*A reflection upon returning home after three months in Rome.
I missed saying 엄마! I missed hearing her come through the door after a long day at work.
I missed warm showers.
I missed talking with my brother.
I missed driving and Costcos and Targets.
I missed hearing my dad laugh.
I missed my own bed and room.
I missed my church and family in California.
I missed home.
Because home is a place of trivial pleasures, but also deeply meaningful, irreplaceable fragments of who I am.
Home is a place you miss even when you’re surrounded by the most beautiful wonders of the world. Home is remembered by things you wish you could be seeing with family. Home is people who remind you that you are so perfectly loved already.
*This is the final draft of a testimony I had the blessed opportunity to share at Cru Fall Retreat 2024. Many thanks to my friends who supported me and prayed with me through the writing of this. And all glory to God who used me to speak to many people that night.
After I knew I was going to share my testimony today, I began reflecting on my time in Guatemala and with Filter of Hope. But the words just weren’t coming together. The only word that was coming up in my mind was The Word, God’s Word. He kept putting in my mind 2 Corinthians 12:9.
Every day and every moment on that trip called for my surrender to God’s grace and strength. And oh how faithful God was in giving me the grace and strength for each day. So, I decided that rather than sharing about the really good experiences and conversations I had – which I did! – I wanted to share about a day on the trip where I felt really weak and really inadequate.
The first day, I remember feeling so anxious from the moment we got off the van. All I could think about was what do i say? what do i do? how do i make a good impression? how can i convince these families to believe? All i could think about was my inadequacy. I was focusing on my ability to perform and say the right thing at the perfect time. We visited two families that day and I walked away from the second house so disappointed in myself and feeing so inadequate. That night, God gave me opportunities to process this through conversations with my friend on the van and in team debriefing. Through these conversations, I realized I had put myself on a pedestal.
I had to surrender my ways for God’s ways. I wasn’t just another American filling needs for an impoverished family. I was meant to get to know them like how God knows them. I was meant to love them like how God loves them. I was meant to be loved by them like how God loves me. I think that last one, to be loved by the families I met was the hardest one for me to understand. I could get to know them by asking good questions. I could love them by caring about what they say and remembering their names and sharing the gospel. But it was hard for me to know what it meant for me to be loved by them. I realized it meant sitting down when the family offered me a chair because they wanted us to sit from walking all day. It meant graciously taking the many MANY mangoes and snacks when the families gave them to us because they wanted us to be fed and hydrated for our travels. It meant receiving the gift from the little girl I met because that’s how she was saying thank you and I’ll miss you. That’s the humble posture God wanted me to take. He was saying, “let go of your pride and let yourself be loved and cared for.”
Yes, I was there to distribute filters and share the good news of Jesus. But most importantly, I realized I was there to build my trust in God. God didn’t need me to be in Guatemala to save a bunch of people. God can do that. He didn’t need me. But He called me because He wanted me to experience the goodness of His love and the joy that comes from trusting Him.
So for the remaining three days of distribution, I focused less on what I was supposed to be doing and if I was doing it right. And instead more on why I was here in the first place. My why was and always is Jesus. Because of His love, I know what it’s like to be loved and known and cherished. Jesus gave His life for me. I think for those of us who grow up hearing the gospel, we become so familiarized with a concept that is so radical. We should never look at the gospel and see it as common. Jesus died for me. He suffered the greatest pain there is: separation from God, His Father. He suffered because He knew me and loved me even before I was even alive. He gave His life for me, so why should I not give my whole life for Him? Why would I live my life in any other way than completely surrendered to Him when I know that He gave the greatest surrender first. So by remembering the why I was there, the what became easier.
God was kind to remind me the next day that the mistakes of yesterday don’t define me but that his mercies are new every morning and He is with me whenever I go. In return for my surrender, God blessed me so abundantly. He didn’t have to but out of His love for me, He did. He blessed the conversations I had with families, the vulnerable prayers that we shared, and the beautiful laughs we got to enjoy together. And by the end of the week I realized that the one family I got to witness deciding to follow Jesus was that second family on the first day when I felt so inadequate. God’s power was made perfect in my weakness. As I went to share the gospel, I myself experienced the power of the gospel more deeply. I realized there is no greater meaning for my life than to live in complete surrender to Jesus who gave His life for me.
But this surrender doesn’t end at one mission trip. The surrender is every day and every moment. The surrender is your life. It’s my waking up in the morning and thanking God for another day I get to breathe. It’s choosing to say thank You God even when I don’t feel thankful.
Coming into the trip, I had so many fears of uncertainty and worries about dangers of stepping out of my comfort zone. But I took a risk because I wanted to do what God wanted me to do. I took a risk as an act of faith.
And coming into this space of sharing in front of you all, it was hard.
I took a risk because the God I know is a God who is all powerful and who can handle anything and everything I experience. Our God is a God who we can trust. We can trust that whenever we step out in faith and obedience, He’s gonna be there in every step. I can trust that in every season, God is with me.
So I encourage you to pray a big, God-sized, faith-building prayer. Pray in your hearts with me as I pray to close: Father, thank You for this time where I got to share what You’ve done in my life. Thank You for this time I got to once again surrender to You. Thank You for Your love and grace that is so sufficient for me. Thank You that Your strength is made absolutely perfect in my absolute weaknesses. Thank You that I am weak so that Your power can be made strong. God, I want what You want. I want to do what You want me to do. Here’s my life. Do with it as You wish. May my life’s many endeavors match Your one surrender. Wherever You call me, I will say, “Yes, Lord. Here I am. Send me where you want me.” And I choose to admit that I’m weak and I don’t know what’s next, but in that I also choose to say I trust You God because You do know and You’re both all powerful and all loving. Thank You Jesus that You choose to suffer separation from God so that I would never have to be separated from God. As You have shown us, may we daily deny ourselves, take up our own cross and follow You. May we follow You in faith until that wonderful day we will see Your face and fall into Your arms. Thank You Jesus, all of these words I pray in Your Name. Amen.
when I called out to the God I had sought so earnestly and familiarly since my days of youth
and I was met with a chill through my bones.
Silence? From a God who is everywhere, knows everything, and is all powerful?
I’ve sought you faithfully and this is how You respond?
Oh, God. Don’t You care? Don’t You see?
Aren’t You supposed to be my Great Comforter and my Wonderful Counselor? You’re supposed to be my God, my Jesus who calms the great storm.
Wake up, God.
Don’t You care?
Don’t You know how much my heart hurts?
And so I swore and cried.
Why won’t You care?
Why won’t You heal me?
Why do You mock me,
telling me You see all and love me,
and yet You leave me in my suffering?
Why don’t You love?
Why?
“Trust me.”
What? Trust You?
Why should I trust You?
Then I answered my own question. Even in that moment of silence from the God above and my angry irreverence, I couldn’t deny His existence. Even as my mind questioned His love, I couldn’t deny His goodness. I couldn’t deny that He had kept my life safe through the fire. I couldn’t deny the blessings. I couldn’t deny the love of people. I couldn’t deny the beauty of the trees. I couldn’t deny the cold wind on my face. I couldn’t deny His love even as I wanted to. I can’t deny Your love.
I’m sorry.
I need Your peace right now.
Please, God.
It hurts too much.
“Peace, be still.”
And just like that, He swallowed my every irreverent question, my every choked cry, my every punch at the sky, my every rash word. He met my angry tears with nothing but peace. He met me in the whirlwind of my mind’s lies and brought peace. Just as I asked.
Imagine that Jesus is sitting next to you right now. What is He saying to You?
I heard a loud voice from above calling out names. I recognized some of them. Some were people at my school. Others were from my church. But I started walking away because I knew for a fact that my name would not be called. I knew for a fact that I did not belong. I turned around and faced away, but what lay ahead of me looked dark. I knew I didn’t belong there, but surely I didn’t belong here. But for some reason, even though I knew I wouldn’t hear my name, I stayed for just a moment longer, waiting for something. I didn’t know what, but I stood waiting before I started to walk out. Just as I was about to take my first step out, I heard the most gentle whisper calling my name. My name. I turned around towards the One who called me, but there were so many barriers blocking my view of Him. I could only see a small bit of light radiating over the top of the walls. I said, “Lord, is that you? I thought you would never call my name. But now that you have, is this a mockery? Why would you call me and not allow me to see you? How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will You hide Your face from me? How long shall I take counsel in my soul, having sorrow in my heart daily? How long will my enemy be exalted over me?” And the Almighty Adonai shining ahead of me gently whispered, “Incline your ear, and come to Me. Hear, and your soul shall live. And I will make an everlasting covenant with you. The sure mercies of David.” “But Lord, You feel so far away. And I have so many sins. And You know my dark past. I cannot step onto Your holy ground. I cannot dare to lift my face to You. This wall of pride and guilt and doubt blocks my way, Lord. How can I possibly get through it?” At that, God Almighty answered me, “Do not remember the former things, nor consider the things of old. Behold, I will do a new thing, now it shall spring forth; shall you not know it? I will even make a road in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.” Then I heard a voice not of Him but from beyond my barrier saying, “Are you ready to love the God who loves you? “Yes, Lord. Here I am.” “Yes, there you are, my child.”
Oh, how I long to be understood. And how I fear to be seen as a work in progress. And yet, the God of the universe tells me that He knew me even before my mother’s womb. My Father in heaven saw me before I was even formed and in His book my days were written, long before there were any. My Father loves me more than I can ever know. And I cannot be more loved than I am right now.
I am beloved. I am beloved. I am beloved. God says I am beloved. So I am beloved. Whether I believe it or not, If God says I am truly beloved, Then I am beloved. Oh soul, praise Your God who loves you.
This morning, I was making myself lunch and I saw our box of instant coffee mix. It caught my eye because of some writing on it. It was in Korean so I strained my brain to read each character; it read, “Expiration date passed! Do not eat!” It was clear that my dad had written it for my mom to read because she was the only one who liked the taste of it. I really shouldn’t have thought much of it, but a question came to me: is this love? Is even this small note a sign of affection? Even if it’s replacing so many other gestures of love that would make for a more wholehearted kind of love?
I just turned 20. I cried on my birthday for the third year in a row. When I turned 18, I cried because my dad hurt me. When I turned 19, I cried because my mind wouldn’t let me escape the deep pits of fear and anxiety to fully enjoy the happiness of my special day. This year, I turned 20, and I cried because I had experienced a love expressed “wholly, sincerely, with all my heart.” All day, my parents couldn’t let go of their pride or whatever it was that was holding them back to say two words, to wish me a good day, to say they were glad I was their daughter. Then, I went to dinner with a group of friends who were excited to show up for me and who made sure I knew today was my day. They asked me where I wanted to go after dinner, and presented me with two options they had researched. Admittedly, I was pretty tired from the morning, but I just started sobbing. Never had someone asked me what I wanted to do on my birthday and genuinely meant it. Never had people who I loved expressed their love to me so wholeheartedly. Never had I felt so seen and loved.
It took me so long to unlearn the confusing kind of love, mixed in hatred, blended so well it was hard to distinguish what was care and what was violence. To be hurt and then to be told it was because “I love you” completely fragmented my understanding of what love meant. Someone would show me the slightest sign of affection, and I believed it was all I deserved. I got excited over the broken kind of love because that was all I had known, and people loved to take advantage of that. I read into every word and action because I wanted to reap the most from what little I had received. I worked so hard to earn love from places that did not deserve my heart. And even now, I look at the writing on an instant coffee box and wonder if that means love because hope meant survival.
HESITANT TO HUG. SLOW TO WHISPER I LOVE YOU. WARY OF GIFTS. FEARFUL OF PROMISES. DREAD IN CONVERSATIONS.
Oh, praise my God who had shown me a whole and sincere kind of love, Incomparable to the brokenness of my past, Which He has reconciled and overcome.
Oh, praise my God who has given me people, Who help me know His love for me, A love without bounds nor strings.
Oh, praise my God who has given me a greater hope, One not for mere survival, But which fills me with a love that says WHOLLY, SINCERELY, WITH ALL MY HEART.
What better way to end this series than by writing a letter to my present self. When I wrote the first letter titled “Dear Younger Me”, my initial instinct was to write a letter to my future self, but I decided against that. Not because looking to my future and hoping for things isn’t good and necessary, but rather because I am in a place in my life where I need to focus on what is present and current. I want to focus on this season of life and make the most of the patterns in my present life.
First and foremost, I am so proud of you. Words cannot express how grateful I am that you never gave up, and even more importantly, that you continue to persevere through all of the tough times. I am so proud of how much you have grown up. You’ve learned love despite all of the pain you had to endure. You’ve learned that you are a precious person who is loved and chosen. You’ve gained confidence in your words, actions, thoughts, beliefs, and physical body. There is nothing more heartwarming than seeing how you smile at your face and say, “Wow. I am so beautiful. God made me so beautiful.” Because that isn’t being vain, but it’s verbalization of you having learned what love is.
I am so proud of how confident and bold you’ve become, and I know you sometimes regret some of the rather rash decisions you’ve made, but that’s just who you are. And I’m glad that you’ve learned to accept that about yourself. I love how you’re learning more about yourself as time passes. I know how much you hate vague answers and unclear situations, so good for you for asking for clarity and even though it doesn’t always work out the way you imagined, I’m proud that you know how to be assertive and communicate openly and honestly. Keep living life boldly and don’t let other people tell you any other way.
Finally, thank God every single day for how awesome He is, and especially how He constantly reminds us of that, whether through the beautiful sunset or the realizations He sends your way. Like, recently, you’ve learned to genuinely appreciate life in the present and the current season of life. Every time you are reminded of the existing relationships that need work, the pain you have yet to heal from, and the things you love to do, keep them close to your heart. Your relationship with God, and thus the love He helps you feel within yourself, are the most important things right now, so focus on that growth and progress. Don’t compromise your integrity and values for anyone else. Be patient and be joyful in the now. Thank God for teaching you a kind of love you’ve never experienced before.
Because then I wouldn’t have to try so hard to forget you.
To forget the fantasy I created to try to keep you.
And the crushing reality of who you actually are when I realized you loved to take advantage of me.
You made me feel like I was in control.
In reality, you were the master manipulator pulling me like one of your marionettes.
You nurtured me with your narcissism and violence.
And I suppose you also had your wounds, but you never hesitated to give me so many of my own.
So I believed that unconditional love had to be earned on your conditions and I never had enough.
I began to embrace fractured love as my everything.
And when anyone threw me a crumb, I thought I was being thrown a party.
I believed: “Love hard and fast before they leave, but let go just as quickly. That way, you won’t get hurt.”
Because to not get hurt was everything in a world where I somehow always got hurt.
Now, I have a whole kind of love.
Now, I live in a world where I don’t have to worry about getting hurt. Because even when the world around me is a mess, and I am in shambles, I have a love that tells me “it’s okay.”
I have a love that hears me, cries with me, hugs me, and searches for joy with me.
As Written by Lois 