It's been about a little more than a month since I've been back in Taiwan but time always seems to be moving at warp speed here. Somehow the 12 hour time difference seems to propel you even faster through space and time like a 1980's Delorean.
The first couple of weeks in Taiwan were some of the happiest most peaceful times I had experienced in life thus far. I've discovered that deep skepticism and complaining are both traits of my family, and having suffered from the "Liou gene" all my life, naturally, my first instinct was to wait for the other shoe to drop. The kids I teach were well-behaved, I was spending time with God every morning, playing the piano everyday, starting art lessons...and life just seemed so together. I thought to myself, "wow, this might be it, this might be the time my life permanently changes for the better, where God's favor will rest on me." I still hung on to the skepticism, wondering if that shoe would drop, but I tried to fight every natural instinct that told me to keep an eye out for disaster.
As the week passed, God had brought me into a time of complete disaster. Sometimes that calm before the storm can be deceiving. I knew my guard was down, and more than that, my pride was up. I thought I had finally cleaned all the sin out of my life, but like the verse says:
When an evil spirit comes out of a man, it goes through arid places seeking rest and does not find it. Then it says, 'I will return to the house I left.' When it arrives, it finds the house unoccupied, swept clean and put in order. Then it goes and takes with it seven other spirits more wicked than itself, and they go in and live there. And the final condition of that man is worse than the first. That is how it will be with this wicked generation."
Boy did those spirits come back with a vengeance! I always have a tendency to want my life to be in order, which isn't a bad thing, but I realized its how I react to things when its not in order. I went through a week of just complete chaos, struggling with every sin from the past I thought I had already dealt with. The change was so noticeable that one of my roommates even joked that it seemed like I was slowly mutating into some trashy version of myself. There were late night drinking sessions, cigarette smoking, junk food...everything that I swore I would give up in order to clean up my life. There were battles with lust, envy, and malice. Everything that used to get to me before just started to rise up again. I spent hours on face book looking for reasons to feel bad about myself, reasons to think I'm a failure in life. I felt so angry just thinking about certain people in my life and how I felt mistreated by them, and how angry I was at God for not punishing them, but only punishing me. The happy weeks seemed so far, and I was so disappointed at myself that I just couldn't seem to keep things in order.
On Monday, I had crashed into a ball of misery. I wondered if my life would ever be a reflection of God's holiness, if I would ever make it to there, not even knowing where 'there' is. I wept in shame, grieved and burdened with my own guilt. In the misery, we're taught to seek God's grace, but sometimes shame is so heavy, it makes us run even further into sin and darkness. I live so much of my life in the dark, just hoping no one sees me or the sin in my heart. Holiness seemed like something I would never be able to attain. However, in my brooding over failed righteousness, I thought about whether its the darkness I love so much, or just the simple fact of hiding. When things were going well, was I really living a righteous life or was I only hiding from sin? As Christians, I believe we're taught that we must "cross over" to the light once we are saved, but how many of us hide behind the light just as we hid in the darkness? Perhaps I was wrong in gauging my closeness to God by the things I do. Was I really any closer to God when I thought my life was in order, and I'm I any further from Him when I fall into sin? I'm not sure what the right answer might be. Yes, I believe that we should live holy lives before the Lord and that the wages of sin is death, but what does it mean to be holy?
In my endeavors to reach holiness, I realized that I was merely hiding from my own sinful nature. I replaced the grace of God with my own personal righteousness, and when temptation came to reveal the sin in my heart, I ran to hide in the darkness. So often in the Christian community, there is a pressure to give off a guise of righteousness. We live by a "don't ask don't tell" policy where we are ashamed of confessing our sins to each other in fear that our image will be tarnished if people knew the deep dark things we struggle with. In my desperation these past few weeks, I felt a burden to confess, not just to God, but to my brothers and sisters as well. It was obvious that I needed help to fight through the rough waters and it took a lot to swallow that lump of shame in my throat in order to ask for help. My sister shared with me that she was praying that God would show me what it means to be holy, and I believe in the midst of my most recent battles, he has revealed a glimpse of what that looks like. Holiness was not something I could attain on my own, neither was it something that could be squeezed out of the avoidance of sin. When Jesus walked among us, he was holy not because he lived in this magical land of light where darkness could never reach. Jesus was holy because he was a light in the darkness. I so often imagine this divide between light and dark, where light is a place separated from sin and sinners. The fall of Adam is so much a part of my nature its inescapable, but this is why I need Jesus even more, because he is a light into my darkness. It's still unclear to me what holiness might look like or mean, but I believe that our lives are to be the same as Jesus, that we are called to be a light in the darkness, a representation of grace in the face of sin and shame. In my brokenness, God shines. In my weakness, God prevails, and whether I am good or bad, God is always near...now its just a matter of believing it.
On Monday, I had crashed into a ball of misery. I wondered if my life would ever be a reflection of God's holiness, if I would ever make it to there, not even knowing where 'there' is. I wept in shame, grieved and burdened with my own guilt. In the misery, we're taught to seek God's grace, but sometimes shame is so heavy, it makes us run even further into sin and darkness. I live so much of my life in the dark, just hoping no one sees me or the sin in my heart. Holiness seemed like something I would never be able to attain. However, in my brooding over failed righteousness, I thought about whether its the darkness I love so much, or just the simple fact of hiding. When things were going well, was I really living a righteous life or was I only hiding from sin? As Christians, I believe we're taught that we must "cross over" to the light once we are saved, but how many of us hide behind the light just as we hid in the darkness? Perhaps I was wrong in gauging my closeness to God by the things I do. Was I really any closer to God when I thought my life was in order, and I'm I any further from Him when I fall into sin? I'm not sure what the right answer might be. Yes, I believe that we should live holy lives before the Lord and that the wages of sin is death, but what does it mean to be holy?
In my endeavors to reach holiness, I realized that I was merely hiding from my own sinful nature. I replaced the grace of God with my own personal righteousness, and when temptation came to reveal the sin in my heart, I ran to hide in the darkness. So often in the Christian community, there is a pressure to give off a guise of righteousness. We live by a "don't ask don't tell" policy where we are ashamed of confessing our sins to each other in fear that our image will be tarnished if people knew the deep dark things we struggle with. In my desperation these past few weeks, I felt a burden to confess, not just to God, but to my brothers and sisters as well. It was obvious that I needed help to fight through the rough waters and it took a lot to swallow that lump of shame in my throat in order to ask for help. My sister shared with me that she was praying that God would show me what it means to be holy, and I believe in the midst of my most recent battles, he has revealed a glimpse of what that looks like. Holiness was not something I could attain on my own, neither was it something that could be squeezed out of the avoidance of sin. When Jesus walked among us, he was holy not because he lived in this magical land of light where darkness could never reach. Jesus was holy because he was a light in the darkness. I so often imagine this divide between light and dark, where light is a place separated from sin and sinners. The fall of Adam is so much a part of my nature its inescapable, but this is why I need Jesus even more, because he is a light into my darkness. It's still unclear to me what holiness might look like or mean, but I believe that our lives are to be the same as Jesus, that we are called to be a light in the darkness, a representation of grace in the face of sin and shame. In my brokenness, God shines. In my weakness, God prevails, and whether I am good or bad, God is always near...now its just a matter of believing it.
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