sing for the years

Sometimes when I wake up in the morning, there are ten or so seconds in which I forget where in the world I am. Sometimes I think it’s 2010, when I’d head out into a warm Orange County morning and join my friends at our daily 9AM Chinese class; other days I’d think it’s 2011, when I’d walk into the busy, polluted square amid a sea of bicycles and the crowded Beijing marketplace. But after a few moments, I eventually remember that on this day, a very different landscape awaits.

I used to be really scared of saying goodbye. In a world where you never really know if you’ll ever again find what peace or comfort you’ve gathered up to that point, there’s always a part of me that wants to sacrifice growth and progress for safety and security. But one of the most valuable lessons I’ve learned in the past two years is the importance of moving on to new things if God asks you to. I’ve noticed myself growing more accepting of the fact that when God brings me to a new place, the only “consistent” thing I have is, well, me. But a weird thing happens when you travel enough—you start to realize more and more what “me” really is. “Me” is the spirit of every person along the way who’s left their mark on my life, “me” is the life and culture of every place I’ve lived, “me” is the God who guides me in every step I take—and no matter how far away I go, the essence of those things stay with me. One of the challenging but necessary parts of growing up is acknowledging that the people we love can’t physically be with us forever, but perhaps we should be more focused on using what time we have together to build the most genuine relationships we can, rather than on fearing the goodbye. No, not all of my friendships have survived the distance. But the ones that are closest to me do.

Don’t get me wrong—goodbyes are still hard. I will never, ever forget the morning I left Irvine, or the final night I spent with my friends along the lake in Beijing, or the times I’ve left my struggling mother at the driveway. But I live in abundant gratitude knowing that not a single one of my life’s goodbyes has been wasted, and that every moment of sadness or reluctance has saved me from the age-old trap of getting stuck in the past. Because the more you stay stuck longing for a past that simply doesn’t exist anymore, the harder it is to continue on the journey that God has surely set out for you. And trust me when I say that a genuine friend will never be as far away as you think, and that the day will come when you see them again.

As much as I sometimes wish to be waking up in China or the OC, there’s not a doubt in my mind that this is where I’m supposed to be at this point in time. And I love this place all the more for that reason alone.

The last time this came to mind, I was sitting in a van as it wound across an enormous overpass of Beijing’s pompous skyline, beholding not just the endless skyscrapers of China’s capitol but also the spirit of a world engaged in the endless conflict of truth and glory. A lot has changed in the last 3 months: the sky-high glass buildings that passed me by as I looked out the blurry bus window are replaced by a rainy landscape of castle-like buildings and tall golden trees; the huge, crowded thoroughfares are now narrow European corridors; and the pains of living in a crowded Asian capitol are replaced by the challenges of living in a small British town.

Yet everything is exactly the same. The spirit of every day is, as usual, filled not with the differing weather or the brick-and-wood of the town, but with the presence of a God who provides refuge amid the chaos of change. Every word and every action is still driven by a heart of brokenness, masked under an impeccable guise of skillful confidence. Every moment of every day is still enveloped in the heart-calming faith that there is no possible way to live more purposefully than for the mission of your life. And every single thing still comes out of a blind but confident trust that each stop of this exhausting, globe-trotting journey is for some purpose that will someday be revealed.

As the great Steve Jobs once said, you can only connect the dots of your life when looking backwards. But as you’re moving forward, you just have to follow your heart—however absurd and crazy it is—and trust that it knows where it’s going. A few have commented on my life in a similar way: “You majored in your passion of politics and social justice, then you spent a year in the biggest human rights battleground in the world, now you’re working for an international human rights organization, and then you’re going to law school to study human rights. It makes so much sense.” That is not at all an accurate portrayal of my life. It didn’t make any sense for a naive college student to change his major to political science when he didn’t know what political science was, to reluctantly listen to a strange voice telling him to go across the world even though he knew absolutely nothing and no one over there, or to decide to go abroad for an entire year on the money he didn’t have when it seemed hopelessly irrelevant to any career or life path. Not only did it make no sense, it was and still is stupid and foolish by any worldly measure.

But it worked. “Stay foolish. Stay hungry.”  Follow your foolish heart, wherever it takes you, and trust that the dots will connect someday. Every day I live with confidence that mine will, even as I still don’t know how. I’m trusting You on this one.

I remember when I thought blessings were always supposed to bring joy, that happiness was made of smiles, and that forgiving others meant saying, “I forgive you.”

I remember when I thought “saving people” could only be done by super heroes, or at least just by those grown-ups over there who look like they probably know what they’re doing.

I remember when I thought the extent of my ability to do things in this world was accurately defined by what my parents and teachers said of me, and that the voice in my head saying there was something more was just my imagination.

I remember when I thought the world was too big to explore, and that the unknown was something to be scared of.

Thank God for growing up. I leave today as a troubled young man who happens to be one of the luckiest in the world. Wish me luck.

I’ll see you again someday, China. I’m not done here yet.

Thank You, God.

This place is beautiful.

Last week, I looked in the mirror and saw the same face, staring through the same two enormous eyes, standing on the same two feet, yet something was still different. My eyes conveyed a different message, a different emotion; my face was paler than usual, and a new weight was under my eye that was never there before. Many of my friends and students were commenting that I looked either sick or very tired, even at times when I was trying my best to be vibrant and alive. Hmm…

I think anything in this world can hurt us, can try to take our identity away, try to rob us of our worth and tell us our names are worth nothing. But I think that no matter what, this world doesn’t get to decide who we are, regardless of what it tries to do to us. We’re not defined by the things we can’t do, by the mistakes of our past, by the circumstances we can’t control or by the actions of those who don’t believe in us. You’re not defined by the friend who turns on you and forgets you, or by the girlfriend or boyfriend who leaves you as if you’re worth nothing, or by the parents who are too messed up to remember you’re there. We’re not defined by the people who cheat us, or those who walk in and out of our lives, or those who treat us as if we’re not worth anything. My name is always going to be the same, no matter how hard the world tries to change and demean it.

So now I look in the mirror, staring through the same two enormous eyes, standing on the same two feet, but knowing that these are the same eyes through which I once envisioned a worthy and valuable future, and the same two feet on which I once proudly walked on, knowing that there is value and a true reason for moving forward. And it’s my prayer that on this long journey of life, we will never believe the world when it tells us we’re not worth anything, and that we will go forward with a new boldness knowing that the vast love and potential within us will shine on regardless.

Late last week, early on a freezing China morning, my pastor’s car pulled up, and I hopped in. He said, “It looks like physically, you’re doing a lot better than before.” I smiled and said, “Yeah. I really am doing great lately.” And a part of me never wants to leave this beautiful city and its amazing people.

At this moment, there’s nowhere in the entire world I should be than here.

Even though it’s hard, this is where I’m supposed to be right now.

But I miss you all very, very much.