Living in the outer suburbs (or the 6th borough) of a huge metropolitan city puts me in an interesting position. Growing up travelling literally between NJ & NYC has greatly shaped my identity, habits, and how I see life. For many from Jersey, there is this awkward tension/desire to affiliate yourself with NYC instead of proudly being from NJ. For the most part, these people go to the city for cultural attractions, shopping, and the newest trend (cronuts, Smorgsborg, etc etc). In my case, it has been a bit different. Growing up for the past 11ish years, I have spent most of my weekends in the neighborhoods around my church in Chinatown. I have spent many bored afternoons walking the streets of Lower Manhattan, exploring the ins and outs of all the surrounding neighborhoods. A lot of my friends’ families have lived in their apartments and neighborhoods since their families immigrated here. I have my go-to places to eat/drink/shop … yet I am an outsider. But when I bring out-of-town friends to NYC, I can blab for hours about where we should go.
It is quite hilarious when friends will say, “What?! You’re not a New Yorker? I did NOT realize you live in New Jersey“. How do I do? Here are three ways you can also mesh yourself into the New Yorker identity!
- When lost, do not stop in the middle of the street to look at your smartphone. Remember to always screenshot your Google Maps directions before embarking on your NYC adventure.
- Actually, NEVER stop in the middle of the street to look at anything. New Yorkers are ruthless in walking around those who do that, but you never know when someone might decide to be extra rude and give you a hard shove.
- Spend time on side streets. Instead of walking down 42nd Street and Broadway, walk two avenues west or east and explore the outskirts of high-tourist destinations. You’ll be surprised to find some hidden gems.
It is an interesting paradox to be in. But for now I will relish the positives of a suburban home and nature while getting to work, play, and serve in an amazing city!
New Jersey. New York. Love ’em both. Continue reading
These past few months have seemed especially heartbreaking. Every day, there seems to be yet another tragedy that comes up on the news, and my Facebook/Twitter feeds are littered with articles about injustices happening in our own country and all around the world.
I have found myself struggling in the two extremes. On one end, I wish to engage fully with the issues — to thoroughly research, fact-check, take part in dialogue and/or action to participate in alleviating just someone [aka savior mentality]. On the opposite end, I wish to disengage and turn off all the news, wishing that when I clicked on my Facebook homepage I would hear good news for once, and not another example of how depraved human beings truly are. I realized that with any extremes, neither are healthy nor sustainable ways of engaging in a justice-centered life. As a singular small person, trying to “save the world” (or attempt) is foolish and arrogant. So is remaining apathetic and wishing to separate from pain and suffering.
My struggle has been knowing that my faith in God compels me to care for the brokenhearted, the needy, the widows and orphans, and the oppressed. How do I wrestle to fight for the voiceless without trying to be Jesus? How do I let Justice roll on like a river, righteousness like a never-failing stream? The restless tug that pulls for me to not stand still and be a bystander to the struggles my fellow humans and children of God face churns within me.
The answers have not all revealed themselves yet, and maybe they will never be fully revealed for this time on earth. But in the meantime, in this season, I am learning how to simply lament and mourn when faced with injustices. That there is a time appropriate for weeping and sorrowful knowing how weak and broken this world is. In the lamenting I am learning to seek how hope & joy reveals themselves, to dance and rejoice not because I am happy, but because that is how perseverance is developed. To seek joy despite the pain, anger, and hurt. Without the lament + joy, there is no hope for reconciliation. I hope that as I learn how to seek reconciliation and stand in the face of injustice, I can be part of change and not further the cycles of oppression.
Learn this lesson well, my friend
There’s a time to rejoice and lament
Every season will find an end
All will fade and be made new again
Why is it easy for us to feel lonely in the midst of a crowd? Or even at a bustling party full of family and friends — the pang of heartache and sadness coming up in the most people-filled circumstances?
In the past eight months since moving home, I have felt deep pangs of loneliness. But despite these moments where I want to clutch my heart as if someone had stabbed me, I have also experienced meaningful moments of solitude with the Lord. It is through the slow, churning process of moments of incredible loneliness where I get to develop new muscles aka the discipline of solitude.
Human beings are wired to connect with one another, to feel-to think-to live-to breathe-to take it all in-or … take nothing in and be numb to what is around us because it seems easier. It is in the latter where we can wallow in depression and loneliness.
Solitude is a different story. In solitude, there is comfort because I do not let circumstances dictate my emotions. There is inner peace–for me that comes from my faith, but for others it may come from different sources. No matter what tradition/faith you come from, when you are able to grab onto solitude and let your senses breathe in life around you, the loneliness gets easier. It does not completely fade away, but whether you are at the peak of the mountains, driving down an empty highway at three am, or in a crowded city street; instead of being overwhelmed by what you do not have — you can be overwhelmed and filled by capital L life that you are living in.
How many breaths do you have left to inhale & exhale? Embrace your season. Maybe your friends are not ideal right now. Maybe you are far away from your better half, family, or best friends. Those things will pass. Do not let what you lack stop you from relishing what is in front of you.
I have been thinking a lot about vulnerability recently. It’s a dear friend I do my best to be consistent with. But I find myself failing vulnerability in the late.
On TimBeTold‘s newest album, there is a song called “Cover Up Your Scars”. Tim asks us,
You never had a lover,
but if you ever did, would they ever break your heart?
Are you strong enough to recover,
or would you just forgive?
Or maybe you would fall apart,
and cover up your scars?
The idea of covering up our scars goes hand in hand with my desire to escape vulnerability. As much as I do it, each new time encountering vulnerability is still as painful and heart-wrenching as the last time. Yes, we were created to love, but to give all your heart — raw, bleeding, and exposed IS open heart surgery is: messy – sloppy – an enduring task.
This morning I was convicted. Who am I to desire covering up my scars if the Lord I claim to pursue with all my heart never covered up His scars? The scars are ugly and not pretty to look at, but without them I would not be fully who I was created to be. My light does not pierce as fiercely through the darkness as hope and joy and light if I was not a little bit scarred up. So I leave you with this thought from a favorite author:
When we were children, we used to think that when we were grown-up we would no longer be vulnerable. But to grow up is to accept vulnerability… To be alive is to be vulnerable.
I am probably the least rebellious PK/MK out there, but my one act of rebellion would probably be refusing to be put in a box. That is why I do my best to let people meet ME before eventually casually mentioning the family background.
Anyways, back to my refusal to be put in a box. This past year since pre-graduation and post-graduation, I have been asked way too many times “what I want/plan/am going to do”. I know people are not purposely trying to frustrate me, but there are so many other ice breaker options > whatdoyoudo whatsyourlifeplans. We as people are so much more than our careers and majors and family associations!!!
I find that the more society tries to box in my identity, the more I let my identity become a scattered conglomerate of messiness — to the point where I have no idea where the beginning middle or end lies.. So…it was pretty amazing to have an older sister tell me in a straightforward manner who she observed me to be and be reminded of what passions and loves I have. Maybe in the rebellion to be outside of society’s boxes, I had put myself in another box where I wasn’t able to dream for myself.
People have often told me that I’m good at seeing the big picture while living fully in the present. This past season, I have failed at doing that. Honestly, what has happend is that I have let the present scare me into comfort and safety. But! I don’t think I was created to live in the safe or comfortable. The challenge lies in working my way back into that attitude that my whole life is a series of risks-based actions for the sake of the Gospel.
Surviving isn’t enough. Thriving is the standard.
Observations about the dichotomy between two couples I see on the D train. In Brooklyn.
Couple A: Couple in their early 20s. showing signs of PDA, intertwined hands, conversing and joking a lot.
Couple B: Elderly couple, 60s? Both reading a magazine and newspaper — white haired, both have glasses. Both wearing blue jeans and a button down. Not talking, just reading but obviously relishing in each other’s company.
Back to the young couple. Both are sorta matching. Bags on the floor, sunglasses on. Him — ray bans and her — pink aviators. They’re sipping matching Starbucks cups.
Is love so different after all? Both couples have somewhat varried expressions of ‘love’ as defined in society, but when it comes down to it, the contrast is merely age and culture. The underlying emotion still remains, right?
The love we feel at 21 and 61 may not seem the same (I can only speak for one age since I have yet to experience 61. These are only observations people). The former is a young fresh butterflies all in i’m-crazy-in-love-with-you kind of love and the latter might be built upon years of commitment and endurance and persistence. But, at the core of it, aren’t we all pursing the same love that longs to recognize the broken humanness inside of ourselves? The kind of love that accepts us for the flaws, sharp edges, and corners we don’t want to show the world. Perhaps when we have God inside of us reflected towards the people around us & love so dearly, we have found that missing piece of the puzzle. Age is only a number and its really more about the heart and how we offer the love to others that make it a lasting relationship — whether in friendship/family/significant others.
Author’s note: I wanted to wait and post these thoughts because my last post in this series was also related to love and I didn’t want to be lame. Unfortunately I haven’t put together anything else and in order to have a more consistent schedule here, you get to hear about love again. YAY WHO DOESN”T LOVE LOVE? FYI, Word on the Street is a blog column that aims to “echo the rawness found on the street, showcasing the real in the day to day”. Among other things.
“Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is head, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus” — Philippians 3:13-14.
I’m glad within the past year I’ve done 2 different bible studies on Philippians because I wouldn’t have the perspective towards the current season I am walking in without the encouragement of Paul’s words.
This season is a strange and new one. I’m being stretched in a bagillion and a half ways and doing way more than I anticipated but at the same time it all makes sense. I couldn’t see myself anywhere else, in any other city, or church, or with any other people. It’s this push and pull. The season pushes me towards hope and renewal and change as the world pulls me towards brokenness and newness.
I am content but I am not satisfied. Does that even make sense? I’m not going to edit this post because in order for you to understand where I am at, it is important for you to just see my verbal vomit and stream of conciousness in full form. A couple months ago I was trying to describe how I felt about this season to a good friend — and used the analogy of a swimmer who was competing in a marathon. The place where I’m at is the middle. I”m pacing myself and going strong, but the finish line is not yet in sight. So I must keep on going and persevering through the trenches knowing that the end is somewhere beyond the horizon.
I’m all over the place in what I am doing in my job/personal life/career/other random ministries/fun but through all of the madness there is a method. My foundation is Jesus and the commission He entrusted me with.
So I keep climbing this mountain because it’s the journey that makes the summit such a glorious sight.