I remember hearing a sermon when I was younger that talked about the importance of being free from the pull of materialism and the need for the nice things of this world. The preacher mentioned that he found it discomfiting to walk through the church parking lot and be reminded of a luxury car dealership. And I decided that I will never drive anything more expensive than I need.

I've been driving a Honda Accord for the past nine years. I bought it partly because it has a reputation for reliability, but I would say that my car has had more problems than I would have liked. It was getting to the age when major problems start popping up, so my parents insisted that I start thinking about buying a new car.

My initial response was, "How about a Civic?" No way. A bigger car is safer, they said. And in the typical Korean parent way, they'd already called around to local Acura/Infiniti/Lexus dealerships. A Lexus is the most reliable car you can buy, they said. I didn't argue. It would be a huge pain to have to take a car in for repairs during residency, especially during a busy rotation. And, well, a safe car is safe.

I spent a day driving around to Lexus dealerships and bought the cheapest model at a reasonable price. I told Myung about it and he kept saying that I bought a Yah-Tah car. He said guys would drive around Korea in a nice car and yell out to random women, "Yah! Tah!" Great.

I have to admit, the car is nice. As long as it doesn't cause me any trouble for the next 4-5 years, I'll be happy. But I still feel a little guilty driving it around. When I drove some BYG kids around on Sunday, I twice made a little speech explaining why I got the car and how nice cars and nice things should not be the goal in life. I probably sounded too defensive.

On Good Friday, I went to a multi-church joint worship service. It was okay. Maria berated me because I was dressed in a hoodie and jeans - "like a college kid," she said - while pretty much everyone else, including the girls that I should have been trying to impress, were all dressed in fashionable dark/wool/Express/casual affluence. I told her the old line about how we were at a church, not a fashion show. She thinks I may end up dying alone.

I suppose ideals don't last forever. At some point, they mix with reality and compromises are made. You just try to grab hold of the heart of it and hang on for dear life. And if someone wants to hang on with you, then, yah, tah.