| okay, so it's pretty cheesy. oh well. i guess God can be cheesy... psh. or me. or maybe just me. wtvr. Why me?
By Angela Chun
1/29/2007 The darkness of the night settles itself on me, and only a small light from my laptop illuminates my fingers and face. As the world sleeps cozily beneath its twinkling blanket, I cannot help but wonder… to ponder… on a simple question, “God, why me?”
“She’s so good at everything… wow, she’s such a woman of God… she’s so talented…” A 4.0 student and a praise leader. An artist, a musician, an athlete, a best friend to all. It couldn’t sound much better than that… or… could it?
Back then, I was very much lost indeed. You couldn’t see through the thick layer of fog though… the misty layer of fog in my eyes. My world inside was surely more or less a graveyard. And I was buried in it. You couldn’t see it though, that I had given up on life. Feeling betrayed and abandoned, life, to me, was prison. I couldn’t escape it, even through death, for I knew that beyond that, hell was waiting for me. And… I started looking everywhere for a key. The magic key to freedom.
I wasn’t good enough. Nothing was good enough. I grew up eating ripe lies that poisoned me inside out. I am evil. I can never succeed. I am unlovable. I am… Satan’s daughter. Only if I had known sooner that these delicious lies would lead me to death. I grew to depend on them… and couldn’t keep them away from my lips.
And, I started to wander. I started wandering through nowhere with these meaningless rocks that some people named for me. “Good student,” “good Christian,” “good daughter,” … so many of them. Then… I stumbled and dropped all of them. No one noticed me anymore after that. And… I continued to wander through the scorching desert inside me. Like I said, I was looking everywhere for a key. The magic key to freedom.
“Go.”
“Go where?”
“There.”
“Where?”
“It’s time. I’ll take you there.”
God took me to Kona, Hawaii. Naked and pitiful, I went. And I wept. I can still feel all their warm hands on me, and I could still hear their passionate whispers rage in war against what I once thought was me. Then, “Let go.” It was conquered. It that deceived me for nineteen years, it that dragged me lifeless across the shadows of death, it… that almost conquered me first. And, through the prayers, it was conquered by God. So, I wonder what they mean when they say, “She’s so faithful.” Because really, I had lost faith before God rescued me.
“Go.”
“Again? Where?”
“There.”
“You know, I have no clue.”
“Good.”
God took me, then, to Cambodia. Revived and raised from my graveyard, I went. I can still feel his thin frame in my hands, and I still cringe, smelling the spoiled diarrhea deteriorating his skin in that dirty hospital room. It’s funny. No, perhaps not quite so funny as perplexing. His body’s shape was grotesquely similar to my heart. I just stood there, frozen and disturbed, with a smile on my face. I knew in my heart that I was to pray for this soul. Before me was no longer a man but a child. A lost child, starving for truth. So I put my hand on him and some pieces of broken Khmai fell from my lips. He then smiled for the first time in a long time. So, I wonder what they mean when they say, “She’s so caring.” Because really, I was gaping for fresh air in disgust while Jesus prayed for him.
“Speak.”
“I can’t.”
“Then I will.”
I would like to say that God cranked my mouth open then started to speak, sitting on my tongue like it was a stool. Words of the Spirit overflowed from my mouth, and the whole time, I was just in my brain, bewildered. Their faces started to shine, those listening. And then, mine too. What a glorious moment it was, and what treasures were found that night. I could still hear the angels singing when those children came to believe. So, I wonder what they mean when they say, “She’s such a gifted teacher.” Because really, I was the one who learned.
After God brought me back to Washington, people started to give me those stones again. “What a lovely missionary… she’s such a strong Christian…” Really, it confuses me when they hand me these. Sometimes, they seem like they could come in handy, so I take a few, but in the end, they just end up weighing me down. Because really, none of them could measure up to what God made me to be. I don’t want to settle for less, taking what’s not mine to take.
Come to think of it, I want to mention something before I go to sleep. I have this memory that comes back to me once in a while. I think it wants to remind me of something. There was this sick man dying on a plank of wood on the side of a small dirt road in the middle of Cambodia. I would bike by him everyday. And, everyday, God told me to buy water for him and pray for him. And, everyday, I said back to God, “Tomorrow, I promise.” I wish I stopped saying that before I left Cambodia. Yes, this memory is trying to remind me, again and again, of what Jesus would have done and what I didn’t do. That man may still be alive today if I had obeyed. That man may be in heaven today only if I had obeyed. Yes, this memory reminds me of what I am not and what I want to be. I want to be like Him. Faithful like Him, caring like Him, wise like Him…
“Go.”
“Go where?”
“Go back.”
“How do I know it’s You?”
“So You don’t know it‘s Me?”
“No, I guess I do… but why me? Why, after all You’ve done and all I didn’t do?”
“Because of what I will do.”
“But… God, why me?”
“Because I died for you to live.” This is the greatest freedom. And this is no magic. This is Love.
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