Author: Sunroot Liu

09.23 prayers

from on stage, the plage

09.23 prayers
did you know that there
are some prayers God doesn’t
listen to?

don’t bring the easy ones
not the ones at the tip
of your tongue,
not your “bless me”s
and “watch over”s

he wants those words
you’re afraid to face in
the dead of the night
driving home in your
car alone
when a song threatens
the powder keg
inside

he says
give me the
words you’re afraid to
hear yourself say
and so you run in circles
and fill your mind
with garbage every
night until you
are too weary
to give those voices
a chance

the demons they
buzz like mayflies
in your ears
and you hold the world of
information in your palms
but you won’t find your
self there

not the
prayers you pray
over the crash of
the waves and thunder

bring the thoughts
you can’t bear to whisper
to your pillow
when you lie
awake at night
and during the day

then,
maybe tonight
in the not-quite
darkness in
the quiet of
your own bedroom
you may discover
that it was His silence
you wanted
all along

What Does A Seminarian Look Like?

What does a seminarian look like?

Every now and then, I go to seminary dressed like an undergraduate. I rock the sweats, the hoodie, and slippers. Not flip-flops, slippers. It’s because I’m gross and lazy and I want to extract myself from my work clothes as soon as possible. “What does a seminarian look like?” I think I prepared this question for any who would judge and condemn, but I’ve been met with love and acceptance instead. So that’s that.This post isn’t actually about clothes.

This semester, I’m taking my first big class. Reading the Old Testament with Dr. Cleotha Robertson takes place in a room that is full and warm (figuratively and literally). There, I have come to enjoy the fact that there is a truly diverse population at ATS. We are young and old, rich and poor, long-time pastors, doe-eyed kids. We are from every tribe and nation, from Barbados to Brooklyn.

Some of these folks are born theologians. You know them because they shift in their seats and chomp at the bit with every hot-button topic. Speaking in tongues? Chomp. Women in Ministry? Chomp Chomp. The Documentary Theory? CHOMP CHOMP CHOMP.

Some will be the pastors and counselors. They’re the ones who look tired, and sit with their friends, and are the last ones to come back from the class breaks. Some are the teachers, they ask their own questions in such a way that they can answer someone else’s question.I thank God for these gifted people and every other kind represented in our classrooms.

So, what does a seminarian look like?
Well, we look a lot like non-seminarians.

To be honest, half of the people here don’t need to be. A lot of us are going to come out with the same lens that we use to view the bible before we came. A lot are going to preach on the same things and teach in the same ways, but our presence here tells me that we know something that everyone should know. We are ALL called upon by God to do great things.

I think that’s the key. All Christians may believe that God has a unique and specific calling for our lives, but the people that fill the rooms of 2 Washington, and 1 South, are certain of this to the point of paying $550 U.S. Dollars a credit for the privilege to learn how to do it well.

My hope for my own church folk is that we would come to live and breathe with that same conviction my classmates enjoy. I hope we would realize that the variety of different giftings and talents represented on the 18th floor of 2 Washington is just a reflection of the ones that exist in 40-31 165th. The gifts in our pulpits are in our pews too.

The NFL: For Love of the Game

For about 10 minutes today, I watched football. On a pirate website, with spotty church WiFi, I watched Tom Brady do what Tom Brady does. The sound was muted, no captions and for the first time since the start of the season, I watched a game played by professionals who train and sacrifice to be the best in the world at what they do.

In the grand scheme of things, domestic violence is unacceptable, corporal punishment—reprehensible. Next to real life issues, this game that I love is just a game. But for a few moments today, while sitting on the carpet of the lobby in QTEC, I was reminded of what this game is supposed to be. It’s supposed to show us courage, like when Brady runs ahead to block for Shane Vereen. The game is supposed to show us perseverance after dropped passes, missed tackles and interceptions. It’s supposed to give us a common language and let us be a part of something bigger than ourselves.

This game is a game meant to be shared by sons and fathers. It’s meant to be something that unites a family under a shared passion or a shared hatred for a division rival. The game is meant to have us shout in unison—the joy of a first down, the despair of a late pick six.

The issues are important, and football is just a game, but the NFL isn’t just be a business, a multi-billion dollar industry. It’s a spectacle we share with our families in the stands, at the tailgate or on a couch. The sport has power. There is something special in the way a community can rally behind a team. Sports can lift a city’s spirits when it’s been ravaged by a horrible hurricane…

a violation of public safety…

or an act of terrorism.

Sports can let us know that it’s okay to keep living when everything in you tells you that you can’t. That’s why we hold it to such high standards. That’s why we want it’s players to be our role models. It’s because so many times, they can embody the breadth of human emotion, failure and triumph that we experience. Let’s push to use sports as a platform for awareness and social change, but let’s not fail to delight in it. Let’s never let a few individuals rob us of whatever magic it is that will have us high five strangers in the bleachers, strike up conversations in elevators, shout until our voices give out. Let us not lose our love of the game.

Media Mentors I: Hey Arnold!

If it seems like I allude to movies and TV shows all of the time, it’s because I do. I think I’ve always taken what I see on the silver and small screens seriously. When you grow up with lots of delusions of grandeur but not-lots of human mentors, you look for something to fill a vacuum of leadership. I chose to seek out the best in the fictional characters I enjoyed in books, music, movies and television. There’s a lot of bad media out there, but there’s more good. People admire courage, integrity and conviction. I’m seeking good men to follow after and learn from, but I want to use this series of blogs to pay respects to the one’s who have taught me thus far.

When you hear me say that I want to be like Hey Arnold! when I grow up, I’m dead serious. That’s why I had to put him in the first installment. Below, I’ve listed a couple of lessons that I’ve tried to take from my football-headed role model.

1. Look Out For The Marginalized
I don’t think anyone would be surprised if the format for every Hey Arnold! episode was:
Act 1: Arnold Sees Someone Who Needs Help
Act 2: Arnold Tries To Help, But Something Goes Wrong
Act 3: Arnold Perseveres!

The reason why the characters are so rich in Hey Arnold! is because you watch as Arnold invests in each of their lives throughout the show. He takes a personal interest in everything he meets, human, animal or otherwise.

2. Listen
Everyone has a story. Stoop Kid has a reason he doesn’t leave his stoop. Pigeon Man has reasons he doesn’t hang around. Mr. Hyunh has an estranged daughter, and is a surprisingly wonderful country singer. There is a power to Arnold’s endless curiosity. Whether it has him chasing down a haunted train or exploring the underground world of the Sewer King in pursuit of Granpa’s watch, adventures spring from Arnold’s willingness to discover and listen.

3. Be “That Guy.”
Obviously, this is a show about Arnold, so the episodes revolve around him. Still, you rarely see him shy away from the responsibility of being a citizen to the community. When he sees something that can be righted, he never puts his hands on his hips and declares that someone should do something about it. He doesn’t launch discussions about the system, he rolls up his sleeves and gets into it.

4. Hope
We have to believe that our actions can change the world around us. Arnold sees a vacant lot, and decides that a baseball field can be put there, so he sets forth to build one. Arnold is never dismayed by the idea that what SHOULD be done CANNOT be done.

All these. More. And jazz too.

8.3 between rounds

from on stage, the plague

I can still see her there,
in the frame of my rearview mirror,
the soft of her face is staring off
to the right
or is it straight ahead?
she doesn’t know yet,
she hasn’t decided,
she’s not sure whether or not
to keep fighting

she is a boxer between the rounds
sucking hot air through
the gaps in her mouth guard,
finding her hands
in gloves that weigh
ten thousand pounds.
her sweat stains the sticky
hard stool she sits on
and her legs,
like a plate
of spanish flan,
settle in pools
on the mats
beneath her feet

she is between rounds
and I don’t know what she wants to hear

I want to stoop in front of her
and look into her eyes–
place my hand upon her shoulder
to tell her that
it’s ok
she fought the fight
but it’s time to go home now
the towel is heavy in my hands
I want to give it to her
so she can have that
grievous relief
that awaits fighters who are
not fated to win their bouts

but I grip her arm with my hand
until the veins pop in my wrist
and her eye winces under my fingers
I stare her down
and then I whisper–
this fight isn’t fun
this fight isn’t easy,
but I’ve fought this fight before
and I will fight it again
with you now
and here

she’s not a fighter,
and she has no place in this ring
but they don’t raise your hand
in the end
unless you fight

4.22 after a while

from on stage, plague

memories become pliable
what once held strong
like a bastion on the ramparts
against the waiting tempest wind
shall become victim
to mood, to will
and the venom that floats heavy
and thick in the air

but I will
shape them in these calloused hands
grind them into our silhouettes
bending and folding them
over and over onto themselves,
until these memories
are fired in the kiln
to be crystallized
for time immemorial

this is inevitable, love
and like a statue
our figures will rise
through the sky like a blade,
casting shadows
over the cliffs
and onto the Pacific Ocean

How TMZ Changed the Role of Sports in American Culture.

The NFL is being asked to do more than just wear pink for a month.

For those of you who haven’t heard about Ray Rice, this is the skinny:
FEB-MARCH – Ray Rice, a talented running back for the Baltimore Ravens, was tried earlier this year for domestic violence charges against his then-fiancee, now wife. There was surveillance footage at Revel, a (now-closed) casino in Atlantic City, from a hallway where Rice is shown dragging his unconscious fiancee out of an elevator.
JULY – The NFL suspends Rice for two games. The NFL is widely criticized, particularly because other drug-related suspensions (Josh Gordon) were far heavier.
AUGUST – Roger Goodell, NFL commissioner, admits that a mistake was made when deciding on Rice’s punishment. The NFL instates a policy that will have players facing a 6-month suspension for a first domestic violence offense, then a potential lifetime ban following that one.
SEPTEMBER 8 – Footage from INSIDE the elevator at Revel is released by TMZ. Ray Rice is shown punching Janay Palmer, his then-fiancee and knocking her unconscious. The Ravens cut Rice from the team. The NFL suspends him indefinitely.

There are plenty of developments for this story, including new revelations about if/when the NFL knew about the video. If there is evidence of a cover-up, Roger Goodell, arguably the most important man in North-American sports, could lose his job. All of this because of how a domestic violence case was handled.

What I discovered this week while listening to the endless rants of talking heads, was that the role of the NFL is different than what it used to be. The biggest controversies of the NFL in recent years have revolved around concussions, amount of games, and guaranteed contracts. These are all player matters. What I see with this Ray Rice case is that people are clamoring for the NFL to set the tone for the country in matters that revolve around more than just player safety and concerns. The people want the NFL to make a statement about domestic violence for the whole country.

The role of athletes and sports is evolving as media, and particularly sports media begins to increase in it’s grip on the 24-hour news cycle. The NFL is not just called to make examples out of players that make late-hits or use PEDs. Examples need to be made regarding off-the-field conduct including recreational drug use, driving drunk and domestic violence. The NFL is asked to not be a thermometer of public interest and outcry, but held accountable to it’s role as a thermostat, setting the tone for what is acceptable not just in player life, but life for all people in this country. The NFL is a behemoth, pulling in billions per year in revenue and dominating TV spot it chooses to be in. Now it’s being asked to use that influence for more than itself.

Momentum

“One might imagine Sisyphus happy”

Eight years ago, I sat in Edward Jones Dome with some 20,000+ mission-minded Christians listening to Brenda Salter-McNeil tell me that where I settle is where I’ll die. When I settle for the comforts of the places where God didn’t call me to be, I will suffer the consequences of unfulfilled calling, because He intends for me to move–to lift my feet and go. I haven’t rested, I can’t rest, and I will not rest because where I am is not where I want to die.

There was a time where I felt like I could die and that would be alright (s/o to semi-charmed life), but that was a long time ago and the memories of that time feel like dreams; vivid in my sleep, but murky when I’m awake. I’ve since been undone, and the process that began as a small nick has ended in complete upheaval. I’m ready to stay on the move, and I’m ready to to push forward.

There’s an impetus for me to take upon my shoulders the weight that those before me bore, and with my toil, honor their sacrifices in comfort, stability and safety. We must continue to press forward with conviction in the small and big things, from preaching on the rooftops to feeding the widows fairly. The nature of the gospel is in a truth that is timeless, but the practicum is in motion.

If you’ve ever sat with me as I’ve driven from place to place, or if you’ve ever caught me in one of my manic frenzies of labor, you know how I feel about momentum. It’s hard to push the ball off it’s settling place, so we have to keep it rolling. There will be a time for rest, but the inertia of this comfortable world, are enough to keep us in Harran until the end.

“Movemiento es vida.”

The past few weeks, I’ve become obsessed with cleaning up our church. Maybe it’s because I’m restless. Maybe because I have that feeling ingrained in me by my mother to clean up before having people over, and by the mission my Lord has given me, I do plan on having people over. There are the occasional resistances. Poor color choices. Things were fine the way they were. Time and money are better spent elsewhere. It’s not a permanent solution. The familiar trappings of gravity that drives our heels into the ground until they’re hard to lift again.

Awful color

I don’t want to ever be callous to criticism. I hear a lot in seminary that pastors need thick skin. That’s not the pastor I want to be. I want the softest skin. I want to feel every stinging word. If I’m steering a ship, I need to be willing to change that direction at the drop of a hat if that’s what is necessary for my people. But I will not relent. I will not stop fueling the engine that pushes us deeper in fellowship, stronger in the Word, broader in community engagement.

Small steps beget the big ones, but sometimes the small steps are scarier. Being big doesn’t make a step hard. Being first does. Today, I will keep pushing forward. I will not settle, I will not die here.

Tennis For Dummy: 4 Things a Tennis-Idiot Learned at the U.S. Open

A little while ago, my good buddy Jeff brought me to the opening game of the U.S. Open. The U.S. Open is a big deal in sports, and it’s been in my backyard for as long as I remember but I’ve never been. Since his arm blew up, I’m trying to explore the non-contact sports.

These are a number of reflections for the night.

1. Women
I’ve never been to a sporting event that wasn’t dominated by middle class white men from 25-60. It was interesting to stand in line with women. Women! I don’t know if they’re the minority or majority, but that’s the point, isn’t it? There was parity amongst the genders.

Tennis is also one of the only sports I can think of where the women’s version of the sport rivals the popularity of the men’s side. I think ‘Regular Joe’ on the street can name a similar number of men’s and women’s players. I doubt that is true of any other sport.

2. Attire
People had some USTA or U.S. Open swag, but rarely anything specific to players. No jerseys. This was weird.

3. Knowledge
It was fun to be in a crowd that knew the game well. I’ve been in football crowds with people who have known their stuff, but I’ve been at Giants games where the home crowd is whooping it up while Eli is getting ready to take the snap. These U.S. Open fans knew every impressive and difficult play, and cheered well to honor them.

4. Focus
There was a lot that I learned about the sport of Tennis, but one of the things I appreciated most about it was how much of a mental game it is. Every single serve, you have to be completely honed into, because it comes in the blink of an eye. If your mind wanders for a moment, you’re late to the ball and digging a hole for yourself. Focus is paramount, and these people sustain it for hours.

All in all,
I like tennis. As a goofy critic of sports and sporting events, it was nice to go enjoy one that is perfect live. The pacing and speed of the game was great. The games aren’t too long. Every seat in the house had a pristine view. No complaints.

SR Drives 1520 Miles in Search of America (and himself)

I drove off for a number of reasons. I think the most prevalent of which is John Steinbeck. His words must have seeped into my ears. I felt that familiar pain of wanderlust in my heart and I knew that opportunities to satisfy these itches will rarely come without the will to seize them in my grip. He puts it best.

“They (men) trade their violence for the promise of a small increase of life span. In effect, the head of the house becomes the youngest child. And I have searched myself for this possibility with a kind of horror. For I have always lived violently, drunk hugely, eaten too much or not at all, slept around the clock or missed two nights of sleeping, worked too hard and too long in glory, or chopped, climbed, made love with joy and taken my hangovers as a consequence, not as a punishment. I did not want to surrender fierceness for a small gain in yardage.” -Travels with Charley

I know that I want to be a man whose life can be filled with constructs made of his own will. I want to set my mind to things, great and small, and CREATE! with my hands and will. I have been operating a fairly frenetic pace, juggling work, school, and church for some time, and I wanted to remind myself that it will not be this same dance forever. I can carve time and projects for myself. With this, I departed.

The excitement of the open road is something that is not yet lost on my. It thrills me and has me shouting in my car on the highways. There is an endless possibility in the road, and I don’t take it for granted. It is a beautiful thing to cross over state lines, see the foliage change, and wake up in the trunk of your car in a state you’ve never woken up in. It’s a different experience to brush your teeth in a rest stop bathroom, next to fathers who watch you enviously before returning to their station wagons and winnebagos.

It’s a special feeling to see colors brighten when you cross into Maryland and Virginia, there’s something magical about the way mist hangs over the fields in North Carolina. I was reminded of how much I love this country, and how blessed I am to live in it. I was reminded of the ways rural poverty is different from urban poverty. This land is filled with such gentle beauty, I’m grieved to think of how much blood was shed on the soil for the sake of greed and selfishness.

The road was long and most of the time, driving became more of a chore than a joy. It was mostly lonely and fueled by fried chicken and coffee, but it was good. There come times for a man to set his mind to something big, and to do it. I could not compromise on my destination of Myrtle Beach. I was glad I didn’t.

The air was humid. Everything I wore became damp and full of sand. My matches wouldn’t light. The horseflies were out. But I could hear the waves crash. I could feel the warm water under my feet and on my skin for a thousand miles. It was worth it.