Billy Graham: A Short Reflection

When someone passes away, sorrow is often the first emotional response, manifesting itself in different ways. Ross and Kessler uncovered at least five stages of grief within us all. Whether expressed inwardly or externally, we all deal in our own way. However, as the internet flooded with news of Billy Graham’s death, I noticed an unusual pattern. For such a cynical medium, filled with political spars, savage memes, and faceless trolls, I was floored by the positive outpour from across the spectrum celebrating Graham’s life… and death. There was still negativity, but it seemed to be drowning in a sea of warmth.


Celebrating someone’s life after they have passed on is a tradition as old as humanity, but the response to Graham’s death left me pondering the emotions surrounding a believer’s earthly expiration. Is it possible to weep and rejoice in unison? Is there such a thing as joyful sorrow? I can’t speak to other faiths, but I think as a Christ follower, we have no choice but to experience both simultaneously. The sorrow of loss is mixed with the joy of promise. The bitter taste of saying a final goodbye to a friend is paired with the sweet homecoming of a brother or sister. This is the complex harmony within a believer’s soul.

And for a moment in time, it seems like an unbelieving world understands the message in front of the man: “God loves you.” Even if they didn't believe, the one note of Graham's legacy that any person could hear was his God-filled life. To be celebrated by your admirers is expected, but to be revered outside a group you identify with… takes something special:

“We offer the American Muslim community’s condolences to the loved ones of Billy Graham, a towering religious figure who represented his faith with great enthusiasm, dignity and respect for all people, regardless of their beliefs. His sincere and humble spirituality served as an example to all people and will be greatly missed. May God bless his soul.” - The Council on American-Islamic Relations

You see, whether from the mouths of peers, followers, or adversaries, one cannot talk about Billy Graham without mentioning God. It is impossible. The two are intertwined, and history will remember it as such. Can you imagine being so dedicated to an ideal that your name becomes synonymous with it? Yet… the reverse is not true. Many will talk about God without a mentioning of Graham’s life. Many will know God without knowing Graham.

Truly, this is the life of a servant.

A simple farmer’s son who lent himself to a higher power.

A light in ever-growing darkness.

A man that ran the race with integrity.

A believer that took up his cross daily.

A leader of faith who left this world a better place than he found it.

As we wade further into the river of life, let us pray that our ideals outlive us. Believe that we can make a positive impact on this world. And remember that a perfect Master can be served by an imperfect servant.

I’ve often found that the sorrow that comes with the ending of a life well lived is softened with invincible hope. Well done, Billy Graham… well done.

(Post Script: I would be remiss if I didn't share one of my favorite Billy Graham quotes: “Christ not only died for all: he died for each.” Enjoy your rest, thy good and faithful servant.)

Letting Go (Part One: Forgive and Never Forget)

I remember very few things about my grandmother.  She passed when I was very young, and my memories of her are beginning to slip away with time.  The ones I do remember are just bits and pieces, here and there.  Trying to recall them is like trying to describe the way a room looks just by peering through the keyhole.  But I thought of her last week.  I thought of one of the things I remember her saying: 

"Forgive and forget."

Now, that was not the last time I heard that phrase.  Over the years, I've heard friends say it nonchalantly after you tell them that a person has let you down.  I've heard parents tell it to their children after a scuff with their siblings.  I've even heard pastors preach it from the pulpit, as if God commanded it himself.  A quick Google search will reveal that everyone from Oprah to WebMD condones forgiving and forgetting.  I've heard this American colloquialism so many times over the years, that I accepted it as truth.  I accepted it as law.  Until last week...

...when my ex-girfriend got engaged. 

Oh, no... this is not one of those posts is it? I'd like to think it's at least a little different.

Honestly, at first, it didn’t bother me. Then came a slight irritation. Then something more. After the news spread a little further, I received plenty of (mostly wanton) texts and messages ranging from “concerned for me” to the “defensive of her.”

I guess before I go any further, I could give everyone a short history lesson:

Unbeknownst to me, the four years that we were together, she brought things into my life that I had never experienced within a relationship. She filled my life with lying and cheating and hiding- things dealing with deep, scarring matters of the heart- none of which I was really aware of until it was too late.  There was lying... lying about the little things. Things a normal person would find odd to lie about.  There was cheating.  Physically cheating will sting, and it did, but nothing hurts more than emotional unfaithfulness; knowing someone is hearing words that should be only for your ears, sharing moments that should only be in your memories.  And there was hiding.  Every person hides a piece of themselves.  But no one should hide the whole of who they are, not if they care about the other person.  Not if they're in love.  Any relationship is bound to have its ups and downs, but I was led to believe that the person living life right in front of me was someone that they were not.  Imagine sharing every part of your life with a single person, and then looking across the room one day only to see a stranger where your best friend once was.  To clarify, this wasn't an on-again, off-again relationship; this was an already-planned-the-wedding-down-to-the-type-of-napkins relationship.  Please understand, I had a ring for 6 months before we broke up. The only thing that kept it off of her finger was that I didn't have a peace about proposing; a gut feeling that led me to believe something was wrong.  Some people considered me naïve.  Some people thought that it was worse, that I was choosing to ignore the signs, burying my head in the sand. 

But my close friends and family understood.  Those are not the values my parents instilled in me.  That’s not how I believe love is supposed to go.  Love trusts.  Love looks over faults.  Love does crazy things.  Love is not jealous.  Love doesn’t pick you apart.  I’m paraphrasing some Bible verses there, but those are things about love that I truly believe.  An older gentlemen once told me, "the heart fills in the blanks that the mind leaves."  It took me forever to understand what he meant, but I finally got it.  You tell me you're going to the market to buy apples, and you come back smelling like cigarettes and without apples; my mind tells me that you lied, but my heart says maybe not.  My heart says that maybe you didn't get to go to the market because you gave an elderly smoker a ride home, performing your good deed for the day.  The heart will believe the most unlikely of scenarios.  The heart will keep hope alive in the most desolate of places.  But... that's what happens when you're like me.  I was raised to love hard.  I was raised to trust deep.  That's the way my granddad loved my grandmother. That's the way my dad loves my mom.  That part of me will never change.

Forgive and forget...

My father raised me on biblical principles.  Regardless of whether you think that a comforting or scary thought, the Bible is usually where I turn first to get answers.  Imagine my surprise last week when I pulled out the good book and scoured its pages for the origin of this lifelong formality.  

Not one mention.  Not one.

Don't mistake what I am trying to convey.  Forgiveness is a very common word throughout the Bible.  In fact, the concept of forgiveness is a cornerstone to almost all faiths.  Maybe an atheist would even agree that the practice of forgiveness is a healthy for the self.  I don't think we as humans would have survived this long without it.  Forgive and forgive often.  It is this man-born concept of "forgetting" that I found to be absent...

There's a well known saying that states, "those who don't learn from the past are condemned to repeat it."  Don't look for that phrase in the Bible, you won't find it there.  But I think this particular idiom is a great reason why "forgiving and forgetting" is a rule I will no longer live by.  It is impossible to forget.  We're not computers; there is no delete button.  The most tragic events are seared into our memories, whether we want them there are not.  The good news is, so are our most wonderful ones.  Should you spend your time dwelling on the past?  Absolutely not.  The more time you spend looking backwards, the more impossible it becomes to move forward.  But you cannot forget where you've been. You must not forget where you've been.


I'll leave you with a visualization that may sum up the whole of this post: 
Think of a scar.  A scar represents a wound that has been healed, yet its mark will always be there.  It can't be removed.  It can be covered, but eventually, it will resurface.  A scar no longer causes pain, but it is a reminder of a mistake made.  It is a reminder of what not to do.  A scar cannot form where one already exists.  And a scar may not be in your daily thoughts, but if you think about it, you know it's there.  And more importantly, you know how it got there.  A scar is part of who you are now.  A scar is part of whatever you will become. 

I forgive her... I honestly do.  But I can't forget.



I can let go of the bitterness, but I can't forget how it got there.
I can let go of the pain, but I can't forget who caused it.
I can move forward, but I can't forget where I've been.

The wound is healed. The scar remains.

Chapter One: Messing with John (part three)

One would think that this would get old. One would be wrong. I didn't really catch him "singing" this time, but you can tell how busted he knows he is. 

Enjoy.

This is the last time I catch John (on camera). I know... sad face.

Chapter One: Messing with John (part two)

I have a theory. When a person gets caught doing something embarrassing, it doesn't make them stop doing the embarrassing thing, it just makes them work harder to make sure that they don't get caught. Do you think people that pick their nose ever stop digging for gold? Do you think that kids that accidentally let out an air biscuit in class grow up to avoid beans? The answer is no. They just hide it. John's no different. This time, he thinks we are all out of town for a wedding or reunion or something as equally depressing and gets caught for a second time.

Enjoy.

More to come.

Chapter One: Messing with John (part one)

For those of you that know me, you are completely aware of my affinity for humor. If you don't know me, there is a good chance you're Asian. I mean, I don't personally know a lot of Asian people, and let's face it- there's a pretty large amount of statistical data to support my theory. Also, I never know if I need to count my Indian friends as Asian...

My point is there are two benefits you gain when we become friends. One, you'll be able to count on me for anything. Two, my life goal is to make you laugh. That being said, sometimes one friend will get used to make the other friend laugh. There's nothing I can do about it. It's the circle of life. Blame the Lion King.

This post will be the first of many that shows (through video) the many ways our friend group dynamic operates. This first set of videos, that I have titled "John Gets Caught," includes me catching one of my best friends, John, singing along in the shower when he thinks he's home alone. "Who cares?" "Why is that funny?" you may ask. Well, for one, stop asking me questions before I finish my story. And for another, it's not the fact that he's singing; it's what he's singing.

We have a best friend who just happened to win Season 8 of the television show American Idol. Whether you love or hate the show or the music or Kris or pop culture, is irrelevant. What you do need to understand to appreciate the humor is that when your friend has a platinum-selling album, any mutual friend who is caught singing to said album in the shower... needs to be called out.

There are definitely more of these videos to come...

The World Needs Superman

This post is in response to several people asking me why Superman is "my favorite":


I am going to start with a confession.  I can fly.

When I was a kid, barely waist-high, most Saturday mornings I would overtake the linen closet to emancipate my favorite beach towel.  It had been six lifeless days, and we were due for an adventure.  The cloth had a coziness, a familiarity that charmed all five senses.  Even though the fabric's vibrant ruby red was all but blinding in the sun, I still found myself staring for several minutes into my weekend companion.  As my fixation dissolved, I would flip him around to meet my backside and drape him from my then inadequate shoulders.  My fingers took their time tying an awkwardly hefty knot just below my chin, and when they were finished, I bent my knees and planted both feet firmly on the ground.  Then, with a slight push skyward, I was up... up... and away!

Wait... did I forget to tell you to add a little dash of imagination?  You should know, of course... I can't fly without it.  But that's all it really takes, doesn't it?

Most of the people I know that read comics are adults.  People that are old enough to know better.  These people know to concede to the real world.  They know comic books are not the stuff of great literature; they are a child's form of entertainment.  Man cannot fly on his own.  He can't bend steel in his bare hands.  And he is certainly not bulletproof.  At some point, most of us make a decision to grow up.  We fall in line behind those that have come before us, tucking our imagination up onto a shelf with other "childish" things, and... I can't.  I won't.  And a most remarkable thought ran through my head a few days ago: no one has to.

At first glance, if you were to peek into my room, you wouldn't see much.  My bed takes up most of the floor space in what is the smallest room in the house.  My desk is cluttered with month-old mail and pens that have long lost their usefulness.  My closet overflows with worn fabric, some that still fit, even.  Simple.  Normal.  But if you took a little more time to explore, it wouldn't take you long to find my idol hiding just beneath the surface.  A stash of comic books beside my printer.  An old lunch tin under my bed.  A custom wallet tucked under my keys, sitting on my nightstand.  His name is Superman.  And he has been my hero ever since I can remember.

For over 70 years, this one character, more than any other in modern pop culture has embodied the dreams and ideals of the comic book hero.  While you may not share my affinity for Superman, I know you would agree it's hard to imagine a world without him.  He's part of our lives, our childhood.  In fact, I challenge you to ask the next ten people you meet if they know the story of Superman.  I would be willing to bet my next paycheck that nine of them at least know the fundamentals.  He comes from a far away planet.  His alter ego is Clark Kent.  Kryptonite.  Lois Lane.  Lex Luthor.  Oh, and did I mention- he can fly?

It's been that way ever since two teenagers from Cleveland (Joe Shuster and Jerry Siegel) set out for New York in 1938 with a fresh new idea.  The place they called home was at the tail end of the Great Depression, and a Second World War was inevitably looming- the nation needed a hero.  The world needed a legend.  The demand was high, but they delivered.  Superman may have started out a comic book character, but he has become so much more.  He has inspired and entertained the public through movies, novels, television, music, and animation.  He has become synonymous with "Truth, Justice, and the American Way."  And he has taught me timeless lessons.

So here we are.  With mine and Superman's past lightly visited, let me bring it all around.  Something stirred in me the other day when I saw the Man of Steel preview as I listened to Russell Crowe's Jor-El address his son (Superman):
       
          You will give the people an ideal to strive towards. 
          They will race behind you. They will stumble. They will fall. 
          But in time, they will join you in the sun.  In time, you will help them accomplish wonders. 

And the reason something stirred in me is because, if only for a moment, I had forgotten...  In a world so easily embraced by cynicism and despair, Superman shows me that humankind is capable of greatness.  He reminds me the best of what we can be as parents and as children.  He never gives up because he knows that life is a never-ending battle.  He is an inspiration.  That's why he is my hero- because at the very core, a hero inspires. Because regardless of how important the character Superman becomes, it is the idea of Superman that is so dear to my heart.

Well, I gotta fly now.  My cape just came out of the dryer and somewhere there is an old lady that needs help crossing the street.  While I'm gone, maybe you could contemplate on the story that you probably already know, but maybe you haven't thought about in a while.