Recently in God Category

“Evey, please. There is a face beneath this mask but it’s not me. I’m no more that face than I am the muscles beneath it or the bones beneath them”

V for Vendetta

I’ll be drinking a radioactive toast to my over-active thyroid gland in a few hours.

I’ve been largely silent about my struggles with hyperthyroidism, partly because it’s one of those things I’ll always be coming to grips with, but mostly because putting it out in the public isn’t the most worldly-wise thing to do, given that employers are googling everything these days. But the truth is what it is, and there is more to be gained from the sharing of this experience than what could be lost going in through its omission.

The whole family is down with the flu, and the ubiquity of the H1N1 news in the media does add that tinge of fear, I must admit. We’ve seen the family doctor but no tests were taken to determine if it is flying pig syndrome we’re suffering from.

Faith somehow managed to will herself out of falling sick. I’ve always known her to be a superwoman and all that, but this really takes the cake. Caleb and I have the perpetual runny nose and Anne has a cough that would rival the Marlboro Man’s. None of us has really come down with a fever, so that is something to thank God for.

Probably the result of the flu medicine, but the possibility of losing one of the kiddos to the bug isn’t lost on me. I just spent the last half hour applying vapor-rub to Anne’s chest as she repeated attempted to cough her lungs out. I lay there in the dark, soothing the girl to sleep as my brain recalibrated its place in the universe. Life and death — the very basics of existence we’ve struggled with through all of humankind — is something we still have no control over. For all the intellectual debate, all the scientific rants, all the technological achievements we’ve made, we are (in biblical terms) unable to make a single hair on our head black or white.

There comes a time to surrender the intellect, and it isn’t borne out of a defeatist attitude. It feels right to cede that the really important things in life are in the hands of God. You could say that it is the feeling that comes with using a crutch; but honestly, it feels more like the realisation that it is the air currents that bears the wings to soar, and endless flapping is a poor substitute.

It seems the fashionable answer, when someone asks you when you’ll start having children, to casually comment on the sorry state of the world and how you can’t imagine bringing a child into this mess. But a world without children is far worse off. A world without the sound of children’s laughter or innocent questions only leads to a downward spiral.

Anne has been trying hard to clarify the definition of the word “neighbour”. She often asks, “is he my neighbour?” or “are we neighbours?” without realising that her very question is the linchpin of Jesus’ parable of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10). It is such an apt question as we step into what looks to be a serious recession ahead. It is also apt as the uncle who stays alone next door to us seems to have taken a turn for the worse healthwise.

I ought, like Anne, to constantly ask who my neighbour is, and how I can help him or her.

One of the most difficult things to explain about the Christian faith has to do with Jesus being the Son of God, while at the same time God Himself. To be quite honest, I don’t get the whole mechanics of it. Had a small revelation tonight as I was washing poop out of Anne’s PJs.

Anne has had a problem with constipation, and it’s gotten worse since our return from New Zealand. The last time she pooped she cried, and we found a bit of blood. She had probably gone too long without pooping.

Tonight she kept telling us that she was scared. We initially thought it was the television show she was referring to, though both of us weren’t sure American Inventor fell under horror, unless Anne meant the terrible “suspense” music. We then realised she was terrified that she had to poop.

It totally wracks your heart to see the little two year old girl walk around listlessly, rubbing her tummy, constantly coming to you for a hug and telling you she’s scared. She didn’t want to sit on the potty, so we let her stay in our bedroom. She told us to wait outside. When we turned American Inventor down we could hear her whimpering in the bedroom, but everytime we popped our head in, she told us to wait a while more.

“I love you,” I told her.

She tilted her head to the side, holding back tears, and said “I love you” back.

My baby. My daughter. My love.

She’s now sleeping. The poop did eventually make it way out, down her left pant leg and unto the floor, but we’re thankful that there was no blood. She returned to her normal self soon after. Faith read her her bedtime story while I did the necessary laundry.

The revelation? I never understood why Jesus had to be “God’s Son”, but I’ve always known that Jesus came to earth to show us the extremes God would go to bring us back to Him. It would have been one thing for God to suffer on the cross; it would have been infinitely more painful for Him to helplessly watch His Son suffer and die.

Just so we’d know how much.

It’s the time of the year when everything you do feels like a slow trudge uphill. Significant inroads have been made on the upcoming redesign of the Ministry of Education’s website. It’s due for launch 1Q 2008, but has to undergo some IE-proofing. Thank you, Microsoft, for making web design a lot more tedious than it has to be.

Anne has been acting up lately, waking up in the middle of the night and taking a really long time getting back to sleep. She’d demand that we scratch her “itchiness” (she made that word up for wherever itched), or pat her back ad perpetua.

My prayers have become so mundane, and I’m learning what it means to pray for one’s daily bread. It always seems more “right” to pray for things like knowing God better, or growing in His likeness or submitting to His will - the higher, nobler things, but I find myself praying for bread and butter issues like “please help Anne sleep through this night, Faith really needs the sleep”. It seems so primitive and base of me, and I wonder if it’s a sign my faith has waned, or if God’s breaking me down to the bare essentials.

It’s been a crazy past 2 months. The kinda crazy that has you lying awake on your bed, thoroughly exhausted yet mortally afraid that you can’t continue like this but you must kinda crazy, know what I’m talking about?

Faith’s nausea has her in a constant tug-of-war with the retching gods, and it pains me to see her continually in that state. I’m doing whatever I can around the house - making sure everyone’s fed, the housework’s done, the laundry washed and the kiddo out of mommy’s hands every now and then so that Faith can get some much needed shuteye. Faith sleeps quite a bit these few days. I can only imagine how tiring it is to control the urge to purge every single moment of every day.

But God has been amazingly gracious, and I am so very thankful for even the smallest things. Faith manages a smile every now and then when the nausea subsides, and I fall madly in love with her again. I realise how frail and weak my love for her is - that it is dependent on her being what I know of her. Were she to suffer some personality-changing trauma from a mental or physical illness, I really wouldn’t know what to do.

His faithfulness is greater than ours, and His love hopes forever.

We got married 4 years ago to the day. Some of you were there - even some whom I’ve never met but read this blog and managed to find someone who knew where the wedding was.

It seemed like the perfect ending to a beautiful story; childhood sweethearts who got together, weathered extended periods of being apart and finally getting married. I must admit that the desire to marry Faith was a large part of my life, and when we crossed that juncture there was this amazing feeling, that everything felt right. What has transpired then? What happens after happily ever after?

The last four years of being married has been a whirlwind of activity and we’ve been swept up in it. We got our own place, and the never-ending housework that entails. I’ve changed jobs and battled hyper-thyroidism. And we’ve been blessed to have had Anne in our lives the last 2 years.

What is probably regrettable is that we lost sight of the game plan.

Carol said,

make a difference…. God’s idea, or yours? if God’s, you get whatever you need to make it happen. if yours, you know what will result…

I grew up with Carol, and it is so apt that so many years later she’d tell me to grow up.

I’ve been a Christian for some time, and my worldview reflects it. I’m not apologetic that the way I see the world is shaped by my beliefs. But the problem with me is that at some point my relationship with a living God has been substituted with a set of beliefs. It’s like the husband who stops paying attention to his wife because he knows what she’s going to say. It reeks of death.

This is what the LORD says:
“Cursed is the one who trusts in man,
who depends on flesh for his strength
and whose heart turns away from the LORD.

He will be like a bush in the wastelands;
he will not see prosperity when it comes.
He will dwell in the parched places of the desert,
in a salt land where no one lives.

“But blessed is the man who trusts in the LORD,
whose confidence is in him.

He will be like a tree planted by the water
that sends out its roots by the stream.
It does not fear when heat comes;
its leaves are always green.
It has no worries in a year of drought
and never fails to bear fruit.”

Jeremiah 17:5-8

• 2007 looks set to be the hottest year on record
• Artic ice shelves break off
• Bird flu warning issued
• Indonesian ferry capsizes
• Indonesian plane still lost
• Bomb blasts in Thailand

Lord, You ask us to look up. It is so hard; so heavy.

Maranatha.

Like a foolish dreamer
trying to build a highway to the sky
all my hopes would come tumbling down
and I never knew just why
until today, when you pulled away the clouds
that hung like curtains on my eyes
Well, I’ve been blind all these wasted years
and I thought I was so wise
but then You took me by surprise

Like waking up from the longest dream
how real it seemed
until Your love broke through
I’ve been lost in a fantasy
that blinded me
until Your love broke through

All my life I’ve been searching for that missing part
and with one touch you just rolled away
the stone that held my heart.
Now I see that the answer was as easy
as just asking You in
and I am so sure I could never doubt
Your gentle touch again
It’s like the power of the wind.

It’s been a while, God.

Thanks for always taking me in.

The foolish ones said to the wise, ‘Give us some of your oil; our lamps are going out.’

‘No,’ they replied, ‘there may not be enough for both us and you. Instead, go to those who sell oil and buy some for yourselves.’ (Matthew 25:8-9)

You cannot distil reality from historical fact alone. Reality is to be lived in the present. No amount of fact, however irrefutable, can ever bridge the gap of having known and knowing, of having tasted and tasting.

Basing your entire faith because a man once crucified, died and rose again is to hang the very basis of your existence on a fine thread that upon close inspection isn’t actually there. The resurrection has to be here and now, mostly because of how quickly we forget.

I need a new life bad.

I spend an inordinate amount of time thinking about work: how different aspects of the website we manage could be made better: both frontend and back, human and computer processes, the acquisition of tools and the training of skills required to use those tools.

It’s not that there’s an award up for grabs or anything. The problem is simply this: I do not know how to turn it off or put it on sleep mode.

I carry a sketchbook almost everywhere I go, logging down ideas on the commute, at my desk, while shopping. I’ve caught myself crawling out of bed to scribble a thought from a dream, and they usually turn out to be solutions to problems I never could solve while conscious. I wish there were more hours in a day, because there are so many ideas to try out and so little time.

Some people have pointed out that I work too hard - and that it isn’t as if I were still running my own business and that I should relax. But I find myself with no tolerance for mediocrity or lack of trying.

If there is something worth doing, some improvement that can be made, some problem that can be solved; if there is excellence to be attained, there is no reason why we should not expend our energies to do so.

The nagging spiritual question here is, where does God’s desire for us to take care of what we are entrusted with end (Genesis 2:15) and the pride of Babel (Genesis 11:4) begin?

I didn’t mean to scare anyone away from parenting, least of all Joan, whom I’m sure will make an excellent mother. But any parent who gets him or herself involved in bringing up a child will attest to the fact that child-rearing is the hardest thing in the world.

It is also the easiest.

You see, parenting is an incomprehensible paradox. In the last twelve months, Faith and I have found ourselves experiencing new degrees of anger, exploring unchartered waters of tiredness and bearing a burden that seemed more overwhelming than the weight of the world. In this time we have also been so utterly blessed by Anne’s laughter and our days miraculously transformed by her smile.

Just the thought of her bare bottom scooting away to the far side of the bed while we scamper around trying to change her diaper brings out both frustrated furrowed brow and an odd fatherly smile on my face. Even my facial muscles are muddled.

Parenting is living life to the extreme. It widens the emotional gamut. It is no wonder many fathers choose to take a passive role - the constant energy you have to apply to a million different things (all the time changing) seems to be something women are better at. You don’t solve a child. She is not something you fix. The solution you came up with to get her to sleep last week may not work this week. He may like pumpkin today but not tomorrow. You can’t pass him on to the other project manager, or blame the vendor for shoddy work.

Despite the uncertainties, you will find some things certain when it comes to parenting.

Or second Monday of October if you’re in Canada.

It’s been a little more than three months into the current job and I realise I never really sat down and thanked God properly for it. Sure, there are the usual encumberances of working in the civil service, but there are many things to be thankful for.

Lord, you’ve given me a great many things. One more thing I ask - a grateful heart, or otherwise it would have all been given for nought. If it is at all possible, undo my spoiled nature and teach me the sheer joy of simply being your child again.

I suppose I ought to pen down my thoughts before the events of the past few days disappear in a sea of frenetic everyday activity. The next few posts will probably be stuff I wrote on paper while in Myanmar - pen-and-paper photographs of thoughts and feelings. This post is kinda like a background of sorts. And a little foreground.

Many years ago Faith and I visited a man on his deathbed. I didn’t know him well, except that he was the brother of someone we knew at church. Uncle Patrick Leong was probably in his fifties or sixties then.

We went there to cheer him up. We thought maybe praying with him would strenthen his spirit. There, lying upon what would be his deathbed was the most cheerful person we had ever met. He joked about everything under the sun, even his now uncontrollable bodily functions. Then somewhere in our short visit he told me that I needed to visit the orphans in Myanmar. He told me that they needed us.

Uncle Patrick then prayed for Faith and I.

I left the hospital in a state of contemplative shock that day. I’d known that my father named me after a missionary in a hope, now probably forgotten, that I’d choose to be one too. To be cheered up and prayed for by a man whom I thought needed cheer and prayer was a role reversal made possible only by God’s work upon his life. Nothing; not sickess nor death could dim the light that shone so brightly. And for that moment God’s light, reflected off this man, showed me the way I was to go.

Faith read my entry yesterday and said something rather insightful. While I was trying to get some feedback on how she felt about our current situation, or whether my grouses with the powers-that-be here was a minor hiccup, she said this: There were more “thank God”s while you were there.

You could say that my life has been a roller-coaster ride with the regularity of a classic sine curve.

The next few paragraphs are a run-through the major events of my life, to illustrate my sine curve observation.

Was preparing a lesson for Sunday School tomorrow and getting nothing out of Psalm 33. Sometimes you realise that God wants to speak to you so bad, but you’re busy trying to find out what He wants to say to someone else.

Don’t know if any of you ever heard Seinfeld in Broadway, but he says “for men, super-heroes aren’t fantasy, they’re options”. He goes on to talk about men and their “super-hero” ways.

We all laugh at it thinking we’ve outgrown it, but we haven’t. At least I know I haven’t.

I was waiting for a cab today when a man walked past me and stood 20m in front of the road, wanting to hail a cab ahead of me. It was clear that he knew I was waiting for one. But in classic ugly Singaporean manner he pretended I didn’t exist.

It’s hard to describe the magnitude of the anger that boiled up so suddenly inside me. I almost made up my mind to walk right up and punch him in the back of the head. Or push him hard into the large drain beside him. It didn’t matter if he stood 6 inches taller and had tattoos all over his visible body. I could take him. I knew I could.

I stormed up, stared at him in the face, then walked even further up the road. I wasn’t about to let this idiot take my rightful place. Just as I was doing my storming ahead, a cab came. Still busy expressing my anger, I failed to see the cab. He got on.

I felt like following him in the next cab (which came 10 seconds later) and carrying out my grandiose plan of punching him in the head.

It then occurred to me that I was still a very raw person. Apart from my base instincts of wanting to get back what was “rightfully” mine, I discovered I had little compassion or kindness.

There is so much I still have to learn to give up to God. So much of my own self-preservation and so much of my pride. This is so much more crucial now that we’ve decided to start a company. Our work reflects our character. And being a Christian, my character reflects His work in my life.

I’m still a work in progress.

The path that I have trod has brought me nearer God Though oft it led thru sorrow’s gates Though not the way I’d choose,in my way I might lose The joy that yet for me awaits.

Not what I wish to be, nor where I wish to go For who am I that I should choose my way The Lord shall choose for me, tis better far I know So let Him bid me go, or stay.

The cross that I must bear if I a crown would wear Is not the cross that I should take But since on me tis laid I’ll take it unafraid And bear it for the Master’s sake.

Submission to the will of Him who guides me still Is surety of His love revealed My soul shall rise above this world in which I move I conquer only when I yield.

I haven’t written in a while because many things have happened in the last few days. Of these things one thing struck enough fear in my heart that I needed to escape. Writing would mean thinking, and thinking would mean having to face it again.

Uncle Bobby Sng spoke last Sunday. He spoke about how the apostle Paul was forever changed on one special day when Jesus appeared to him. How he changed from the persecutor of Christians to become one who was persecuted for being a Christian. Then Uncle Bobby asked the question: Do you remember your special day?

I remember my special day. I remember feeling that God wanted me to choose the path less travelled. To give up the rat race and concentrate on His work and His people. The call rang clear through the sterile silence of my mind. I was exhilarated, then afraid, then forgetful. “Praying about it” became a buffer for me to forget I ever heard anything.

In between my pride and my own sinfulness I found myself rejecting the call. I wanted, and still want, to accomplish as much as I can, the justification being that I would be of greater “use” to God then. And when I take a good close look at myself I see how wretched of an example of a Christian I am. I do not want my hands to dirty what has to be pure.

I am in a comfortable place. I have a steady income and the freedom to explore and learn new skills on my own time. To give this up seems almost a foolhardy thing to do.

But Lord, I want to do what you want me to do. I know that I lie to myself when I say I want to accomplish more so that I can give you more. I can’t even give you the little I have right now. My hands are incapable of doing Your work and my heart is deceitful above all things. Help me. Help me choose wisely and give me the strength to choose You. I am weak, but You are strong.

Update: While I was typing this, a group was praying just outside my cubicle for my director’s son who got in a very bad motor accident. Life cannot be wasted on things that do not last. Pray for me.

I find myself slightly breathless even as I type this. Neo must have felt the same when Morpheus asked him whether he wanted the red or blue pill. It is not just the fact that taking the wrong pill could adversely change my life forever; I’m just hoping not to choke on the very big pill.

All I once held dear built my life upon,
all this world reveres, and wars to own.
All I once thought gain, I have counted loss,
spent and worthless now, compared to this.

Knowing You, Jesus.
Knowing You.
There is no greater thing.

He just wanted to write. To encapsulate the hopes and lives of others, whether in written word, photographic images or XHTML. Where life took him now it seemed that these dreams were to end.

He surrendered his life to God many years ago. It is clear that his dreams, his precious, were to be laid on the altar. He doesn’t know if a ram will be caught in the nearby bushes, or whether the crescent motion of the blade will be halted by a heavenly voice. He just knows that he has to lay it down in its totality.

These few weeks have been the most agonizing and difficult of his life. So difficult that it is easier to write of himself in the third person in order to keep an objective view of things.

When your ego is broken into a million pieces, the thing to do is to let the Potter work the image of His Son in you. Don’t stay broken, and don’t remake yourself ala Terminator 2.

You were broken for a reason.

Working in a Christian organisation is vastly different from working anywhere else. In a normal corporation there are so many more variations to the way you can play your cards. You could be the tyrant or the dragon lady, play it sneaky or nice. There’s so much to watch out for. Is that a knife handle sticking out of my back?

One of the things that struck me most these few days of working was that though the people weren’t perfect, they openly admitted to the fact. I saw a heated argument dissipate because one party stopped arguing for a moment, then apologised to the other. At that time I was convinced that God’s love had done some amazing work in the lives of some of the people working here.

It is not all easy peasy though. In a normal corporation everything was strictly business. The company existed to make profits and line the pockets of its shareholders. In a Christian organisation, the company is accountable to God and man. The line between business and ministry is vague. On one hand, profits are needed to keep the operation afloat. On the other hand, the making of profit isn’t our one and only goal.

I found good companionship in Audrey, my sister-in-law who works for a Christian music education company in Los Angeles and Minli, who just started work for another Christian organisation in Singapore. We all face conflicts between spiritual principles and business practices.

How does one be in the world but of of the world?

In other news, I got a job. I actually received the call a few days ago but was debating the merits of forsaking my privacy for a more intimate fellowship with an audience I do not know or see. In the meantime, I’ll tell you that I’ll be working in a Christian organisation. That much I’ll reveal for now because there are things I’d like to share with you.

I stepped out of the bath just now and in one carthartic moment wondered, “can God use someone so ambitious?”. I’ll have you know I had great plans for my life. I still have great plans for my life. Plans I find hard to give to God.

For as long as I could remember, I’ve always wanted to be a writer. I’ve always wanted to touch people’s lives, change the way they look at the world, and perhaps be remembered in the annals of contemporary lore.

When the door closed on my pursuit of obtaining a degree in English literature I found myself lost. I drifted into a diploma course in international business. Though I grasped the concepts and theories, I could not envision myself being part of the business machine. At the same time, my pride could not envision me failing.

I don’t know what went wrong. How I landed here. How the whole business of web design landed on my lap. Photography. Information architecture. I live and breathe it. I spend hours reading up on these things. I love it, but not half as much as I love crafting a short story. To this day, I still dream of making it as a writer.

Sizing up people is an intrinsic part of Singapore life. Even at birth, mothers talk about how much their babies weighed, or how much hair they had. It is only the beginning. It won’t be long until the silent competition swings into full force. Suzanne could read since she was a foetus, Chris here could tango before he could even turn over in the cradle, Roger pushes the pram with me sitting it in, Georgia knew the final answer to “Who wants to be a millionaire”. We’ve all heard those, with varying levels of exaggeration (mine being the ultimate).

And it goes on into childhood, teenhood and adulthood. Which school you got into. How many As you scored on your ‘O’ Levels. I’d rather go to Temasek Polytechnic because their design school is more well-known. It causes us so much pain, it does.

I’ve never been one to have a winning hand at these competitions. Enrolled in a relatively prestigious Primary school, I was the only student who opted not to continue my Secondary school education there. Instead I managed to get into my Secondary school of last choice. Failed to go to Junior College because I did poorly for my ‘O’ Levels. Failed to live my dream of studying and then teaching English Literature because I obtained my one and only C for Literature at my ‘O’ Levels. My life plan shattered, I went to Nanyang Polytechnic (which I still mispell as Nanayang) and studied International Business.

Like a lottery ticket junkie I keep hanging on the hope that maybe one day I’ll make the big time. Maybe God has His reasons. He does. Right?

Uncle Lucian, whom I was named after, passed away two days ago. He died peacecfully after saying his goodbyes to the doctors and nurses at the hospital in which he had spent the last three years.

Funerals always bring about a whole gamut of emotions. It is even more so when the you happen to be the namesake of the deceased. It feels like the story of the life that had just ended now continues with you; the weight of added responsibility presses upon your shoulders. They’re looking at you, because you’re the only “Lucian” left. There is a variety of gazes, some laden with expectation and others a resigned disappointment.

Uncle Lucian was a fine example of a life lived to the max. After accepting Christ as His Saviour in his late teens, he came down from Sri Lanka to Singapore when he was only 22. He left behind a place in his father’s business for a land that was unknown to him. All this in the hope that the gospel he carried in his heart might be shared with these strangers in a foreign land.

I am proud to be associated with so selfless a man and I pray that I too might be as giving of myself. I do not know the road ahead of me but I know that I want my years to be a brush-stroke on the canvas of creation, expressing exactly - without adding or substracting anything from - the glorious vision in the mind of God.

It feels odd being probably the only Lucian in Singapore. It feels like part of me died.

It hasn’t been the easiest time for me. Chinese New Year is an unkind time for those that don’t fit the mould - the single and the jobless. Family gatherings mean questions: why are you still single, why haven’t you found a job, when’s the baby coming etc. It’s all part and parcel of catching up, I guess.

I was hit hardest during family reunion dinner (Chinese New Year’s eve) when we were called to lo hei. As there were only a limited number of people who could toss the fish salad at any one time, the elders asked that those working do it first as they needed the “luck” on the job. It didn’t help that relatives younger than me all found jobs they could talk about, or that I seemed relegated to toss salad with the rest of the retirees. At that very moment, I felt like I belonged nowhere. I had no identity. Freelancing, however you debate it, could hardly be considered a “real job” by the conservative definitions of our elders.

And there arose war at Gezer with the Philistines; then Sibbecai the Hushathite slew Sippai, of the sons of the giant, and they were subdued. There was war again with the Philistines, and Elhanan son of Jair slew Lahmi the brother of Goliath the Gittite, the staff of whose spear was like a weaver’s beam. And again there was war at Gath, where was a man of great stature who had twenty-four fingers and toes, six on each hand and each foot. He also was born to the giant. And when he reproached and defied Israel, Jonathan son of Shimea, David’s brother, slew him. These were born to the giant clan in Gath, and they fell by the hands of David and his servants. - 1 Chronicles 20:4-8

The historical account in the Chronicles of Israel reaches a climax, where the “mighty men of David” are named and their exploits proclaimed. It is an interesting read, especially after having watched The Lord of the Rings. But it is hard not to parallel their lives with mine.

Where they go from victory unto victory, I seem to struggle with the same issues year after year. I set my feet to climb, but more often than not find myself flat out on my butt at the foot of the mountain. My human nature refuses to die.

It becomes harder to think clearly, love purely, forgive cleanly and drink freely. Small things have been getting me irritated and competitive streaks I didn’t know I had surface. I know that there is something beautiful about fellow Christians gathering from different countries and worshipping together. I also know that Satan would do anything to spoil it.

I know that he is stronger than I. I need to pray. Do pray for me.

“There, in the quiet of that late hour, I said to the Holy Spirit, ‘My Lord, I have mistreated You all my Christian life. I have treated You like a servant. When I wanted You I called for You; when I was about to engage in some work I beckoned You to come and help me perform my task. I have kept You in the place of a servant. I have sought to use You only as a willing servant to help me in my self-appointed and chosen work. I shall do so no more. Just now I give You this body of mine; from my head to my feet, I give it to You. I give You my hands, my limbs, my eyes and lips, my brain; all that I am within and without, I hand over to You for You to live in it the life that You please. You may send this body to Africa, or lay it on a bed with cancer. You may blind the eyes, or send me with Your message to Tibet. You may take tthis body to the Eskimos, or send it to a hospital with pneumonia. It is your body from this moment on. Help Yourself to it. Thank You, my Lord, I believe You have accepted it, for in Romans twelve and one You said “Acceptable unto God.” Thank You again, my Lord, for taking me. We now belong to each other.’”

Dale shared the prayer of Dr. Walter L Wilson with us yesterday. Dale and Helen are staying at our home, having arrived a few days before the 12th Christian Conference on Service that will be held at the Novotel Apollo.

The prayer strikes a chord within me, and I find myself in the same place as Walter Wilson. I have often treated the Holy Spirit like a slave to my own wants and needs, however altruistic or noble they might have been.

I want to be His servant. May God grant me the strength.

The road seems so very long. I’ve sent out job application after application and littered cyberspace with email attachments of my résumé but nothing seems to come through. Where once I thought I had quite the spiffy résumé, my sense of self-worth has taken a beating.

Depression looms on the corner as I spend day after day with Holden Caufield. The negative things become more apparent to me: a hairline the recedes faster than Californian flora in a forest fire. Basketball is the one place I escape to on an almost daily basis, but the monsoon season has meant fewer outdoorsy days, effectively closing the door to my parallel universe.

But I know in my heart that these times come for a reason. Like numerous times before I know that it is in these times I need to yearn for God’s presence in my life; in my waiting. My trust in the strength of my own arm fails, and I know that my hopes lies only in Him.

“I lift my eyes up unto the hills; from whence shall come my help? My help is from the Lord God, Maker of heaven and earth.” (Psalm 121:1,2)

My Lord, I wait. Show me Your way.

In Your time.

We trudge upon the road. Once upon a time pioneers, now tired and forgotten. Our backs are heavy with the memories of so many who have left the path. Comrades we respected, friends we loved, now blown away like the sands of time.

With Dawn’s departure, I am led to think of so many others, both real and virtual. There is hardly any distinction between the two: a physical meeting is no more tangible than the reading of a blog. Now with Arizona behind me, the transience of life becomes ever more apparent to me.

We have wasted far too much time making sandcastles. The Bridegroom stands by the door and we’re still stumbling on our feet trying to stay awake. Many of our lamps have long burnt out and still many more flicker precariously. No one even mutters or cries “When Lord?” anymore, because our eyes have long lost focus of the one true purpose of all creation. “The Lord is not tardy about what He promises, as some consider tardiness, but He is patient towards you, not desiring that any should perish, but that all should turn to repentance.” (2 Peter 3:9).

I’m still looking for a job. Now that most of the renovations and preparations are completed for our new place and Ralph and Ai’s wedding matters are behind me, my sense of self-worth takes a beating whenever others mention how I should be earning some money. It is a fact that I am well-aware of, but hate being constantly reminded of.

I need so much humility. Did Christ not bear the scorn of the world for me? I want so much to walk the way He wants me to.

I want to do web-design because it is something I have spent so much time working on. I want to do work that impacts the world. I want to be recognised without having to mention so much as my name to another person. In His own gentle way He has led me to see that these ambitions hold no place in His heavenly kingdom. However noble or self-giving I could dress my ambitions up, what I wanted had to be what He wanted, no more or less.

Recently I have been led to look at work outside of web-design. It is not easy giving it up, but I have to learn to count it all but loss that I may gain Christ. I’m thinking of applying to work in Prisons. But like I said, however noble an intention, Christ needs to be its Origin and Ending.

I lay myself at His feet. May His strength be made perfect in my weakness.

There’s something very debilitating about joblessness. I ate lunch alone, as I do everyday, missing Faith who is busy making my lunches a possibility. I am so thankful to have her as my wife: she has never grumbled or even brought up the fact that supporting me is a burden we did not plan on. Just when I thought she couldn’t possibly be more deserving of my love, she exceeds every expectation my heart ever imagined.

I finally had time to restructure some parts of the site, on top of planning and praying about starting up on my own. I retrofitted some old layouts this morning. You can swap stylesheets at the About page. They’re hardly pixel perfect, due to technicalities I’ve given up struggling against (one afternoon is all that I can spare). It’s something to do with nested CSS boxes, if you’re interested to know.

In this time of seeking out God’s will for me, it has been hard not to hold on to my own ideas of what my future ought to be. I’ve had so many dreams pass me by as I grow older; some more ambitious than others. But God wants for me to lay down everything at His feet, and that is something I’m still learning to do.

I read about Hannah today and how she pledged her firstborn son for the Lord’s service. There was no record of her struggle or any hesitation, but instead the Bible records her praising God while giving up her son. I’m sure she would have had the same reservations we all have when asked to give up something precious to us. She must have wondered if God would let her off her promise, or if he was indeed tangibly real enough to do anything about it should she not keep her end of the bargain.

But she praised. In like manner, I fall on the knees of my heart, offering everything I have and everything I am only because He is worthy of these things and much more.

These past few months of musing over job opportunities has run me ragged. I have not applied indiscriminately for many jobs, and the ones that really caught my eye never came back to me.

I’ve mentioned my thoughts of starting my own web design agency. I am thankful for Faith, who has been a more wonderful wife than I ever dreamed anyone could be. Instead of chiding me for my financial “discontributions”, she asks me to take the time I need to live out my own ideals.

I have seen the work of many web design companies here in Singapore and there are times I stand appalled at the lack of quality. In my mind I lay down rules for my yet imaginary company: things I should do; and things I shouldn’t.

But I am reminded that my life is in God’s hands. Not only for His provision, but for His pleasure. It is to be used as He sees fit. I sometimes beg that my lofty plans of opening my little web design bakery falls within His plans for me, but I know God doesn’t work that way.

My all has to be laid on His altar. My dreams, my hopes, my ambitions. My skills, my life. The song “Is Your All On The Altar?” goes:

Is your all on the altar of sacrifice laid, your heart, does the Spirit control?

A life with Christ means a life for Christ. My dad named me “Lucian” after a preacher whose words touched his life. Though my memory of it is vague, I seem to remember that the name came with hopes that I’d be a missionary too. Those hopes gave way to pragmatism somewhere along the way and were never uttered again.

Lord, I yield you my body and soul. There is nothing hidden from you. I hold on to the ashes of an Adamic life and I taste its futility. I only ask that You take me wherever You lead. I leave my nets behind. I want so much to follow.

When you’re a young Christian everyone tells you how hard living the Christian life is going to be when you step into the working world. It’s true - it is so easy to get swept up in a whirlwind of activity when things are happening so quickly around you.

These few days of work (or deciding on the form of work) has been intellectually invigorating but spritually draining. The exhilaration that comes with getting the job done fast and well quickens the mind like a drug. It is not too long after you smell its metallic scent oozing out from your pores, and find yourself slowly assimilated into the borg collective.

Just before I kissed Faith goodnight and headed to the computer to work out some computations, we took time to pray. I prayed half in fear that the corporate animal was already unleashed in me. Only this morning I caught myself getting irritated with Faith for holding me up and possibly making me late for work. Though I didn’t show it outwardly, I had shocked myself.

No man can serve two masters: for either he will hate the one, and love the other; or else he will hold to the one, and despise the other. Ye cannot serve God and mammon. - Matthew 6:24

Mammon - the love of money and self-pride - often lulls us to sleep, only to awake already too deep in its dark bog. Pray for us, that we stay on the straight and narrow.

Dearest Lord,

there are times I see so clearly, and my entire being finds no expression other than a complete praise for who You are. Yet when I look at myself I find myself so utterly entrenched in the things of the world, its sins, its desires, its nature. I don’t understand how these two extremes can exist within me, sometimes even in the very same moment.

The powerful conflict tears me apart. I find myself unable to escape the world because of the weakness that is inherent in me, and yet the solace that I seek cannot be found here. How could I settle for the things around me when I’ve tasted of Your goodness?

But I know this: that the rapture that awaits me is not due to my strength or my goodness, but Yours. After all, it was Your suffering and Your death that freed us all from the inevitability of death. I can only bring my unclean hands, and a broken heart unto You, in faith that You’ll not only accept me, but enjoin me in You. That my insufficiency is made whole in Your completeness, my weakness in Your strength, and my sin made no more by Your love.

Thanks AL, for the link to the indepth study of Psalm 34 the helped clarify my doubts of how King David, a man who was a deceiver, could write about integrity in his Psalms.

It comes back to the issue of clean hands. I sometimes cringe in fear when I engage in “contemporary” Christian worship. Many songs contain promises I dare not even speak with my mouth. “I will love you forever” and “forever I will stand” are one of the most common phrases in the lyrics of Christian music today. We often sings these songs without as much as a second thought, not realising the weight of the words we utter.

In the same light, there’s the argument that the United States shouldn’t have engaged Iraq because of the spotted history they themselves possess. I’ve come to see that if we were to cling on to the theory of clean hands, nothing would ever be done and no praise ever uttered. We all fall so short in our many varied ways.

Yet it is crucial to remember that David did not write this Psalm lightly. He learnt his lessons, had time to ponder over them and confess his own sin of fearing man over God. In the same light, we are called to examine our hearts before partaking of the Lord’s supper. Let there be no doubt that He condones no sin, and the most prevalent sin today is probably the taking of His name in vain.

The call today is the same as it was millenia ago. “Come, worship the Lord”. Not because we are pure or clean. Not because we are a great Christian nation. The only way we can sing those songs with those big big words in them is if we look upon Him, and realise the entirety of His Being and nature. It is at that point we cannot help but fall down on the knees of our hearts and offer Him all that we have. It is then that “I love you forever” is made possible because of Him, and not because the chords and music sound great.

It is only then, that our hands are made clean and our hearts pure, fulfilling our purpose of worship.

While reading Psalm 34 today, it was hard to understand its context. This Psalm was written by King David after he pretended to be insane before his enemy Abimelech, and by doing so escaped what seemed like certain death.

The difficulty lies in the apparent conflict between the Psalm and the prior actions of the Psalmist. Verse 13:

bq. Keep your tongue from evil, your lips from speaking deceit.

Wait a second. Wasn’t David’s whole pretending to be insane part deceit in itself? I believe in the infaillibility of the Bible, but my own limited understanding, especially of the Old Testament, finds this conflict odd.

Anyone out there with a deeper insight?

bq. ¹⁹And He took bread, gave thanks and broke it, and gave it to them, saying, “This is My body which is given for you; do this in remembrance of Me.” ²⁰Likewise He also took the cup after supper, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in My blood, which is shed for you. - Luke 22:19,20.

That’s what we’ve been doing all these years: Breaking the unleaven bread and drinking from the cup to remember Christ and what He has done for us. The act itself was meant to be symbolic, but the importance behind it cannot be made more emphatic.

Dearly belovéd in Changi, it breaks my heart to receive news from you that due to the highly contagious nature of the now epidemic SARS virus, paranoia has gripped the us as to the breaking of the bread.

I understand the paranoia. When I mentally placed myself there, I too found my own heart filled with fears of getting infected. Drinking from the same cup and eating of the same piece of unleaven bread is a haven for contamination, logically speaking.

But faith transcends mere logic. “Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things unseen (Hebrews 11:1)”. Contracting the virus comes with it the major ramifications of life and death, and that it is no small matter. I’ll confess that I would have hesitated before drinking from the cup, when put in the same situation.

My hesistation, even though only hypothetical, did not sit well with me. I struggled within myself to find clarity, or a way out of the fear that has paralysed so many of us.

It is a matter of life and death. It always has been. When we first became Christians, that was the whole deal: Life and death. The most commonly used piece of scripture John 3:16, “For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever might believe in Him should never perish, but have eternal life.” Though it was most probably a choice many of us made so very long ago, it is a timely reminder that in believing Him we chose life.

There is no choosing of life if the realisation of death did not occur to us. Over the years, we’ve become jaded, and for many of us going to church became a routine activity that has lost a lot of its original meaning. We talk about how some Christians (usually overseas) were persecuted and how they triumphed by the grace of God. This is now our turn.

We could do everything in our power to make the breaking of bread as safe as it possibly can be. Separate the bread and wine into individual portions. Have them in little packets, like those used for tomato ketchup or soy sauce. We may want to sit farther apart from each other because the virus could be airborne. There are so many things we could do. Or, we could simply not come.

But I urge you, brothers and sisters in Christ, to remember your first love. Remember what you have chosen and Whom you have proclaimed the Lord of all things, and more importantly, the Lord of your life. Nothing happens outside of His hand.

I am not saying that we should be act carelessly and irresponsibly. We should do what we need to in order to make it as safe as we possibly can, but we should do so out of love, and not out of fear.

I love you all, and it pains me to see you suffer from a distance. My heart longs to be with you again, to partake of the same portion that unites us in Him, and to remember with you who Christ is and all that He has done.

Grace and peace be with you all till we meet again.

“Therefore I say to you, do not worry about your life…and which of you by worrying can add one cubit to his stature?” - Luke 12:22, 25

“But seek first the Kingdom of God, and all these things shall be added unto you” - Luke 12:31

It’s hard not to worry. The mechanic didn’t call like he said he would, so I still do not yet know how much the car repairs will cost, but I don’t have a good feeling about the whole thing.

It’s hard not to worry about where the money will come from, or if any of this was my fault. Even though I serviced the car regularly and ran whatever checks I could periodically, some part of me still blames myself for the whole incident of the engine overheating. Maybe if I’d done this, or that. But there are only so many ways to drive a car from Tucson to Florence, and none of the variations (using my left foot to step on the accelerator, for example) would have made a difference.

Faith just told me that the youths back in Singapore just had a Bible lesson on worrying a few hours ago (it’s Sunday afternoon there already). She reminded me that nothing happens outside of God’s plan, and that He sees all things, knows all things, and has control over all things.

I take a deep breath, and I realise how fast I had forgotten these seemingly simple truths. As life grew more complicated I had subconsciously wrestled the steering wheel from God, and decided that I was more dependable.

So it’s a wake-up call; that’s what it is, this business with the car malfunction. I bow the head of my heart, and come unto Him once again, offering the reins of my life.

Lord, You know all things, and You know how I’ve run away from you; how I’ve forgotten You. Yet in through all my rebellion You still call me back unto Yourself, and I stand speechless at the grace that You’re showing me. I’m afraid to take the first step - I’ve fallen so many times over the years, and I know how fickle my heart is.

But I’m drawn back to You, because there is no other way. I can only ask for Your forgiveness and Your strength, that I may not sin against You.

Help me. To remember You always. To choose You always. Above all things.

“And we know that all things work for good to those that love God, to those that are called according to His purpose.” - Romans 8:28

I never quite understood the old hymns that asked God to hide them. Maybe it was because I was always free-spirited and relatively devoid of care. I was always more for the “strengthen me, use me” kind of songs that would inspire me to go forth and change the world.

Tonight I just want to curl up and lie on my bed. I want so much to be hid - from all the things that are happening around us.

It sucks to tremble with fear just before switching on CNN. It is not the acts of terror that strike the most fear in me; it is the visual realisation of what we might have become.

Hide me.

I really don’t mean to do it. I really don’t. Or maybe I do, I don’t know. What I do remember is this: that in the act of doing it I came to a crossroad. There. I made the decision. It was all me. I chose. There’s nobody else to blame.

But I can’t seem to control it. It feels like it controls me. I just do these things. All the time. I fail, all the time.

It gets harder and harder, doesn’t it?

To stay clear-headed, unbiased and logical in our everyday decision-making. I remember as a child I often thought adults were blind to the obvious when decisions seemed so black-and-white. They’d often chide me, then tell me how I missed out on the other points of view, or that I didn’t take into account the various factors involved. That being them wasn’t as easy as I made it out to be.

I never bought their excuses. I knew that they’d never take advice from another adult, let alone a child - their child. I knew that even if I made perfect sense and presented my opinion as articulately as was possible, there’d be something I “forgot” or “didn’t understand”. It was always “hard”.

Now many years later I find myself saddled with the emotional baggage accumulated on the way to adulthood. I’d be lying if I said that I see things much clearer now, because I don’t believe I do. If anything, the eyes of my heart have grown more clouded, more cynical and less simple. I’m faster to judge, slower to forgive and more “assertive”.

It’s good they say - to be assertive. That’s not how I wanted to be. I can almost see my own child self shaking his head as I walk with arms outstretched, stumbling around in the fogginess of my mind. I hear his voice, but like the adults that had chided him before, I ignore him. He’s too young and idealistic. The real world’s not like that.

Their excuses have become mine. I want so much for things to be fresh again, to be renewed. I know that Jesus Christ is the Source of all new life and that in Him I can find the strength to live as a child; in simplicity of thought and pureness of heart. I know I need to come to the feet of the One who died for me.

He calls us all, you know? To leave all this mess behind and find that which I’ve - which we all - have been looking for.

I write this tonight because I want my children to know that there will come many times when I ought more to be like them than like me; that being older doesn’t always mean being wiser. I only pray I have the humility to hear their thoughts, for often their thoughts are closer to His than mine.

I’ve been calling Faith in China the past few mornings (when it’s night there). She’s seems to be having the time of her life working at a leper village helping build homes under Habitat for Humanity. Digging drainage and a fish pond may not be most people’s version of fun, but being the sunshine that she is, not even the winter cold has gotten to her.

I must admit that it is hard to stay happy for her. Don’t get me wrong, I am happy that she’s all right and everything, but being the paranoid boyfriend / fiancé that I am, worry just gets to me. It becomes difficult when the one you talk to happens to be the source of all the worry.

“I wouldn’t have had to go through all this emotional anguish if she’d just chosen to care about me”. “It’s my exam period for goodness sake”. “I wouldn’t have done this to her!” “I gave up [insert list 1 here] and [insert list 2 here] for her!”

Much as I’m ashamed to say, these thoughts try so hard to delineate me from thinking straight. God becomes a background static noise as I duke it out within myself and let the bitter waters run.

When I talk to her over the phone the dichotomy gets so much stronger. How do I resolve the joy of hearing her voice and knowing that she was the source of all this pain? Subtle finger-pointing resumes and it becomes all about us again. Her wanting to learn new things and me wanting her to care about … well, me.

God’s voice doesn’t stay silent for long. His call for me - for us - to give up our all unto Him beckons me again and I come spiritually weeping at His feet. I am so very weak and self-involved. You see, the lesson here was that having faith meant giving Faith up, and knowing that all things work for good to those who love Him and are called according to His purpose (Romans 8:28).

The Son shines on a new day, and His warmth reaches even the most selfish, the most wicked and the most unworthy of us all.

Me.

Many years ago I started a journal. One penned in ink, long before this blog was ever formed. Looking back, I wrote not only because I wanted to know my own thoughts better, but also because somewhere deep inside I wished that my thoughts would one day be made known to the people around me. To ones I knew, and maybe ones I never got the chance to. Years later I gave the journal away to my closest friend, who in turn gave me his. Our thoughts were made known - in its entirety - to each other.

When I started this blog I had meant for it to be very much like my written journal - personal … honest … truthful. I wanted to be able to jump out of my bed and start hitting the keys like a monkey typist gone mad. I didn’t want to have to think and consider the costs of total revelation. I didn’t want to hide truths, no matter how ugly, shameful and embarassing they might be. Maybe in my bumbling, stumbling walk of faith and my discovery of what being a Christian meant we might all obtain a clearer picture.

So many mornings I’d wake up and read my Bible, and it brought me joy, sometimes comfort, sometimes encouragement, sometimes strength, depending on what God’s Word for me was that day. It has been some time since it bought me pain.

We live in a world where Christianity sets itself up to be the dominant religion. We live in a world where Christians are the ones who are “entitled”, so it seems, to the good things in life. TV-evangelists ask you to accept Jesus into your heart, so that all your problems will be solved and you will live a life happily ever after.

That’s not exactly the truth.

Faith (my fiancee) asked me this morning if it were ok with me that she go to some remote village in China to help build houses under Habitat for Humanity. God had put it in her heart to join some other fellow Christians in this volunteer effort.

I can’t even begin to describe the dilemma that went on within myself. We had both made it abundantly clear that we wanted Jesus to be the focal point of our lives and in our relationship. Yet after yesterday’s break in at my house here in Tucson I felt so frightened and so unsure about everything that I would have thought was safe. I love her more than life itself and it would cut my heart in two should any harm befall her.

And the decision was mine to make: She would go only if I gave the green light.

It all boils down to an issue of submission. Do I risk all that I treasure in her? I had no qualms about giving myself up for my God, but when it came to her and what she meant to me, it wasn’t that clear-cut. After a time what could only be described as spiritual wrestling I chose to let her go.

It will be almost one month of not talking to her over the phone. One month of not knowing how she’s doing in a foreign land. Tears form in my eyes at the thought and my faith teeters on its feeble feet.

I read the first chapter of Colossians this morning. “…that in all things, He might have the preeminence” (Colossians 1:18). It was the verse we chose for our coming wedding next year.

Lord, I am of little faith but I know that when I accepted You as my Lord, I gave you first place in my heart. Not only do I pledge my life, I pledge the lives of those entrusted unto me for the sake of Your gospel. That You might have the preeminence.

I look upon His face. I feel free. After all, He’s got the whole world in His hands, right?

Please keep me in prayer.

In my Bible readings I never did quite like the apostle Paul. Though he wrote most of the epistles in the New Testament, it was sometimes hard to relate to how perfect this guy was. Though he had the notorious past of being a Christian-killer in his Pharisee days, he maintained such humility, exercised such authority and seemed so systematic in his approach to problems.

Peter just seemed so much more down-to-earth. Here was a fisherman (not some highly educated elite like Paul) who followed Jesus, proclaimed his loyalty only to deny ever knowing Jesus in the heat of the crucifixion. Not just once, but three whole times. Ashamed when the resurrected Jesus asked him “do you love me?”, Peter admitted his own human weakness.

I feel for someone like that.

But these few days, reading Paul’s letter to the Romans, I find the words speaking directly to me. Paul speaks of his own struggles within. “That which I want to do, I don’t do. That which I don’t want to do, I do”. The internal dichotomy of being and the intensity of the struggle within reflected exactly my life these past few days. Paul, later in his life, writes about a “thorn in his side”, and many Bible scholars have been quick to speculate as to what it is.

His cataracts…his weakness of health. So many guesses.

I know why he was vague. He wrote it for me. So that I, in my own weakness, would remember that he too had his. The Paul that told us all to “fight the good fight of faith” was human, just as I was human. And his words beckons us to look upon the “Author of our faith”, because He alone is without sin.

So tonight, like Paul, I looked. And I realised that He loves me despite myself. His love melts away all my imperfections. I am His child.

It’s the time of the year to choose classes for next semester again. The question of career chioces and what knowledge to build upon arises. Frankly, though I do indeed love computers, I find myself lacking passion when it comes to implementing solutions that enable us to make more money in the business world.

Having completed all but one class, my schedule for next semester can be filled with virtually anything I want. Though signing up for more MIS (Managment Information Systems) classes would probably boost my value in the job market, I find myself turning once again to my childhood ambition of being a teacher of English literature.

I spent the good part of the morning doing the math. I could squeeze in an English minor on top of my degree if I slogged in superhuman proportions next semester. It has been a while since I’ve felt the dream at within my grasp again, and my breath shortens with anticipation simply at the thought of it. I want so much to spend my life reading and exploring the things that make us human and the fullness that is life.

But I am reminded that “whoever shall seek his life shall lose it; and whoever shall lose his life for my sake shall find it (Matthew 10:39)”. It is a struggle to lay down all that I deem dear to me, and believing that He to whom I have commited my life is faithful to keep it.

Like a foolish dreamer trying to build a highway to the sky All my hopes would come tumbling down and I never knew just why. Until today, when you pulled away the clouds that hung like curtains on my eyes Well, I’ve been blind, all these wasted years and I thought I was so wise but then you took me by surprise. Like waking up from the longest dream how real it seemed. Until your love broke through. I’ve been lost in a fantasy that blinded me Until your love broke through. All my life I’ve been searching for that crazy missing part then with one touch You just rolled away the stone that held my heart. And now I see that the answer was as easy as just asking you in and I am so sure I could never doubt your gentle touch again. It’s like the power of the wind. - from Until Your Love Broke Through by Keith Green

Zahid and I go back. Way back. In fact, he was one of the first people I spoke to upon my arrival in Tucson. We traded stories and perspectives of this new place as seen through our Asian eyes.

Now three years later, we sit on my couch and look at our lives here in retrospect. We laugh at the good times we had, and remember the not-so-good. A close friend whom we shared those late-night walks to Blockbuster with lost a brother. A few more grew exceedingly depressed and returned to their respective cities and countries from which they came. We find ourselves alone once more.

Talking to Zahid makes me miss home. The transient life of a college student means that close friends don’t often last longer than the four, five years one spends in college. People move on, and we are left holding on to the sifting sands of change.

It comes at an ironic time as I was contemplating starting a life here in Tucson. The hectic pace back in Singapore often seems so overwhelming, and comes at so great a cost. Families suffer because people are expected to work late everyday. Life flies by as we submit ourselves to the heartbeat of the city. We find ourselves at the end of our lives grasping on to sands of a different colour, but it slips through our fingers nonetheless.

As I swing from end to end on the geographical pendulum, I see the need to create a home, rather than looking for one already made. Though it affects our lives to a great degree, the “where” is not as important as the “how”. I know that I want to live a life that loves, and I often harbour dreams of opening my house (it’s a big house in my mind’s eye) to the homeless, the poor and the single mothers.

I fear inertia most of all, for even though I conserve energy by standing still, life charges on tirelessly to its earthly end.

After a most prolonged period (about two weeks) of not playing basketball, I finally stepped on the court again. While most of you read about how I sprained my right wrist back in July, I didn’t write about how I sprained my left for fear that I might cause the girl I love excessive worry.

I sprained it back late August on the way back to Tucson from Singapore. Having only one hand to deal with most of the luggage, I over-extended myself and sprained the left wrist lightly. That meant that I was out for most sporting activities except soccer, which even I deem too physical.

I went back to play basketball late last night as both wrists felt much better. More importantly, it was something I needed. Basketball has always had its unique way of bringing me before God, and I yearned so much to be close.

It hasn’t been the smoothest stretch of my spiritual journey since coming back here. Being constantly bombarded by images of barely clothed females on television and surrounded by their real life manifestations in school, the ocassional struggle with lust and pornography became a full twelve round boxing match. Try as I might, my strength paled so far in comparison to the temptations that lay before me, and soon falling down became lying down in my own pool of perversion and defeat. I even contemplated not getting married because I feared that I had compromised the quality of my love, and I didn’t want to give her anything less than a love that was both pure and true.

But He still calls. I read my Bible these past few mornings and in Him I felt a pain and disappontment that was soon overcome by love, mercy and forgiveness. I now know how weak I am, how wretched and how unworthy. Spiritually, I was as impotent as a basketball player with no hands. But He called, and I came.

He calls me to pour unto Him the bitter water of my being. He alone has the power to turn it into the wine of cheer.

God loves a cheerful giver. - 2nd Corinthians 9:7 Continually give, and you will continually have. - Fortune Cookie.

How does one give unreservedly? It is something so much harder than it seems. I’ve told many people that giving is characteristic of being a Christian, and that in being taken advantage of, comfort can be found in the fact that Christ Himself surrendered His own rights to give us the right to have some part in Him. The people who give their all bear His mark, His likeness. Sometimes it takes a kick in the butt for me to realise that in my own life. It is somewhat much easier to deliver advice from afar.

These few days have been awfully draining, with many demands for my time still outstanding. Though I know that with good management I am able to fulfill most of them, I also know that it would mean that I would have little or no time for myself. To muse, to take photographs that I love. To just chill and take things slow.

I need so much more strength, so much more willpower to lay down my will (ironic as it sounds). But I know that I am called to trudge the same footsteps my Lord did, and in some way understand the fullness of His nature.

There are times I feel so far from Him, and the things that scares me is that within me there is an urge to run even further, despite my knowing better.

His arms are open, and I stand at the crossroads of whether to run in or run away.

And they shall sit every one under his vine, and under his fig-tree; and there shall be none to make [them] afraid: for the mouth of Jehovah of hosts hath spoken [it]. Micah 4:4

In that day, saith Jehovah of hosts, shall ye invite every man his neighbour under the vine and under the fig-tree. Zechariah 3:10

Reading the books of the minor prophets in the Bible has been enlightening. They’re not the most read books of the Bible, yet hold a treasure-trove of insight - political, socio-economic as well as spiritual.

The two verses hit home because they spoke about the end times. The thing that struck me was that every man sat under his own fig tree and vine, as opposed to a random one in a random field somewhere. That meant that I could not offer any excuse should my fig tree be devoid of figs, or should my vine produce grapes the size of raisins. I would be held accountable, and the whole world would behold the work of my life.

How could Micah be so confident, saying “there shall be none to make them afraid”? I knew I couldn’t. I was convinced that my life, no matter how hard I tried, could scarcely be one worthy of global scrutiny. In my twenty-something years here on earth I have done enough to deliver my family name to embarassment, and myself to eternal damnation.

Then I read Zechariah 3:9,

For behold, the stone that I have laid before Joshua — upon one stone are seven eyes; behold, I will engrave the graving thereof, saith Jehovah of hosts, and I will remove the iniquity of this land in one day.

Jesus Christ is the stone upon which we are all justified. Indeed by His stripes we are healed.

I, am healed. On the day of reckoning I shall sit beneath my fig tree and vine, and none will make me afraid, because the work of producing fruit is not something to be accomplished by my own human hands, but only because “the mouth of God has spoken it”. And Jesus Christ is that Word.

He, the Truth, has set us free.

Dear Lord Jesus,

I so often find myself discontented with the circumstances around me, and until You opened my eyes I didn’t know that it was You against whom I was murmuring. How far I have fallen from what I longed to be. I failed to see the many things You’ve provided so faithfully, and instead chose to grumble resentfully that things were not how I planned.

When I call you Lord, I know that it means You hold everything I am in your possession. It is no longer what I want, but what You want that matters. My ego, my pride, myself. I lay them all once again into Your hands, for my own are careless.

I place You before my eyes once again and when I see, when I truly see, I bend the knee of my heart and worship. How could I do anything else. I am Your bondservant once more. Bondservant of the Most High.

Thank You.

These past two weeks was quite the revelation as I coped with the limited use of my right hand. It’s still quite sprained, despite one visit to the doctor, two physiotherapy appointments, and a much lighter wallet.

I’ve been spending the last two months ferrying my Aunt to the hospital for acupuncture treatments, injections and the occasional chemotherapy session. Having seen so much of the hospital one gets a better observation of the difficulties people with physical disabilities have to deal with. A simple slope is no longer just a hassle, but turns into a pretty daunting mountain. We normal folk sometimes look upon them in pity, not truly fathoming the psychological struggle behind the visible physiological inabilities.

The inability to use my right hand, my dominant hand mind you, was quite the blow to me. I was unable to feed myself for the first two days, depending of Faith, bless her heart, to do the menial task of twirling my pasta for me. It was truly a humbling experience.

This injury came at a time I was having the most fun on the basketball court, having improved quite a bit over the past year. I know that the Lord wants to keep my pride in check, and it is ironic that the verse that comes to mind reads “Pride comes before a fall”. I never knew God to be so literal. But hey, it’s His right of expression, and I’m not arguing with that.

Somewhere in the book of Jeremiah I remember that it reads “Cursed is the man who makes strength his arm”.

I have none left, and I feel very vulnerable, totally dependent, and truly blessed.

Getting married to Faith is just about the most natural thing to do. We’ve been together as a couple for a decade…yadda yadda. Yet the decision to marry wasn’t one I could make alone, nor could I just make the decision with Faith, but the approval of God was essential to the both of us.

The gaining of this approval has been one of the hardest things for me in recent weeks. The life which God has called me to live is neither conducive to marriage nor the bringing up of a family. It’s a pragmatic point of view, considering that a life of service usually means sacrifice, financially and otherwise. Initially I knew deep inside that Faith agreed to marry me because it was something that we’ve looked forward to so much of our lives. At times I felt that she couldn’t understand the dilemma within me - the desire to be a good normal family man and at the same time serving God, sometimes at the cost of forgoing providing for my family comfortably. I knew in my heart of hearts that I had to learn to let go of the idea of marriage in order for God to show me His way. Not mine. His.

The cost had seemed too great to bear, and many tears were wept as I agonized over the process of handing it all over to God. How could I give up my dreams and hopes of spending my entire life with the woman I had loved for so long? How could I ever look upon her as a normal friend should God call me to give her up? Would I be able to? Faith didn’t seem to grasp the full weight that fell on my heart. It was understandable that she wanted a family life that was in all respects adequately provided for. I couldn’t promise her that. I was afraid to promise her that. I made a decision to obey that to which I’ve been called, at any cost. I can’t even describe how hard it has been, not knowing if we’d eventually get married.

After much prayer she understood the risk which marrying me entailed. Her own relationship with God absolved, there was a liberation which both of us received. It was no longer us that mattered, but what He wanted. We knew then that God’s peace was upon us.

Someone in church passed me the book “Husbands and Wives”, an account of Christian husbands like C.S. Lewis and Issac Newton. It was then I knew.

We’re getting married. Next year, God willing. Blogger Comments x

I feel terrible.

My youngest sister asked me (via a proxy) late last night to send her to school this morning. I barked back and asked her to “take the bus like everybody else”.

I could give you the excuse that I was tired because I had spent the last few ours wrestling with code, or that I had to wake up really early in the morning, but in my heart I know that the only reason I have was that I had too little love within me.

I had expected her to wake me up this morning, but she never did. An empty bed. The thought of her going to the bus stop in the wee hours of the morning on a Saturday made my guilt weigh heavier than an off-season Shaquille O’Neal. I will apologise to her and ask if I can bring her to watch Spirit on Monday.

It is not to allay my guilt, but to start the work of showing more love - something which I haven’t been doing as well as I should have. Blogger Comments x

Church camp is over. It has not been easy.

I’m not talking about looking after the children, or about having to wake up early. It is the sobering nature of the messages that has hit home hard into my very being. Much was spoken about the end times, and how close we are to that day. The Middle-Eastern conflict and its biblical implications. The changes in world history, scientific discovery, and all their place in the fulfillment of biblical prophecy. You might think it’s all very subjective. When it comes to Israel, God’s chosen people in the Old Testament, the Bible is very specific. The coming of age and realisation of the spiritual reality is almost scary.

The greatest struggle for me revolved around my relationship between Faith and I. No, we didn’t have any argument. There has been no conflict whatsoever. Sometime recently we’ve grown more earthly. Perhaps it’s the fact that she’s been working for some time. As we approach the issue of marriage we’ve become more pragmatic and less dependent on God.

I know the life that I’ve been called to live. It will be hard to have a family and still live that life. I do not want to amass wealth for a nest egg. I want to help the homeless at the cost of my family’s safety. I want…and yet I do not want. I’d much rather play it safe and do things the traditional way, but my life would just ebb into the smooth unruffled fabric of everyday life. When I hear about how near Christ’s second coming is, I know that I have to be faithful to my calling, and a dilemma within me arises.

These past few nights have been spent in tears and anguished prayer. I know that God wants me to give my relationship with Faith up unto Him, impending marriage and all. Somewhere, somehow God has been moved to the back while we were busy making plans. He wants first place in our hearts. My heart battles. “No” I cry. Faith means too much to me. I cannot find it within myself to disappoint both me and her by submitting both our futures to God who might very well change them beyond recognition.

But there is little time. Christ is coming back soon. I grit my teeth and decide to put God first. I pray for strength to make my decision endure. I have to live my life the way He wants me to. It doesn’t matter anymore whether I marry Faith or not. I know that His will has both our interests at heart. I tell Faith of the life I’m called to live. I tell her how precarious maintaining a family under those conditions would be. I tell her that I can go no other way.

She struggles with the fact that both our lives will never be the same. Two days pass and she smiles at me. She has chosen to live this life together with me. God will provide for us and our children (should we have any). But we’re not going to make a lot of money. We’re not going to drive big cars or live in big houses. In our weakness and frailty we ask that God takes our lives, and changes them to whatever He wants.

To Him be the glory. All of it. Blogger Comments x

Now the whole world had one language and a common speech. As men moved eastward, they found a plain in Shinar and settled there. They said to each other, “Come, let’s make bricks and bake them thoroughly.” They used brick instead of stone, and tar for mortar. Then they said, “Come, let us build ourselves a city, with a tower that reaches to the heavens, so that we may make a name for ourselves and not be scattered over the face of the whole earth.” But the Lord came down to see the city and the tower that the men were building. The Lord said, “If as one people speaking the same language they have begun to do this, then nothing they plan to do will be impossible for them. Come, let us go down and confuse their language so they will not understand each other.” So the Lord scattered them from there over all the earth, and they stopped building the city. That is why it was called Babel - because there the Lord confused the language of the whole world. From there the Lord scattered them over the face of the whole earth. Genesis 11:1-9

Looking at one of the oldest accounts in the Bible, it seems like as a race, humankind haven’t gone very far. Much as I find skyscrapers and architecture beautiful, I cannot help but see the similarities between modern skyscrapers and the ancient tower of Babel. Both are done in the same spirit. To overcome God. To stand on our own two feet.

Contrary to what evolution suggests, it seems that mankind has undergone more of a degeneration than an evolution of any sort. Cancer and other diseases have gone on the rise in magnitudes greater than we can imagine. Morally, our society has decayed, and looks set to go down this path of self-destruction. Even though our scientific exploits are mind-boggling, I fear that we have advanced faster than we are able to handle. We have not thought hard about the consequences of our actions and our research. Our scientists do what they do simply because they can.

“Pride comes before a fall” the old proverb reads. The spirit of Babel lives on today, and with the advent of the Internet, the geographical barrier has come undone. The communication barrier imposed by God has all but been overcome. Mankind will get there, and God will be forced to move His hand again. Blogger Comments x

I never knew why Dad brought us. Every week we’d sit in the house-church that was really warm because there was no air-conditioning. We’d listen to the same preachers that we’ve been listening to for the past decade. We’d all expect messages we’ve heard before. Sunday nights. I could be out with my friends, or playing basketball. Dang, I’ve already spent the whole morning and afternoon in the church I go to, and I’ve got to give up my nights to attend Dad’s?

I never really understood Dad’s insistence until I had to bring my sister to church while I was in Tucson. The immense joy she brought me when she decided to go to church with me is something I cannot fully explain. On some level, it brings me joy because I want her to share in a large part of who I am, but on a deeper spiritual level it is the resurgence of hope. Looking at my mental snapshot of that moment in time, I understood Dad’s intentions. I chose to go tonight.

I sat in the back row, in the corner where I’ve sat for so many years. The people came in. The same people. In the same places. Except for a few new people who came in from overseas, nothing has changed. Except me. In my conscious decision to come tonight I saw things I wouldn’t have noticed. I would have been too grumpy to notice the forlorn smile that the couple two rows ahead of me wore when they looked at the children that sat behind them. I don’t think they had any children of their own. I prayed a silent prayer for them. The same preacher stood up to speak. Time has taken its toil on him. His message and joy remains the same, though his voice isn’t as resonant as it once was, or his legs as strong.

Dad looked back and found me sitting in my corner. He smiled. I now knew why. Blogger Comments x

Down at your feet O Lord
is the most high place.
In your presence Lord
I seek your face.
I seek your face.

There is no higher calling
no greater honour
than to bow and kneel before Your throne.
I’m amazed at Your glory
embraced by Your mercy.
O Lord, I live to worship You.

It has been a really long week and the pressure looks to drag on for at least a few more. I’m thankful that my weekend starts on Friday and has officially begun, yet at the back of my mind am always aware of the things I need to get done. I wish I had time to sit down, drink gatorade and watch life pass by. Right now, I’m a fully integrated part of the very fast moving background. I need to take time to pray, take time to talk to God. I’ve been neglecting Him way too much and the signs of spiritual fatigue is beginning to show. Pray for me, that I may rely on His strength totally and completely.

I face the prospect of not doing well for one of my classes. I wouldn’t be as agitated were it not an easy class. It is made hard by the fact that the teacher has decided to test us on the smallest minute details. We are expected to know how many double spaced pages make an hour of speech, so on and so forth. I am irritated as it is utterly useless information. Yet it reveals a side of me that I wouldn’t have known had I not been pricked by this thorn. I had set out back then to be free from the burden of accomplishments and to place my trust totally in God’s hands. Today, I see that a drop in grades soured my mood and affected my person. I do not like what I see. I need so much to hold closer, to trust deeper and to love with more abandon. I place my life in Jesus’ hands. Wherever He leads. I will go.

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A fervent prayer rose up to heaven. A fragile soul was losing ground. Sorting through the earthly babble heaven heard the sound.

In heaven’s eyes there are no losers. In heaven’s eyes no hopeless cause. Only people like you and people like me and we’re amazed by the grace we can find. In heaven’s eyes.

From a song that I once learnt in choir. And still sing it to myself even today.

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What are you thankful for in your life? Too many blogs and journals are written with such angst at the entire world, too many hours spent lamenting the lack of what we have. I am thankful today. Utterly thankful to God for loving me despite myself. I’m thankful that He is faithful even through my unfaithfulness - that when He saves, He saves completely. I had two horrible basketball games over the past week. They were so horrible that I had even contemplated giving up the game altogether. Deep inside I knew that it was not a lack of practice or conditioning that caused it. Ok, maybe a lack of conditioning did play a minor role. The major factor was a spiritual imbalance much like a hormonal one.

So today I come before You, and You remind me of my many promises and resolutions to give myself up unto You. I realised that I was no longer my own, but that everything I had was because of You. And I came home. And You saved me again. You didn’t condemn me for what I lacked, but showed that through my weakness Your strength is made perfect. You showed me that You never gave up on me, that You really do save completely. All my past failures, my sins are no more in Your eyes. You took me back and restored me and clothed me with Your righteousness.

You then gave me a great basketball game. Yet through it all You whispered unto me, reminding me not to be distracted, and to be constantly amazed at the greatest gift of all - Yourself. I thank You for all that You’ve given me, and at the same time keep a wary eye that these gifts may not dictate who I am. I am Your child, and only by Your grace have I been restored unto sonship. Who I am, all that I am, belongs to You, not because You are an angry God who demands it, but because You gave everything for me.

Thank You.

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The biblical story of Samson has always been a favourite amongst children everywhere. It was literally the story of Superman, one who had the strength and the power to overcome the enemy as he pleased. He was a hero who was overtly heroic, unlike most other biblical characters who kept a low profile. It is not until this summer that I learnt more about the life of Samson, and today’s bible reading the lesson is reiterated and very pertinent to the state I feel right this moment.

Samson wasn’t a spiritual hero, merely a physical one. He was a Nazarite by birth, meaning his parents had taken a vow that he would not eat of any product of the vine (too bad they didn’t have beer back then), and the secret of his superhuman strength lay in his hair, which by the same vows were not to be cut. Yet we find him strolling in vineyards, visiting harlots and sleeping with the enemy’s women. He was not godly by any standards, yet God chose him of all people to be His representation to His people. One could say that Samson was self-indulgent to the end, that even in his dying days he was not repentent unto God, but begged God to grant him strength that he might take vengence on the Phillistines.

Dana Congdon said back in his message during church camp that Samson’s life was a wasted life. He was entrusted with the mysteries of God and chose to use them to gain material wealth from the Phillistines. In many ways I feel like a Samson. Like him I am under a vow as a Christian to serve God. Like him I often stroll amongst the grapes. Like him, I am not wary of the adversary, sometimes even choosing to fraternise with the enemy. Yet I do not want to live a wasted life. I want the knowledge of the Lord Jesus Christ to change my life completely into a life of service and submission. There is so much to be learnt, and this morning I submit myself unto God, and pray that He be patient with me for I have proven myself a slow learner much like Samson. But indeed, God’s grace is sufficient for me, and I am thankful.

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It’s been a recent struggle of mine. It seems so trivial, yet so strong. The last time round I blogged about my wanted to get a Palm. It seemed a cool gadget to have, and I certainly saw its potential in many facets of my life. It would be nice to have a dictionary whenever I wanted one around, or a Bible, or Tetris. It would be great to be able to write down my thoughts the moment they pass transiently through my brain, and then simply upload them to my computer and paste them on Blogger. Having done all my research, I narrowed it down to the Handspring Visor Platinum. While most people had a Palm Vx, I wanted to go the other way this time. I’m pretty much tied down to Intel when it comes to desktops as Macs have yet to take over the world, so this was my little chance to do a bit of Apple rebellion. Besides, while the Handspring didn’t look as sleek as the Vx, in its heart was a faster processor. Oh, did I mention that its stylus was a nice weighty metal pen? Dang, let me go grab a tissue (Kleenex for all you Americani(s/z)ed people) and wipe the drool off my face.

Why was it a struggle then? It wasn’t the money. I had some left from a scholarship awarded to me last semester. It was about giving up. It was about consecration unto God. The more I held on to the idea that I should own one, the less peace I felt within myself. I had prayed so long ago to give my life to Jesus, and yet I was quibbling for control over this small thing. The argument was: Since this is a small thing, it should be ok, right? After a load of prayer, and with the help of a particularly unhelpful staff at Harvey Norman, I realised that God wanted me to give up every aspect of my life. The words I heard over the June church camp echoed in my head: If I am not your God of all, I am not your God at all. In a display of superhuman strength of will provided only by God Himself, I trudged down to MPH and got myself a pocket sized notebook and a Pilot G2 pen.

The notebook goes everywhere with me now. I added little partitions to its pages denoting where I store my addresses and phone numbers, where I write my random thoughts, and where I have my to-do list. On its cover I’ve lovingly decorated and named it my Paw Pilot (Stylus sold separately). I sit and stare at the notebook, looking through it as if it were some newfangled toy. I’m proud of my little handiwork and I see how Paw technology is superior to Palm. I can keep my own handwriting without utilising the graffiti form which everybody else now writes in. I don’t have to recharge its batteries. I’m not saying this to console myself, for if I had wanted to do so I’d simply have bought what I wanted. But it is a lesson that I have to learn, and its price gets higher the more I learn. Many years ago I accepted Jesus as the Lord of my life, and I intended to heed that decision. Like Michael Card sings in his song, there is a freedom in giving up the things which we hold on to so tightly.

Things We Leave Behind There sits Simon so foolishly wise proudly he’s tending his nets. Then Jesus calls and the boats drift away and all that he owns he forgets. But more than the nets he abandoned that day he found that his pride was soon drifting away and it’s hard to imagine the freedom we find from the things we leave behind.

Matthew was mindful of taking the tax and pressing the people to pay but hearing the call he responded in faith and followed the Light and the Way. And leaving the people so puzzled he found the greed in his heart was no longer around and it’s hard to imagine the freedom we find from the things we leave behind.

Every heart needs to be set free from possessions that hold it so tight cause freedom’s not found in the things that we own it’s the power to do what is right. With Jesus our only possession then giving becomes our delight. And we’re amazed at the freedom we find from the things we leave behind.

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The last few days were spent at a friend’s place where the Youth Fellowship (YF) Committee had its annual retreat. Though not much planning was accomplished, I think the time we took to bond with each other was invaluable. It has been so long since we’ve had heart-to-heart talks with each other. I remember the times where as kids we used to write letters amongst ourselves. In some sense I feel bad for not having maintained those relationships with the level of commitment I would have liked.

Cheryl and Ai have grown up so much over the past few years. It didn’t seem long ago that we were campers at Junior Camp, laughing and having the time of our lives. Yet both of them are now in the workforce, facing pressures and responsibilities associated with the once-alien adult world. My heart still reaches out to them in a very personal way, and I know that deep inside me there is a need to watch over them as my younger sisters. You could say a certain maternal instinct binds me to these two.

Eric and I were once the closest of friends in a time not too long ago. I look back in sadness at how we’ve drifted apart over the years. It is not the fault of any particular party, yet I can’t help but wonder what actually went wrong. The closeness we now share is not the same as in our adolescent days, but a different closeness, similar to that of comrades I guess. It probably doesn’t help that I’m hardly the bundle of joy everyone loves to be around. Those of you who’ve actually met and know me have first-hand knowledge as to how boring I am.

So here we stand, childhood friends who walk our different paths of life. We remembering the bantering and carefree days of old. I long so much for those days to return, yet the responsibilities placed on us have now shaped us into different pieces and being less pliable it is harder to conform to each other. Yet I know that if we set our eyes on what is eternal, we’ll realise that we are all bricks of the same building, and the strength God places in us will be used to build His church.

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For a dear friend who found Jesus.

Come ye beloved of the Lord and consider all the love that the Father has poured out on you. With joyful hearts in one accord come and look upon the love of the One who gave His all for you.

My friend consider then the price that so willingly He paid to redeem and win you back to Him. Consider how then you will live and just how to spend your days and the freedom He has won for you.

The treasures of the Father’s throne of the earth and of the sky and of the universe beyond Our Father chose instead His Son counting His worth far beyond all the treasures of His kingdom home.

Our God withheld not His own Son the treasure of His heart poured out for you. If He withheld not His own Son what now would He withhold from you, His own?

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The much feared science test was today. I wrote in my journals yesterday that I understood science much better - it’s amazing what a little pressure can do to you. I wanted to study last night, but only got ten minutes worth of work done before my eyes started tearing. I set my alarm clock to 1am, hoping that two hours of sleep might somehow give me enough energy to study.

breeep breeep An arm reaches out, shuts the alarm off, and manages to change the alarms settings to 7am just before slinking back into bed. The 1am alarm was a joke. my body didn’t even take it seriously. My mind, on the other hand, reasoned that I had around two hours between classes in the morning. My mind, obviously forgot about the time I take to walk from place to place, and the breakfast I had to eat.

One more hour. I arrive at the Physics and Atmospheric Sciences Building early, got seated down on any available chair, took out my notes…and oh my gosh…..it looked like greek to me. Slightly flustered and almost panicking, I pull out a few sheets in my notebook that I had not know existed. “Sample Exam”….I flipped through it, trying to solve questions. Only thing I accomplished was getting more flustered. I made careless mistakes, and things that once were clear…now weren’t. Study study….

Ten more minutes. I’m just starting to understand things again…and I don’t have enough time. If only…oh whaddahey, I’ll just trudge in to face my fate.

On seeing the paper, I set out to do the first question. I remember having to do four out of five of the questions. I chose a simple velocity problem. It was a problem alright. No, it wasn’t difficult. I just couldn’t solve it for some reason. It took me a good ten-fifteen minutes to finally see my stupid mistakes and get it down. I could do three of the four calculation questions. Question number one was this historical question, about Ptolemy and his ancient friends, and covered scientific history all the way to Newton. I had intended to leave the historical question out, then I read the instructions - Do Question ONE, then choose three out of four. I had to do question one??? But…but…

Argh. Just scribbled a few names I could recall on the paper. Then I wrote. And I wrote, and I wrote. It all started coming back to me. Names, theories, everything started making sense again. By the end of it I felt so impassioned about Newton and his contribution to science that I scared myself. I was starting to sound like some physicist who spent his life trying to prove the earth went round the sun.

I only have God to thank for this. He really has been watching over me all this while. I don’t know how I’ll do for the test, but I do know, that God has given all of us a wonderful mind, whose sole purpose is to understand His. Whether it is by physics, literature, music or math, we see His creation. His beauty in nature, His nature in literature, His logic in math, His amazing symmetry in physics.

Thank you God, and thank you Dr. Donahue for not making it so hard to see the wondrous beauty that is all around us.