OPPOSING REALITIES — free as the sky

Einstein, at the end of his life, supposedly had questioned, “Is the universe friendly?” While I do not fully grasp the context and ramification of what he meant by the question, a parallel question enters my mind, “Is God loving?” Both my calculating and contemplative mind concur (which never happens) that the answer is a true yes. Looking back, my life experiences tell me the answer to be a resounding yes. The key lies in looking back. However, it is also worth noting that sometimes while I was going through life’s most difficult and formidable experiences, I had a hard time thinking God is loving.

This past week has been hard and challenging as I hear and watch the reports of firestorms, which some firefighters likened to giant blowtorches fueled by hurricane force winds, raging and engulfing various sections of Southern California. What are no less than epic scenes from apocalyptic movies became real to the point where it is hard to separate the real from the surreal. It hit home when I saw and read that our house in Pasadena was near the Eaton Fire Zone. The firestorm spread less than a mile from our house, flanking the two nearby major streets east and west of our home. All our children had to evacuate with their three dogs and fled as far south as San Diego. Between my wife and I along with our children, we know at least a dozen families whose houses burnt down to the ground. I cannot and will never fathom what the loss is like.

While local, regional, and national authorities should have answers sooner rather than later, at the existential level, I, for one along with many, do not have answers. Nobody should have any answers to questions, “Is the universe friendly?” and “Is God loving?” At least not now. . . Instead, we are supposed to live the questions. And live a life based on what is given and opened for us, not in a fatalistic way but with a trusting heart. Hasty and heady answers will only damage and worsen what is already diabolical. Having answers and being (and living) answers are two very different things. As we cannot handle the answers, I sense the invitation is to be brutally honest and wrestle with God. God expects and invites us not to shy away from asking life’s most tough questions.

On a more personal note, the fact that I am absent in my physical body from our children tears me apart. It is not merely whether our house is safe or not. It is about not being part of the process or the journey our children are currently facing. On the one hand, they are all mature adults, and they have the life tools to navigate this challenge well, even of this magnitude. Yet amid all the questions they are raising, burdens they are bearing, sorrow and compassion they are holding, and even the mundane things like cleaning up, helping others, and trying to put life pieces together, I am not there to process with them on the ground in real-time.

In the middle of the disaster back home, my wife and I hosted 7 people from Korea, including 3 pre-teenagers during the past week. We physically hosted half of them in our house, but I served as the main host and guide. This was my reality here in KL. Though I was torn with my attention and heart divided by the dreadful event back in Pasadena, I also knew I needed to remain faithful to people who came because of my invitation.

As I was preparing to host, my mind was squarely focused on the children. I asked other children in KL in addition to doing my research how to entertain them. I was ready. Or so I thought. I quickly realized on day two that I needed to scrap what I had planned and improvise on the go. Unlike the adults we hosted before, the children are brutally honest about what they like and do not. As hospitality is about giving freedom to our guests (pre-teenagers) and it is not about me being in control, I shifted quickly. I had to. What they wanted were what I would consider as more ordinary and plain, as in going to our apartment pool, eating simple local foods, and going to their favorite Japanese shop of goodies. I thought of taking them to a water park, jungle ropes course, etc. You get the picture.

I realized afresh that hospitality is never about pleasing the host (in this case, it was me) but about giving them freedom to be and to do. For this to happen, I had to let go of my expectations and control. Letting go of expectations and control is always a good thing as was this time.

Last night as we were wrapping up our time, I asked a question to the children, “How was your time? How would you summarize your time in Malaysia?” Their answers almost floored me. The first one who is a boy and the youngest responded as cool as a cucumber, without mixing any emotions, “It was special.” The other child said, “It was a time of blessing” without making eye contact which I understand as it is more about being Asian. The last one said, “It was healing.” I did not know they knew what healing meant. I suppose the important thing is that whatever she meant, healing happened. They followed by filling out some details, again as a matter of fact-ly speaking. I received them as being genuine. On their way to the airport, I gave them big hugs and said, “Thank you for coming.” As they were leaving, I whispered to myself, “Thank you for teaching me and reminding me about what hospitality is.”

This week, I fumbled and struggled to hold both very contrasting realities together. This was not the first time where I had to juggle and struggle through stark opposing realities, and I know it will not be the last time.