MercyMe- Undone

Listening to this on my iTunes for the first time in a long while, and i'm reminded why this is one of my favorite albums.

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About the parentals

They love me a lot. In ways i never realized, before this spring break. It's the little things...doing my laundry, buying me enough snacks to feed an army, never ceasing to letting me know they love me...i see the Father in their parenting. A product of John 14:21?

"Whoever has my commands and obeys them, he is the one who loves me. He who loves me will be loved by my Father, and I too will love him and show myself to him." - Jesus

Been thinking lately that Jesus revealing himself to me isn't some image in which I see his face, but rather he's been removing the blinders, allowing me to see him in all things...recently in my parents' love for me.

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I really, really want to grow up to be like my dad, my earthly dad that is. A lot.

For the Love of the Game

I'm falling in love with the game all over again.

By the numbers, 3 guys, 3 spring training games, 2 days, 0 women (no offense =P). Doesn't get much better than this. It's my dad and I, plus Uncle Paul Nash. We saw two games today, Dodgers vs. Royals in the afternoon in Glendale, and Rangers vs. Brewers in the evening in Surprise. There's something about being away from home and responsibility that is pretty cool. We had an awesome time of fellowship over a late claim jumper's dinner as well, talking about some quality schtuff. It's been a privilege to soak up the wisdom of these two older guys in Christ. Great times with my dad too.

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Peanuts, the crack of the bat, lemonade, and good conversation...ptl for today.

Baseball

Baseball is my favorite sport. If I were physically able to play one sport professionally, baseball would be my choice hands down. It's because I grew up on the sport. I am told that my dad took me to my first baseball game before I turned two years old, and I spent most of the game running up and down the empty aisle above our seats. I am also told (by my mom) that I was wearing these "really cute overalls" and that my dad also had to change my diaper during the game.

Highlights-

- Some of my favorite memories growing up include playing ball with my dad in the backyard and playing ball during Little League

- "The Sandlot" has always been one of my favorite movies

- I had the privilege of attending the 4th World Series game of the Padres vs. Yankees with my dad in 1998; awesome awesome experience

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I feel there are many parallels between baseball and life. In baseball, each team plays a minimum of 162 games a season. Players must play hard day in and day out even during injuries, because there is no week-long break between games. One does not have to be tall or big to play. Seasons are long and grueling, during which consistent performance is of much higher value than sporadic heroics. If you get on base one out of every three times you go to the plate, you are considered one of baseball's all-time elite.

I feel the same is so true about getting to know God more. Common Christian-ese speech terms it "walking" with God, yet so many times I feel like I'm "stumbling" alongside Him. My victories are far and few, counted on one hand for seemingly every hundred failures. My time with Him is in seasons. I've weathered spiritual winters, "slumps" if you will, and I've also experienced hot streaks in which He was moving in so many ways it would have been impossible to deny Him. Yet I'm starting to realize that although I may be batting below the spiritual Mendoza line because many times I cannot seem to control myself, it's ok, because He loves me a heckavu lot, and His grace is huuuuge, much >>>> my mistakes. And maybe that's just how He wants it: consistent obedience over once-in-a-while home runs, getting better everyday, bit by bit, until slowly my batting average begins to raise. Then I will be someone He may depend on, someone more like Him. This is what every parent desires for their kid anyways, yah? Not legalistic perfection, but the heart to at least try, not mass potential, but proven, rugged character.

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There's something about the smell of baseball glove leather, the taste of cherry-flavored slush puppies, and crisp springtime air that makes me love baseball. It's that time of year again, which is why I'm writing this entry. I'll be heading out to Arizona to baseball spring training (lots of west coast teams gathering together to practice before the season starts to scrimmage). Hoping for quality time with my dad. And my Dad. It's gonna be an awesome weekend of baseball.

Awesomeness of the last two days: John 9 and 10. Learning to shut up and actually listen for His voice.

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Prime Rib

I went to Outback Steakhouse with my parents last night for dinner. We have a routine. We start with a Bloomin' Onion and salads. My mom gets either a prime rib or a ribeye, eats half of it, and brings the rest home. My dad and I split a 16oz Outback style prime rib.

So if you don't know a lot of prime rib, the cut has two main sections: the regular part and the tender part. The tender part is just how it sounds, super succulent and juicy, melt-in-your-mouth goodness. I made a picture to demonstrate =) :

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Anyways, usually Outback splits up the steak into two 8oz cuts. However, for some reason this time they left it as a 16oz cut. My dad then cuts it like so and gives me the right half:

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I'm like, "Dude seriously dad? Naw here take some of the tender part back."

He says, "No it's ok. I want you to have it."

I protest, "Come on. Take some of it back. Why would you give me that piece?"

And he replies, "Take it Daniel. It's because I love you. I love you. I love you a lot."

And I'm floored to say the least.

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Both of parents are believers. My mom came to Christ in middle school, and after praying for something insane like 20 years, her parents became believers as well. My dad found God in medical school, and he found my mom as well.

My parents raised me without offering much spiritual advice. We went to church, but they never told me how to get into the Word, or pray, or know God more. Despite being believers and also ABC's (american born chinese) themselves, they've rarely opened up to share anything "spiritual" with me. At times, I've grown bitter about it, because it feels like I've had to gain spiritual ground all on my own.

I remember one time during freshman year, I was complaining to Tiff Chen about this, and she totally (unknowingly) rebuked me for it. She told me how lucky i was to grow up in a Christian household. And she was totally right.

It's "prime rib" incidences like this that allow me to see Christ's love reflected in my parents' love for me. While they've never verbally led me towards God, I've seen God through the deep grace, mad patience, and unending kindness they show me. And this is the essence of discipleship: actions speaking louder than words. How sinful was it for me to ever think they weren't leading me towards God, when in reality it was their actions and prayers that have brought me along this far. I am a fool.

Chew on this prime rib: Proverbs 9:10. So succulent.

=)