david jaeyun kim

I remembered looking up to those around me who could sing back in my high school days - to possess not just musical talent but also the ability to express the entirety of their emotions while simultaneously enjoying every single second of it. I sucked. I had no range. I was never a natural singer, and frankly, I never will be - but I’ll also never forget the countless, frustrating hours spent practicing my vocals, the 3am revelle college music sessions when I needed to get better but couldn’t in the confines of my dorm room, and all the endless fantasies cycling in my head to one day be able to sing to a special somebody, someday.

those were the dreams of the stupid, hopeless romantic in me. and, I chose to cover this very song instead of writing one because it rekindled those distant, naive memories that honestly, at twenty-six years of age, have long been buried and locked away. and sometimes, I feel like that gets the best of us - the wounds, the scars, and the avalanche of dulling responsibilities that come naturally with age, shutting down each and every single nudge the inner child in us attempts to give. it’s tough being vulnerable in a broken world - but I’ll always know I can be, if I choose to be.

welp, that completes my engagement gift - yay!! (full ver reserved for the fiance, heh) not sure if I’ll ever have the opportunity to wipe the dust off of my mic to do music again, but I most def enjoyed every single dang moment of it =)

I’ve been dwelling on the concept of surrender as of late, and something I got a chance to discuss with my beloved church yesterday. it’s such a cliche Christianese statement that rolls off my tongue every so often, but I never got the chance to deeply ponder it. it’s odd, the way the sinful heart works--it’s as though I selectively choose not to think about it because I know where it’ll lead to, because, hey, ignorance is bliss, right?

the implications of the verb surrender suggest that there first is something of possession to surrender in the first place. and so, the act or earnest desire to surrender all to Christ is utterly pointless if we cease to first examine the idols we are holding onto, and what those idols are effectively doing for our selfish gain. if I had to be honest with myself, my entire life was always about chasing after my dreams and achievements that I can add to my ever increasing resume as a part of some sort of character-building process, to continuously “level-up” as you will, you know, to be the best version of myself and all.

but Matthew 6:21 reads, “For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” the things that reside in our hearts, the person that we want to be, the people that we want to be with, the things that we want--it’s these very wishes that occupy our hearts and drive us chasing after the wind to fill our insecurities. and, when they are finally in our possessions, we cling onto them dearly. it makes us who we are--it gives us confidence, it builds our sterling reputations, it makes us feel loved, respected. our securities lie in our possessions that it’s become so deeply engraved in our identities to the point that we begin to embrace a man-centered theology that attempts to squeeze God and the cross-bearing life around our schedules. in so doing, we spare the Lord the crumbs and left-overs of our time rather than the entirety of our lives. has not the Christian life today been boiled down to a schedule of making outside-in, minuscule adjustments to our lives, rather than a complete inside-out transformation?

lately, I’ve been thinking about love. no, not the sappy kind of love we’re accustomed to thinking about, but rather, why deep down inside it’s so hard to love at times, even when we want to so badly. could it really be just the circumstances, or is there something deeper lying in my heart?

I meditated on 1 John 3:16 tonight that reads, “By this we know love, that he laid down his life for us, and we ought to lay down our lives for the brothers.” I stopped and read that verse over and over again. what did that really mean, that he laid down his life for us?

and the realization that I had was the simple fact that our desire to love is oft trumped by our refusal to lay down our lives, as though our pride is far too valuable to relinquish. through all the scars and callouses formed over the soft skin of our hearts, we retreat into the confined walls of our selfishness. and, in our cravings for love and respect, we engage in a costly exchange that champions the advancement our own kingdoms, at the expense of our vulnerabilities as we grow not only distant, but confused at the state of our souls. and sometimes, that becomes our biggest impediment to love--our lives, our prides just matter too much.

but when we look at the life of Christ, we see that he didn’t come down to earth as a shining prince rescuing humanity in a glorious fashion. no, he came down as the humble king, mocked, beaten, and even put to death in the name of Love. he who possessed the power to destroy all who hurt him and to be infinitely worshiped by all of mankind at the snap of a finger opted to experience not only the excruciating physical and emotional pain that the broken, bitter world inflicted upon him, but also the complete wrath that was due onto us. never once did he forsake his mission in the wake of hurt, humiliation, or even betrayal. laying down his life, he loved perfectly--and by this, we know love.

see, the laying down part was the prerequisite for the loving part. how often I try to do the latter, while refusing to do the former.

lately, and for the first time for as long as I can remember, I’ve been struggling with contentment. I honestly can’t figure out why - at first glance, it seems like so many things are going my way as of this moment in life. yet, the truth is, I’m still discontent.

it’s weird, it’s foreign. it’s a subtle feeling of going through the day-to-day grind, enjoying the simple periodic pleasures in life, going to bed, just to wake up the next day to do the same exact thing. it’s not sadness, a depression of some sort, nor is it much of an apathetic slump. it’s not nostalgia, a yearning for the past, nor is it a desire for something more, greater. it’s as though I’ve temporarily lost my sense of purpose that for many years of my life fueled me through even the dullest of duties, drained as my confidence in even my prized intrinsic value begins to diminish before my very own eyes. the air, the oxygen of this world just continues to seep into my lungs, lulling me into a place of comfort, as though this world is my very own home. sigh, I’ve lost my sense of fight.

but as I sit here, writing about my raw feelings to which I wonder whether I should be sharing or not, I realize not just in my head, but rather deep in my heart, that contentment is not an experience or possession to be found, no, it’s a state of heart, an attitude, a perspective. it’s realigning my heart to the ultimate purpose in my life--a cross-bearing life that needs to be fought for daily, as I find true contentment in my satisfaction in serving Christ all the while looking forward to the treasures stored for me in heaven.