Korean Octopus, and You, and Me

"Whoa, octopus! Let's get some."

He's peering in past a frosted glass window to a ten-inch package of purple tentacled octopus legs coiled tightly, their suction cups pointed out at us. In an international Asian grocery store with green tea popsicles and dried mango slices, I love that seven year old Daniel is brave and eager to try new things.

Photo: J. Griffin Stewart, Creative Commons, cc license

"We'll see," I murmur, "I don't know how to cook them yet."

Twenty minutes later in the deli section, we see it, and my husband and I grin to each other. "Daniel, remember how you wanted to eat octopus? They have it here. We'll get some!"

He cheers and skips happily as we edge closer to the counter. Soon we are crowded around a small square table, the three of us sharing a monstrous bowl of soup and nibbling steaming octopus dumplings. He slurps beside us, wrestling with his chop sticks on the miles of ramen noodles, and the beauty of this moment etches itself onto my heart. Japanese, Korean, Chinese, Vietnamese, Hmong, and our European blend of German, English, Irish, and Czech whirl and pass in this busy, jumping restaurant, a gorgeous mix of cultures and languages. And I love that I can sip spicy Japanese soup, sample Korean octopus dumplings, and pass tall elegant veiled Somali women on the sidewalk outside.

We finish our meal, wipe up our spills, and carry the dishes to a back corner. Paying for the groceries, we drag a metal cart holding our fifty pound bag of rice to the car, and turn towards home. In the car, the Minneapolis skyline dips and whirs past, and the beauty of cultures reminds me of heaven.

Daniel surprised me recently. Sitting on the couch beside me, he said, "I have a Korean friend."

"Yeah, you do," I agreed, thinking of his cousin and several friends from church. "That's cool, huh?"

"I'm a little Korean too," he stated matter-of-factly.

"Really?" I asked, curious to see where this was going, looking at my son's summer-highlighted caramel hair, brown eyes, and peach face.

"Yeah, I have the shirt."

And I laughed to remember that his cousin and his friends had all received the same soccer jersey he had from a recent missions trip. And apparently having identical shirts from overseas makes him Korean.

I hugged him and thought about heaven where the Bible says we will have people from every language and people group around the Creator's throne, and I can't wait. You and me? We're part of an international family. It is beautiful, vibrant, and requires action some days too. 


I have the shirt.

My Court Case

It's the court case of the century, of the millennium.

Standing tall, he addresses the jury, calling out to them as impartial silent witnesses. 

It’s a three-part conversation, playing out on a grand scale. 

God speaks first. 

The witnesses he appeals to are the strong silent type: stalwart, of few words, fly-on-the-walls–types for centuries.  

“Hear, o mountains, the Lord’s accusation; listen, you everlasting foundations of the earth. For the Lord has a case against his people; he is lodging a charge against Israel.” 

The Creator builds his case, bringing out Exhibit A. 

“My people, what have I done to you? How have I burdened you? Answer me.

I brought you up out of Egypt and redeemed you from the land of slavery. I sent Moses to lead you, also Aaron and Miriam.” 

Exhibit B. 

“My people, remember what Balak king of Moab counseled and what Balaam son of Beor answered.” 

Exhibit C. 

“Remember your journey from Shittim to Gilgal…” 

In a quick climax, he ends his case with the clinching phrase: “…that you may know the righteous acts of the Lord.” 

As a lover of history and cultures, this section of ancient Micah had me flipping back in my Bible to read up on Moses and the Exodus (circa 1446 BC) and Balak and Balaam’s conversations (“I can only bless Israel, no matter how much you pay me otherwise,” the mercenary mouth-for-hire Balaam finally realized and told the enemy king). 

In this court case we’re eavesdropping into, God was angry at his people. Study notes say that the nation had become extremely corrupt, judges were accepting bribes, and the elite were preying on widows, orphans, and the poor. 

The nation of Israel is the second party to speak in this panoramic court case. 

They wonder aloud what God wants from them to fix this, and they start to write big checks and make large promises. Like defendants at arraignment, they calculate how much this is going to cost them before they can get back to real life. Heart changes aren’t happening, though, and a third voice enters the conversation. 

Stepping up between prosecutor and the gum-chewing, nonchalant defendants, the small-town prophet Micah interjects. 

“He has shown you, o man, what is good.

And what does the Lord require of you?

To act justly, and to love mercy,

And to walk humbly with your God.”

These verses have been on mind this week. It intrigues me that God sees history in such panoramic chunks and expects me, and his people, to step back and look for his actions. Step back and see, Jen. What does the last seven hundred years show you about who I am? I pause and wrinkle my forehead, thinking…

• of Gutenberg’s printing press that allowed Bibles and books to be printed for everyone, not just those who could afford elaborate hand-drawn pages;

• Of the reformation, of liberty battles, of brave thinkers and speakers;

• Of my long-haired hippie dad encountering Jesus who snapped him out of a drug-haze and transformed his life, and my artistic brunette mom young, and following Jesus.

So my God tells me to look back over history, see his acts, and notice that his hands are clean, pure, righteous -- “that you may know the righteous acts of the Lord.” 

And what does he want from me? To make sure that my obedience, church involvement, money, and serving isn’t just going through the motions, or trying to look moral and proper. 

He wants my hands to be involved in acts of justice; my heart to feel and bleed mercy, not just perform it; and this all should leave me in a humble relationship with him, not full of pride.

It’s my court case now and I’m on the stand…

 …but he wields his case with affection in his eyes as he gently – in unconditional love-- says, “How are you doing at this today, my girl?” 

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