新年快樂! (happy lunar new year)

and an old hymn

When I think Lunar New Year, I think hotpot. Or 打邊爐 (da been lo) in Cantonese. I have a happy haze of childhood memories with my extended family. Mainly of feasting—tables extended to hold stations of open-flame portable butane cookers (it was the 90s, the age when everything was flammable) with each cousin given a stern warning not to burn ourselves as we eagerly bobbed our little wired scoopers, careful not to lose our fishballs in the roiling broth.

I think hongbaos with chocolate coins and how excited all us asian american kids were when it seemed to overflow at Sunday School like the asian version of the five loaves and two fish miracle. I think hongbaos with real money. And the weighty tone my parents would use to teach us about generosity. How we can give much for we have received much from Jesus. And how we receive with gratitude (I’m pretty sure my mom had us write and snail-mail thank-you notes to everyone who gave us a red envelope).

I think about things that were more “rejected” than “redeemed”—how we emphasised 新年快樂, but avoided 恭喜發財 that focused on prosperity and financial gain. I think dragon dances in Chinatown. Which was fun to watch, but we never engaged in feeding it because of the spirituality behind it—placing our trust in this dragon (even if it was just for show) to ward off evil, instead of in Jesus who has all authority. These dances also meant meter parking was a nightmare in NYC and we’d have to walk three times as far to find a spot.

This year, my brother in Virginia and my cousin in Brooklyn hosted their own LNY gatherings (for their mostly non-Asian friends) with stations of food, dumpling-making, and mahjong. I love how they are proud to share our culture, no matter how “not enough” we may have felt growing up. I currently have the benefit of living in a place where I not only blend with the majority, but our culture is celebrated as a public holiday (wah!). So, on the eve of LNY eve, I squished a village of friends in my home and we kicked off the Year of the Dragon with classic hotpot, with a high-tech non-combustible induction stove. And fishballs.

[grateful for another year of God giving me food and friends and family <3]

another praying church quote

But what if prayer itself is shaped like Jesus’ dying and rising? The act of praying itself is a kind of dying, where you give up your self-will to “make things happen” and go to God with a collective “Help us.” The initial feeling of prayer is dying to self, because praying is an act of the will, a decision to shut down your activity and open the door to God’s activity.

(I feel I’ll be spamming you all with this book even long after I finish it hehe)

sick-ish

I haven’t seen my nephew in over a week. He’s been down with a fever most of last week. My sister said the poor boy cried more in four days than he has in the entirety of his 16-month lifetime 💔 As for me, I was only fever-ish. Body aches. Fatigue. Throbbing lymph nodes. Alive enough to slug my way through the day. Zombie enough to have slept nearly 12 hours each night for the last three nights, averaging a 7:30pm bedtime. Which I’m pretty sure is the exact same bedtime as my nephew. Even when we’re down for the count, we’re matchy-matchy <3

an old hymn (in three-part harmony)

Despite the sick-ishness, it was a sweet weekend. I got to worship lead with my dear Sara Jelley. We’ve been serving together (and thus been growing our friendship) for over a decade, and yesterday was her last time rostered before she soon gives birth to Jelleybean. I love our teamwork. We collaborate on songs, the flow, seeing what works and what doesn’t. Based on the preaching passage (Philippians 3:12-4:1), we chose this set:

• God So Loved by We the Kingdom

• You Made Us Your Own by Sovereign Grace Music

• My Jesus, I Love Thee by W. Featherston

• Jesus is Mine by Jordan Kauflin

• Christ is Enough by Hillsong

The third song is an old hymn that is one of my favorites. Nearly each time I practiced it on my own, I couldn't get past verse 3 without crying. It’s beautiful. It reminds me of the reliance we have on Jesus, even for each breath we breathe. He graciously lends each intake of oxygen, the often unconscious cooperation of my lungs and brain to function. I am living on borrowed time. I want to live a life worthy of it. In adoration of the One who gives me everything.

My Jesus I love Thee, I know Thou art mine
For Thee all the follies of sin I resign
My gracious Redeemer, my Saviour art Thou
If ever I loved Thee my Jesus 'tis now

I love Thee because Thou has first loved me
And purchased my pardon on Calvary's tree
I love Thee for wearing the thorns on Thy brow
If ever I loved Thee my Jesus 'tis now

I'll love Thee in life and I will love Thee in death
And praise Thee as long as Thou lendest me breath
And say when the death dew lies cold on my brow
If ever I loved Thee my Jesus 'tis now

In mansions of glory and endless delight
I'll ever adore Thee in heaven so bright
I'll sing with the glittering crown on my brow
If ever I loved Thee my Jesus 'tis now

I hope you enjoy this 30-second behind-the-scenes clip (thanks, cheryl!) from our early Sunday morning practice with our acoustic band:

[i can’t get over john’s harmonies!! especially what he sings with the word “brow”!]

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Thank you for reading, friends! Sun leen fai lok! Lemme know if anyone is up for an innocent game of 🀄 with me and the nephew. But obviously before 7.30pm.

never too young to start palming

love,
reb