Electromagnetic Spectrum

Recently, I've been volunteering at a nearby middle school. I mentor two kids, Cristian and Nolvin, in a  weekly Wednesday afternoon science program. We're doing an experiment to see what kinds of light kill bacteria -- infrared, red, green, blue, or ultraviolet. So today we took a few minutes to talk about the electromagnetic spectrum and check out this nifty video by NASA.

It reminded me of how good science is to totally grow your perspective. Can you remember the first time you discovered that there are radio waves in the air all around you? And a host of other activity too. Some we can see (visible light), but much we cannot.

Interestingly, the spiritual dimension is like this too. Through nature and personal testimonies we see and hear that God is at work (as well as the enemy), but this is only a glimpse of the spiritual activity that takes place around us. Only through the careful study of revelation do we learn of the activities of "ministering spirits sent out to serve" and "spiritual forces of evil" (Heb. 1:14, Eph. 6:12).

Indeed, we're in the midst of a whole lot of action -- like the scientist, we may do well to study what's going on around us.

Calling to the Cat

"Anthony, come quick," calls mom from the back of the house.

I was in my bedroom, home for break, and could tell from the tone of her voice that this was going to turn into something story-worthy.

"What is it?" I inquired.

"The dog chased a cat up the tree, we have to get it down."

"Mom, it's a cat, it'll be fine."

"No, it's been up there for hours; it's stuck. You have to climb the tree."

I knew she was serious. Our family has a long history of adventures centered around my mom's love for animals. Turtles in the middle of the street, stray cats and dogs, even a pig once -- anything in need of help. Today it was a cat in a tree.

Stepping into the backyard, sure enough, there was a terrified cat stuck in very straight tree some 18 feet up. "Mom, there's no way I can climb that," I think to myself, but I know her animal-affection will trump my protests.

The tree is next to our backyard fence. I climb the fence and get a foothold in the tree. I stretch out my arms. Not quite there -- the cat is still a handful of feet away.

"Why don't we have a ladder?" I ponder.

What now? If only I can get the cat to jump down into my outstretched arms.

"Here kitty kitty kitty. Jump. You can trust me. I will catch you. Here kitty kitty kitty. I'm right here."

The terrified cat eyes me. But no jump.

Mom has an idea: we'll lure her down to me with some tuna fish. As she retrieves the bait, I begin to question my footing.

She returns with a bowl full of stinky tuna fish. I extend it as high as I can, hoping the scent lofts up to the cat.

"Here kitty kitty kitty. I have some yummy tuna fish. You like that. Jump. I'll catch you."

Nothing.

But mom's not out of ideas. Perhaps the cat just needs a nudge. In our backyard we have a tree that grows some small citrus fruits (tangerines, I believe). She picks, aims for the cat, and throws -- hoping to hit the cat. And misses.

Again: Throws. Misses. Throws. Misses.

Then she recruits my friend Jin Tik who has been amusedly watching up until this point. They throw. And miss. This continues for some time.

Finally, a hit! The nudge. And again, nothing. Cat still stuck in the tree.

Normally, one probably would now give up. Actually, normally one likely would have never climbed into the tree in the first place for such a clearly hopeless endeavor. But for some reason my mom loves that cat -- the stray neighborhood cat we don't even know -- and I suppose I'm identifying with that love a bit too.

So we persist. Mom has another idea -- we need another cat. You see we have a house cat. Although this cat never goes outside, my mom reasons that if she brings her out and lets me hold her in the tree close to the other cat, then for some reason the cat stuck in the tree will trust us and jump. Perhaps it'll learn that we're friendly cat people.

So my mom brings my bewildered cat out and hands her to me. "Here kitty kitty kitty. Look, we have a cat too. You can trust us. Jump into my hands. I'll bring you down."

Nothing. We return our cat to the house.

At this point two thoughts are running through my head:

(1) This is kinda ridiculous. Climbing a tree; outstretched arms; reasoning with a cat; luring with tuna fish; throwing citrus; bringing our house cat out. And for what? To get some neighborhood cat out of a tree?

(2) I'm not sure how safe this is. I've been juggling quite a bit up here and I'm not sure how solid my footing is. This could be dangerous. I could fall! Doesn't mom remember that I'm her only son.

Conclusion: She must love that unknown cat. And so do I. It's terrified stuck up in a tree, but we're going to get him down, whatever it takes.

It was in that moment, in that tree, that a profound question struck me. Rather, a series of questions.

What if God is like this?

What if when I was terrified and stuck, his love compelled him to act?

Even to send his Son, his only Son?

What if it was a dangerous -- even to death -- mission for that Son?

But what if his loving act prevailed?

An often quoted scripture flashed to mind with new force:

"For God so loved the world, he sent his only begotten Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish, but have everlasting life" (John 3:16).

He's still calling: Here I am. Jump into my outstretched arms. I know that you are terrified. I know that you are stuck in a mess that you can't get yourself out of. But I'm here. You can trust me. Jump. I will take you home; whatever it takes.

So Many

I pulled out of my wallet the Hilton post-it note and confirmed, "15048. 11pm." Knocked on the door; no response. I was a few minutes early.
As I waited by some nearby couches, I peaked out the window. From the 15th story I was able to survey the many tens of thousands gathered directly below for Houston's downtown New Year's celebration. A vast sea of pockets of people, many decorated by those flashing lights street vendors love to sell. I was struck with the thought, "So many; who will tell them?"
A moment later I was in the room. I heard about countries like Mali, Turkey, and India where only a tiny elect in a vast population knew. "So many; who will tell them?"
So with this group of missionaries I prayed. We prayed that the message of the Crucified, Risen, and Soon-coming Christ might be told. The message that gives hope, peace, and joy.
It's an impossible task. But by faith we claim the promise of Christ, "If I be lifted up, I will draw all men to myself." He was lifted up on calvary. He was lifted up from the grave. He was lifted up at his ascension.
May also he be lifted up in his Church today. May he be lifted up through my life.

Between Two Worlds

“Whooooooottt”

In a vacuum of context, one word text messages can be meaningless. But I knew exactly what this one meant. Yesterday Stanford released admissions decisions to early applicants at 3pm. Hence, when 3:10pm rolled around and a high school friend who had applied texted me, “Whoooooottt”, the message was clear.

Later I was able to meet up with him (naturally, a campus visit was the first thing on his mind).  It was neat to see him processing, recognizing the reality and significance of the admissions offer. I think a few times I saw it begin to hit him.

But the odd thing is, although he can now claim Stanford as “his school”, it isn’t quite yet. At least, not fully. He’s still a high school student.

Hence a tension. He’s caught between two worlds. Two realities. In the upcoming months he’ll undoubtedly struggle with this “senioritis”.

Incredibly, my high school friend's present experience parallels that of many of history’s greatest patriarchs of faith, such as Abraham. Note how the Bible describes them:

These all died in faith, not having received the promises, but having seen them afar off were assured of them, embraced them and confessed that they were strangers and pilgrims on the earth. For those who say such things declare plainly that they seek a homeland. And truly if they had called to mind that country from which they had come out, they would have had opportunity to return. But now they desire a better, that is, a heavenly country.  (Hebrews 11:13-16a)

They experience the tension: living in this world while having accepted the promise of the heavenly one. Hence, they live as “strangers and pilgrims to the earth.”

Still today – or rather, especially today –  the Christian looks at the world around him and recognizes that it is not his home. He sees creation groaning in anticipation of the great soon coming graduation. “And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies” (Romans 8:19).

So we wait, between two worlds, as we learn daily how to live as a heavenly citizen while an earthly resident.