The problem with Job’s friends, as we all know, is not that they didn’t care about Job but that they approached it all wrong.  Poor Job had lost everything he had – his oxen, his sheep, his camels, all his sons and daughters and his good health.  I mean, the poor man was afflicted with so many painful sores all over his body that he was even unrecognizable to his friends (in addition to his financial ruin and emotional heartbreak)!   And how did his friends try to encourage him?  They lectured him, gave him advice, told him all the things he should’ve done better.  I guess I can’t really blame them, really.  When bad things happen to someone you care about, you want to help them feel better, and most of the times, you’re not really sure how.

In the last few weeks since I found out that I have gestational diabetes, I have been feeling pretty down.  My pregnancy had already been so difficult the first two trimesters, I couldn’t imagine it getting harder.  But it has.  I can’t tell you how many times I’ve said, “I hate being pregnant” the last few days or cried or just felt plain discouraged.  With gestational diabetes, you have to follow a strict schedule. 

If you follow the diet, you’re not supposed to be hungry, but to be honest, I’m always hungry still and feeling sick, which makes me not want to go for a walk but I have to go for a walk after every meal or my blood sugar level will be too high. 

An hour after I eat, I have to test my blood sugar level and record it.  There’s now a long list of foods I cannot eat like rice, noodles, all desserts, french fries, pizza, etc.  I have to limit my intake of fruit (if you had a choice between a fruit or a slice of whole wheat bread while you’re feeling hungry, what would you choose?)  And though I’ve been following the meal plan, I’m often getting high glucose readings.  The consequence of not getting my blood sugar level under control is that the baby will receive more glucose than s/he should and can get really big (too big).  Worse case scenario:  baby outgrows placenta, c-section needed and baby’s chances of getting diabetes and obesity increase. 

Some people love pregnancy, and some people don’t.  I am a part of the latter group.  It’s been hard.  Not every pregnancy is this hard, but this one has been.  And I am learning what words encourage someone who is down and what words do not.  It’s encouraging when someone just says, “I’m sorry it’s been hard.”  It’s not encouraging when someone says, “it’s going to be fine in the end”, “don’t worry, it’ll be over soon”, “it’ll be worth it” or give a slew of advice.  Who wants Job’s friends?  Romans 8:28 platitudes just seems to belittle the pain.  Acknowledge my pain, don’t minimize it.  Unless you have walked in that person’s shoes (and actually, even if you have), don’t give them advice or tell them how they will forget it all once it’s over.  Don’t tell them it’s not a big deal.  I think the greatest comfort that Job’s friends gave him was just sitting next to him without saying a word for seven days and seven nights.  Wouldn’t you agree? 

We saw a cute, adorable, heart-melting little newborn on Sunday at church, and I was reminded of what I’ll end up with when these 40 weeks are over. 

That cute little newborn on Sunday and was reminded of the little newborn foster baby that we had for a short time in our care.  He was the cutest little helpless little premature baby.  I keep being reminded today of that Friday afternoon when he was dropped off at our house.  Sam was not home from work yet and there I was all alone with this little baby.  It didn’t take him long to start crying and crying, and there was nothing I could do to comfort him.  He felt helpless.  I felt helpless.  I had to shut the window because he was screaming his little head off so loudly, I thought the neighbors would think I was abusing him!  Looking back, I just don’t think he was ready to be in the cold world yet, for his colic stayed with him all the days we had him.  Sam and I always say that it was the most difficult ten days of our entire lives, but we always say it with a smile.  We always still think of him and his precious little life and are glad that we had ten days to love on him.  

Newborns – so cute, so helpless and so much work!  I’m looking forward to our little newborn.  A new little life.  Plus, an end at last to this difficult season in my life called pregnancy.

Did you know there was a man in biblical times who took his wife’s family name?  In the verse Nehemiah 7:63, a man is mentioned named Barzillai, who had married a woman who was a descendant of Barzillai of Gilead and had taken her family name (which is why he was called Barzillai).  (Read it in the New Living Translation).  He changed his name to hers!  When my friend Corrie first mentioned this, I thought she was kidding.  Isn’t it practically biblical for a woman to take her husband’s name when she gets married?  The answer, surprisingly, is no!!  It’s western tradition, but it’s not biblical. 

When we first got married, Sam and I really wrestled with the name change (I even blogged about it).  We wanted to be able to represent the uniqueness and individuality which God gave to us both while also representing the oneness.  But how would we do this?  How could we represent both of our identities, both of our ethnicities and both of our backgrounds?  He didn’t want me to give up my name.  I didn’t want him to give up his name.  But practically speaking, it seemed much better to have the same last name. 

We brainstormed all kinds of options — a lot of which were given to us from those who commented on my blog entry about the name change.  We could both take one’s name as a middle and the other as a last.  We could choose an entirely new name.  Or we could hyphenate.  The ideas were endless.  The two of us had become one.  We were creating a new family together, so it made sense that we were also making a name that would represent “us”. 

Most people (Christians, mainly) don’t really think twice about having the woman change her name.  And if Sam was a lesser man, he might set his manhood on a need to brand me with his name.  However, his determination in our having an “inclusive name” (he coined that phrase) despite the challenges and difficulties of changing his name (with the California legal system) and whatever flak he may incur from traditionalists has augmented my admiration of him as a man.  Through this journey, I have learned that he is unflappable in his purpose when he is certain about a course of action, he is confident in who he is as one who answers only to God and not anyone else, and he is secure in his manhood.  He has made me adore him even more so than ever, and I am so proud to share a name with him.

This past week, he and I both officially changed our name.  We both added the other’s surname to our own to make an inclusive name (someone else would call it ‘hyphenated’), and we couldn’t be happier about it!

Here’s Sam’s entry about it.

Meditating on Psalm 46 today and feel surprised that the psalmist is able to declare that “though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea,” we don’t need to be afraid.  But aren’t those things just so tremendous and terrible?  Those are end-of-the-world catastrophes (which we feel personally on a smaller scale in losing a job, losing a loved one, a terrible divorce, or a war ensuing), and yet God is greater and more powerful than all those things, and HE is our refuge and our strength.  Sometimes I’m just filled with fears about the unknown future — like this morning when I woke up — but God reminds me that He is All-mighty, He is our fortress, and He is our strength, therefore we will not fear.

When obstacles arise, is it God raising the stakes to show the extent of what He’s capable of or is it God saying stop, cease and desist?  It’s more natural to me to throw my hands up and chock it up as the end of the story, but is it?  Since Sunday’s sermon, I’ve really been challenged to believe in the things unseen – to stop allowing circumstances to dictate reality to me but instead to allow the Spirit to tell me what’s possible.  When I’m tempted to give up and take the logic of circumstances as my answer, I have to (tell myself to) stop, close my eyes and tune in to the Spirit.  Is God really saying no or is He saying go?  What’s His guidance?  What’s His instruction?  That’s what I really want to know.

God loves it when we have the shameless audacity to believe Him at His word and ask Him for things that ‘naturally’ seem impossible.  When Jesus taught His disciples how to pray, He tells a story of a man who is already asleep in his bed.  When you, his friend, knocks on the door, your neighbor would be unwilling to get up to help you because he’s already in bed.  However, Jesus concludes that it won’t be because of friendship that he will eventually get up and respond to your request, but it will be because of your “boldness” (in the NIV).  In the TNIV, it says, “yet because of your shameless audacity he will surely get up and give you as much as you need.”  (Lk 11:8)  In the footnote, it says that an alternate translation for those words would be, “yet to preserve his good name.”  I imagine that knocking on the door so loudly in the middle of the night was “shameless” in that it could spoil the sleeping neighbor’s name if he didn’t respond.  God is saying about Himself that if we go out on a limb to pray and ask for ‘anything’, He will respond.  He will respond to keep His good name. 

After Jesus says this, He says, “So I say to you:  Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you.  For everyone who asks receives; those who seek find; and to those who knock the door will be opened.”  Jesus really gives us an invitation to make bold requests.  There are no requests which are “too much” for Him.  Seems like most benefactors would set a cap and limit on how many and how great a request you’re allowed to make, but not so with God.  He wants us to come to Him with shameless audacity, so that He may fill the deepest needs of our souls.  This story isn’t about persistence but about boldness. 

I think I’ve forgotten how to have that kind of faith.  Spending time with our friend Dr. David L. on Saturday and hearing his stories about how God heals people through him through prayer (not surgery, but prayer), I am reminded that God’s power is above and beyond what I believe He is capable of on a daily basis.  Providentially, Pastor Jamie said in his sermon yesterday that some of us (me) think that praying for something like healing is so “out there”, so we avoid that and say that we’ll just stick to sharing the message.  But to say that Jesus rose from the dead — isn’t that even more “out there”?   Seriously, if I believe that Jesus rose from the dead, why do I think it’s impossible for Him to heal people if I pray?  Dr. David said, “God loves people who have courage to believe Him and step out.”  I want to have courage…to have the shameless audacity to pray for the impossible when His Spirit leads me and to believe that He will show up.

Before I was married, whenever I pictured my wedding day, I always pictured myself dancing with my dad – doing a graceful waltz, in fact.  For awhile though I wasn’t sure I’d ever even get married (being called to be a missionary and all, it seemed doubtful that I would find a partner of like calling and like heart), let alone have that special dance with my father.  However, three years ago, I found myself on a little wood dance floor, floating on air with my daddy (and ok, well, tripping a little on my long gown as well).

Here is never-before-seen-footage (courtesy of Mark C.):

I was reminded of this dance this weekend as I watched my cousin dance with her fiance to rehearse for their wedding — and my dad and mom took to the floor and showed us all how it’s really done. 

I had another encounter this weekend with someone who asked me whether or not it was driving me crazy that I didn’t know the gender of our baby.  My answer?  No, not at all.  I think most first-time parents are driven to find out, mainly, to have one aspect about parenting not-as-much of a mystery so that they can at least plan for and ‘control’ for that much of this crazy new venture of parenthood.  That really was how I felt when we were preparing to be foster parents this time last year.  I wanted to know whether we would have a boy or girl just so I could get the clothes all ready.  But the reality is that other than clothes, there’s really nothing else that we need to prepare for gender-wise.  It would be financial suicide (for poor people like us especially) to buy gender-specific carseats, strollers, bedding, and room decor, because if we ever had a #2 who was a different gender, we’d have to purchase everything anew — and that’s just not good stewardship of God’s money to us.

Aside from all this, I think it’s fun having gender be a mystery.  All those moments when Sam says to the baby, “Are you a boy or a girl?” would be lost otherwise.  It’s fun to wait with expectation and wonderment:  What’s our baby going to look like?  What’s his/her name going to be?  Is it a boy or girl?  It’s like when Sam is going to give me a gift, I hate it when I spoil the surprise by accidentally discovering that something is coming.  I’d rather be totally surprised when he hands me the gift.  It’s more fun that way.  In the same way, I just want this gift to be a full realization all at once.  (Plus, the surprise factor will be more incentive during labor.)

And for us, it really doesn’t matter whether we have a boy or girl.  We’re not driven by any traditional desires of having a boy carry on the family name.  We believe there are better ways to be “immortal”, and that comes through passing on a good, godly legacy.  We want to focus on teaching Christlike values and having our child ‘carry on’ our greater traits and characteristics – and discard all our weak ones.  Plus, both a boy and girl can carry on the family name if they so choose.  Neither have to drop or change it when they marry if they don’t want to.

So boy or girl, we will love either equally the same.  We believe that there isn’t a broad generalization nor stereotype that must be prescribed to a boy because he’s a boy or a girl because she’s a girl.  We’ll just let our child be who s/he is and not force gender roles or stereotypes on our child.  We will give our child every chance and opportunity to do anything s/he wishes.  If our little girl wants to play with cars, then I say so be it.  If our little boy wants to play at ‘cooking’, then so be it!  We’ll encourage our little girl to play with blocks and legos, be active, do sports, etc.  We will rein in our little boy just as we would our little girl if he’s being too rambunctious, and we will not let any undiscipline slide with a flippant “boys will be boys.”  No, a boy will not get excused from the kitchen or house chores simply because he’s a boy.  He will have the same kinds of responsibilities, love and nurture as a girl would in our household. 

So then it doesn’t matter to us – whether boy or girl.  Either will be our dear little gift from our Heavenly Father, whom we will lavish with the love and affection that we learned from Him.  Boy or girl, can’t wait to meet our little one!

I long to recapture a hunger and thirst for God — but where can I find it?  How do I beckon it forth?  Physical hunger and thirst seem to come upon me so naturally.  I don’t even have to wonder about it.  It’s strong and urgent, pressing and insistent – especially in these days of pregnancy.  It’s an unavoidable clamor – demanding, commanding, arresting, paralyzing.  If I don’t feed the hunger, there are dire consequences – nausea, headache, vomiting, lightheadedness. 

But spiritual hunger!  How it works the opposite as physical.  The longer I abstain and refrain from consumption, the less desire I have for it.  Cravings and longings for God fade into obscurity.  The aching and the thirsting ceases.  The restlessness, which arises from being in a world which pales so far in comparison to the Kingdom of God, stills as if it never knew existence heretofore.  But when that hunger is fed! – then I find the bottomlessness of my soul.  The more I am filled and satisfied by the Living God, the more I find myself eagerly panting for more and more of His quenching Living Water.  (Such irony.)

So when I do not hunger for Him, what is the answer to my search for an increase in my hunger then to feed my soul?  I must feed my soul, even when I feel no hunger, so that I may realize how hungry I really am — that my soul is in a true state of famine.

One of my first assigned translation passages for my Hebrew class was Genesis 22.  Genesis 22 had previously always been the passage that I was most embarrassed about when I talked to skeptics about the Bible.  I mean…why in the world would a loving God tell a man of faith to sacrifice his own son?  It seemed so cruel and so pagan, I always wished it weren’t in the Bible.  But perhaps that is precisely why it has become one of the most significant passages in the Bible for me.  In my heart of hearts, I just can’t picture a deeper anguish than a parent having to offer up their child — and as I’m caught up in this heartaching empathy, I realize that whereas God provided a ram in Isaac’s place so that Abraham didn’t end up having to lose Isaac, God did not provide a substitution when His own son was up on the chopping block.  For our sakes, this Parent gave up His son.  What love is this — I will never understand.

When I was translating this passage for the first time last quarter, I was very struck by Gen 22:8.  The phrase that is usually translated “God will provide” in English comes from the Hebrew word “yereh-lo.”   This word comes from the root word “raah”, which means “sees”.  The phrase could be translated “God will see to it”.  In other words, God sees.  He will see to it, because He sees Abraham.  He will see to it, because He *sees* you and He *sees* me.  In a world where we often feel very much so on our own, often as if we are always fighting as hard as we can in order to simply make it; it is truly breathtaking and heartstopping to me to have such an immense truth break through — a devoted Father and friend, who happens to be the King of the universe, right by our sides, seeing, knowing and fighting for us.  [selah]