The Fan

My neighbor has an 8 year old son. He's always either playing soccer or watching cartoons. Sometimes he comes over to play with my camera, or to ask for candy. The other day, we played a game of connect four.



To me it was just a game, but to Ben, it was life. Playing is the most important thing in the world to him. "if you're willing to take time to play games with me, you must think I'm an important person!"

My other neighbor is 15. He's got a customized Honda motorbike with his name emblazoned on the side. He's on the basketball team of his school. I'm almost 30 and basketball is too hard on my knees. But last Sunday, I went with him to work on his free throws. I go to watch the first game of the season, and everyone on his team is so skinny and clumsy. It was just a game for me, but to him, it's the most important thing in his life right now.



I remember my dad coming to my basketball games when i was in pee-wee league.
back then, basketball was life. The fact that my dad came to my games to watch me, meant a lot. He was a doctor, with a busy schedule. But he always made time to come to my games, holding an icebox with lemon-lime gatorade. It made me play harder, to know he was cheering me on. Whenever I doubted that he loved me, I always remembered that he was there at my games.

but that was 15 years ago. Since then, I moved away to college. He joined the Army as a doctor. I don't see him for a year at a time now. And we've never been good at communicating.

Calling my dad is like pulling teeth. After I talk to my mom for an hour, I'm lucky if my conversation with him lasts 2 minutes. It's always about my health (he is a doctor after all), or the condition of my car. My mom is my biggest cheerleader; my dad is becoming a stranger to me.

But I realized that I've been waiting for my dad to change. I'm waiting for him to talk more, make more of an effort, be a better father. I'm waiting for him to come watch my games again. And I realized, I could be waiting his whole life.

So a few months go, I called his cell phone, out of the blue. He was surprised, I think. We talked for an hour. He talked about him: his work. his golf. The reunion he's planning with his junior high school friends. I didn't know those things were so important to him.

During our Christmas vacation in Korea, our family went to visit dad's childhood home, near Sookmyong Women's University. He hadn't been back there in 25 years, he said. He was pacing up and down that road, trying to remember the location of the house. His eyes were glowing. I've never seen him so happy, to be reminiscing about his childhood.

My mom flew out first, so it was my dad who took me to the airport at 4:30am. Instead of sending me on a bus, he surprised me by buying tickets for the just-built 43-minute light rail to Incheon Airport.



It was time to say goodbye. I crossed into TSA to screen my bags and he was still standing there. Unsmiling. Waving. The doors closed. I kept moving up in line, kept looking back to see if he was there. He was. I was walking off toward passport check, out of sight. Only then, did I see him turn around and leave. Tears were rolling down my face. It was the first time my dad saw me off like that. I felt like I did when he came to my basketball games. My dad was cheering me on again.

The last few months, I've called my father every week or two, usually at night when he's still at his office past midnight. We only talk for about 5 to 10 minutes. He always seems tired, busy, impatient to end the conversation. But I still call to ask about the things that are important to him. He's my father and I want to be his biggest fan. I want to be at his games and cheer him on.

When Jesus came to earth, he came for a mission. To redeem humankind, to die on Calvary. He had important tasks to accomplish. But he didn't just come for that. He also came to be at our basketball games. To show up at our Korean Culture nights, our SAT exams, our band concerts. To affirm us when we sing special music, when we're trying out for a play, at our bench press competitions. To cheer us on.

He's at your games, cheering you on. He's your biggest fan.
Even if it's your hobbies that take you away from Him,
He's still your biggest fan.



You're busy.
You have important things to accomplish.
You have your basketball games to prepare for, tests to study for, recitals to practice for.

But your heavenly father has dreams too.
He waiting for you to come to his game
He's waiting for you to cheer him on.

The Needy God

In English, "need" is a four-letter word.

It's OK to be needy if you're a baby. Your first cry was your first time asking. But you soon became a toddler who could walk on his own, potty without mommy's help, eat by himself.

We Americans like to do things ourselves. Everyone has their own plate, their own Happy Meal all bagged up in individual servings. We value independence, self-sufficiency. We're taught not to need so much, ask so much, lean on others so much. The most shameful things to say in our culture: "I'm living with my parents. I don't know what I'm doing with my life. I'm on welfare. I need help."

Neediness is weakness.



I'm almost 30 years old and I'm still single. Why? Because I don't want to need anyone. Marriage is the ultimate confession of neediness. It's admitting: I am incomplete. I am helpless. I am not able to take care of myself. I am not happy. Without you. And I'm willing to take a risk with you.



In the spiritual arena, we often treat our salvation the same way. Daily devotions. It's something YOU need to do. And don't you dare ask how mine are going. It's my business, not yours.

I'm a pastor who's trying to build the Body of Christ. I preach about getting everyone involved, each one reach one, and how it's gonna take more than just preaching to finish the work. But it's just theory. In the end, church is all about me. My sermons, my ministry ideas, the direction I'm gonna take the church.



Here in Southeast Asia, though, I'm slowly dying to my independence. Spiritually I've fallen apart countless times. After coming face to face with all my weaknesses and my ugliness, I think I've finally given up. I've embraced my true identity. I'm weak. I'm a sinner. I'm a needy person.

And realizing my neediness, my weakness, it's radically changed the way I look at God. I see a different Jesus when I read the Bible now.

I see a God who's all powerful, yes. who's everywhere, yes. who knows everything, yes.

but also a God who was needy
who sought out fishermen, and asked them: Follow me!

He accepted money for his ministry
He asked for a boy's lunch
He asked for water at the well
He asked for a place to stay
He asked a favor while on the cross
He asked for prayer when he was struggling in Gethsemane

He even asked for affirmation for his identity as Messiah: Who do you think I am?

He created us, to fill that need of His for intimacy. When we praise God, we're not just saying mindless phrases to pump up the ego of some Being who's made an ultimatum. Worship is something God asks for. He needs. He craves quality time with us. He's intentionally made himself dependent on our affection.

Yes, he died on Calvary 2,000 years ago.

But right now, He's dying emotionally because you're not in His arms.
He's thirsty for you. He's craving you. He can't imagine life, eternity, a moment without you.
He's crying out: "I need you! I need you to be a part of my life! Please! I need to spend time with you!"



God is needy. He's asking. He's weak.
He's that beggar on the street, hands outstretched in supplication
He's the single mom with unpaid bills, running her hands through her hair in worry
He's the toddler that can't feed himself, looking up to his parent for love
All this time, you thought you needed God
but in reality, He's the one who needs you.