Dear Jesus,

It’s been a while, yeah? I’m sorry.

So all these things I’ve been carrying and afraid to drop… are they worth it? The world keeps stacking more and more on, it seems. And I’m left carrying all of it while still trying to live life.

I remember years ago when Peter Liu blogged about having an image of himself carrying blocks of wood and trying not to drop them, each piece of wood representing something in his life. And then he realized that these were what You were nailed to.

I don’t know why I thought of that. I guess it’s just the picture of trying to carry so much. I’ve been saying since this mess began that I’m “hanging on” or “I’m hanging in there.” But really… what am I trying to hang onto? What am I hanging in? It’s obvious these things aren’t satisfying. They don’t build me up or make me more whole. So why do I keep on doing this?

I’m just going through the motions now. The sadness and the pain have been numbed. I’m just sitting here. I’m just walking along.

I’m scared.

I want to live. I want to experience what life You have to offer really is. I want to start living for myself and You and no one else. Everyone else’s expectations don’t matter. And Your expectations are simply that I trust and have faith in You and let You carry my burdens. I can’t even remember what Your yoke was. I just remember You promising it was light.

All these things that I’ve burdened myself with… they’re really heavy. So they can’t be the things You want me to carry. So teach me how to let go? My hands feel bound. Can You release me? Can You give feeling back to my arms so I realize that I really am carrying a lot?

I need faith that will help me let go. I need faith to believe that the things worth catching, You will catch. And the things not worth catching, we can just let fall and break. And for the things that get bruised along the way… that You will heal them and nurture them back to health.

So this thing with my mom… this relationship that was supposed to be good and beautiful… it’s become a burden for me. And that’s not what it should be. It’s far from what it should be. And I can’t make it back into what it should be. I’ve been thinking that I’m the one who broke it, but that’s probably not entirely true. I’ve been believing so many lies that it’s getting hard to even see what truth is.

I seriously give this to You. For the first time, I seriously hand it over, and I will only do what You want me to do with it. I know I’ll probably try to steal it back and snatch it quickly from Your hands, but when I do… please remind me of this promise I’m making now. And please remind me of Your faithfulness and love and Your promise to … be my Father, my loving Father, who loves me forever.

Thank You for giving me the courage and time to finally write that letter to my mom. I hope that the message goes back to You, and that she will start to look to You again.

Please show her how to trust in You. Show her who You are to her. Show what You’ve done for her and what she means to You, that she is so precious that You thought of her as You groaned upon that ominous tree.

And please show me how to live for me. And for You. Please walk with me as I try to find out my real identity apart from the roles I used to play and the names that were given to me.

I seriously give this to You. I’m letting go with as much faith as I can muster that You will catch me, and that everything I was carrying in my arms will go exactly where You want them to. That You’ll catch what should be caught and nurture it the way only You know how. And let fall what should fall and let it be washed away with the tide.

My hands are open. I’m not holding on anymore.

I love You. Thank You for peace.

Love, Your daughter,


where it all began

“Please make it stop. When will this be over?” I kept murmuring to myself as I sat on the bathroom floor, wondering how quickly I could end this. A sharp blade and one swift slash. That’s all it’ll take, right?

I was fourteen years old and at my limit. My uncle’s oppressive words and actions drove me to the edge of my cliff and the only thing I wanted to do was close my eyes and jump off into a sea of nothingness. However, while these voices and options haunted my thoughts, another voice intervened. A soothing voice. This voice told me not to give up. That I was stronger than this. That if I give up, he wins. For a girl who never learned anything but to rely on herself, I simply thought this voice was my own inner strength and pride. I came to realize that this was the first beckoning my heart ever heard from God. But who was God? I didn’t know. I didn’t really want to. But accepting the call from this Stranger led to the most amazing transformation ever.

Superstitions, talismans, a house that smelled constantly of incense. These were a few of the things that plagued my house and existence as a child. Of course, there were also the evil spirits and the plastic and ceramic idols that made home in my house and the nearby temple. If you haven’t guessed it already, I grew up Buddhist. This was the only way I knew. I went to the temple and offered fruits and paper money for the dead during festivals and celebrations. If anyone asked me what it was that I believed, I probably would’ve made something up on the spot because I really didn’t know. But yet, I followed it and took the oaths and was initiated into this religion. And it wouldn’t be until my youth pastor in high school explained it to me that I actually realized what I had committed so much of my life to. Buddhists believe that all life is suffering, and after death is just more suffering. And all the good we do in this life can only lessen the suffering in the life to come.

When I was fourteen years old, my uncle and his son and nephew came to live with us. He was verbally and emotionally oppressive. One day, over a simple thing as the phone bill, I was struck across the face by him. This man, whom I regarded as the closest thing to a father that I had, hit me. I still can’t remember exactly how the fight went. It’s one of my mental roadblocks I set up as a defense mechanism, I guess. It was at this time that my friend introduced me to church. My mother could not speak fluent English, and I was too young to figure all of this out by myself, so we turned to a Chinese church that could possibly aid us in our trial. In court, I saw the first glimpse of God’s mercy acted out by my Buddhist mother. Had she gone through and continued to press charges, my uncle would have faced losing his visa and would be deported back to China. As angry as she was at his behavior, she did not wish to carry out this sentence. We simply cut our ties and moved on.

And after this matter was resolved, I still attended church socially out of gratitude for the people who walked beside us. I didn’t always want to, but I felt obligated. I didn’t belong there, why should I go? All of these people were bright, shiny, happy people. That was my initial perception. And me? I was dark, gloomy, and Buddhist. A dark cloud followed me everywhere. Nevertheless, I continued attending and even graduated to youth group status as I continued to get involved. Somewhere down the line, the Gospel began to make sense to me, but what was I to do? I’d been raised Buddhist, and I would disgrace my family if I should turn from it. What if my mother disowns me? What if she accuses me of being ungrateful to the teaching and the lifestyle of my grandmother, whom she greatly respected? And on top of that, I had already taken the oaths five years prior. What right did I have to change anything? What right did I have to walk my own path away from my family? In Chinese culture, tradition and family elders ruled one’s life. Did I have the courage to show this kind of defiance in the face of my family, who already judged me for standing up against my uncle?

Despite all that, when I was fifteen, I responded to an altar call four days removed from Christmas. It was the first choice I ever made for myself. My mother didn’t disown me and actually thought that I was old enough to make my own decisions. I can’t exactly say life’s been shiny and happy like I’d always assumed. I think I’m beginning to realize now that I had signed up for something much, much bigger than I had first perceived. I’ve hit the hardest time of my life, and it’s very difficult to suddenly be accountable to someone other than myself. And it’s only now that I’m slowly starting to understand what faith is. Let go and let God, and hope to fly.

Don’t give up. If you give up, you will lose. I understand what those words mean now. If I had given up that night and the many nights prior, I would’ve lost out on eternity with Christ. I would’ve signed myself up for the first handbasket that would ferry me off to an eternity of separation from everything that I wanted to have. The soft voice of a father calling out to his daughter—that is what I’ve wanted to experience for years. This freedom is an amazing feeling. To be released from the years of bondage in the teaching and beliefs of Buddhism is a relief that I can’t even begin to describe. To not be held solely and strictly to ceremonies, offerings, chanting, funny robes, and scheduled vegetarian days (which, I admit, was probably the hardest of all of them!) is strange. But most of all to be released from that fear of an eternity of suffering as I was always taught, that is one thing I am most grateful for.

starting from scratch

Hello all!

I have deleted all of my posts and restarted this blog. I think I’d like to post here a little more seriously since I can refer people here. My privacy settings are jacked way up, so hopefully I don’t get any wandering eyes. O.o I think that’s why I like xanga as much as I do. But whatevs. Sometimes it’s inconvenient when I want to refer someone there, and they don’t have a xanga.

Anywhoo, I’m rambling. I’ve been doing that a lot lately.

I think the main reason for this new blog is for my thoughts as I continue to find my identity. I really want to rename this blog as well since it’s been “Describe ‘ME'” since forever ago when I first opened an account.

Anywhoo… a lot of what will go on here will be my very personal and intimate thoughts and conversations with Jesus. You might think I’m just airing a lot of laundry, and you’re welcome to think so. But really….. I think I just want to share with you my walk and let you know where I am and how you can pray for me.

Sound good? Good!

I was thinking of posting some of my previous prayer journal entries, but I think I’m just going to start with today’s instead. Actually, I’m going to start with the testimony I wrote for my Public Speaking class so that we have a beginning to my story. 🙂

Thanks for being here. 🙂

peace and love
~* m i k i *~