bible

Merely the hem of his garment

One of my favorite stories in the Gospels is when the woman who had been bleeding for twelve years was healed through faith by simply touching the hem of Jesus’s garment. This story exists in three of the four Gospels: Matthew 9:20-22, Mark 5:25-34, and Luke 8:43-48. In some translations, it says hem (NKJV). In others it says edge (NIV), fringe (ESV), or border (KJV). But what they all have in common is that the bleeding woman was healed by Jesus by reaching out in faith and touching only some small, distal part of Jesus’s clothing. 

And suddenly, a woman who had a flow of blood for twelve years came from behind and touched the hem of His garment. For she said to herself, “If only I may touch His garment, I shall be made well.” But Jesus turned around, and when He saw her He said, “Be of good cheer, daughter; your faith has made you well.” And the woman was made well from that hour (Matthew 9:20-22, NKJV). 

There are a couple of remarkable things about this passage to me. The first thing that strikes me is just how little it actually took for this woman to be healed by Jesus. He didn’t lay his hands on her. He didn’t bless her or pray over her. He didn’t even know who she was until the moment she touched his clothes. 

All she did was touch the hem of his garment, not even the sleeve or the collar, but simply the hem. Through this simple gesture, she was healed. This goes to show just how powerful Jesus’s healing powers were and are. He is able to heal all manner of illness and malady with even the smallest amount of connection to him. 

The other remarkable thing about this story is that it teaches us the power of faith. This woman had been bleeding for twelve years. She had no realistic reason to believe that Jesus would or could heal her. And yet, she reached out in faith and was made instantly well. 

With faith and the smallest amount of effort on our part, Jesus is able to accomplish miracles in our lives. We cannot heal ourselves but, when we find ourselves in a position wherein we are beyond human aid, if we reach out to Jesus, he will heal us. As it is written in Matthew 17:20, “If you have faith as a mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move; and nothing will be impossible for you (NKJV).”

Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity

To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations of a Gentle Warrior and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox. 

He began to teach them many things

Yesterday morning during my prayer hour, my Biblical readings contained the following story from the Gospel of Mark:

The Apostles gathered together with Jesus and reported all they had done and taught. He said to them, “Come away by yourselves to a deserted place and rest a while.” People were coming and going in great numbers, and they had no opportunity even to eat. So they went off in the boat by themselves to a deserted place. People saw them leaving and many came to know about it. They hastened there on foot from all the towns and arrived at the place before them. When Jesus disembarked and saw the vast crowd, his heart was moved with pity for them, for they were like sheep without a shepherd; and he began to teach them many things (Mark 6:30-34, NABRE).

As with all of the Gospels, there is a lot to contemplate in this passage, but the part of the story that really caught my attention was the last verse that says, “When Jesus disembarked and saw the vast crowd, his heart was moved with pity for them, for they were like sheep without a shepherd; and he began to teach them many things.” 

For whatever reason, “…and he began to teach them many things,” really stuck in my mind. I couldn’t let it go. What are the many things that Jesus taught them? Why didn’t Mark write these teachings down? What did those he taught do with the teachings? Were they converted? Were they saved? Did they, in turn, share Jesus’s teachings with others?

As I meditated on this for a while, the thought came to me, “What if Mark intentionally left this statement open-ended? Perhaps it’s left open-ended like that because he is telling us that we are them to whom he taught and is teaching many things. His teaching didn’t end there with that crowd. When he left them, he continued teaching up until the moment of this death. Even after his death, burial, resurrection, and ascension, he continued teaching. In fact, he is still with us teaching us through the spirit.”

This thought immediately brought me a sense of comfort. In truth, I am one of the crowd hastening to Jesus and without him, I am like a sheep without a shepherd. And like that crowd, Jesus has taught and continues to teach me many things. 

Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity

To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations of a Gentle Warrior and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox. 

Spiritual discernment through prayer and community

When we are attempting to discern God’s will in our lives, he sometimes reveals himself to us clearly, in undeniable ways. He shows us in prayer, in a dream, or through community who he would have us be. Our path is well lit before us if only we are willing, and we are left simply to do the work of submitting to his will and following through on our decision. 

Other times, we are left to walk through darkness with only the flickering light of faith to light our way. We feel our way around, bump into unseen walls, and fumble our way forward. Even in these times of darkness, however, God gives us clues along the way, if only we have the eyes to see and ears to hear. Through these divine breadcrumbs, he reminds us that we are not alone on this journey and that he has always been there to guide us since before we were even paying attention. 

It can often be difficult to discern between divine inspiration and self-delusion. This is why prayer and spiritual community are so important. Through prayer, especially extended periods of silent prayer coupled with the reading of scripture and other spiritual literature, we place ourselves in a posture from which we can listen for God’s quiet voice. Spiritual community, such as a pastor, spiritual director, or a trusted friend who knows us and the journey we are on, then helps us in discernment by helping us to test and sift through what we receive in prayer. 

Without prayer, we are left trying to do God’s will with only self and the world to guide us. Without spiritual community, we are the sole interpreters of God’s voice in our lives and, while no one else can truly know what he is speaking to us in our hearts, God also speaks through the people he has placed in our lives. God did not make us to be alone. 

I have recently been trying to discern God’s will for me in my career and education. While God has not appeared to me in a burning bush, atop a mountain, or through an angel descending from the heavens, he has been there. Through a long, challenging process of deep prayer, many conversations with my spiritual community, and following the breadcrumbs placed before me, I believe that I know what he would have me do next in my life, at least for now (I’ll write about it in a different post). As my wife says to our daughter, “Subject to change.” 

Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity

To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations of a Gentle Warrior and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox. 

Divine mic drop

“‘You are God’s Beloved!’ I hope that you can hear these words as spoken to you with all the tenderness and force that love can hold. My only desire is to make these words reverberate in every corner of your being ‘You are the Beloved…’ The voice that speaks from above and from within whispers softly or declares loudly: ‘You are my Beloved son or daughter, on you my favor rests.’”
-Henri Nouwen, Spiritual Direction: Wisdom for the Long Walk of Faith (2006, p 29)

As I read this during my morning prayers, I found myself thinking about people that I love and praying for them. I sat there in silence wishing that my daughter could hear and know these words as true, that she is God’s beloved. I thought about my wife and wished, in the depth of her being, she could feel these words, that she is God’s beloved daughter and on her his favor rests. Then a friend came to mind and I wished the same for her. This continued as different people for whom I have a special place in my heart popped into my head. 

Right then, mid-thought, a voice cut through all of the prayers, thoughts, and images that were previously running through my mind. This voice said, “You wish this for everyone else, but why can’t you hear it yourself?” Taken aback, I sat there for what felt like an eternity, but was most likely only a few minutes, meditating on this question that went straight to my heart. 

“Am I actually God’s beloved?” I asked myself. “Is that really true? Am I really worthy of his love like that? Why don’t I know it? Why can’t I feel it? What is it in me that is keeping me from accepting this powerful truth that I so freely wish for others? Why do I exclude myself from this miraculous gift? What is it you are holding onto that you believe is preventing you from being worthy of his love and forgiveness?”

In this brief moment of thought and prayer, my life flashed before my mind’s eye and I was shown a deep truth that I had been previously unwilling to see. It’s not that God didn’t love me, but that I was unable or unwilling to accept his love. In wanting others to experience the abundance of God’s grace and mercy, he was able to show me that I was holding myself back from also experiencing it. They are God’s beloved children, but I am also. 

Now what exactly does this mean and how will my life and perspective change after having this realization gently and lovingly forced upon me? I have no idea, but I do know that I am willing to allow God to show me. I am willing to let him love me. I am willing to be loved, to be his beloved. 

Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity

To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations of a Gentle Warrior and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox. 

It’s okay to question God

Having faith does not mean that we don’t question God. God is not a dictator demanding that we blindly follow his orders. Rather, as Jesus tells us when he teaches his disciples how to pray, God is our heavenly father (Matthew 6:9). As such, he loves us and wants the best for us, but he ultimately leaves it up to us to choose. 

When God told Moses to tell the Pharaoh to free his people, Moses questioned him (Exodus 3-4). The prophet Jeremiah questioned God about why he allows evil men to prosper and faithless men to be comfortable (Jeremiah 12). The Psalms are filled with questions to God about why he seems to hide from us and to have forsaken us (Psalm 10 & 22). Even Jesus, in the Garden of Gethsemane before the crucifixion says to God, “My Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me (Matthew 26:39)” before conceding to God’s will. 

It is okay to question God, to be reluctant, and to be hesitant to follow his will. You are not alone in this if you do. Even while God asks us to be obedient and faithful to his word, he is not asking that we be mindless automatons who do not think for ourselves. He doesn’t want robot servants. God wants a relationship with us and relationships require communication.

God wants to hear from us. He wants us to confide in him, to tell him we are reluctant, afraid, or even angry. And while we may not change his mind, he will always listen. 

I once heard someone ask the question, “What if the only things God knows about you are what you tell him?” Ask yourself this next time you pray, and then invite God into your heart. Tell him how you feel. Tell him what worries you, what frustrates you, and what upsets you. He wants to know. He wants to help you and comfort you. 

Faith, then, is not acting without fear, without questions, and without resistance. Faith is doing God’s will in spite of these things and trusting that it will be alright. But if you are afraid, if you have questions, and if you are feeling resistant to what it seems like God is calling you to do, talk to him. 

God wants nothing more than to have a relationship with you, but he will not force himself upon you. “Cast your cares on the Lord and he will sustain you (Psalm 55:22)… [He] will never let you down; he’ll never let you be pushed past your limit (1 Corinthians 10:13-18).”

Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity

To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations of a Gentle Warrior and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox.  

Our primary purpose

On Tuesday, September 11, 2001, I was working at a bank as a floating teller. As a floating teller, I traveled from branch to branch to fill in as needed. On this particular day, I was working in one of the Annapolis branches and I had a doctor’s appointment scheduled at lunchtime, so I was going to be leaving work early. 

As we set up the branch, getting all of our cash drawers ready for when the doors opened to the public, we saw the news that a plane had just crashed into one of the towers of the World Trade Center. We were all shocked and not quite sure what to do, but it was time to open. Then, just after we opened the doors, the news came in that another plane hit the World Trade Center and we all sensed that the world as we knew it had just changed forever. 

There was a haunting sense of concern and confusion throughout the branch as we did our best to do our jobs as usual, but as the towers collapsed, we all just wanted to go home. I tried to call the doctor’s office to confirm my appointment, but no one answered the phones. I soon realized that, whether the doctor’s office was open or not, I still had an appointment, I still wanted to go home, and this was my chance to do so. So, when it was time for me to go to the doctor, I left work as planned and went home instead. 

At home were my two roommates, both older than me but also very good friends of mine. In fact, we are still friends to this day and stay in touch often. We briefly discussed what had happened and kept our eyes on the news. As the day went on and the initial shock wore off, the realness of it all started to sink in. 

That evening, like every other Tuesday night at that time in my life, we had a meeting to attend in a church basement. Every week a bunch of us gathered together to discuss our lives, our relationship with God, and the spiritual experiences we had each had, through which we shared a common bond. We met regularly, and still do in a different forum, so that others who may be interested in what we have to offer may find us and a way to change their lives. 

As was our custom, we gathered, had some coffee or tea, talked for an hour, said a prayer, and then began to part ways. Before we left, however, one of the members of our group pointed out that no one, not a single person, had spoken of or even alluded to the events of that morning in our meeting. In spite of the severity and gravity of the event, it simply never came up, and the reason it never came up was because that was not what we were there for. 

We knew our purpose for being together, which was to carry the message of the profound change that had taken place in our lives after we gave our lives to God, cleaned up our pasts, and then shared this good news freely with others. We were not there to talk about current events, no matter how tragic. For that hour, the only thing that mattered was that we share with each other and whoever else wanted to listen, what our lives were like, the spiritual transformation we had experienced, the process through which we experienced that transformation, and what our lives were like as the result of that transformation, and, as this gentleman pointed out, we stuck to that primary purpose, even on what is now infamously known as 9/11. 

I think about this experience and the lesson it offers quite often. If I know my purpose in life or in specific relationships or situations, and I stick to that purpose, I am much less likely to get caught up in all of the other things going on in life that either don’t concern me or that I cannot do anything about. This is not the same as apathy, however. I care a lot about a lot of things. Rather, it is about purpose and effectiveness. 

If, on that day, we had allowed the events of 9/11 to seep into our gathering, we would not have been able to do the work we were there to do. It would have made us less effective. And, the work we were there to do was and is extremely important. It literally changed my life and the lives of many others. By talking about the events of 9/11, we would not have been talking about God and spiritual transformation, and that would have been a shame. 

I have found that this principle carries over quite well into other aspects of my life. For example, when I am with my family, if I focus on my family and not on current events or politics, I am much more useful to them and we enjoy our time together more fully. When I’m at work and my attention is on the work itself and on my relationships with my coworkers, as opposed to gossip or personal opinions for example, I not only get more work done, but it is also much more satisfying and fulfilling to be at work in general. Likewise, when I’m at jiu-jitsu, my primary purpose is to teach or practice jiu-jitsu, and when I’m at church my primary purpose is to worship and praise God. 

In every aspect of my life, if I can define my purpose for being there and give my attention to that purpose without being distracted by extraneous issues that I have no control or influence over, my life is better and I am able to serve others more effectively. Of course, there is a time and place for current events, politics, etc. and for having an opinion on these things. There are even people whose purpose and profession it is to do so. However, I find that when I adhere to my life’s primary purpose, which is to love and serve God and to love and serve my fellows, I don’t actually have much time or desire to get caught up in those things or to drag them into places they don’t belong. 

Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity

To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations of a Gentle Warrior and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox. 

I’m afraid of losing her

Ever since my daughter was born, I would check on her multiple times each night to make sure she was still breathing. Nearly ten years later and I still do this. If she goes to sleep before me, when I go upstairs, I check on her before I go to bed. If I wake up in the middle of the night, I go in her room to check on her before going back to sleep. If I wake up before her in the morning, I check on her before I go downstairs. 

I’ve often thought about why this I do this. I’m sure it’s partly out of habit. I’ve been doing it for so long that it’s just something I do. But there’s more to it than that. 

Of course, I check on her because I love her. She’s my only child and we are extremely close. She means the world to me and I adore her. But if I’m being honest with myself, that’s only part of why I check on her so often. 

Having reflected on this behavior quite a bit over the years, the thing I keep coming back to is fear. I’m afraid of losing her, of something happening to her in her sleep, and of her dying suddenly with no warning or explanation. I’m afraid of this because, deep down, I still feel like I don’t deserve her. 

My daughter is such an amazing soul. She is thoughtful, compassionate, kind, creative, hardworking, and extremely smart. I’m in awe of her and I have more love for her than I ever thought I was capable of having for another human being. The thought of losing her terrifies me. 

I have done a lot wrong in my life. At times, I have been selfish, careless, and unkind. Especially in my youth, I have done many things that I regret. And while I know that my shortcomings and mistakes do not define who I am, I also know that I have a life better than I deserve, especially when it comes to her. In the back of my mind, and sometimes in the forefront, I am haunted by the thought of losing her as some kind of divine punishment for my pride, anger, and other wrongdoings. 

Sometimes, this fear drives me to be a better father. It motivates me to spend as much time with her as possible, to be as present for her as I am capable of being, to guide her as best I can, and to let her know that I love her often. Other times, it’s just fear. It results in worry, anxiety, and restless nights. 

The thing is that I know that God loves me and forgives me for my past mistakes. I have confessed them to him and another person, and I have tried to right my wrongs to the best of my ability. I also know, however, that what’s done is done and I cannot change the past. I have to live with my mistakes. 

I’m not sure why I’m writing all of this other than that I needed to get it out. I needed to acknowledge it and put it “on paper” so to speak. Perhaps I wonder if other fathers have the same feelings toward their children, a feeling of absolute unworthiness for the unfathomable miracle that they are. Maybe this is my way of reaching out for connection with those who feel the same way that I do, or maybe someone else needs to know that they are not alone. 

What I am sure of, however, is that God is loving and merciful, so loving in fact that he sacrificed his own son to pay for my sins. For me to continue to wallow in grief and remorse is almost ungrateful, almost a denial of that gift, and it certainly does not make me more useful to God or the people around me. My fear is a subtle way of rejecting God’s grace. 

Perhaps that’s what this is all about. Maybe, through the deep and unexplainable feelings I have for my daughter, God is showing me how much he loves me. I might be making too much out of nothing, but it doesn’t feel like nothing to me. It feels like everything and, as I check on her this evening and kiss her goodnight, I will do so as a form of prayer. 

Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity

To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations of a Gentle Warrior and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox. 

God’s goodnight kiss

As I finished my daily writing, my wife and my daughter were both fast asleep. Normally, I’d be right behind them, but on this night I was up later than usual. I had overbooked myself that day and I was behind on my work. The fact that I had overslept that morning didn’t help, but I needed it. It had been a long week with lots of jiu-jitsu classes, wrestling practices, appointments, meetings, and a tight schedule all around. 

Normally, I wake up at around 5:30am to do my morning prayers before my wife and daughter get up for work and school, respectively. On this day, I slept until nearly 7am. Actually, we all did. With only one bathroom, this caused quite a scurry to get everyone out the door on time and, being unwilling to give up my morning prayers, which, between my daily readings and meditation usually take about an hour, I was late for jiu-jitsu. I wasn’t scheduled to teach, so it wasn’t really a big deal, but my tardiness set the tone for the rest of my day. 

Fast forward and now it’s time for bed and I still hadn’t finished my writing for the day. So I sat down to write and, of course, I was stuck. For as long as I can remember, I’ve always been more of a morning person than an evening person. My creative work is no different. In the morning, if I’m not distracted, the work just seems to flow out of me. At night, it’s much more of a struggle. Being tired doesn’t help. So here I am, past my bedtime, stuck at my keyboard determined to get something out. 

You could say I had writer’s block, but I’ve learned that there is no such thing as writer’s block. What feels like writer’s block is really just pride manifesting itself as fear, frustration, and perfectionism. Somehow writer’s believe that everything they write should be their best work and, if it isn’t, they convince themselves that some mysterious force is blocking them from writing. In actuality, no great creative work happens without a lot of mediocre, or even terrible, work happening first. The key to good writing, therefore, is to just write. 

So I started to get some ideas out. After a lot of false starts, typed and deleted sentences, and prideful disappointment in myself, things began to flow. After about an hour, I finally got to a point where I was pleased enough with what I had written that I was willing to publish it. I posted it to my blog, closed up my laptop, and got myself ready for bed. 

At night, before I lie down, I always go into my daughter’s room to check on her, give her a kiss on the cheek, and say my evening prayers at her bedside. This night was no different, except it was. My routine was the same, but as I walked away from her, I was overwhelmed with emotion. Maybe I was just overly tired. Perhaps it was a sense of release from having gotten through a very long day. But it felt like more. 

I went into my room, laid my head on my pillow, and was struck with a feeling of pure love coupled with a vision, like a waking dream. It lasted but a moment, but in that moment it was as if God uploaded into my consciousness a lifetime’s worth of information all at once. 

What I saw in my mind’s eye was me giving my daughter her goodnight kiss, but I saw it from the outside looking in. Words come up short, but in this single kiss, I could see the love transferred between us. I could see my love for her flowing from me into her, her reception of my love flowing back into me like the closing of a circuit, and God’s love for both of us surrounding us and flowing through the entire relationship. It felt like God gave me a glimpse, even if ever so briefly, into what he sees. 

This experience passed as suddenly as it came to me. Exhausted from the day, I fell asleep. The next morning, I woke up remembering what had happened the night before. As life goes, however, the day’s demands distracted me from reflection. It wasn’t until much later that I was able to really acknowledge and process this experience. In my reflection, I realized how easy it is to ignore, deny, or dismiss these moments and to simply move on with our lives, but I refuse to do so. I can’t. 

These experiences, fleeting glimpses into the mystery of God’s love, leave me longing for more, longing for God, but also extremely grateful that he chose to come to me in this way. Now my task is to not allow this transformative experience to go to waste, to use it, like so many others that I have had like it, as fuel to go deeper, to get closer, and to be still and present more often. But knowing that I cannot manufacture spiritual experiences, that I cannot make God come to me, and that grace is a gift undeserved, the best I can do is to pray. 

Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity

To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations of a Gentle Warrior and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox. 

Pray without ceasing

There is so much temptation to argue with the world over worldly things and I often give in to that temptation, but every time I do, it leaves me feeling empty and disappointed. Specifically when I engage in online debate, whatever dubious, fleeting pleasure I get out of trying to be right is quickly replaced by hollow dissatisfaction. Even if I perceive myself as having won whatever debate I interjected myself into, the cost is almost always greater than the reward. 

What is there to even win? What will I gain compared to my lost time, attention, and happiness? The answer is little to nothing. In fact, it’s not even a net zero. I inevitably end up feeling worse than when I started after having wasted precious minutes and hours focused on something other than what is actually good, healthy, and fulfilling. 

In spite of this, I still find myself battling the temptation to get involved in things that don’t really concern me. It’s not even that I am drawn in by some righteous or noble cause, and I’m not trying to create some great change through debate. It’s my pride and vanity driving me to engage in this pointless conflict for the sake of conflict. The truth is most people are not arguing online to have their minds changed anyway. Rather, I’m simply trying to seem smart or to prove others wrong. This is not the path to heaven or even contentment. It’s quite the opposite, in fact. 

Case in point, after the recent election, I found myself engaging with some posts on my social media feed. I then shared an old friends post which expressed a controversial political opinion. Adding to this, I created a post stating a dissenting view on my own post, hoping for validation, but expecting negative attention.

As time passed, I started getting comments on my posts. I engaged with some of them. Others I ignored. But what I started to notice was that, even when I was not on social media, I was thinking about what comments others were making on my posts. What did the think about me? What were they saying about me? Who else agreed with them? Was I upsetting people? How was this affecting my public image? All of this self-centered fear drove me to check my social media feed on my phone over and over again for hours. 

The more I checked my phone, the worse I felt. This was not because people were criticizing me and my point of view. I expected that and I could have predicted exactly who would do so, as well as what they would say. I felt worse over time because I began realizing just how fruitless this activity was. More so, it was becoming clear to me that, aside from this not adding value to my life, it was actually detracting from my joy, my peace of mind, and my ability to focus the things that truly matter. 

Most importantly, however, I realized that all of this time spent worrying about what other people were thinking or saying was time I was not thinking about God. That is, instead of engaging people in political debate on social media, I could have been praying. I don’t mean on my knees prayer, which I do at the beginning and end of the day, but “praying without ceasing (1 Thessalonians 5:16-18)” through meditation, contemplation, spiritual reading, Christian podcasts, or service work. By obsessing over worldly matters, I was ignoring my higher calling. I was ignoring God. 

Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity

To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations of a Gentle Warrior and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox. 

The vessel matters

One of my wife and my favorite things to eat on a cold, winter day is a Korean stew called gamja-tang. Gamja-tang is a spicy potato and pork neck-bone stew cooked and served in a hot stone bowl. The pork neck-meat is tender and succulent, the potato is soft and creamy, and the broth is spicy, rich, and full of umami.

Ever since we first got married, one of our weekend rituals, especially during the colder months, has been to go to the Korean market for groceries, and to get gamja-tang and sushi for lunch. Over the years, the markets we go to have changed, and, as our life together has gotten more full, the frequency we go on these dates has become more sparse, but even after fifteen years, groceries and gamja-tang remains one of our favorite ways to get away and spend time together.

Most often, we prefer to sit down and eat together in the little food court of the grocery store. However, there have been occasions when, for one reason or another, we took our food to go. But whenever we have gotten takeout, the soup never tastes the same and we cannot figure out why.

The gamja-tang we take home looks exactly the same as the gamja-tang we eat in the restaurant. It has the same ingredients and the quantities are the same. The taste, however, is different. It’s less rich, less flavorsome, and lacks that unami deliciousness it has when we eat it on-site. The best we can figure, the bowl the stew is served in is what makes the difference between the eat-in and the takeout versions.

When gamja-tang is cooked, it’s cooked directly over the fire in a stone bowl. This bowl is then placed on a small, stone platter and served to customers in the same vessel it was cooked in. When gamja-tang is ordered to-go, however, the stew is transferred out of the bowl it was cooked in and into a plastic takeout container. Since the only real difference between eating gamja-tang in the food court and eating it at home is the container it is served in, we have to assume that this is the cause for the noticeable difference in flavor.

In my many years spent as a coffee drinker, barista, and espresso machine repair technician, I have observed this same phenomenon with coffee. When coffee is served in a ceramic cup, it tastes different than when it is served in a glass, paper, or plastic cup. I don’t know why, but it just does. Apparently, the vessel matters.

The same principle seems to apply to us. As much as we don’t want it to be the case, and as unfair as it may seem, how we present ourselves, how we dress, groom, and carry ourselves, plays a large role in how we are perceived and received by the world. This is especially true when we are trying to carry a message to others.

We all want to be loved and accepted as we are and for who we are, but there is only one who has ever truly loved us unconditionally in this way. That one is God, the God who knew us before he formed us in the womb (Jeremiah 1:5), the God to whom nothing is hidden (Hebrews 4:13), and the God to whom we will return to answer for our lives in death (Romans 14:10-12). This same God who knows us better than we know ourselves (Psalm 139:1-4) also loves us beyond our comprehension or deserving (Romans 5:6-8).

God loves us for who we are, but everyone else has conditions and expectations. For this reason, how we present ourselves matters. The container matters. Our outward appearance doesn’t define us or make us any more or less loved by God, for God’s love is perfect, but whether we like it or not, it does affect how we are perceived and received by the world. Much like Korean stew or espresso, changing the container changes perception. So if we want to be taken seriously, if we want our message to be heard, we have to look like we are serious and deserve to be listened to.

Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity

To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations of a Gentle Warrior and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox.