Seed Spring 2023

2023 Vo l. 19 No. 1 // Spring

LETTER FROM THE EDITOR The words we write are expressions of who we are—pieces of ourselves thoughtfully laid down on the page for others to ponder, enjoy, or critique. Writing is simultaneously an act of vulnerability and an act of courage. The Apostle John wrote, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God” (John 1:1 NIV).

God’s word embodies God Himself, so knowing what He says is knowing who He is. In the same way, as you read the poems, stories, and opinions in the following pages, you will know our Seed writers intimately, as if taking a peek into their personal journals. We sincerely hope our words bless you and inspire you to be courageously vulnerable in expressing yourself as well.

This publication is published by New York University students and NYU is not responsible for its contents.

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CONTENTS CONTENTS DEAR FRIEND Ruihao Li 4

WOMEN WARRIORS Abigail Lee 6

ON ASBURY AND REVIVALS Anonymous Contributor 9

DREAM AT SUNRISE Zi Yi Li 12

WHO AM I? Yvette Shin 14

BREAK IN Joseph Shin 17

FOREIGN

VARIATIONS

Maria Jose Valbuena Mendoza 20

Fengyi Wang 22

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Dear friend, You don’t mean what you want the words to mean.

You mean the words, and the words want.

You don’t wait for the words to warm.

You warm the words so the meaning can wait.

I watch sunset drown in your mouth.

Trust is the migration of time.

There is always an "and" before the end.

Prayer is the measure of man.

I can no longer hear the soft chanting of brass bells.

These tree-less relics: what, when, where, And how poetry paints me in broad strokes.

I am born in the 21st century.

My scars are born earlier and studied in the 21st century.

Time is wet sandpaper. It leaks and asks you to forgive the tenderness known to you, yearned by you, for many moon Returned.

Yours, Ruihao

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Women Warriors Abigail Lee

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What is a woman?

It is a question that makes big headlines, dividing political parties over what makes up half the American population. Countless debates are held over gender issues, gender roles, gender classification, etc. But what is the biblical definition of a woman?

In the Genesis narrative, God created man and gave him dominion over the earth and all the wildlife that populated it. However, the man was alone.

The LORD God said, “It is not good for the man to be alone. I will make a helper suitable for him” (Genesis 2:18 NIV).

And so God put man to sleep, took out his rib and shaped a woman from it. In English, “suitable helper” (or in some translations, “help-meet”) does not conjure the most gratifying image because it implies subordination. But the original Hebrew is ezer kenegdo, a term which brings a richer interpretation. Ezer means “aid” or “helper” while kenegdo can be translated as “opposite to” or “corresponding to.” In the Old Testament, ezer is used in two ways—for nations to whom Israel appealed for military aid and for God as Israel’s helper. For example, Psalm 33:20 states, “We wait in hope for the LORD; he is our help and our shield.” It is used consistently and constantly across military contexts. Thus, God created women to be warriors in His kingdom.

Ever since the fall of man, Satan's primary target is women and their seed. “​​And I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your offspring and hers; he will crush your head, and you will strike his heel” (Genesis 3:15).

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“God created women to be warriors in His kingdom.”

Fortunately, God called and equipped women to engage in spiritual warfare. History tells us of women’s invaluable contributions during revivals. During the Second Great Awakening, many more women than men converted and were active in the church. Minister Charles Finney allowed women to pray alongside men and recognized that women's public prayer plays a crucial role in revival. Similarly, in the 1904-1905 Welsh revival, evangelist Jessie Penn-Lewis declared, “The Spirit of God has never been poured forth in any company, in any part of the world, in any nation, without the ‘handmaids’ prophesying, and this as the spontaneous and unvarying result of the Spirit of God moving upon women as well as men, as at Pentecost.”

So what does this mean for women today?

God’s intention from the beginning has been for women to embody their identities as ezer kenegdo by providing help wherever there is need. In the midst of the current culture wars, God is calling women to fight the spiritual war that will bring about a kingdom culture. Women were meant to be more than suitable helpers for their husbands; they were created to be His spiritual muscle, warriors enacting change and transformation in the world.

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On Asbury and Revivals Anonymous Contributor

In February, revival broke out in Asbury University. It began when students remained after a morning chapel service to continue praying, singing, and repenting. News of the phenomenon quickly spread to social media, and soon a campus with a student body of 2,000 in a Kentucky town that is home to 6,000 was hosting a crowd of over 50,000. Many came to experience God, and of course many others came to gawk, proclaim their own theology, and recreate a small-town revival in their image. The entire event was livestreamed on YouTube.

All of Christian Twitter was abuzz with various hot takes on Asbury.

I grew up in the Evangelical Reformed tradition, which tends to be suspicious of “Spirit-filled worship.” After deconstructing from the religion of my youth, I reconstructed into a form of Christianity which, while more open than my previous theology, still has a tendency to continued

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poo-poo on woo-woo expressions of faith. It doesn’t help that modern revivalism is associated with Neo-Charismatics and their prosperity gospels or the New Apostolic Reformation and its involvement in the January 6 Capitol Attack. I once disparaged those flocking to Asbury as “revival tourists,” and a friend reminded me that while some are opportunists, there are those for whom it’s a sincere expression of faith. Her words reminded me of Christian author Sarah Bessey’s

ne o er v o d te u o sh rs ce en u fl “While in d offline, the another both online an nized the students on campus reemcoing a still, S pirit speaking to th small voice.”

testimony about the Toronto Blessing of 1994. Bessey was pushed down by a preacher, who then proclaimed her “slain by the Spirit.”

Reflecting on this event 20 years later, Bessey wrote, “For everyone like me who was manipulated and pushed to the ground, there was someone who was healed, someone who was saved.”

In the midst of drama and discourse, the students of Asbury kept praying. What’s interesting about this revival was that there was no 10 10

central figure, no charismatic pastor preaching fire and brimstone or performing signs and wonders. Likewise, the praise and worship was subdued, without the loud music, flashy lights, and shofar eruptions that are characteristic of modern revivals. Asbury was somehow able to keep the celebrities and rabble rousers at bay to maintain a spirit of peace. While influencers shouted over one another both online and offline, the students on campus recognized the Spirit speaking to them in a still, small voice. There were miracles and transformed hearts, not as performative demonstrations of power but as personal signs from the Spirit.

The revival came to an end on February 24, and just like that, the “viral revival” went quiet. Social media posts ceased, pilgrims and tourists went home, and #asburyrevival stopped trending on Twitter. Many were hoping for something bigger, perhaps a national revival, and to them Asbury was a bit of a letdown.

Others saw the sudden dropoff in interest as proof that the revival was fake. I believe the Spirit came specifically to the students of Asbury. There was an outpouring of the Spirit on campus, then the revival ended once it stopped being about the students. We can construct narratives and spin stories to fit our particular theologies and ideologies, but in the end, the Asbury Revival was for the students of Asbury to experience.

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DreamatSunrise Zi Yi Li

I began the love letter in orange blossom To seas a pale blue The alive winds reading destination Of a city above the moon I, of hope, amazed and smitten Asked which was fantasy The fading landscape or The waning moon

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WHO AM I? Yvette Shin

We are constantly told, “Be yourself,” and “You do you.”

But who the heck am I?

Answering the question, “Who am I?” never gets easier. Trying to encapsulate what makes me “me” is like trying to hit a moving target. For college students in their teens and early twenties, the gargantuan task of figuring out who they are can be overwhelming or even discouraging. But it doesn’t have to be.

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Origin Stories

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In the beginning, we are defined by external factors that are completely out of our control: our parents, our birthplace, our socioeconomic status. But as we grow up, our personal choices—friends and hobbies, for example—add to this. In college, the answer to the question, “What’s your major?” slaps yet another label onto us. When I was in college, I began as a pre-physical therapy major and then changed to physics, although I took enough literature classes to count as an English major. Clearly, I had no idea who I was.

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Identity Theft

The search for self continues beyond college as we learn how to “adult.” Finding, getting, and keeping a job reveals a lot about our grit (or lack of it). And then there’s dating. What kind of person do I want to be with? Under great pressure to succeed professionally and socially, we allow our identities to be determined by others.

These relationships, though, shouldn’t steal our identities but enrich them. I got married a semester before I graduated college. As I was continued

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still struggling to discover who I was, I became a wife and then two years later, a mother. Overwhelming? You bet. But these new roles tapped into my hidden potential, uncovering strengths and qualities I never knew I had.

Fake ID Often, the voices inside do the most harm. Doubt and insecurity wreak havoc on our already fragile sense of self, feeding our imposter syndrome with words such as, “You’ll never be good enough,” and, “You’re not worth it.” If looking inward isn’t the way to discover our true identities, and external relationships can’t lead us fully to our authentic selves, where do we turn? Growing up, I sang a hymn in church with a refrain that is forever etched into my brain:

In a love which cannot cease, I am His, and He is mine.

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My relationship with my Maker reveals the substance of my identity, that He is my Father and I am His child. God’s words in the Bible tell me that I was created in love, blessed with a purpose, and destined for eternity. And though my relationship with God isn’t always in a good place (a bad relationship is still a relationship), my identity remains intact.

In many aspects, my identity is still a question mark. But I’ve learned to be okay with what I don’t know because of what I do: to know myself, I must know God. When we search for our authentic selves in God, we find more than our identities; we discover a loving Father who knows us better than we know ourselves.

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Joseph Shin

Benjamin awoke to the sound of splitting wood. His torso, bare as birth, propelled itself into the air, as panic jolted through him. “The front door,” he thought. “It’s here.”

He was several flights up so he had time before it reached him. The cool morning air coming through the window caressed his face to attention. The rest of his body shook, once sealed by perfect geometry, and now unwound, by the arrival of what he called the angel of death. The sun blazed as this non-existence began to crawl up his stairs. continued

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"His mind wandered" "heavy steps ... a His mind wandered.

Several years back, when he had felt the most abandoned, he encountered a stray dog at a park. Its fur was brownish red, and its eyes were marbled and lost. He had put out his hand for the dog to lick, but the dog whimpered and dragged itself away. “Even this dog can’t stomach me,” he had thought, and the self-chastisement that plagued him that summer persisted. And he cursed the dog for being dirty and ugly, until his voice croaked in empty defeat.

The heavy steps rumbled a few floors below. A sharp buzzing sound shot its way up the stairwell and assaulted Ben’s ears, wiggling its way into his thoughts.

He rolled over on the floor and repeatedly slammed his fist on the ground till the fanfare subsided and he could hear his own breathing again. “This thing won’t get me. I won’t allow it!” he yelled.

He loved nature. Dirt, flowers, trees, bugs, grass. All the little elements that comprised the world around him. He could understand these pieces, and find solace in his role as a speck of dirt in a vast garden. He wasn’t that important, and this was the comfort of his life. What he would give to just be a blade of grass in a field, or a tiny tree in someone’s backyard.

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sharp buzzing sound" There was a knock at his door. Ben whipped his head around and lowered himself down to the ground. Another knock. “Why is it knocking?” he thought. He didn’t move an inch.

Then, like a sudden flash of light in a dark room, he collapsed as his chest caved in. The beads of sweat that had accumulated on his body shook, and he yelled out all of the things he had wanted to say. The anger that had festered in his gut and the despondency that chilled his heart had finally broken him into pieces. “Fire!” his thoughts blared like an alarm. The door shrunk and within seconds, he, after twirling in the air like smoke, was consumed.

"he yelled out all of the things he had wanted to say" 19

FOREIGN Maria Jose Valbuena Mendoza The comfort of being where no one knows Where you have gone, Where you have been.

Commodity within the self Coziness generated by the distant exterior.

External voices no longer penetrate, No longer absorb and pretend the source is on the boat.

Uncontaminated faith in the Known It is absolute: all onboard.

The freedom of being in a place no one knows What has happened What you have known Finally left the bag at that place No one knows.

Here, comfortably but possibly numb as an observer No need to lead the boat No need to think ahead Navigating without a plan Will it play against me further on?

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Not everyone who wanders is lost Tell me that is worth the change Tell me that the bear is not long.

Are we there yet? How much more?

Not everyone who wanders is lost, right?

Trusting the Known and tagging along Seems like sailing with no hands, Reckless and young.

Difference now is the stoic approach Do not let them see how lost you are.

At the end, it is only you: You and the Known.

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VARIATIONS

Fengyi Wang

6:00 a.m.

The voice-clock wails, “Twenty-five, twenty-five, time to get up, twenty-five!” He throws the clock across the bed as usual. He picks the second suit from the left in the wardrobe on Tuesdays and the second pair of leather shoes from the right in the shoe closet. Tomorrow will be the third suit and the third pair of shoes. And so on.

7:00 a.m.

Toast crisping in the oven, eggs and bacon sizzling in the pan, and coffee bubbling, he sits at the table scooping out baked beans from the aluminum can.

Full breakfast for Tuesday, French croissants and latte for Wednesday, macaroni soup with ham and HK milk tea for Friday ... He loves these variations.

9:00 a.m.

He polishes off the coffee and finishes scanning the Shenzhen Daily.

“Trade war, protests in Hong Kong, unaffordable house prices … The news is never new. Boring world, boring life.”

10:00 a.m.

The city is starved. Everyone is hunting. Students are hunting for respectable schools, journalists are hunting for juicy anecdotes, bankers are hunting for large deposits, and salesmen, like him, are hunting for fat cats—oh sorry, generous clients. He begins the workday by polishing his Best Sales award from last winter. Not bad for a beginner.

The reception room comes to life, filled with the smell of Arabica, printer ink, and the combined aromas of 11:00 a.m.

Opium, Chanel No. 5, and Joy. Selling insurance is the art of conversation, his specialty.

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11:10 a.m.

“This plan is just $482 per year, great for a young artist like yourself. It covers most medical fees and hospitalization costs. If you travel a lot, we provide worldwide plans, as well. I followed your Instagram. You are a true artist. The photos of Africa are pretty good … and the ones in Trier!” He is an absolute expert in this field.

“Do you smoke? Frequently drink? Any allergies? Sign here, here, and here. Done. My colleague will help you with the payment. A credit card will be fine, Alipay and WeChat pay are also acceptable. Thank you very much.” Two more today.

Can’t these so-called elites read the contract by themselves?

2:00 p.m.

Lunch is nutrition pills and electuary.

Carbohydrates are a scourge for salesmen like him—too much energy required to digest.

Honestly, being a qualified insurance salesman is not something that requires tons of talent: Repetition is the formula, but just remember to repeat in different ways.

4:00 p.m.

Copy and paste from 11:10 a.m. and make some adjustments.

6:00 p.m.

Copy and paste again.

Adjust.

8:00 p.m.

Gyms and pubs take the place of Starbucks. Alcohol and epinephrine to convince him that he’s still alive. An hour of cardio is enough. As for liquor, a Negroni for Tuesday. He loves variations.

Dishes are washed before himself, then clothes, as per 11:00 p.m.

Tuesday’s schedule. The last thing to do before going to bed is to set the alarm clock. “Three contracts today, not bad, so it should be twenty-two in total this month. Two-two. I love the variations.”

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Check out issuu.com/seedatnyu for recent Seed issues Editor in Chief

Maria Jose Valbuena Mendoza Editing, Layout, & Design

Abigail Lee Rebekah Shin Yvette Shin Contributors

Abigail Lee Ruihao Li Zi Yi Li Maria Jose Valbuena Mendoza Joseph Shin Yvette Shin Fengyi Wang The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.

John 1 :1 4 NIV