The Sweetest Medal

Back in June 2007, Jesse, Wing and I joined the Pasadena Marathon Founders' Club in anticipation of an inaugural marathon in the city of Pasadena. At the time, we had no idea when the marathon would take place... if at all.

Finally, it was announced that the first ever Pasadena Marathon would take place on Sunday, November 16, 2008. I trained and made arrangements to fly back to LA from Vancouver for that weekend. I arrived on Friday and picked up my race packet on Saturday morning. All seemed to be going well except for the raging wildfires in southern California at the time. On Sunday morning, I woke up at 3:30AM and put on all my running gear. With time to spare, I decided to check my email before heading out at 4:30AM. There was an email from the marathon committee, sent the night before, saying that the marathon might get canceled and that they would send out an announcement at 4:00AM. So, I sat around and kept refreshing my browser. Finally, just a little after 4:00AM, an email was sent out announcing the marathon's cancellation due to the unhealthy air quality caused by the fires. What a disappointment!

Then, in December 2008, the committee announced the rescheduling of the Pasadena Marathon for Sunday, March 22, 2009. Again, I made arrangements to fly back to California for the race. However, due to a heavy school workload, bad weather in Vancouver, and an injured right knee, my training was nearly non-existent.

This weekend, I was still working on schoolwork, got ready for houseguests and worked a wedding. On Sunday, I woke up at 3:30AM... dreading the race. True to the news forecast, it was raining. But I also felt reassurance because Lance agreed to run the whole race (26.2 miles) with me. "Besides," I thought to myself, "It's LA — the rain will not be bad and it will surely let up by the time the race starts."

Boy was I wrong! Lance and I had to put on and take off our trashbags several times during the first half of the marathon. The rain and wind were torrential. And with the water in our shoes and socks, we both started developing blisters on our feet early on. Finally, at mile 10, I told Lance that I really needed a bandage to cover my blister. Otherwise, I would not be able to continue. He said that there would be a medic center at mile 13, so we persisted.

At mile 13, I saw a trailer and started yelling to the people there, "Do you have a band-aid? I really need a band-aid!!!" The man said that he did not know if they had any, but would check. They did end up finding some and gave us several of them. Lance and I pulled over to the sidewalk to put on the band-aids. As we were doing this, I said to Lance, "What a stupid medic center! They didn't even know if they had band-aids." Then, Lance said, "That wasn't the medic center. They're just spectators. The medic center is a few yards down." Boy did I feel stupid. And those poor spectators must have thought I was the most ungracious person ever.

After we bandaged ourselves up, I was feeling much better. We ran and walked several more miles. At times, I was ahead of Lance. At other times, he was ahead of me. Finally, after passing the mile 21 marker, I realized that I hadn't seen Lance in awhile. So, I pulled over and sat at the side of the road to wait for him. He came hobbling along in evident pain. He said that his blisters had spread and were merging with each other.

I had the choice of proceeding in front of him or walking the rest of the way with him. It was a tough choice, but I finally decided to stay with him. After all, he was planning on sticking with me the whole time even when he thought earlier that I would be the slower one. So, we walked together at a very slow pace the rest of the way... with people passing us by, with the sweeping van stopping to ask us if we needed help, and with a medic van offering to help Lance. But, Lance refused to quit.

We were taking so long that the streets were all re-opened for traffic and we were pushed to the sidewalk. By the time we reached the finish line, the timing chip sensor had been removed and they had to take our times manually (8:04:18). But when the man at the finish line put the medal around my neck, I was so happy. (I later found out that Wing had to stall the man to get him to stay until we finished. Apparently, he was planning to leave and stop distributing medals.)

I have ran many races and have received many finishers' medals, but this particular medal means the most to me. It was physically exhausting. The road before it was frustrating. And the emotional and mental decisions I had to make along the way were not easy. In many ways, this was the sweetest medal!

An Article to Ponder

While trying to do some research on Henri Nouwen, I came across this article. It's a bit long, but I hope you can find the time to read it. It strives to be honest AND biblical, but is it? The concept of homosexuality is a very hot topic in the church today... how do we respond as a community living in the world? I'm curious about any thoughts anyone might have about it.

The great "I am" -May 14, 2002
by Tony Cross

A crisis of identity is something that surely most of us have experienced at some time or another.

Every gay man either knows from day one that he is gay or has to come to that realization - often painfully - at some later stage in his life. It may be when in his teens, or twenties - or it may be deferred until later on. But sooner or later we all have to face the question - who am I really? - Is this really me?

Although at the time we find going through an identity crisis difficult, often at the end of the process we are clearer, more defined and more at peace with ourselves. Why is that? Perhaps because we have come to a deeper understanding of ourselves. We have integrated into our consciousness another aspect of ourselves that seemed to stand out but actually, we now see, are very much a part of the real me.

I started down this line of thinking this morning because I have just reached the last few pages of a biography of Henri Nouwen (Wounded Prophet, by Michael Ford £10.95, Darton, Longman and Todd). If you have never read any of the books by Nouwen you have a treat in store. They are deeply personal and almost universal in their appeal.

Henri Nouwen was a Roman Catholic priest who was gay. As he was born in 1932, he lived through a time when being gay was just not acceptable to anyone. Except to other gay people, that is! You might ask - well, what has changed? But the very fact that homosexuality was unmentionable in those days is indicative of the sort of atmosphere which surrounded gay people. It is almost impossible for people today to realize what a dark black shadow hung over the whole subject. And how those who suspected or knew that they were gay (a word not then invented) were caught up in huge doubts within themselves about their standing, both as people and as Christians.

Henri Nouwen died when he was 62 and although he seems to have known he was gay from a fairly early age, it seems he was only able to accept and integrate the fact of his gayness in the last decade or two of his life. In the early stages, like most other gay people, the disapproval of society and the churches forced him to think that his gayness was not only odd and deviant, but also evil and a thing to be hidden away. Indeed, in mid life, he underwent a severe nervous breakdown - and there cannot be any doubt that his homosexuality was the main reason for that.

As I read about Henri Nouwen in 'Wounded Prophet', I often felt I could understand from my own experience what he went through. As a gay person, I feel I can identify with him and with his writings almost instinctively. I can understand his frenetic activity. Have we not all hidden from our own innermost questions behind work at times? I can understand his inner weaving of a relationship with another man, but without that other man ever realizing how deeply it had affected Henri. I can identify with the feeling of obsession - with a man or with an idea. I can imagine the attraction of virile young men on the flying trapeze for a gay man. I can - do - feel the openness of heart and feelings towards all he met, and an outgoing love to all - a sublimation of the love of God in one's heart and the result of repression of one's natural instincts.

Above all I can imagine the torment that went on in Henri Nouwen's soul as he struggled with the desperate desire to be true to himself as against the natural and strong desire to be true to his vast worldwide public - none of who knew he was gay. Should he come out? Should he leave the priesthood and find the intimacy he craved with one of the loving men he already knew, or some other man whom God might send along? Should he declare himself and thereby possibly ruin himself in the eyes of many 'correct' homophobic Christians who were not yet at the stage where they could accept homosexuality as being a state blessed by God? Could he perhaps have a new and wider ministry if he came out - and so start to help Christians everywhere face the fact - the reality - that God created some people homosexual and that was acceptable?

The man went through torment. But he turned it all over to God. At times he could only turn over the desire to turn it over to God. Sometimes he could only turn over the desire to want to turn it all over to God! And sometimes he was so paralyzed that he could only sit still and wait for God to rescue him.

So it is with us all. We face our own identity crises. We may face many identity crises. There is the one about becoming a Christian. That is not an easy one. Then there is the crisis about accepting, before God, our gayness. That is not easy. Then there is the ever-present question of whether we should 'live a lie' or whether we should 'tell the world'. Or some alternative between the two extremes. That is never an easy one - and if one decides for anything less than full disclosure then one goes on wondering for the rest of one's life whether one has gone far enough!

Life is a sequence of identity crises. Over and over again we think we have got things sorted. Ordered. Organized. But then suddenly, or gradually, we become aware that we are up against a new problem - a new decision that has to be made.

This process actually has a name - it is the journey of life. The pilgrimage through life. It is a basic and fundamental part of being human. We will have crises about our faith, our religion, our work, our friends, our everything. So what does that tell us? That all of life is an ongoing process of redefining ourselves in the light of experience.

For many years I blocked the idea that I was gay. I had so programmed myself (because of how I interpreted the bible, the illegality of homosexuality, the attitudes in society, the church rigidity etc.) against the idea that I could be homosexual. I could not countenance the fact of my own gayness. I lived as good a Christian life as I could and I was happy. I lost all conscious sense of being gay. Except of course that I was restless. The same sort of restlessness that Henri Nouwen had. A constant seeking to do better, to reach more people, to help others more, to be more loving, always experiencing a feeling of incompleteness, of there having to be more.

Then suddenly I discovered (perhaps rediscovered is more accurate) my gayness. It does not matter how it occurred. Suffice to say that for me the awakening did not come gradually. It came like a thunderbolt. One morning I woke up happy with who I was but by the time I went to bed my whole world had collapsed around me. I no longer knew who I was, nor how I stood with God, nor how I stood in my church, nor my family, nor even myself. Did I like what I now realized I was? Did I want to fight it or indulge it? Was I sick? Or was I deluded? Was I 'possessed'? Was I 'perverted'?

Over the next decade I came to terms with who I really was, and to understand the grace and mercy and love of God in an even deeper way. I realized how blind people are about their prejudice against gay people and recognized the blindness of the churches. It was a bumpy ride. But at the end of it my faith was stronger, my relationship with my Creator was deeper, my fear largely gone.

I went through an identity crisis. And, by God's grace, I have come out the other side. And I think I have a much clearer vision now. A similar thing obviously happened to Henri Nouwen. It probably happened to you too. Each story is fascinating - it is the story of a person's realization of the incredible depth of the love of God. It is a realization of the purpose of life - this pilgrimage towards God.

So if you are having problems about your identity - don't despair. Tell God about it and ask him to help you sort out the way forward one step at a time. You may find the many helpful sites on the internet. Possibly join a discussion group - and stay as a lurker for several months while you sound out the attitudes of those posting messages. Maybe join a Christian group of gay people - discover that you are just one among many hundreds and thousands of gay Christians trying to make sense of it all.

Ask God to help you find a friend who loves you for yourself. Ask him to help you keep your physical desires in the right place. Ask him to send you someone you can share with - maybe even someone whom you can love and who will love you. Ask him to help you treat all those around you with love and honesty. Ask him to give you the grace of tolerance with all who disagree with you. And remember that the world is a big place and that your own particular worries and grievances shrink down to the right size in the light of the problems and difficulties of many Christians in the world.

Do you have enough to eat? Do you have somewhere to sleep? Do you have at least one friend? Do you have a job? Then you are among the world's most fortunate people. Thank God for all you have and ask him to help you grow to match the challenges in your life. Treat each day as a special gift. Cultivate a grateful heart that looks for your Creator God in every person you meet, every situation that arises. Your true identity is in Christ. He is our hope and our salvation.

Classes for Winter 2009

Many people have been asking me which classes I'm taking this term. So... here they are:

• The Meaning of Sacraments
• An Introduction to Preaching and Worship
• Soul of Ministry: Becoming Persons-in-Relation
• Empowering the Church for First World Re-Evangelization: Theological and Missional Themes in the Books of Acts
  

Some Nicknames Aren't Permanent

Since moving to Vancouver, I have received the nickname Pocahontas from new friends of various circles. I suppose it had to do with my dark complexion and long hair. At first, I was a little indignant because I'm not a 13-year-old girl who ran off with a 35-year-old man who came to invade my people's land. But, I quickly got over such foolishness when people merely meant the nickname as a compliment because they were thinking about the 1995 Disney film. In fact, I was getting so used to the nickname that I actually answered when people called me Pocahontas.

Last Friday, just before leaving LA, my mom insisted that I cut my hair (because she's convinced that I'm going bald due to the heaviness of my hair). So, I let her take me to her hairdresser, Annie of Annie Hair Design. I took off well over a foot of hair to donate to Locks of Love or Pantene Beautiful Lengths (I haven't decided yet). This is the 4th time I've cut my hair for donation. Usually, after initially getting my hair cut, I am in shock and don't like it at all. This time, however, I love it. My mom's hairdresser is really good.

When I returned to Vancouver, many friends were disappointed to find that I am no longer Pocahontas.

Sorry. Nicknames based on appearance aren't permanent.

What Happened to the Wave?

I just spent 3 weeks down in California. While I can get around via public transportation in Vancouver, I cannot do that in Los Angeles. Driving is absolutely necessary in LA. On one particular day, I had many errands to run. These errands included several cities, various freeways and many local streets. Because I was not in a rush to finish my errands, I was very generous about allowing cars to merge in front of me... especially when it looked like they were stuck in the wrong lane. During different times and places, I let in 10+ cars. Each time I allowed a car to come in front of me, I expected a courtesy wave. Isn't that part of proper driving etiquette?

But I only received one courtesy wave!

What happened to the wave???

A Definite Don't-Read

I just read The Lighting Thief by Rick Riordan. Don't let your kids read it. It's a wanna-be Harry Potter book, but far more dangerous. For example, the main character gives burnt sacrifices to Greek gods and prays to Poseidon as "Father" (supposedly because Poseidon is his biological father, but still not good). The writing is just fine and the author is imaginative, but the storyline is dangerous for kids who are not emotionally and spiritually mature enough yet.

A Definite Must-Read

This term, I'm taking a class called "Books, Children and God." I get to read a lot of children's classics in chapter books, picture books, fairy tales, and poetry. Then, I also get to read some books that I have never heard of. Since they are children's books, I easily breeze through most of them with little thought (except when having to write about or discuss them). But, today, I read one that really struck me.

This short chapter book is called What Child Is This? by Caroline B. Cooney. It has been a long time since I've read a book that caused me to have an emotional pit in my stomach. It has been a long time since I've read a book that made me cry. It has been a long time since I've read a book that caused a paradigm shift in my perspective on life and people. But this book did all those things. I highly recommend it. It's a great book to read aloud or quietly... for children and for adults. For a little preview, here is what's on the back cover:

Katie, a foster child, wants only one thing for Christmas: a family. Who can bring such an immense gift? There are no wise men coming from the East. There are no shepherds watching in the fields. But there is Matt Morden, age sixteen, who believes he is doing a good deed. There is Liz Kitchell, also sixteen, whose family decorates and celebrates but leaves Liz wondering where the meaning of the holiday has gone. There are Mr. Knight and his son, Tack, who run an inn and put up a tree on which children's wishes will hang, waiting to be granted.

It's the season of joy, hope, and miracles. Is the Christmas spirit strong enough to bring about the impossible?

Here are some things I pondered while reading the book. (If or when you read this book, please let me know other things you pondered.)

• I have so much. How can I give more?
• Maybe it's okay that kids in the Angel Tree Project have asked for expensive things after all.
• How does my church impact the community... the world?
• What does it truly mean to know God? How should this be reflected in my life?
  
• Maybe that odd guy in high school has more to his story... maybe I should have taken the time and energy to find out.

I don't know if this book in available at your typical Borders or Chapters. I had to specially order it from Vancouver Kidsbooks.