Urgent Request: Please Pray for Jakarta

UPDATE, 11/8: Relief started being distributed last Wednesday, and God has been providing school uniforms, tarps, and laundry and cooking equipment for the fire victims through people’s donations. The uniforms allow kids to return to school, since they aren’t allowed to go without them. With rainy season approaching, tarps are needed for protection from the elements, as families are camping atop of their burnt down homes. Large wash basins, plastic buckets, oil stoves, and basic pots and pans for cooking are being given to families so they can continue making meals and cleaning their clothes. 

My heart is heavy as I write this, because I recently received news that many of the urban poor of Jakarta, Indonesia are now homeless due to a fire that destroyed their communities.

The fire was likely started by an arsonist, as arson is a common tactic used to evict the poor from land on which companies wish to build. These were technically “squatter” communities, and they had been given notice that eviction was pending, but the families have lived on this land for 20+ years, so the possibility of eviction was sad, but this fire was just devastating.

No one died, and praise God, fire trucks seemed to appear out of nowhere to put out the fire (apparently they’re rarely seen in Jakarta). But I can’t help feeling like my own family is now homeless, robbed of the few belongings they once had, and without connections to people who could take care of them while they build up their lives again.

I remember talking with some people in the slums who had been threatened with eviction, just as this community had been. Their slum was smack in the center of the Golden Triangle business district, and you could see high rises looming over their shoddy houses. I’d compare it to the oasis of Central Park in the middle of New York City, though the slums are hardly a refreshing site to most. The poor whom we spoke with feared eviction because, not only had they been living on the land for years (and watched more and more buildings being constructed around them) but they knew that once they were kicked out, the families in their community, who were truly like family to them, would be forced to move wherever they could find space, and would no longer be their neighbors.

So I’m thinking about these homeless families who have no wealthy friends or relatives to run to, and who will probably not find many agencies that can care for their needs temporarily, as many of the communities we visited in Jakarta didn’t have aid organizations actively working in their neighborhoods. And these families may not even have each other to hold onto, as they can’t possibly find a space where these hundreds of families could relocate together.

I know about this news because some friends of O recently moved back to the states and still have some teammates living in slums that are near the destroyed community. And actually, one community that is burnt to the ground—Kampung Baru—is one that I’m pretty sure my team passed through when we visited.

I know that God is at work through this, but I feel that now is an appropriate time to echo David’s words from Psalm 74:

Your foes have roared in the midst of your meeting place;

they set up their own signs for signs.

They were like those who swing axes

in a forest of trees.

And all its carved wood

they broke down with hatchets and hammers.

They set your sanctuary on fire;

                                they profaned the dwelling place of your name,

                                bringing it down to the ground.

They said to themselves, “We will utterly subdue them”;

they burned all the meeting places of God in the land.

Yet God my King is from of old,

working salvation in the midst of the earth.

You divided the sea by your might;

you broke the heads of the sea monsters on the waters.

You crushed the heads of Leviathan;

you gave him as food for the creatures of the wilderness.

You split open springs and brooks;

you dried up ever-flowing streams.

Yours is the day, yours also the night;

you have established the heavenly lights and the sun.

You have fixed all the boundaries of the earth;

you have made summer and winter.

Remember this, O LORD, how the enemy scoffs,

and a foolish people reviles your name.

Do not deliver the soul of your dove to the wild beasts;

                                do not forget the life of your poor forever.

(Psalm 74:4-19 ESV)

Even if you don’t see this post until months from now, please pray with me for these things:

1) That God would keep these people safe, and keep violence from erupting.

2) That the surrounding mosques, churches and organizations could help offer physical relief,

3) That God would not forget about His poor, even months after this fire. That He would provide them with a place to go, a job to work (if their food stands or other businesses were destroyed), and an embracing community in which to live.

4) That God would strengthen and encourage the three women (the team of workers) living near the devastated area. Pray that God would give them discernment about how to offer support.

Have You Ever Thought to Call Jesus a Cult Leader? Some Have.

I was reading through Josh McDowell’s “Evidence that Demands a Verdict” tonight. It was the 1979 revised edition* because that’s what I had sitting on my bookshelf, so I concede that some of these evidences may have different degrees of credibility now, though I haven’t heard of any major changes.

I had a friend ask me recently what proof there was that Jesus was real outside of what the Bible said, and I was pretty sure that I knew that other accounts of him existed, but I couldn’t think for sure, and definitely couldn’t recite any of them.

So I opened this book, and scanned for the section about Jesus’ existence in history, and the evidence of him outside of the Bible.

Can I tell you some excerpts that I loved? One of my favorites was written by Lucian of Samosata, who McDowell says was “a satirist of the second century, who spoke scornfully of Christ and the Christians. He connected them with the synagogues of Palestine and alluded to Christ as: ‘…the man who was crucified in Palestine because he introduced this new cult into the world…Furthermore, their first lawgiver persuaded them that they were all brothers one of another after they have transgressed once for all by denying the Greek gods and by worshiping that crucified sophist himself and living under his laws.’ The Passing Peregrinus.” (pg. 82)

Did you catch those descriptions of Jesus? According to Lucian, Jesus introduced a new cult into the world, convincing men that they were pretty much brothers if they denied the Greek gods and worshiped him instead. Lucian says that Christ was a “crucified sophist” who dictated new laws to this misguided group of men.

How insane is that???? This makes Christ real to me because it showed that he not only had real followers, but real opposition.

There is also an excerpt from Suetonius (A.D. 120), a Roman historian, court official under Hadrian and annalist of the Imperial House, who says: “As the Jews were making constant disturbances at the instigation of Chrestus (another spelling of Christus), he expelled them from Rome.” Life of Claudius 25.4. He also writes:  “Punishment by Nero was inflicted on the Christians, a class of men given to a new and mischievous superstition.” Lives of the Caesars.  (pg. 83)

So from these words, we see evidence of this Christus figures, who was stirring up extreme controversy among the Jews, so much so that they were kicked out of Rome, and then we see these Christ-followers called “men given to a new and mischievous superstition.”

It makes me wonder if I truly would have believed that Jesus was the Christ if I had lived back in this time period.

Here is a man, born of a young woman in a small town where, according to the Jews in Scripture, nothing good can originate, and this man takes up the occupation of carpentry. Then one day he is declaring that he is God Himself, in the flesh, One with the Father and there to save the world.

I think I would have thought him insane, and it surely would have crossed my mind that he was a blasphemer, cult-inventor and was nothing that he claimed to be. He is calling himself God? He is telling me to worship him? (The reason that I don’t think he was blasphemous is due to a lot more reasons than I can list here, so for now I’m just going to talk about my reactions to these texts.)

Despite the fact that these accounts make Jesus sound a bit crazy, they make me appreciate his boldness that much more. It makes Jesus’ strength so much more apparent, because these were the rumors and charges that he was up against. He had people thinking that he was ridiculous and a destroyer of the peace, not the Prince of Peace that he claimed to be. Jesus stood by his testimony as God, and calmly answered the Pharisees when they asked him to repeat his blasphemous claims that he was King of the Jews.

Jesus endured this for us, and for the glory of God, knowing full well that he was being made out to be a fool by many, and that the highest religious leaders of his day, who were the acknowledged examples of morality and religious piety to the people, would claim that Christ was opposed to God, his own Father, and was an enemy of the One who had sent him.

But these biting accounts of Jesus are not the only ones that exist. Flavius Josephus (born A.D. 37), was a Jewish historian, became a Pharisee at age 19, and in A.D. 66 he was the commander of Jewish forces in Galilee. After being captured, he was attached to the Roman headquarters. He says, “At this time there was a wise man who was called Jesus. And his conduct was good, and (He) was known to be virtuous. And many people from among the Jews and other nations became his disciples. Pilate condemned Him to be crucified and to die. And those who had become his disciples did not abandon his discipleship. They reported that He had appeared to them three days after his crucifixion and that He was alive; accordingly, He was perhaps the Messiah concerning whom the prophets have recounted wonders.” (This passage is found in the Arabic manuscript entitled: “Kitab Al-Unwan Al-Mukallal Bi-Fadail Al-Hikma Al-Mutawwaj Bi-Anwa Al-Falsafa Al-Manduh Bi-Haqaq Al-Marifa.” The approximate translation would be: “Book of History Guided by All the Virtues of Wisdom, Crowned with Various Philosophies and Blessed by the Truth of Knowledge.”) (pg.  82)

The person who composed this manuscript, Bishop Apapius in the 10^th century, begins the section by saying: “We have found in many books of the philosophers that they refer to the day of the crucifixion of Christ.” Then he quotes these ancient works. (pg. 83)

After reading these excerpts from these texts and many more, I was in awe of this very real man, Jesus of Nazareth, who lived, suffered, died, and rose again, and who had the audacity to call himself God and receive worship from his followers. To think that I am worshiping this man and committing my life to him makes me feel that this Christianity I believe in is a serious thing, and to say that I am a Christian is no light proclamation. Much is expected of me as a Christ-follower, because Christ himself gave up much so that I could know him as God, and his disciples suffered much to testify to that Jesus’ words were true.

I am amazed that to be a Christian is a normal thing here in the U.S., because Christianity during its genesis was viewed more as a cult, superstition and a mischievous belief system begun by a rebellious minority. It is now one of the world’s most well-known and widely followed religions, but I wonder if the disciples could have envisioned such a thing.

More specifically, I wonder if the disciples ever would have imagined that a country would one day exist where most people had heard of Jesus Christ and the majority of them called themselves Christ-followers. And I wonder if they would be uttlerly confused and appalled by the casual, even apathetic attitude these Christians had towards their God and his commands.

I recognize that I am blessed to be in a country where I can hear of Jesus so much no matter where I go within this country’s borders, but I also recognize that my faith is challenged by the ubiquity of churches and Christian teachings. It makes me forget that to be a Christian is to be a stranger to the world, to be misunderstood and to be following a narrow path that most people see as foolish and misguided.

If you have never explored the historical basis of Christianity, I’d encourage you to do so. I still have a lot to learn, but what I’ve seen so far is fascinating, and I can’t imagine it would have any other outcome but stretching and strengthening your faith.

*Published by Here’s Life Publishers, Inc. in San Bernadino, CA. A Campus Crusade for Life Book.

Where Is Your Faith?

As some of you know, I have received 76.7% of the financial support I need to work with OMF International. In some moments I feel very close to the end, and in others, not so much.

I’m learning that now is not the time to start doing things without God, or to doubt his ability to provide for me. I’m challenged by the account of Jesus calming the storm in the gospels, specifically in Luke 8:22-25. The disciples are facing a legitimately scary situation, and Luke even says that they were in “great danger.” But as the disciples call out to Jesus in fear, he rebukes them, saying, “Where is your faith?” Jesus doesn’t sympathize with the disciples and rub their backs as he validates their feelings of fear. Instead, he calms the storm, reminding them of his power and authority over all things, and then calls them out for doubting him.

The circumstances we are in should never dictate the degree of faith we have.

Hebrews 11:1 says that faith is being sure of what we hope for. Certainty. Trust. Confidence in our Almighty God. This is the standard we’ve been called to. And this is what I need to remember as I ask God for this last amount that I need.

God will be faithful. He might not be faithful to my timeline, my vision, or my desires, but he will be faithful to his plans for me, OMF International, and the people of East Asia. I can only pray that I remain faithful to him.

News from Indonesia!

I am so happy to be able to share this story and these photos with you, because they come from a place that is dear to my heart: Indonesia The person doing the storytelling is C, a woman who lives alongside the urban poor. She is from the U.S. and I met her during my short term trip to ID last summer.

I just love receiving her newsletters because they are constant reminders of how much God loves the poorest of the poor. I hope you enjoy these insights from C, a sister of the urban poor and co-laborer for Christ.

C and friends (you can probably guess which one she is).

The other night I was at a party. Bordering our slum on three sides (the fourth being the river/place people throw trash) are nice middle class neighborhoods. On one of these borders there was a coming of age party (think bar mitzvah). It was an outlandish party involving three large tents which blocked the road, multiple tables of food, a full traditional orchestra, singers, dancers, and a magician. Whew! And for all this hooplah…very few people were at the party. Let me rephrase…there were very few invited guests there (See photo below).

The half-empty seats for invited guests.

There were, however, a boatload of uninvited guests (including yours truly) who had heard earlier in the day of the events that were being planned for the evening. So when the music started, several of us meandered over. Not being invited guests, we stood along the back and sides of the stage, enthralled with the display of rich tradition and beauty that is rarely seen in places of poverty.

Three rows of uninvited guests line the side and back of the stage.

As I looked around, it reminded me of the many stories Jesus told of the Kingdom of God, and how it is like a party filled with all kinds of unexpected people, particularly the people that don’t get invited to a lot of parties in the here and now.

I understood better the story from Luke 14, where the invited guests didn’t come because they had better things to do (the host of the party we saw was similarly snubbed). But the poor have no such distractions. They know a valuable thing when they see it, and if it is free, all the better! I so long for my neighbors here to see and be attracted to the Kingdom of God the way they were to that party. No one had to invite them; they simply heard the music while the musicians were practicing and word spread.

I think that is how God intends for his Kingdom to be: that the beauty of love and compassion and peace and justice would be the kinds of things that attract people. He longs that we would not be like the invited guests, finding excuses to avoid doing things that are inconvenient to us, but that we would see the amazing opportunity before us to be part of the great festival that is the Kingdom. And that in doing so we would live a life that attracts others to the party also.

Comfort from Jesus

I knew I’d kick myself for saying something like, “I’m not worried about anything!”  Or whatever it is that I said. I don’t regret saying it, because God really had filled my heart with so much joy and hope in that moment, and I do think it reflected the beautiful truth that God can wipe worry out of our hearts completely if we let Him.

But today, my heart was definitely unsettled. I had to tackle a monstrous list of support raising calls, and there were a lot of people on the list that I didn’t know that well. On top of that, over the past couple days I’ve been having difficult, intense conversations with some dear friends, some of whom I’ve hurt with my words and actions.

At one point, before I began my list of calls, I went outside to get the mail in a daze, just processing all the stuff going on in my heart. As I walked back to the porch, I started tearing up, and by the time I got into the house I was sobbing and walking in circles around the staircase.

It sounds really sad and pathetic but it was just one of those moments when you need to cry something out because you don’t know what you feel, but you feel a lot and it hurts to let it all sit in your heart. So I was letting it all out, and telling God that I didn’t want to make phone calls because I didn’t feel like being rejected. I apologized for being so selfish and making everything about me. I knew that it wasn’t about me being rejected or even accepted, it was about doing what Jesus had asked me to do because he was worthy and deserved to be glorified through my life.

But that didn’t stop me from having a pity party.

The poor dog was following me around this whole time, trying to cheer me up. I was being loud and obnoxious so I’m surprised that he felt comfortable getting that close to me. It was really one of those ugly cries, where you’re gasping for air and your face is splotchy, and I want you to know this because it makes the next part of this ordeal so much cooler.

Actually, it was strange.

I was walking around the house in tears, and as I talked I found myself saying, “I need to intercede for the people I’m going to call.”

By the third time I had spoken that sentence, my whole body had become calm, my heaving stopped and I couldn’t even muster up another tear.

I was honestly confused. Seconds before I felt like I could have cried all day, and I hadn’t seen an end coming anytime soon. But after I spoke those words, I physically couldn’t cry anymore. It was a very supernatural feeling.

As I processed this thought of interceding for others, I realized that my burdens and hurts were given to me so that I could worship Jesus with them. And I worship Jesus by receiving comfort from him and passing it on to others.

I went from feeling overwhelmed with my own problems, unable to see how I could possibly think about ministering to others, to sitting down with my list of church friends and asking God to bring healing into their lives.

I realized that I was about to call a lot of hurting people, and though I didn’t know how they were hurting, God assured me that they were in some way, just like I was. He told me that I’m allowed to feel pain, but that I have to use it to serve others. I can even be in pain while I’m serving, I just have to share it. I have to bear others’ burdens and allow them to bear mine.

This passage came to mind:

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, ⁴ who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God. ⁵ For just as we share abundantly in the sufferings of Christ, so also our comfort abounds through Christ. ⁶ If we are distressed, it is for your comfort and salvation; if we are comforted, it is for your comfort, which produces in you patient endurance of the same sufferings we suffer. ⁷ And our hope for you is firm, because we know that just as you share in our sufferings, so also you share in our comfort.

2 Corinthians 1:3-7

I’m really glad that God showed me this, because I was becoming selfish in this process. I had forgotten that this isn’t about getting me to Colorado, and  it isn’t just about saving the lost in Asia. This process is about serving the friends and family that partner with me.

Forgive me for my selfishness, and forgive me for any time when I sound like I have everything together. It’s easier to blog after having a revelation. It’s not as fun to blog when I’m in the middle of the sobbing session or when I’m feeling hopeless. Maybe pray that I can be more honest in that way. Thanks for listening and for all of your prayers. God is answering them.

A Good Reason to Turn Down the Music

Something really miraculous happened today. I sat down with my brother and we prayed for our family.

The reason this is miraculous is because the last in-depth conversation I had with Matt consisted of me judging him for a variety of things, telling him how I was living life so much better than he was, and advising him to follow in my footsteps. He, understandably, didn’t want to hear much of that and stormed away as I followed him up the stairs, making sure he had heard every last bit of my advice.

I was fuming after that and thought, He just doesn’t understand. He’s clearly not listening to God. Part of me felt self-righteously justified, and another part of me felt like crap. But everything I said was true, I reasoned to myself. I guess truth is just hard to dish out sometimes, right? 

Turns out the hard part is having the Spirit inside of me who convicts me of my pride, judgmental thoughts, and insensitivity to His voice.

My relationship with my brother has had its ups and downs, but recently it’s been more like coexistence and less like a relationship. Often times, we’re in the same room without speaking, or in the same house all day without having one conversation.

A few weeks ago, my friend Kathy casually (and kind of randomly) asked me if I was spending much time with my brother lately. Conviction hit me. Why was she asking about this? “Well,” I said, preparing my defense, “he hangs out with his friends a lot and they play video games mostly so it’s kind of hard to spend time with him.” The truth was, lecturing Matt was comfortable but hanging out with him was not as easy.

Fast forward to yesterday and Jess and Steve needed a ride to the airport. I volunteered to go and jokingly told my brother that he should come along. We’d be leaving at 6 AM. Yuck. For some reason he chose the early wakeup call over sleeping in and the next morning, the four of us piled into the Jeep and listened to a talk radio show all the way to the airport. Then Matt and I said goodbye to Jess and Steve and continued home for our hour-long trip back.

Matt turned up the radio. I felt a pang of conviction that I should use this opportunity to bond with my brother. I really didn’t feel like it. But I prayed for the desire to talk anyway. Minutes later, I turned down the music and struck up a conversation.

Thus began our 2 1/2 conversation about Scripture, discerning God’s will for our lives, and the challenges and blessings of being part of our family.

I honestly don’t know how certain words came out of my mouth while other words did not. I know that the Holy Spirit graciously allowed me to listen, understand Matt’s heart and not respond out of my pride. The Spirit also graciously allowed Matt to open up to me (an untrustworthy confidant, considering our past conversations) so that I could see his heart for prayer, obedience and discerning God’s voice.

We covered some topics that brought up wounds for us both–how we had been hurt by the same people and in our own sin, hurt those people back. We also admitted that we had hurt each other and exchanged apologies for those sins.

I felt like I died about 15 times in the course of that conversation. There were many times when I wanted to lecture instead of listen, or defend my actions instead of admit my sin. God, graciously, showed me the better way, and stifled my foolish “wisdom” in order to resurrect His grace, love and forgiveness in me. I can tell that he showed Matt the better way too.

We ended our time with earnest prayer for our family and ourselves. It was the first time we had ever prayed together, and I know it will not be the last.

The thief has come only to steal and kill and destroy, but Jesus has come to give and heal and redeem. My brother and I will probably still miscommunicate, sin against each other and have to ask for forgiveness, but I’m hopeful that God will keep pushing us out of the way to make room for His way. It is life-giving, and it’s a good reason to turn down the music.

A Big, Terrifying Blessing

That’s how I’m describing this process of partnership development now.

Anyone who has been receiving prayer requests from me knows that I’ve been on an emotional roller coaster as I’ve been raising support.

One day, I’m really excited to get out to Colorado and start writing, the next I’m crying on the phone to my grandmother about how I’m inadequate and feel like I’m failing as a Christian. One day I want to work with OMF Int’l, the next I just want to get married and have children so I can stay at home and avoid working altogether.

I’m happy to report a fairly stable heart for the past week. Yes, it’s only been a week. I started really truly developing partnerships at the end of April, and just last week I began making some of my scarier phone calls. I called people I don’t know very well and prayed that they would want to meet with me to hear about my ministry.

To give you an idea of what that looked like for me, imagine me sprawled out on my parents’ bedroom floor, notebook in front of me, cell phone in my hand. I scroll down to the number I must dial, make a frowney face at it, look out the window, make a pouty crying sound, look up at the sky, say, “Why God? This is so hard! I don’t want to!” Then I look back down at the number and force my finger to press “Send.” I shut my eyes while the phone rings and think about whether I’d rather hear a voicemail or whether I’d rather that someone just answers so I can get it over with and avoid calling again later.

The reason I’m brazenly willing to share those details is because God is GOOD to me and I have since praised him endlessly for making me do this scary stuff.

I’m a smidgen less frightened about calling people now, partly because I’m getting more used to it, and partly because through some of these meetings and phone calls, I’ve unearthed a beautiful image of the body of Christ, and seen how I was meant to live within it.

To let you in on a little secret first, I really love my alone time, and I like to think that I need at least 5 hours everyday to “recharge” and “process life.” I’m guilty of believing the lie that it’s a weakness to depend on people and that, besides that, people aren’t entirely reliable. When left to my own devices, I’m a cynical, selfish introvert.

Don’t get me wrong, I do love and enjoy people, but God has shown me that I haven’t had the healthiest or clearest understanding of community for most of my life.

But now he’s showing me that members of the body of Christ are supposed to get uncomfortably close to one another. I will knock people’s eyes out with my elbows, they will sneeze on my food and forget to pick me up at the airport. But out of that closeness, somehow, I will end up liking these people a whole lot and wishing I could rub shoulders with them even while I read quietly on the couch.

What has really happened is that I’ve seen the body of Christ come alive, and therefore Jesus is alive to me in a new way.

I’ve found myself giddy with happiness over the new friends I’ve made. Some of them are people I’ve seen at church on Sundays but whom I’ve been too scared to form a relationship with. Now I’m coming to their homes, meeting their children, hearing stories about how they met their spouses, and sharing about God’s work in my life and in Asia. On top of that, I’m inviting these people to be a huge part of my future.

I think that last part has been the hardest but also the most beautiful. I feel like I’m just running at doors, hoping that by the time I get there, someone will open them so I don’t smash my face into the door knockers. I’ve run into a few doors, and that has hurt a bit, but for the most part, people are very inviting and open the door just in time.

I’ve only raised 10% of the total support that I need, but I’m not worried about the other 90% (at least that’s how I’m feeling right now–pray that that remains true!). I’m very determined to work hard to meet my 100% goal by October 1st, but I can’t wait to see who else God brings into my path, and what new friends I’ll make. God is so in control and I love it.

Mark my words, I have some rocky, discouraging and scary times ahead of me, but I really believe that it will all end in joy. I know this because Jesus died for me, and has told me that my joy will be full (John 15:11).

For the joy that was set before him, [he] endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God. -Hebrews 12:2

Jesus had some really hard times too, but he endured it for God’s glory. As my beautiful friend Kim Streeter always says, “May my life be all for God, and for his glory!”

Mmmmm Truffles…

The ingredients

I made some truffles. It was quite an ordeal. The recipe said it would take me 1 1/2 hours total, but it took me closer to 4 hours. I picked this recipe specifically because it only had 3 ingredients and there wasn’t even any baking involved. Well, I didn’t factor in the burning of the semi-sweet chocolate morsels on the first try or the experimenting with dipping techniques for 38 little truffle balls.

In case you're unfamiliar, this is what burnt chocolate looks like.

Creating the Oreo balls was the easiest part of the process. You just put the Oreos in a ziploc bag and mash them up, then mix the crumbs with the cream cheese.

Aren't they cute? This was before they gave me trouble.

The Oreo balls getting ready to schmooze with the chocolate.

But then I had to look in 3 different places for instructions on how to properly melt chocolate (including Julia Child’s Mastering the Art of French Cooking). I soon discovered that the chocolate morsel package had easy chocolate melting instructions on the back. I don’t remember which place suggested which technique, but I ended up boiling some water and letting the pot with the chocolate hover over it until the chocolate started melting. I’d then stir, then let it hover, then stir…and voila, it started looking like melted chocolate!

So finally the dipping began, which looked fun at first, until I realized that the chocolate wasn’t as malleable as I had hoped it would be. After coating the ball with the chocolate, the chocolate would turn into a thick, bumpy layer that was upset by any touch of the scooping fork. Plus the chocolate dried super fast, so it wouldn’t tolerate much molding after it had been pulled out of the pot.

The messy first attempts.

But I rocked a fairly successful dipping system by the end, and see below for the result!

Smoother, better.

Post-dipping.

The tools, resting.

Finished product.

I think that things will move along more quickly next time I do this. Thanks for following my truffle journey. You probably won’t see food posts very often because I’m not trying out recipes as much these days, but it was fun, despite the mishaps.  They were very yummy, by the way:-)

A Wine and Cheese Kind of Night

I’m sitting on my couch, sipping wine and eating cheese. The TV is off, the Christmas tree is lit, and I’m completely by myself. Did I mention it’s 10 PM on New Years’ Eve? My parents are at a little soiree with a couple friends and my siblings are out and about.

I had originally planned to spend the evening with my friend Jon. He was over the other day and we talked about how we can’t ever remember our New Years’ Eves because they’re usually uneventful and involve hanging out with our parents. I can honestly say that the last NYE I remember is one from high school. Before that, I can only remember one NYE where my family and I ate  mozzarella sticks and buffalo wings while watching Zorro. And then my dad made fun of Dick Clark’s speech impediment while we watched the ball drop on TV.

In light of  these memories, Jon and I made a pact: we would be each other’s NYE plans this year. Jon  then called up my good friend Melissa and forced her to host a party. She said yes and things were looking up.

Fast forward to last night and my buddy bails. Jon’s plans have changed and he has to leave town on NYE. Then Melissa texts me this afternoon and says she is sick; our little party is cancelled. I think I was the only one besides her boyfriend coming anyway so there were no other NYE misfits to make alternative plans with.

I sat on my futon and laughed to myself. Then I felt sorry for myself. I began painting this picture in my head, as if I was posing for a painter who wanted to capture a scene of loneliness; something that would evoke sympathy from his audience. Here I am, I thought. So lonely, unwanted, with not even my parents to hang out with.

Then I slapped myself (metaphorically). I broke up the pity party. I had been invited to two other parties that evening but I had turned them down because I thought I would have other plans. Several of my best friends were out of town (one was in fact out of the country) and my family had understandably made other plans because they thought I wouldn’t be around. I wasn’t quite so pathetic, I decided. Even so, the feelings of loneliness pervaded.

It’s amazing how an event that really shouldn’t signify anything (my plans falling through) can end up meaning so much to me. If a friend takes a little longer than usual to text back, I can take that delay to mean that that friend doesn’t care much about me, which then becomes a sign that no one really cares about me.

Lately I’ve been feeling needy and therefore everyone in my life has to reassure me of their love for me. It has caused me to freak out on a couple friends who have bailed on me. Jon will tell you. I made him feel so bad for cancelling that he thought I hated him and he wanted to cry.

I think several things have contributed to this craziness of mine. First, I’m reading into things. If a friend bails it doesn’t mean that they hate me. Second, even if a friend does bail because they don’t care, it doesn’t have to mess me up so much. Third, solitary wine and cheese nights can be really nice. I just have to stop thinking about the fact that everyone else is out partying. I’m an introvert and I’m living an introvert’s dream right now–a quiet house with pretty things and yummy food surrounding me. Plenty of time to read, write and reflect. This is good stuff.

It’s a very freeing thing to have a stable heart. Not an unfeeling heart, just a less finicky one. It’s nice to not expect my friends to constantly reassure me of my value. Plus, I’ve disappointed friends enough times to know that I’ve been forgiven a lot, and need to forgive also.

So in conclusion, it’s a nice little wine and cheese kind of night for me. My friends aren’t around but my friends are truly wonderful. And my family loves me a lot. I can’t ask for more than that. I hope your New Years’ Eve was just as wonderful as mine has been.

Sorrow Everywhere

A Brief for the Defense
by Jack Gilbert

Sorrow everywhere. Slaughter everywhere. If babies
are not starving someplace, they are starving
somewhere else. With flies in their nostrils.
But we enjoy our lives because that’s what God wants.
Otherwise the mornings before summer dawn would not
be made so fine. The Bengal tiger would not
be fashioned so miraculously well. The poor women
at the fountain are laughing together between
the suffering they have known and the awfulness
in their future, smiling and laughing while somebody
in the village is very sick. There is laughter
every day in the terrible streets of Calcutta,
and the women laugh in the cages of Bombay.
If we deny our happiness, resist our satisfaction,
we lessen the importance of their deprivation.
We must risk delight. We can do without pleasure,
but not delight. Not enjoyment. We must have
the stubbornness to accept our gladness in the ruthless
furnace of this world. To make injustice the only
measure of our attention is to praise the Devil.
If the locomotive of the Lord runs us down,
we should give thanks that the end had magnitude.
We must admit there will be music despite everything.
We stand at the prow again of a small ship
anchored late at night in the tiny port
looking over to the sleeping island: the waterfront
is three shuttered cafés and one naked light burning.
To hear the faint sound of oars in the silence as a rowboat
comes slowly out and then goes back is truly worth
all the years of sorrow that are to come.

A friend of mine shared this poem online and I stole it to share with you all. I don’t have time to really share reflections on it right now but I think it’s better that way, because I don’t think my words could add much to the author’s words here.

All I can say for now is that I’ve seen the women laughing together between the suffering. They were in Jakarta, Indonesia. And the picture Gilbert paints here makes me want to be back with them and to help them care for the very sick person in between their laughter. I hope I can be with them again someday so I can live with a depth of suffering that most of the world experiences everyday, and with that, a deep delight in life, even if the breath coming in and out of my lungs is the only visible sign of God’s provision.