coercive effort to stop any dating because marriage by faith is the best way to marry.
• A contrived argument based on an Old Testament narrative that because Isaac married Rebekah in the way he did, we should also; while in truth the practice is an Asian tradition being held up with a flimsy theological backing.
• Dishonesty about what marriage by faith is, how it happens, and why it exists.

I cannot tell you how much I wanted to ignore these things. I really hated dating, and I really saw that the women who were married in UBF were Godly and loved Jesus. I really cannot impress that enough here. The women in UBF are nearly all kind, gracious, loving, and gentle. I had always deeply feared that I would not find someone. Most of my teenage years were spent praying for someone who would love me one day. Even when I was dating as a high school I had marriage on my mind. I intentionally did not date anyone my last two years of high school because I knew we could never marry if we went to different colleges. So for me I wanted to accept Marriage by Faith, but even as I tried to turn a blind eye to all the problems; the one that kept haunting me was how my bible studies kept trying to enforce it. The argument to marry by faith came up again and again where I felt like it didn’t belong. And in my heart I just could not accept such a lie masquerading as truth. At some point my questions became such that I was actually accused of jealously of my roommate. At this point I swore off the practice all together. I told people I wanted to be celibate. I was laughed at. I told people I didn’t want to marry now.  I thought I would give it more time. Better that I say “no” then “yes” than “yes” then “no” was my thought. After being held at gun point by a student I knew I couldn’t go back to my high school, but I needed a job. South Korea had been an option the summer before. I was praying for God’s direction. I knew what going to South Korea would mean and I was told that “God” would pick someone for me to marry if I went there. I was so conflicted as to what to do. I needed a job more than anything and Korea was a sure thing. But marriage? If I talked to missionaries they wouldn’t understand, if I talked to my friends they wouldn’t understand. In my heart of hearts I wanted to marry but every part of me screamed that this was just so wrong. I had nightmares about it. “You can’t be forced to do anything.” Is what I thought, but then I wondered how much self-control I could have after meeting a kind, wonderful, person who loved God. Would I really be strong enough to turn her down? It was consuming all my time. I was reading everything I could, just hoping that I could find something that would let me accept it and would ease my mind. But the more I read the worse it got. I started fearing that someone would be suddenly be introduced, and that I would be so stricken that I lost my sense of reason. I was at a cross road. It was the greatest struggle of my adult life, and it was a struggle I held in secret. I pleaded with God. If this is really your will let that be done I prayed. At the last minute I applied to graduate school last. I did not expect to get in since my grades were not good. God saves and I was accepted to graduate school. I knew in graduate school I would not be bothered by the marriage question. My chapter had had other graduate students and they were always so busy that the missionaries respected their study and did not often bring up the marriage topic. I had been in conversation with a certain Dr. Benjamin Toh, whom I met through this blog. I told him excitedly “At least they won’t talk about marriage anymore.” And his reply was something that changed my life: “Do you want to be married?…”

Next time I will discuss how God answered me.