So ever since before school ended, I have been praying that I would have the opportunity to tell my parents about some of the friends I made this year at Rice. In particular one friend. 

As the weeks went by, I started losing faith that I would ever get to a point where my parents and I could have this very important conversation. We don’t communicate well, and I’ve never really told them anything like this before. Also, I wasn’t sure if my actions actually backed up my stories about how God has changed me this semester.

I prayed that God would provide this opportunity. I prayed that my parents would bring up the subject first, and specifically ask me about it. So I was cooking dinner with my mom tonight, and I was just asking her about the food, and all of a sudden she decides to start lecturing me about marriage. And I’m like…ah crap. 

And it continues over dinner! alskjflsajflsakfjlskfjsalkfjslafiweoijlkvnlkjaosifua. I was not prepared. And then my mother asks, almost directly. I knew that this was the opportunity God wanted me to take. Also, side note - but I was hoping to tell my parents around the beginning of June. And it’s June 3rd. God, Y U HAVE SUCH GOOD TIMING?!

So..yeah. Now they know. <awkward> <although not really, because I wanted them to know> <but still>

They received it well..ish? I don’t know anymore. (awkward laugh). Good thing is that they now know so they know how to pray for me more specifically. Bad thing is that they know.

Anti-climatic story. Sorry guys. Maybe more updates later on in the summer. 

unkaglen:

Anonymous asked: Ever since coming home from college for the summer, I’ve been noticing that money is a huge idol for my Christian parents. They want/are forcing me to choose a career that guarantees a large salary, and they want me to marry someone who makes a lot of money, and this puts a great deal of pressure on me. I can’t even ask my parents to pray about God’s will for me. I feel like their lives are almost completely driven by the pursuit of earthly wealth, and yet they still call themselves Christians. I know I should love them and honor them but how can I do that without disrespecting their own plans for me? [edited for length]

Unka Glen answered, I think the first thing you should ask yourself is just how much you actually disagree with your parents. That is to say, do you think they focus a bit too much on money, and need to dial it back a bit, or do you feel that God is actually directing you to live a life that may involve poverty?

If I ask most Christian college students: Do you care about money? Most of them would say no. If I then ask: Is it important to you that you raise children in a safe neighborhood? Well, what we’d find out is that you my not care much about money, but you do care about some things that only money can buy. And that’s really the same thing. So it makes sense to be a bit more honest with ourselves on that.

The second thing I think you’ll want to look at, is this word “honor”. I think in a lot of families this word gets mis-used. Honoring someone IS NOT about “I have to do this thing they’re telling me to do, whether it makes sense or not, because they said so.” That’s blind obedience. Honor is when you say, “these people may be way off base with this thing, but I understand where they’re coming from, so let me see if there’s a way to find some common ground.”

If you come from an immigrant family, then likely they’re telling you that they did everything they could to escape crushing poverty, and the only way to keep ahead of all that, is for everyone to do everything they can, and that way if someone needs something (especially in their old age), then the family can be there for them.

You might look at all that and say, “me becoming a doctor isn’t the only way for the family to avoid becoming homeless”, and you’re almost certain to be right about that, but if you want to honor our parents, I think it’s important to understand why they’re saying what they’re saying, even if you disagree with it. 

Finally, I should point out that all this is coming from someone who actually lived out that “I don’t care about money” lifestyle, I took a ministry job working with juvenile inmates out of college, and it’s worth hearing a bit of what that was like:

— It was lonely. Most of my friends had good jobs coming out of school, and they had money to do stuff, and I didn’t, so they went off and did stuff without me.

— It was an unwanted education. Going into most types of missions work involves raising money. This means that you make a list of every person you know, and then you sit down with all of them, and ask them to give you money (that’s the point where most people give up on the idea of doing missions). If only a very small percentage of the people I knew in my home church gave just a tiny percentage of their salary, I would have had more than enough to live on, and then some. Instead, my first year of ministry, I ended up eating at the prison, with the prisoners, because I couldn’t afford groceries.

— It was hard to live with. My parents paid for my college education, and here I was working a job where I’m getting paid less than the man who picked up their trash. And that’s with me going and begging for money from all our friends and family. (Many of whom had these funky attitudes about money that you mention your parents having).

— It was hard on my walk. Understand, I wasn’t just laboring away in some dark corner of the world, I was the senior chaplain of the top juvenile facility in the country. And yet, somehow, I’m late with my rent every month.

— It limited my choices. In the early years of our marriage, we simply couldn’t afford to have kids, and by the time we could afford to have kids, we were too old. Hence, all that parenting love went into the guys and gals we work with (many of whom were known to stay with us here and there). 

When you feel like you’ve made the most Christian of sacrifices, and you feel like nearly all your friends and family have let you down, and nearly all of the church has let you down, AND your parents think it’s all an embarrassing waste of time, then the whole thing completely stops being cute.

As hard as that was, am I complaining? Not for a second. If you dig this blog, recognize that the content comes from having taken this path, and figuring out how to survive it, and then ministering to inmates, addicts, and gang members on top of that. I love my job more than I can say, and I love my life. I feel like I’m the luckiest man on earth, I really do. 

But to get to this place, I’ve given up more than just about anyone I know was willing to give up. The Lord doesn’t lead everyone through a journey like mine, but one thing is for sure beloved, if you haven’t yet counted the cost, then you can’t say for sure if you’d be willing to pay it. (Luke 14:25-30) 

(via imelizabethh)

Short isn’t bad or anything. It’s actually more work and takes more planning and effort than when I had long hair. It’s different. 

But I miss my long hair. A lot.

Hm, maybe also metaphorically - <http://jesseekkaahh.tumblr.com/post/18285632328/i-feel-like-a-new-person>. In that sense, I think I miss my old hair as well.