THE GRAND HALLA MOUNTAIN

This week, I decided to insert our story of hiking Halla Mountain while on Jeju Island. Even after a few days, some parts of my legs continue to remind me of the grand adventure. I will continue with two more parts of my paper starting next week. As always, thanks for reading!

My wife exclaimed several times, “Look at the sky. Look at the clouds. Look at how the clouds are dancing and moving.” With more vociferous exclamations from me, our exclamations turned into a spontaneous chorus of worship, for several wordless minutes, we were fixated on what was above and what was all around us as we were near the top of the Halla Mountain, the tallest peak (that stands at 1,950 meters) in South Korea. It was as gently as if the blue sky was waving at us, “Come to me and play with me” and the clouds were beckoning, “Come and dance with us.” I thanked God that I had good enough sight to take in the impossibly panoramic sheet filled with colors and movements.

The climb was one of our most grueling hikes ever. I knew I had a second wind in me but did not know there were third and fourth wind in me. All in all, we climbed nearly 5,000 ft covering some 14.5 miles and burning nearly 4,000 calories. We chose Gwaneumsa trail to climb which was steeper but shorter (and more scenic) and then came down on Seongpanak trail which was supposedly more gradual and thus required a slightly longer travel time. But when one is climbing nearly 5,000 ft and descending the same elevation, nothing is gradual or easier! Climbing will test the muscles especially the bottom half of one’s body with endless stairs especially the second half of the ascent and descending will test all one’s jelloed legs and joints especially knees and ankles with trails paved with volcanic rocks of all different sizes and shapes. There are ropes for the most part of the hike. Without it, it would be not only dangerous but also extremely challenging. Even then, I saw a couple of older men who were seemingly floating and gliding around with bare feet. Being in awe, I almost knelt before them. Near the top, I began pulling the rope trying to save my legs. I thought we would save time coming down, but I was wrong, very wrong. By the time we fumbled down the never-ending trail, I did not want to see any more stairs or rocks for days.

We were a group of four including a couple from Singapore who were on the fast track of becoming close friends. Earlier this year in the Philippines, we found out we share the same anniversary date and the year. We visited them in Singapore where they generously hosted us. One dinner they treated opened my eyes wide every single time I put food in my mouth for my taste buds never knew them. My mind wandered to the appreciation and love of the fact that the communions of Jesus were the actual sharing of meals. Not in the spirit of reciprocity, we boasted about Yangpyeong stay and invited them to come to Korea this fall. They came and we were united. Though Yangpyeong experience did not happen since we could not get the same previous accommodation, we bounced around Seoul, Yangpyeong (for a day), Ilsan, and Jeju Island. One of the activities they wanted to do was to climb to the top of Halla Mountain. We had one problem: we were supposed to be at the conference where I was already committed. I wrote to the organizer and asked them if I could miss the opening day.  With the favor and understanding, we decided to join in the adventure. During the hike, I did wonder how my body would be the very next morning since I was due to present my paper. . .

Since there were volcanic rocks of all sizes and shapes, we had to pay attention to each step especially as we were descending. With one missed step, one can easily roll an ankle, fall, or even stumble down a slope resulting in serious injury. Rocks with timeless patience say, “Step on me to go where you need to go. I am a rock and am strong.” Rocks also say, “Be sure to pay attention and step on me at a right angle.” Looking down far into the horizon or even a downhill gaze would be an invitation to lose balance and fall. Trees say to us, “Trust us as we are here to nourish you and guide you.” Trees serve as generous escorts to the journey-ers with fresh oxygen and help our lungs expand and sustain our bodies. Wind says to us, “Feel me, feel you, and feel God.” Wind was supple and caressing our bodies, especially our faces reminding us we are alive and that we are part of God’s goodness. Leaves lying dead on the trail bed and the living trees all remind me that death and life coexist, always. Who am I to say that the leaves are dead when they provide life to be living? Who am I to say that the trees and the leaves are living when they too will pass away being food for others? Who am I to say that life is good apart from death? How dare I say that life is good and death is not?

The peak was somewhat anti-climactic since we stood in line for about an hour to take a picture of the stone epithet, legitimizing the climb to the peak. I regretted standing after about thirty minutes into it, but my ego persistently stepped in to persevere. While appreciating the photos, I still regretted it afterward. The weather was ideal for a hike with mostly 40s and 50s with scattered and fast-moving clouds. We packed plenty of water, lots of nuts, bananas, sweet potatoes, carrots, cucumbers, convenience store-bought cheap cheese sticks, chicken breast sausages (which would have been yucky under normal circumstances, but it tasted like a gourmet sausage), and smoked eggs. By the time we were done, we went through every single bottle of water and devoured all the food. We experienced a timely provision of picking up a random walking stick that someone must have dropped in the beginning stage of our ascent. Without it, my wife told me she would not have made the hike. We experienced the Korean hiking culture of hospitality where stranger-hikers shared their fruits and goodies. After the grand experience, with a first hearty meal reminiscing our unforgettable adventure and hot showers, we slept like babies that night still hearing the invitations from the sky, the clouds, the rocks, the leaves, the trees, and the wind. After popping a couple of ibuprofen for prevention against cramping, I must have slept with a face of grand contentment.

HUMAN AND SPIRITUAL JOURNEY AS SUBJECTIVE, PERSONAL, AND EXPERIENTIAL | PART 1

My wife and I are currently participating in the Asia Society for Frontier Mission in Jeju, Korea this week. This morning, I presented a paper titled above to a mixture of participants representing various countries and different religious traditions in Asia, all following Jesus. I have been part of this hermeneutical group since its inception as one of the original designers. I thought I would share my paper in 3 parts (the next two parts will be longer in length).

Introduction

Humanity was inaugurated and endowed with the original blessing, the divine blessing of humankind being created in the image of God (Genesis 1:27) that ended with God declaring, “It was very good” at the end of the sixth day (Genesis 1:31). The divine original blessing extends to all humanity and the single greatest pursuit of all life is to discover and live out the original blessing and design by being us which means accepting how God created each of us. Furthermore, the process of how each human being bears and stewards the blessing is to walk on a uniquely distinct path culminating in an incredible array of diversity of such expressions. All bear the image and likeness of God and what I do bear is also unrepeatably and uniquely mine. I do not lose sleep over such a mystery of universal and personal blessing, but I also grasp this to be true without knowing how.

What Jesus may have meant as living an “abundant life” (what I would like to interpret as simply my life) remains as the perennial but elusive invitation for all humanity regardless of religions, cultures, and systems. To be sure, there is not one uniform “abundant life” that prescribes and dictates to all. Rather, an abundant life assumes that we each live our unique life according to God’s original intention. Of course, we devote our entire life to discovering and living out the original intention.

Some of us have been using the language of insider approach, but in deeper analysis and on an existential level, it is essentially about permission to live one’s life as God imagined from the very beginning. God granted this freedom and permission from the beginning, but some others came along, claimed “permission” rights, and dictated certain way(s) to live life. This unfortunate development persisted for many centuries (as it is the human tendency to control and dominate) spanning many religious and cultural traditions. However, the original blessing and permission remain to be vigorously explored without distractions, distortions, and detractors. To me, this is both a missiological as well as theological endeavor as starters. In the end, this exploration will have to involve all of life and all the disciplines life has to offer. 

In this paper, I would like to try to piece together how we read and interpret the Scriptures as well as to read Scriptures as divine art (captured by earnest and fallible humans) in the context of discovering our life and the Creator’s imagination in each of us. This overarching narrative portrays how grand and expansive our God is and how freeing the freedom (which comes to us as grace) of God is. As such, this journey must be subjective, personal, and experiential. The Bible and how the Bible came together to paint this very picture of subjectivity, personalism, and experiences at work.

Words that Breathe

One of the gifts and perks of being human is that we get to express our ideas, imagination, thoughts, feelings, etc. through both spoken and written words. We can also express ourselves through various forms of art, always utilizing mediums that subjectively resonate with the creators. Whether using words or not, we are all artists, expressing and making “art” with our lives. Divine creativity that we inherited from the ultimate Creator must find its human expression. All human beings create something meaningful according to each of our historical and unique imaginations. We exist to create. Life happens to be the vast empty canvas where we get to go to work as artists. Life is a medium and arena where the art of being oneself expresses itself.

There was once a time when spoken words were the norm but in the 15th century Gutenberg singlehandedly (and once and for all) placed written words over spoken words in vast majority cultures around the world. Though all written words feature both intent and impact, the power of words lies in the impact circle of interpretation and meaning. No one reads without interpretation. No one lives life without interpretation. Thus, life is an endless series of interpretations based on subjectivity, and art expresses itself through life. Invariably, the author’s intent in the literature world remains elusive to pinpoint (not to mention the cultural distances) especially if the authors no longer exist to defend or explain.

MY MASTER

From time to time, I have meditated on the Scripture with an imaginative lens, focusing on the senses and affect. Inspired initially by Mary Oliver’s poem, The Poet Thinks about the Donkey, one Chuseok (Korean autumn harvest festival) holiday morning, sitting in a cafe overlooking the unusually large patch of green grass in front of me, I let my imagination run wild and below is my journal entry.

“Go into the village ahead of you, and immediately as you enter it, you will find tied there a colt that has never been ridden; untie it and bring it.” (Mark 11:2, NRSV)

I was young. Waiting and waiting for my turn to serve my master. Master would choose me. I was used to standing and waiting. As I am from a small and insignificant village away from the big town, idle waiting was the name of the game. I was not sure when my turn to serve would come.

Then one day, everything changed. I do not know how it happened but two strangers I have never seen before approached me and took me away, still not riding me. Just outside the main city, a man was patiently standing and waiting. I thought he was waiting for something else, but he was waiting for me. His time would not come until I showed up.

His upright posture was not that of impatience or even a remote sense of irritability as I realized that he and I share something in common, waiting. His gentle but resolute gaze told me he had been waiting for his time. Did I say his eyes? His eyes were deep, humble, and full of unrequited love. They were also filled with resolve and sadness. I was trained to look down all my life to see the road, but I lifted my eyes to look into his eyes. Looking into his eyes, my existence made sense for the first time. He did not have to utter any word for I understood that he was going to be my master.

I was somehow in the middle of his plan. I still do not know why he needed me because it was such a short distance, not the grinding journey I had heard about. I still do not know how he knew me and found me. Unknowing and security do not always mesh well, but I welcomed unknowing as part of knowing my master. I could have easily and willingly carried him to the end of the earth and back. He was an average man of height and weight, but I felt like I was carrying the light from heaven. Honestly, I only felt the worn and warm cloaks on me the whole time. Though I was bridled for the first time, I experienced an unbridled joy as a gift from heaven.

Never have I seen the size of a peaceful crowd I saw that day. Just as my master donned cloaks on me, the crowd also came prepared as they spread cloaks and the leafy branches on the road. I knew my master was the main attraction for the crowd, but for a fleeting moment, I too felt proud to be me and used by my master. The thought entered my mind to mimic a proud high-stepping horse returning from winning an epic war campaign, but I knew I was a donkey so simply decided to be me. Besides, my master was not a war victor but a humble servant. Through it all, I must have smiled from ear to ear though nobody noticed as their eyes were squarely on my humble and light master.

A couple of months later, I saw him again on the road. He had holes in his hands and his feet were light as ever, filled with purpose. I knew he saw me as our eyes locked again. Though he did not need to for his eyes said everything I needed to hear, he gave me a faint smile and I melted all over again.

Since then, others have ridden me over the years. Some ridiculed and even cursed me as they associated me with my master from long ago. I have also become somewhat famous for the same reason. All the while, I swear I have seen him from time to time, enough to remind me he is near and still walking around, ever humble and light.

________

I am older now, having lived my life and having done what I needed to do. I have become shrewd, knowing how to cut corners, conserve energy, and fake being sick in order to save myself. I was once young, wide-eyed with eagerness, and full of zeal. As I unknowingly waited for my one and only master to find me and ride on me, I must knowingly and expectantly discover once again to wait for my master to use me. I know he is around.

INSPIRATION & BOOKS

By the time you read this, my wife and I will have arrived in Korea for another two months stint. I have multiple book related events and will also be leading/participating in a few conferences. Unlike the spring itinerary, the fall’s itinerary will be packed as we will be on the road quite a bit.

Good books according to my working definition whether fiction or non-fiction allow and invite me to read my life. This reading of my life is uncoerced as I parallelly imagine my life in the lives and thoughts of characters and/or authors. They allow me to find and discover my life as it is unfolding, as well as to question, find answers, and raise other questions. They are like kind and patient guides that probe my life like no other. I dictate the speed and intricacy of the surgery of my heart and mind. Even the books that seem to be forcefully adamant about their opinions and views, I get to discern and choose. The fact of the matter is that it is ultimately my life and I know what speaks to me and what does not at different times of my life. I often underline or make notes on the side when I am inspired and when my soul’s experiences are congruent with what I may be reading at the time. My life experiences resonate with authors’ experiences, imaginative or real, and as a result, create a sense of common bond across times and cultures. By reading these books, I am invited to read my life.

When I know I am “inspired,” it lands on me as a confirmation of what was already being awakened and formed in me. The apex of inspiration is the meeting place between the existing (but slightly lacking in assurance) internal leanings and the Kairos external stimuli. The stimuli generate a deep sense of confirmation of what we already knew and knew to be true. These moments of inspiration certainly extend beyond just good books but rather to the multiplicity of art mediums. I find it difficult and disingenuous to induce such inspiration. For inspiration to be genuine and lasting, inspiration almost always bears a surprising quality and unpredictable nature. As such, it is almost impossible to arrive at the point of inspiration through some logical and methodical processes.

I have experienced multiple inspirational moments through books over the years. Though they vary with impact, three experiences top the list. For each of those three moments, I vividly remember where I read it, what I was reading, and how I felt at the time. It was like time stood still and everything was moving in slow motion. Two of those times, I wept uncontrollably. One I was dumbfounded for a long time and lost looking vacantly at the distant San Gabriel mountains, half dazed. One of those times, I wept uncontrollably was while I was reading J.R.R. Tolkien’s Chapter 5 (The Ride of the Rohirrim) of The Return of the King. Below is a rather long quote toward the end of the chapter.

At that sound the bent shape of the king sprang suddenly erect.  Tall and proud he seemed again; and rising in his stirrups he cried in a loud voice, more clear than any there had ever heard a mortal man achieve before,

Arise, arise, Riders of Theoden!
Fell deeds awake: fire and slaughter!
spear shall be shaken, shield be splintered,
a sword-day, a red day, ere the sun rises!
Ride now, ride now! Ride to Gondor!

With that he seized a great horn from Guthlaf his banner-bearer and he blew such a blast upon it that it burst asunder.  And straightway all horns in the host were lifted up in music, and the blowing of the horns of Rohan in that hour was like a storm upon the plain and a thunder in the mountains.

Ride now, ride now! Ride to Gondor!

Suddenly the king cried to Snowmane and the horse sprang away.  Behind him his banner blew in the wind, white horse upon a field of green, but he outpaced it.  After him thundered the knights of his house, but he was ever before them.  Eomer rode there, the white horsetail on his helm floating in his speed, and the front of the first eored roared like a breaker foaming to the shore, but Theoden could not be outpaced.  Fey he seemed, or the battle-fury of his fathers ran like new fire in his veins, and he was borne up on Snowmane like a god of old, even as Orome the Great in the battle of the Valar when the world was young.  His golden shield was uncovered, and lo! it shone like an image of the Sun, and the grass flamed into green about the white feet of his steed.  For morning came, morning and a wind from the sea; and darkness was removed, and the hosts of Mordor wailed, and terror took them, and they fled, and died, and the hoofs of wrath rode over them.  And then all the host of Rohan burst into song, and they sang as they slew, for the joy of battle was on them, and the sound of their singing that was fair and terrible came even to the City. (Italicized mine)

This remains one of my favorite literary texts of all time. “And then all the host of Rohan burst into song, and they sang as they slew, for the joy of battle was on them,” Tolkien writes. I remember reading this passage more than 25 years ago at Starbucks in Gangnam Korea. This was where I lost it completely. A middle-aged man weeping in the middle of Starbucks must have been a scene! But I could care less. . . because I was standing on holy ground. I might have knelt in submission if I really did not care what others thought of me. The conjured-up image was God’s glory reigning in the company of “men,” singing and experiencing joy amid battle. The “battle” was none other than life to me at the time as life is a great battle for everyone. Thus at the heart of it has been the overarching desire to experience the “joy of life (joie de vivre).” My heart told me that day I would love to be in this kind of company. Who will God send our way to “sing as we slay” alongside us and do life with?

Decades later and the years in between, I find myself in the middle of such a company and have received countless courage from this company of men and women. It is not unlike Eowyn whispering to the ear of Merry, a Hobbit, before the charge, “Courage, Merry. Courage for our friends.” What came to me as an inspiration became my prayer and my prayer is being answered.

For those who are inclined to watch Peter Jackson’s interpretation of the scene above, below is the link.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l8yOdAqBFcQ

A MISSIONAL REFLECTION | PART 1

Early June while in Korea, I was asked to participate in National Consultation on World Evangelization (NCOWE) to observe and advise. This was the 8th NCOWE gathering with about 600 leaders with a couple of dozens of other global south missions leaders. Toward the end of the consultation after a lot of listening, I was asked by the leader of the consultation to write a reflection paper that would be shared with the participants. I told him, “Yes, of course, with honor.”

I thought I would share this short reflection (3 pages) with you in the next two weeks as a window into how I have been integrating spirituality and missions as well as how we live our life.

June 20, 2023

The air was different. I was different.

What came to me toward the end of 8th NCOWE was the verse from Zechariah (4:6) “He said to me, ‘This is the word of the Lord to Zerubbabel: Not by might, nor by power, but by my spirit, says the Lord of hosts.”

Missions had been done for too long with overbearing might and power if we are honest enough to admit it. Missions flowed from civilized to less civilized (so we thought), modern to unmodern or premodern, privileged to less or underprivileged, educated to less educated, and economically affluent to less affluent. Even when we tried to be humble and approached with incarnational spirit, power, prestige, and wealth and the progress of the West had gained too much momentum and power. When the modern missions movement began (emphasis on “modern”), colonization was already well on the way and would reach its climax in the 19th and early 20th centuries. Though most of the colonized nations gained their independence by 1970, other waves of colonization rolled in in the form of economic and cultural superiority and resulted in suppression of the non-West by the West, by and large. With the backdrop, however, we were so concerned with “what”—the “task of world evangelization” that we over-emphasized the number of workers the world (especially the West or Global North) needed to send to all nations—over how the missions work needed to be done. In retrospect, this was absolutely needed, and not wrong. The task was mainly about “what”—the goal of world evangelization. The words like task, beachheads, breakthroughs, etc borrowed from military warfare embodied certain colonial assumptions. In all, the urgency drove us all.

Now, we, the Korean missions, are confronted with the accumulating stories of shortcomings (as well as encouraging and heartwarming stories) of what “what” had produced over the years, greatly heightened by COVID pandemic. I would like to think that we are turning a corner in embracing the importance of “how.” How do we reach and love the world God so loved? The focus is no longer about “winning” them to Christ but to love and serve them, and how to coexist and partner together to usher in the Kingdom of God to earth now. From my vantage point, the 8th NCOWE was the first large gathering of leaders that reflected such humility and honesty in willingness to face and own shortcomings of the Korean missions movement in the last generation. Additionally, the 8th NCOWE has shown great courage to do something about our own shortcomings, mistakes, and failures. (I know that there have been pockets of leadership gatherings over the years that have been discussing such questions of “how.”) Thus, the shift from the WHAT of missions to the HOW of missions is decisively significant. However, this introspective process will not be easy as it trickles down to systems, individual organizations, and churches (as well as down to each individual) and will require greater courage and humility to continue to walk in it.

To use a slightly different language, we are no longer concerned only about the “message,” but exhibit willingness and readiness to embrace the importance of “messengers.” Who we are and who we are becoming is a far greater and more impactful message than the message we use our mouths to proclaim. With the risk of sounding simplistic and general, we have been too concerned with the right message to the point that we perhaps undermined the importance of being faithful and loving messengers. The Gospel was truncated down to believing the right dogma and doctrine rather than preaching Jesus Christ—his life, ministry, teachings, his death, resurrection, ascension—and living incarnationally. The multiple iterations and mentions of the importance of “spirituality” during NCOWE highlight this shift. There were also many emphases on possessing the right “attitudes” of the workers be it missionaries or global Christians in action. To be sure, the right attitudes flow out of who we are and who we are becoming which essentially is about transforming spirituality.