the best of both worlds

It first aired more than a decade ago, but "The Best of Both Worlds" is probably one of the most intense things I've ever witnessed on television. I still remember when I watched it the first time around. Hearing Picard give the order to inform Admiral Hanson that "We have engaged the Borg", especially with all that scary, traditionally non-Star Trek music in the background, was enough to make me shiver.

Star Trek episodes follow a basic story-arc template, where a minor subplot exists within, and in support of, the main sequence of events. In the case of "The Best of Both Worlds", the subplot is the story of a young Lieutenant-Commander Shelby, hell-bent on supplanting William T. Riker as the first officer aboard the Enterprise. She's portrayed as intelligent, ambitious, and full of promise, wanting to waste no time advancing her career interests.

There's a particular conversation that takes place between Shelby and Riker that caught my attention. In the turbolift, Riker reprimands Shelby for her disregard of protocol and for her antagonistic, get-ahead-at-all-costs attitude. Shelby, on the other hand, accuses Riker of being indecisive and too cautious, suggesting that he make way for others more willing to take risks.

There was a time when I was a lot like Commander Shelby. I wouldn't deny that a lot of who I am now is still echoed in her character, but a few years ago I was exactly like her. I was making a mad dash for the top, and I couldn't wait or be held back by any obstacles that were along the way. Unluckily for me, it wasn't my career I was trying to advance -- it was my life. I was trying to be more grown-up; I was doing all of the adult things, like spending money and scorning ignorant kids and wearing nicer clothes. I was leapfrogging important spiritual milestones and delving deeper and deeper into more complex questions of the mind and soul, believing that I was ready to grapple with these sorts of issues. I was plugging myself into every ministry group that had an opening, eagerly trying to apply myself in any and every way. I didn't want to waste time. I wanted to do more.

In actuality, my approach couldn't have been more flawed. By trying to act more grown-up I demonstrated how immature I really was; by donning a pseudo-spiritual facade and trying to foster an identity as a religious journeyman, I unknowingly was exposing myself to dangerous doctrines that could well have cost my soul to follow; and in filling every vacancy on the church's volunteer roster, I was doing everything that I wanted and nothing that God wanted.

If it'd come down to it and Shelby, not Riker, had been the one to take command of the Enterprise in Picard's stead, she would've gotten what she'd always wanted; her own chance to captain a ship, and a prestigious one at that -- the flagship of the entire Federation fleet. At the same time, if she'd been the one to take command, the Enterprise would've been annihilated with the rest of the fleet at Wolf 359 and the Federation would've been destroyed. I don't think that's a very reasonable tradeoff.

There's a time and a place and a sequence for everything. Looking back on who I used to be, I appreciate that fact ever more. I used to be like Shelby, trying to get ahead, trying to do things early, somehow thinking I was special enough to set some sort of a record when it came to the things I was seeking to accomplish -- but now, things are a bit clearer. There's a plan, and I can't afford to try to move independent of it. Everything in its proper time.

greyed out

People seem to think that I've got it all together. Right now, that couldn't be further from the truth. Knowing that I've got so much to do still, and so little time to do it all in, makes me angry and sad and scared and hopeless, all at the same time. The expectations keep coming, and the time and resources to fulfill them just aren't there. This probably just sounds like another ranting complaint, but it really isn't. I really do feel hopeless. I can't think about any of it without coming close to losing my mind. I'm already stressed out. I wish I could go to people for help, but I don't even know what to say or what to ask for.

The latest of a whole string of things to add to my to-do list: I need to get a new computer. This one, which sadly was top-of-the-line only a few years ago, is now in the slow and gruelling process of committing suicide. I've already backed up my files, and it's only a matter of time before everything comes apart. Luckily it didn't take long to settle on a replacement.

Hanging out with some of the people from my grade this weekend brought back memories of more carefree times. I'm really glad that something like softball has kept them all so close together. I'm really glad that they finally got the championship they deserved. I'm really glad that I was able to spend time with them. I wish it could've happened more often.

My blood is burning with a desire to play hockey. It occupies my conscious thought more frequently with each passing day. Nothing invigorates my soul like hockey does, and I'm counting down the hours until the day that I can strap on a pair of skates and be free. I may walk the earth like most mammilians, but my heart belongs to the ice rinks and the frozen ponds.

I love what I'm doing, but at times I can't help but think that flipping burgers would be so much easier. I'm not especially skilled in dealing with conflicts -- and it seems like there'll be plenty of those to face in the coming months.

A couple years ago, when I was more or less just starting out in Gilead, I was itching to get more involved. People were already recognizing my "maturity of character" and other pseudo-spiritual attributes, and I began to want to do more. I wanted to be that idealized Christian miracle story of the prodigious upstart who grew to do wonderous things. I wanted to throw in my ideas and give everyone a piece of what I had to say. I thought that as it was, Gilead was inefficient and ineffective. I started making myself visibly known as someone who wanted to serve God.

I was, however, denied the leadership opportunities that I wanted so desperately. I was furious.

In hindsight, I'm glad it happened. At the time I was still young, still hot-headed and arrogant, and still so very immature. I thought I knew everything when in fact I knew nothing. In wanting to get involved, I was trying to serve myself and not God; and when I became angry afterwards, it was only because I'd thought it was my right to be a leader, as if it was somehow unjust that things weren't the way I wanted them to be. Essentially, I was angry because I thought I'd do a better job, or that I'd be a better leader than the others, and that it was wrong for me to be denied my place among them. As I'd later learn, that attitude was the polar opposite of the heart of servitude -- which, in contrast, would've sought only after God and submissively allowed his designs to supercede my own ideas and aspirations.

I think I've learned my lesson since then, although I admittedly still have a long way to go. Now, though, God has entrusted me with incredible new opportunities that far overshadow my original ambitions. I'm excited to see what he still has in store.

a bittersweet song

I think I was prepared for this moment a year ago. Well, okay, not prepared -- but I was aware that it would come. I guess I lucked out when it didn't actually happen then, because a year ago my reaction probably would've been very different. Decidedly less mature, I'd say. I don't think we were at a point where distance was something we could handle. I'm a lot more confident that we are now.

There's so much waiting to be seen beyond the walls of this lonely little place. If it weren't for physics and the space-time continuum telling us that we can only be in one place at once, this next adventure wouldn't really mean anything at all. But this, like all journeys, isn't just a venture into something new -- it's also a departure from something old. That's a bit of a bitter pill for me to swallow, being stuck in the old, at least for now. I guess there's always something bittersweet about change.

But this was what you wanted. This was the course you set for yourself. You were determined to follow wherever God led you, and I don't think there can be any regrets about that. I'm excited for the ways that he'll move in your life, and for the places he'll take you and the things he'll show you. If this were just a whim, or some baseless ambition for a career, I might've had reservations; but knowing that you're in the hands of God, and knowing that he's led you this far, I don't think I could be happier for you. Out of a million people, he's picked you to be the one to carry out his plans. This is the start of something amazing.

It's certainly more difficult to deal with now that it's real. I think it'll take a good deal of getting used to. The absence of your smile is going to make this world dark and unfamiliar -- the only solace is knowing that, in some other place, the lives of others will be illuminated by your beauty the same way mine was.

I'll miss you. I'll miss the lazy days and the adventures. I'll miss the long walks and the talks. I'll miss how the house always warmed up and came to life when you were here. I'll miss having someone to share politically incorrect insights with. I'll miss how your eyes would light up when you looked at me. I'll miss how we did everything together. I'll miss the tears and the laughs and everything in between. I'll miss the warmth of your hands. I'll miss how real and tangible your love felt when, day in and day out, you poured it onto me and over me without holding back. But I know I won't be missing you for that long.

I love you. I have loved you from the moment I first saw you, two weeks into September when I was nine years old. I still do. I think I always will. And really, what're a couple years and a few kilometers in the face of love?

manna

You might've noticed the subtle change on the sidebar.

There are a number of discontent people in the world. Rather than being concentrated in one area, these sorts of people are everywhere, from major population centres to prehistoric settlements like those found in the Ukraine. Appropriately, a small group of such individuals was steadily growing at our very own North York Baptist Church. Together their collective dissatisfaction transformed into something that looked like this:

Accomodations needed to be made. Manna was born as a direct result -- God's answer to a spiritual incompatibility that an entire generation of his children were suffering from. Though initially nothing more than a vision, Manna came to mean many different things, from an alternative worship service, to an intimate, God-centered family, to an exploration of art, soul, and Holy Spirit. Most importantly, Manna symbolized God's provision in a time of need. We cried out, and he inclined and heard us. Awesome.

To learn more and to follow our progress, regularly check the new Manna blog at http://nycbc-manna.blogspot.com.

i'm sorry

I'm sorry for failing the Christian standard. I'm sorry that my voice doesn't change when I pray, and that I don't always pray before I eat, and that I'm not an active member of a campus fellowship. I'm sorry that I think campus fellowships are boring as hell. I'm sorry that I feel that way about a lot of sermons and the preachers who might preach them. I'm sorry that Star Trek, Soren Kierkegaard, and my immediate circle of friends all provide more insight into life than the combined efforts of Billy Graham and the major theologians of the modern era. At the same time, I'm sorry that I value the things that Eliot and Shakespeare and Melville had to say more than I do the ideas and agendas of some of the people within my social sphere. I'm sorry that I don't sing like one of the following people: Chris Tomlin, David Crowder, Charlie Hall. I'm sorry that I don't play the guitar like one of the following people: Chris Tomlin, David Crowder, Charlie Hall. I'm sorry that I don't idolize one of the following people: Chris Tomlin, David Crowder, Charlie Hall. I'm sorry that I don't read my bible enough to crack its spine and make all its pages fall out, rendering it useless. I'm sorry that I don't use the NIV, and by inference am also sorry that I find the NIV boring. I'm sorry that I hate the artificial lighting in the sanctuary. I'm sorry that my life isn't defined in five purposes. I'm sorry that I haven't given money to the offering in a long time. I'm sorry that I haven't led a major Christian event and have no intention of ever doing so. I'm sorry that I think Teens' Conference and the majority of other Chinese Christian events aren't worth my time. I'm sorry that I think it's okay to drink. I'm sorry that I have non-Christian friends who I trust more than a lot of my Christian ones. I'm sorry that I hate softball and love hockey, which seems to be considered a Jewish sport. I'm sorry that I don't conserve my money or spend it "well". I'm sorry that my violin means more to me than a lot of other things. I'm sorry that music is important to me. I'm sorry that I don't spend hours every day in prayer. I'm sorry that I never emphasize one area of ministry over another, therefore making it seem as though I don't value any of the areas of ministry, which in turn makes me seem bad. I'm sorry that I don't want our church to look like a mall. I'm sorry that I think the church should take its ministries more seriously. I'm sorry that I would rather own a rosary than a WWJD bracelet. I'm sorry that I think the Catholics are sometimes a lot smarter than we are. I'm sorry that I think we're all doing the right thing and approaching God in different ways. I'm sorry that I'm dissatisfied with so many things. I'm sorry that I'm bad at small talk. I'm sorry that I HATE Christian small talk. I'm sorry that I feel as though sometimes, the church is one huge fake. I'm sorry that I'm sick of repeating the same conversation a dozen times over on Sunday morning. I'm sorry that I'm not wildly outgoing. I'm sorry that I cut social connections because of a lack of trust of a lot of Christians, who seem to have the ability to say one thing and do another with no moral consequence. I'm sorry that I don't want to listen to people who don't want to listen to me. I'm sorry that I'm offended by people who patronize me in any way. I'm sorry that I prefer getting to know people naturally than having it all spill out at once. I'm sorry that I think the vast majority of Christians are far too predictable in their thoughts, words, actions, intentions, and reactions. I'm sorry that I have no intention of forcing Christianity down my childrens' throats. I'm sorry that I think early-age indoctrination by the church robs children of the wonder and beauty of religious experience in their later years, and effectively desensitizes them to God and faith. I'm sorry that I think following Christ is a choice. I'm sorry that I want my children to be able to recall the day that they became Christians when they give testimony of Jesus Christ, rather than to start with "I was born into a Christian home." I'm sorry that I think a testimony is a testimony of Christ and not a testimony of a person. I'm sorry that life, for me, is never formulaic. I'm sorry that I don't have all the answers.

I'm sorry for failing the social standard. I'm sorry that I don't have a lot of money. I'm sorry that I don't wear nice clothes. I'm sorry that I don't talk about how much I have. I'm sorry that I don't showcase my possessions. I'm sorry that I don't pretend to discreetly handle money or expensive goods in the presence of others, while clearly making visible the extent of my material wealth. I'm sorry that the majority of my material wealth is invested into things that aren't on my person. I'm sorry that I spend my money on things that matter, like good food or reliable goods, instead of overpriced brand-name items of inferior quality. I'm sorry that I don't aspire to dominate the world. I'm sorry that I'm not funny. I'm sorry that I'm "uptight" or "boring". I'm sorry that I think very little of very many people. I'm sorry that I look down on very many people. I'm sorry that I think wearing a brand name or logo is roughly equivalent to prostitution. I'm sorry that I don't party. I'm sorry that I think getting drunk is idiotic and irresponsible. I'm sorry that I don't do idiotic things in public to draw attention to myself. I'm sorry that I'm not really myself around most people. I'm sorry that I don't listen to Death Cab for Cutie. I'm sorry that I don't like indie music, though I did many years ago. I'm sorry that I listen to classical music. I'm sorry that I listen to country music. I'm sorry that my favourite artists are UK rock bands, African-American jazz players, continental-European violinists, and semi-obscure female guitarist-vocalists. I'm sorry that I hate iPods. I'm sorry that I'm getting tired of playing the social fronting game. I'm sorry that I drink my tea black, and that I eat my hamburgers with lettuce and barbeque sauce, and that I eat my fries plain. I'm sorry that I hate most peoples' cooking. I'm sorry that I think my mother is the best non-professional cook in the world. I'm sorry that I think my father is the greatest man alive. I'm sorry that I don't invest much time and effort into academic studies. I'm sorry that I don't have a million friends. I'm sorry that I hate certain people for stealing the few friends that I have. I'm sorry that I find amusement in things. I'm sorry that I would rather talk about top hats and Jonny Greenwood than Burberry and AE sales. I'm sorry that I'm offended by people who degrade conversations by talking about their own money and social status. I'm sorry that I'm a cynic. I'm sorry that I can see right through the tricks and the lies and the pretensions when people discreetly try to boast about themselves. I'm sorry for thinking less of people who try to act higher up on the social ladder than they actually are. I'm sorry that I don't do enough. I'm sorry that I don't give enough. I'm sorry that I don't spend enough money. I'm sorry that all I do is meaningless.

I want to be a pastor. I want my life to be wholly focused on God. I want to take people where God is taking me. I want a Gibson SG named Eponine, and a cat named Cat. I want a wife, a family, and a home with a garden. In my senior years I want to have white hair, and to open a tea & coffee shop, and to own a schooner, which I'd want to christen with one of the following names: Jerobaom, Pequod, Kobayashi-maru. I'm sorry if that isn't good enough.

waking

Beyond the hill the sun went down
And Twilight drew her broidered gown
Across the red-lit summer night,
Beneath that great celestial crown.
The moon, the stars, the distant light,
O'erhead they burned, and shimmered bright;
In blackened skies they would not drown
But shone instead -- and what a sight!

photography

There's a photo on my desk that I've looked at often in the past week. It's simple, really -- just a big field with a few trees, blue skies, and two people walking through. That photo captures one of the most beautiful and memorable times of my recent life, and really does the whole "photo" thing of giving me a glimpse of what I don't or no longer have.

It was such a lazy day that even the wind couldn't be bothered to move -- evidenced by the kite that couldn't get itself off the ground. But we still spent it together, and for one day we experienced the brief joy of solace in our lives. I think it'll always be a reminder of a quieter time.

Lazy days with friends are probably some of the sweetest experiences that life has to offer. It makes me sad that both elements are about to be in very short supply.

in mind

Hectic, hectic, hectic. I sort of like the busy-ness of it all, but seriously, this is kind of insane. I've spent at least ten hours over the past two days writing emails. I have a feeling things are going to stay this way, too.

I think I'm the only one who was thoroughly unimpressed by him. Then again, I only saw him once. But honestly, I thought he sucked. Oh well.

My little HD5 is probably the greatest invention known to man, or at least ranks up there with rack of lamb and humbucking pickups. Sound quality is beautiful. So is the thing itself. Sony, I applaud you; you have never let me down (maybe it only works for Japanese people).

I need to find a couple things online to add to a neverending list of things I haven't done. Among these: Soren Kierkegaard's Fear and Trembling, Either-Or, and diaries. The diaries ought to be something of an experience for me -- I usually hate being that intimate with other peoples' thoughts.

Also on my to-do list of online shopping; a Boss DD-20 Giga Delay. Of course, I have to sell the Whammy first. Ideally I'd just swap one for the other and spare myself the hassle of going through the process twice. Anyways, I've got to find time to do it. Actually, I'm still sort of going back and forth between the DD-20 and the RC-20XL. Thoughts, Mr. Ma?

Broke my first pick today. I was rocking out so hard that it split in half vertically, and then one of the halves chipped off. I've since switched to a more sturdy (but massive, and accordingly cumbersome) Fender pick. I love John Frusciante.

Look out, cash flow. You are about to be dealt a serious blow -- a number of CDs are about to come into my possession. I hope you're ready for it! I certainly am.

I am going to buy myself a guitar and name her Eponine. She will sing sweetly in spite of my inability to play her well.

Vincent Millay wrote "Renascence" when she was only eighteen. I'd always thought that I'd have accomplished more by my nineteenth birthday. Somehow, anything short of extraordinary is always a failure.

I'm being reminded that the world is imperfect. There's never an ideal set of circumstances. As it is right now, my hands are tied; there aren't very many options in terms of resources, and my vision is being limited by what's available to me. I guess there's a reason for that as well. After all, it's not about my vision, but about God's.

thank you

I am loved. Picky, needy, ungrateful, and high-maintenance, maybe -- but that doesn't erase the fact that I'm surrounded by people who care about me to an unfair degree. It's days like these that flip my perspective of life on its head and make me wonder how blind I've been.

These friendships are the greatest gifts and are without doubt my dearest possessions. They're a constant reminder of the incessant love that God himself pours out onto me. I've done nothing to earn either, and by all accounts have deserved to lose both -- and yet I can say without a measure of hesitation that I'm loved, more than I ever thought possible.

If love can be measured in Shakespeare, in lazy days and Will Ferrell movies, in transcontinental Earl Grey tea parties, in butternut squash soup and six pounds of lamb meat, in overpriced lobster, mahjong, and Mario Party, in long car rides and well-tempered jokes, in nights out with mobs of friends, in memories and adventure and companionship -- if love can be measured in all these things, then I will admit to unfairly hoarding the greatest wealth of love that ever was.