21-days: Day 1

So today marks the end of my examinations and also the start to my 21-day fast and prayer.

I was worshipping with about 50-odd youths in the Chapel and I knew there was a renewed call to repentence during those intimate moments. The song "Holy Spirit Rain Down" was sung and in the middle of it, I was caught -- I remained silent and still before the Lord; thus began the beginning of an agonising moment for my spirit. I don't really know how to describe that feeling but I'll try: imagine your spirit to be one full intact object. What happened during prayer and repentence was a complete tearing away of a part of that object away from the main body. It wasn't just a tearing away -- the agony was because I could literally feel the thing ripping violently away from my spirit. I could not hold back the tears and the scrunched up face could no longer hold them back. Yet I did not wail nor did the tears flow as freely as waterfalls; instead pools of tears formed around the eyes like little water bodies which gently meandered down the contours of my face. I have never, ever felt that spiritual agony before -- is this what travailing in prayer means?

But I know that God's not completely done with me yet. I think He revealed to me the thorn in my flesh, one that will haunt me and constantly bring me back to full humility and submission. All the other areas of my life are areas that, I felt God was telling me, He will mould me and help me overcome. But there is that one particular thorn that will constantly prick me over and over again so that I return to humility.

Then there was the prayer for our parents. Normally when it comes to this theme of the family for prayer, I'm always reminded of how blessed I am to be born into this world. Tonight, however, I felt God allowed me to feel just a very very tiny fraction of the agony and pain BOTH my parents went through when they lost their two children. In my mind, I was an emotion that existed in and between them. The feeling was real; I could not bear to close my eyes any further - I opened them during prayer. Also as if that was not enough, as I sat with my back against the wall and legs stretched out before me, I suddenly felt as if my lower abdomen (where the womb would be positioned in the woman's body) was empty; and there was a sudden and equal emptiness in my heart -- I believe God was allowing me to go through a very, very tiny fraction of what my mum went through. That only compelled me to love them and pray for them even more. I have never felt this way before.

This morning, before I went for my final paper, I was asking and praying for God to recreate the spiritual scene/ atmospehere in tonight's service. Somewhere, somehow I felt God promised me that He would do as He had done in the days of Pentecost and also His glory made manifest as during the days of Solomon's rededication of the temple. During the service when Kenny was introducing the gift of tongues, I was seated quietly at the back telling God that I'm holding fast to the promise that He has given me. After that the mass prayer began and many began to receive the gift -- it was a wonderful experience to behold and be part of as many of the youths began speaking boldly, some more quietly but assuredly, in tongues. During the final song, I felt a silent voice in my head telling me "Have I not fulfilled my promise made to you?" and I responded with a "OMG, thanks God; you've indeed been good".

Such is my experience on the first day of the 21-day prayer and fasting. I can't wait to see what next God has in store for this deep trench of my heart/soul waiting, just waiting to be filled to the overflow.

I don't believe in theories; or should I say, I don't believe in philosophical theories. All good theories must be practical and applicable, relevant in its contextualised time and space. With that being said, let's move on.

Perhaps some of us don't recognise the gravity of the words we say to each other/ youths we lead. I speak specifically to youth leaders as well as leaders of youths. It dawned upon me this afternoon that we don't monitor the words we speak, behaviour we act or even the attitude we show in the presence of these kids. Don't get me wrong; I don't mean to say mentoring or teaching is a terrible job (in fact, truth be told I enjoy my role as a teacher-mentor-servant leader of the youths in church). But we ought to watch our tongue and our heart when we serve the youths/ children. Setting an example to these youths is just as crucial and important as mentoring and teaching them the right values and lessons. I'm afraid some of us don't see the salience in our behaviour/ mannerism; and tis a fear I fear will have consequences on the kind of leaders we develop/ men and women we groom in the ministry.

Okay, that's enough for today.

First there was the beginning thoughts of marriage-parenthood-relationships; then came the parents' in-the-car nagging; followed by the eventual conversation divergences; after which came the friend's i'm-annoyed-with-you moment.

All these factors, coupled with the fatigue accumulated during the week, have led to what is popularly known as sian.

So just shut up and drive Darren; because so far that has effectively hidden a side no one, not one, has seen before.

Not feeling the best thing in the world right now, but I suppose this should compel me to look up toward God and not within myself.

"I am the Lord; that is my name;
      My glory I give to no other,

      nor my praise to carved idols"

                                     (Isa 42:8)

The road beneath me moves
with my back against the motion.
My heart, tired from the day's labour
cringes to hear a word
or a desire for a warm embrace:
... It seems all too meaningless;
it seems all too vain an effort -
but the road beneath me moves
with my back still against the motion.

listen to the waves and tell me what do you hear?

"with every crash, the waves shall
Claw on the beaches of your mind
- tearing with every pull of the sea
a memory,
a thought,
until all you're left with
are shards of broken glass;
now your mind is clear.
really?"

I ended a three-hour meeting.

Don't get me wrong - the meeting went fine; in fact, I'd say it was rather productive considering that we managed to tie some loose ends together. Perhaps it's the duration of the meeting that rendered me tired and worn out. Whatever the case, today's one of those days I want to be alone.

But the lure of friends deny me that opportunity. Funny how everybody seems to rally around a person departing our midst and in the process forget, or at least seems to forget everyone else. For a moment, that one person has been turned into a newborn child who holds the world's attention. It is a sight to behold, yet a lonely experience to have. Perhaps this is how the older child feels when he's got a new brother/sister in the family - he's forgotten, or at least seems to be forgotten.

Don't get me wrong, again - we're all friends and this is one of those few moments we have left with him. But yet, it seems all attention is diverted to him. Attention is a resource: once diverted, others are deprived.

Here's where I ask myself whether I'm being selfish.

My answer: I think I am; but more pertinently, am I wrong in requesting for a listening ear too?

I'm starting to feel numb to this whole . . . issue-situation(?). I really don't want a community of friends who only get together to chill-hang out. I mean it's great to have that, but it seems so . . . superficial. To know that after all these years I've been in church and to not have an community of friends where I can openly pour my heart out is depressing. Honestly, the feeling totally sucks. The people I'm close to - or at least close enough to pour my heart out - are pre-dominantly friends out of church (nick's the exception). As far as my cynical mind takes me, I reckon this will continue to some time and that thought is totally, totally depressing.

For now, tonight, I will go out and be merry with them. After all, that's what I'm supposed to do . . . act.

of social theory, interviews and God

I want to put this up just so I remind myself of how good God has been to me over the past week.

To begin with, I was faced with a colossal task of churning out two essay-assingments due on consecutive days; to be precise, the datelines were barely nine hours apart from each other. The datelines were not much of an issue when compared to the 2500-word essay, 1500-word essay, a full interview transcript and an interview schedule (list of questions) that desperately my attention - the last three form the final report for a research practicum module and the formermost was for a social theory class. While the latter required much intellectual capacity from me, the former sought hard for my mental, emotional and psychological attention. I knew it was going to be a long weekend ahead, and I was mentally prepared for that; or so I thought I was.

A few things screwed up last week as well. One of which was a 3-hour interview that my phone failed to record any detail at all. That was a huge, huge bummer for me. Then there was the NUS exchange application that I had to do by Friday (dateline). All these pulled my attention in all directions, severing any form of rootedness in any singular project. I only read, and read more and more articles in preparation for my social theory paper - I mean it is a theory paper after all, so just suck it up and read them. I re-did my interview with another respondent, a close friend of mine, on Wednesday. That interview went better than I expected and as with my two prior interviews, I was more glad that through the interviews I got to know them better as a friend and as a brother in Christ. The Wednesday interview lasted three hours, but because the content was good and the flow was decently acceptable I was satisfied. But I didn't start transcribing - something which on hindsight was my oversight and miscalculation - immediately that day, or the day after. Instead I started on Friday after having completed all of the exchange application procedures and processes. What pissed me off in particular that day was the fact that after having done most of the application in the library (both the online and photocopying of documents), I left for the bus-stop to wait for my bus that will bring me out of school. The bus came; I boarded; I tapped. Then I realised I had left my IC in the library - thus began the ardous walk back to the library to redeem it. It was a tough day that day. Transcription began in the National Library where all in all, I spent 5 hours transcribing barely half an hour I reckon. I went home and continued working on it, finishing up to the 50-minute mark. Then I slept.

Having slept seven hours, I woke up to have breakfast before returning to begin on my theory paper. Breakfast was soon to be the only substantial meal I would have the entire day. I started reading further for the theory paper and only properly began at 3pm only to realise that I needed to key in my reference list. That alone took me an hour. So effectively I only started proper at 4pm and the writing process lasted 6 hours, ending at 10pm. My mum cooked me some instant noodles which barely filled my tummy, but I couldn't do much about it; work needed to be done. I carried on with my transcription before turning in at the 80-minute mark. I already started to feel my body starting to break down in the face of all of this hungry pursuit of esssay/assignment completion. It was bad.

Sunday began with morning service before cell group. For the first time in my years in the ministry, this is the First time I skipped a youth service for academics' sake. Instead I dropped my kids off at the tabernacle before heading to St Hilda's to begin my transcriptions. I managed to transcribe the last 40 minutes with those in between undertaken by friends. I then went back to church hoping - just hoping - that the rest will be going off for dinner. In the end, they were going to the airport for their dinner thus compelling me, under the surmounting pressure to finish the assignments, to have dinner on my own before heading back to carry on with the work. En route, I met Aldrin with whom I later had dinner with. I reflected later while going home that it was a quirky way that God was reminding me of the heart for the boys that He has given to me; quirky, I know.

I reached home at around 9pm, with the first dateline due at 2359h that night. I quickly edited my work before submitting it online; after which, I took a shower to refresh myself. Work on the 1500-report began at 10pm and that alone took me 2hours to complete. By 12 midnight, I was dead beat. I still had to type out the interview schedule which took me another two hours or so. I carried on with my further transcriptions at 3am and ended at 5. The compilation and editing process was insane. The final compiled report was 79 pages long and the interview transcript itself took up a good 50-odd pages. It wasn't the most pleasant thing I've done. But by the time I was done, my dad was up and edging me to leave the house - he needed to get to work himself, but the deal was that he'll drop me off at school en route to work. I hardly had a chance to breathe before scurrying away to grab my towel to refresh myself and get changed. To cut the long story short, I slept on the ride to school; slept for an hour in hall before waking up to print and bind the report together at the library in the morning. I was finally done assignments-wise. I still had to endure a lecture on content analysis and another on globalisation before heading up to SAO to submit my documents for the NUS exchange; only then, did my day end and I could finally catch a breather.

Why then, this post?

Because I reflected how thankful I am to God, my provider and sustainer, for seeing me through the weekend - particularly through Sunday night/morning. It dawned upon me that I was able to say "I don't really care anymore about the grades that I'll receive" only because I was numbed to the whole process; yet, strangely enough I wasn't ecstatic about the submission - I was just happy that it is over. Then I realised that I'd only say this kind of things - thus warranting this post to be etenally monumentalised in electronic media - when I'm tired; on the contrary, I know that just prior to the release of results of essays, I'd be praying prayers about "God to honour me" and "God to bless me with this and that". But really, all I want to do now is to remember that in spite of all my work, His blessings are already planned for me to take; but what really matters to me is my attitude towards the work that laid before me. As a student, this is my season to study, therefore I ought to worship God with the times that I study. I tend to forget that, thus resulting in my praying prayers that seem to assume that just because I put in a lot of effort, God should honour my work; or even a demand from me to God to give me the A's that I want. But truth is, it's not about me; it's never been about me. When I think about how some people can do just as well without seeming to spend as much time and energy as I did, I feel really unfair - to me, it's injustice. But when I start to look at my role as a student, which I'm now called to be, I ought to be mindful of my own attitudes and behaviour towards the 'colossal' tasks set before me. Through these attitudes, it is with great hope that others can see the glory of God and thus someday praise my Father in heaven.

Sure I do hope and pray for the A's; but I'm starting and also beginning to struggle with the call to obedience, a life of faith and a life recognising and living out a God-centred, Christ-as-Lord-not-I life.

To God be all glory forever and ever.

Today's entry: I concur with my previous entry, period.

It suddenly dawned on me that once we hit a certain age, we're quickly forgotten and no one hauls us back, let alone call out to us. Even in a shipwreck, people call out to each other to reach out to the people around them; in those times, no one cares what ethnic group you come from, what language you speak, or even the school you've attended -- the goal is to reach out and save as many as you can. When we cannot save a certain number in a shipwreck, meaning to say the rest have perished, we call it a tragedy. Superimpose the same scene in the ministry, only that this time the systemic forgetfulness almost makes it deliberate, and we have an even greater tragedy and it's taking place before our very eyes in the ministry.

Where is the love?

Do any of you, young and old, even care?

I ask again: Where is the love?

[controversially]

I know that whatever I'm about to say here may/ will have implications. I am aware that my words carry weight, and this post may possibly be my most controversial as of yet; which is why it took me a good 2-3 hours to consolidate my thoughts and also to consider very carefully whether or not to post this. I want to be as cautious as possible, such that the cynical-negative(?) spirit doesn't find a new host and replicate itself spawning into something that the church will have to grapple and battle against. Lord, sanctify my lips; sanctify my words; sancitfy me.

Let's begin first with a positive recollection. I was walking back to the community centre where we had cell group and was just reflecting and talking to the Lord at the same time. I realised that even though organising camps and planning stuff for the ministry (including cell structure/ material) may sound fun and rewarding, I really don't want to do it. I know for certain God has given me a heart for the youths, more specifically the boys, and I don't want to place myself on a planning pedastal; I want to be with the kids. Marx is right: social change doesn't take place in a philosopher's, or in this case a planner's, chair but it takes place from the ground up. Being a role model for these boys is what I want to do. That being said, I know and am confident that the Word that has been taught and given to me ought to be the sustanance of my life: it alone is my providence and source. At this point, I'm reminded that in the Christian walk with Christ, one must never ever leave the cross and the beauty-brutality of it. The centrality of the cross must be the crux of a Christian's life.

Then I also realised that the people you love most are also the people who grieve you the most. They are the people whose actions/ words/ attitude/ even behaviour will hurt you the most. But at the same time, they are also the people who brings you much joy and laughter. They lift you up with the smallest acts and sweetest, albeit little, words. My three boys fall in this category, as do my cell kids. They are the greatest joy and blessing God has ever given to me apart from my family.

And it is also this very same love for them that compels me to type this entry.

I have been a cell leader for the past 6 years of my life. It is no mystery that I will/ should be leaving the ministry soon, as much as I don't want to. I have seen my kids grow into the men and women of God today, themselves soaked in the Word and prayerfully living out the Word as well. Last week, when I was reading 3 John 4 which reads: "I have no greater joy than to hear my children are walking in the truth", something stirred within my spirit. I had to praise God for my kids; I knew I had to. These past 6 years have also allowed me to take on a rather active role in the ministry: how God opened doors for me to organise events, including a camp in 2008, be a mentor to three wonderful boys, be part of the cell material planning committee and also a ministry leader of the sound team. He has indeed moulded me to the person I am today.

But now that I'm 23 - an age that sits precariously on the fence of the youth ministry and that of the young adults', I feel as if I'm being sidelined (read: marginalised). It's not as if I am the only one feeling this way; others feel it too. When I think about my contemporaries, I wonder to myself whether they too are getting the same attention as they (we) got when we were only beginning as cell leaders. I remember saying this to myself while walking back to hall: Under the guise of the youth ministry being dynamic and always changing, the older ones will inevitably be sidelined and forgotten. Where have all my peers gone? Are they receiving the same attention -- let's not even mention feeding and encouragement -- as they received when they were beginning? Now that the older cells are more stable and firm, it seems as if we're forgotten.

And I say we're being forgotten also because there isn't any proper way out for us, yea, even into the young adults' ministry. The bureaucracy of the church has taken ahold of the 'family' that the Word speaks of: what's yours is yours, what's mine is mine. There ain't no proper transition, and I doubt there will ever be one. It saddens me a hell lot really, that we proclaim ourselves to be a family of God yet the boundaries seem to be marked clearly along invisible bureaucratic lines. It's depressing.

When I say that the youth ministry operates under the guise of dynamism (constant change), new leaders are sought after every year. I don't deny that there is such a need since so that the primary six children can transition more smoothly into the youth ministry. In fact I see the transition of these children to be more systematic than that of the youths into the young adults' ministry. I sincerely hope we're not playing the numbers game here, please. But back to the new leaders. There is an ongoing active search for them and I agree that youths ought to recognise that just as they have received from their leaders, they ought to give to the younger ones as well. But here's my gripe with the entire situation: You grab these youths now and turn them to leaders. No doubt we will train them well, and with the support that the older leaders can give them and of course with God's grace, they will blossom to be effective shepherds of the flock entrusted to them. But will they end up like my contemporaries and I, forgotten and sidelined because "Oh! A new batch of kids are coming in!"

I really don't want/ wish to see my own kids fall into this same hole that many of us find ourselves in. It's saddening and also depressing because these kids do have potential to teach and preach the Word to the younger ones. But until a smooth transition programme from youth to young adults' ministry is more concrete (structurally) and a heart for ALL youths within the ministry is present (agency-heart), I'm doubtful even cynical of putting these youths up for leadership. I also realise that the leaders who are currently well rooted in the ministry are those currently active in the smaller ministries within. What about those who aren't rooted in/ serving in those ministries? I fear for them too.

By saying all of this I'm not attacking the church, nor am I discounting the efforts of the present staff team. But that doesn't stop me from fearing for these youths' lives: like some of my contemporaries, some will leave the church, others might perhaps leave the faith altogether. I don't give two-shit about the numbers; I only wish for the family of God to be what it is: a family of God. It is this fear that stems from a love for them that compels me to write this. You probably can't see me and my heart, but if you can you'd see me cringing both outside and inside. I'm afraid and I'm saddened by the brute reality of my mind's playback and constructions.

I'm honestly leaving this in God's hands. This is my spiritual family -- it is also my spiritual community, though at times it doesn't seem like it -- and I know I have a part to play. But I am only one, and as of now I wonder how my cynicism will lead me to be reflexive about this issue: change it, or leave (both literally and metaphorically) it? God's the head of this house and He will not let His church fall: by His very Word, He upholds the universe, what more a church/ spiritual community? As I write this out, there is a certain assurance in my heart that He is present and He knows best. Whether or not I'm gonna be part of His plan, I don't know. All I know now is that He is control and He will act when it is time for His name's sake.

As of now, I just want to be found obedient and fulfill what Christ asked Peter to do if the latter loved Him: Feed His sheep -- that's all I want to do.

a load off my chest.

We had a good talk, finally.

I know God has been dealing with me with regard to this whole issue; that I needed to talk to him. And that desire to talk has been floating in my head for a real long time -- it has popped up during my quiet moments with God, after Sunday sermons, even after chatting with nick. Point is: I know God's been dealing with my stubborn heart and I, in response, was just what I was -- stubborn.

I must admit though, that for a good deal of that experience of God dealing with me, pride and the ego got caught up along the way. If it weren't those two insidious sins, I'd say it was procrastination so much so that it took me perhaps a month to actually talk to him about it.

But to begin with, tonight's 100mins chat wasn't birthed from that desire to talk about what happened. Truth be told, I was burdened and troubled whilst on the train/ bus back to school. That burden pertained to the ministry and I knew I had to talk to someone about it. Xavier messaged me after noticing my facebook status and that greatly warmed my heart. But I couldn't possibly tell him about it; neither did I want to tell my peers about my feelings, not because I wasn't close to them but rather I was afraid that those conversations will only result in greater animosity and doubt. I wanted to avoid gossips, and possibly slandering; that would not be helpful to our friendship and definitely, not the ministry. Thus the call to talk about first the ministry then slowly, inevitably, we talked about the saga that took place. Apologies were exchanged but we still remained focused on the growth of the ministry -- that warmed my heart: it was somewhat in line with what SP preached today about uniting in the Great Commission despite the many differences the apostles had with each other.

After the conversation, I knew I was released -- released from a hurt, disappointment; a burden was lifted. For the first time since the saga happened, I can say our friendship did take a beating but I know, and am assured that our relationship will only be strengthened because of this. I love this ministry, and damn I love my brothers; I love my God and I appreciate the grace and salvation He has given to me. Faith is a gift, and it is one that has been given to me; I don't want to take it for granted, neither do I want to negate its source. For all these reasons and more, I want to stand alongside my brothers in the ministry: we can have our differences but when it comes to saving lost souls and building lives, damn we're gonna stand together.

I'm thankful for this day, I really am.

Forgiveness and grace I have freely received;

it's a load off my chest -- I know I'm,

free.

floating unanchored.

Today's one of those days where a million things float in my head but somehow, I just can't put my finger on any of it. A good chat with Meiling after dinner at the airport did make me think of how one's assurance of salvation can perhaps be explained through one's spiritual reflexivity (borrowing Giddens' term and usage). But now that I'm back at home, on my bed, I can't seem to find anything to think about, let alone talk about.

It's leaving me rather lost, even disillusioned. I don't like it when I can't seem to think/ talk things out -- I don't like to leave things hanging around just like that. But somehow I know that if I slept it off, everything would be fine tomorrow morning. I just don't like that feeling, so hear me rant world.

Someone brought up a really good point regarding community at today's leaders' meeting. It's funny how one can remain so fixed in a (mental) structure previously set during his growing up years, and now when that structure has been done away with, he seems lost. Bourdieu would probably call this 'fish out of water', and it's seriously making people really uncomfortable. I was uncomfortable as well. During the moments of betrayal by two of my closest buddies, I had no one to look up to; I had no friends. Greg, whom I looked up to both as my leader and DL, was no longer around -- he's busy somewhere doing his own thing. I don't blame him at all; but nothing changed, I was still alone. It was only then when I started to look around at my peers to find some form of community for myself. Thank God for my division's leaders; Thank God for David (who's back for good); Thank God for Nick; indeed, He has provided. My point in all of this is that one's spiritual community is and cannot be found in someone older, or someone of the same age -- age, is not a barrier. Your spiritual community is made up of the people around you whom you're close to. It's no longer centralised and materialised in one singular Division Leader. Instead, your community is diffused amongst us.

Do I still feel alone at times? And I will give a resounding, "Sure!" But I now know I'm in the community of close friends -- some of them may not be the same as it were before; for that, I only pray our friendship will be strengthened. For others, maybe it's lost altogether -- so lost, sometimes I wonder if I even mattered at all.

Funny how after all this talk, I still can't put my finger on any particular topic. Maybe I will just sleep it off; but not before I talk to my Father.

emancipation/emasculation

The subject of masculinity has always been a fascination of mine ever since I started school. Reading 2 chapters of Pascoe's (2007) work only bolstered that fascination. The grey areas that straddle between masculinity and sexuality also fascinate me although I must admit this (interlinked) subject scares me quite a fair bit.

I want to study this further, but my fears of being drawn too deep keep me away from such a possibility. Can I be emancipated from my own self-caused emasculation, and in that process perhaps fall deeper into a hole where I was once rescued from; will I be willing?

For now, I'm afraid;

I'm unsure.

cyclical cynicism

Last time I checked, the last blog entry was in June. That entry had me musing, reflecting how transient my thoughts are. For that matter, now that I think about it, how transient life is. In June, I ended off a thank-you note to God (as if He reads blogs in the first place; He knows my thoughts even before I speak them the Bible says), this time however it seems almost as if cynicism drives a big part of my life. See, in the past month I've been hurt; but more than that, I've been hurt by my closest friends.

Please do not be mistaken: I'm not penning this entry because I'm still angry/upset over what took place. I mean, when I think about it I do get periodically upset -- not angry -- but that's not my intention here. Being a sociology major, being cynical is part of the deal; so for me, cynicism is somewhat my way of thinking: it's how I'm trained to view the social world and its reality placed before me. And I've never had any problems reconciling my faith with this cynicism. I've always seen, and still do, see my cynicism being stemmed from my (and by relation, the human race) imperfect knowledge of how the world works and its intenal logic/ mechanisms. I could live with that; rather, I could live with myself.

But this time round when I pen this entry, I'm a victim of the alienated world; I am as a close friend would say, a "lone ranger". As mentioned before I was hurt by my closest friends. It was as if a part of me died with it. Needless to say, a part of our friendship died along with it. Oh, the unintended consequences but nevertheless the sad realities of life! I thought I was alone in all of this mess, but I was wrong. Very recently I chanced upon a blog, created by a very close friend, where I read his intimate feelings. I wouldn't say it was poetic, but one can tell the tough rationalisation and reconciliation he had to face between his emotions and realities. Since he is a very close friend of mine, seeing and knowing him to hurt only made me hurt; and in the process, that made me even more cynical of relationships.

Don't be mistaken: I believe in relationships. But I also believe that relationships are meaningful only when there is trust present. With trust comes a certain level of respect that comes along with an expectation that one places on the other. When either of this fails, the relationship breaks down either in part or in the extreme case, in full. Religion though personal, is also a social phenomenon. Don't give me that crap about respecting and trusting the other without receiving the same yourself. If it ain't an input-output (doesn't have to be mutual; I'm suggesting a chain) system, that relationship is doomed to fail.

Maybe a part of my friendship with them has indeed died. Whether or not it is being revived again, that we shall have to wait for time to finish its course before we return to this discourse again. But given my current cynicism, I suppose that part has died and like Ensor's painting of "Skeletons Warming Themselves" (1889), I suppose it's pointless to revive it/ for it to be revived.

It's odd when you know you've got things in your mind that you need to pray, tell and share but when you come to the platform to do so, your mind's a blank. I won't try to find those thoughts, however disparate and far they may seem to be right now; for all you know, they'd come running back into my dense head after I'm done with this entry. Suffice to say, I've been having this constant headache for the past few nights already and like a door to the world of wild emotions, it's unfortunately left opened. Thank God He has made my emotions stable these past few months, no longer tossed to and fro with the 'made-up realities' of life. Thank God for the opportunities to speak into new lives. Thank God for loving me and giving me new breath and life to live. Thank God for God.

It's interesting how this blog has inspired some others to begin their own written testimonies through a blog-format such as that by www.dailyrev.livejournal.com. A young man has since been inspired to start penning down his own thoughts about the world with words from the Word of God in this blog; I urge you to take a chance at reading it; it's not perfect, but hey it's a good start.

We all ought to find time to pen, at least think and consider, the things that God has blessed us with. I'm not referring to mere gifts and stuff that God has graciously given to us; I believe what's more important is seeing Christ in everything we see, feel, touch and even the experiences - good or bad - He allows us to go through. After all, the Bible does tell us that everything of this world has been there to point us to God. The question then that the Christian or even the atheist ought to take as a challenge is to 'find'/ 'realise' (depending on your position in Christ) God in all of that.

Fact is, God's real. But hear this, please: even if you realise after considering all the things happening around you points towards the existence of A God giving you the notion that you have 'found' God, truth be told... it was God who first saw you (as with Nathanael sitting under the tree) and found you.

Such is the precious love of God for those whom He has called as His own.

Exam Miracle

It's been some time since I last posted here but suffice to say, I'm in the midst of my examinations with one more left to go on Thursday (yay!!!). But four amazing things happened to me during and after the statistics exam I took today. They are facts/ lessons that cannot be any further emphasised but only that God is not only sovereign, but also He is good beyond all human measure.

Firstly, I came into the examination hall without an eraser knowing full well that there will be an MCQ section where I was required to shade my answer in the OAS (optical answer sheet, amazing how I can still remember this kinda crap). So I kinda panicked for a while, and was even contemplating asking my 'neighbours' around me to break their eraser for me. Little did I know that just at the top right hand corner of my desk, there laid an eraser. It was small, but usable; but it was more than enough for me. AWESOME ONE.

Secondly, I had to do a rather basic question on frequency distribution tables and the calculation of mean, median and mode but couldn't remember the exact format of the table. There were also times where I couldn't calculate the standard deviation and thus the variance cause I was confused over which was the sample size. Technicalities aside, suffice to say I completed the question at the first attempt but was full of doubts inside even upon completion of the paper. After finishing the paper, I remember leaning back against the back of my chair and took a deep breath. Then I prayed; I told God that I was going to check through my paper again and thus asked Him to direct my attention to the places where there were mistakes. After prayer, I went straight to the question on frequency distribution. After much contemplation, I changed my choice of sample size and arrived at a completely different answer. After the end of the paper, I checked the answer with my friends and thank God, my changed answer was the right one. AWESOME TWO.

Thirdly, there was another question which I was rather confident when doing. I was pretty sure of the answers as well. But in the dying few minutes of the paper, I had the urge to calculate the values in the table again. It was a 6 X 4 table so I did take a considerable amount of time for calculation. Just when I thought I was done, I found a calculation mistake in the last cell of the table. Thinking I must have punched in the wrong numbers into the calculator, I calculated and re-calculated the values again. I was wrong. So I looked at the clock and realised I had five minutes left before the end of the paper, thus the decision to change the answers. AWESOME THREE.

Fourthly, (actually this 'reflection' took place after the paper) I saw God's sovereign hand at work through this paper. You see, my lecture group is huge so there was a need to split the group into two -- one taken by a Chinese prof and another taken by an Indian prof. I wanted the Friday's slot cause it would fit perfectly well into my timetable. But because I was in Turkey during the course registration period, I was unable to get the Friday's lecture slot. Instead I got the Thursday's one, with the Indian prof as my lecturer. I wouldn't go as far as to say that he sucks big time cause honestly I did learn something. But he really wasn't the most entertaining, or the best lecturer one could have. But having said all this, the exam comprised of an MCQ section (30 questions) that took up 45%. What amazed me was the number of questions that I have seen before in my tutorials and lecture notes. During the course of the exam, I was telling myself how simple this MCQ was and was wondering how the bell curve was going to work out since everyone will get pretty high marks for this sections. Little did I know, the other lecture group taken by the Chinese prof did not know how to do most of the questions because they have never seen such questions before. God is ultimately sovereign over all things. AWESOME FOUR.

I'm writing this the day after my stats paper because upon reaching home, I crashed on the bed. Why the fatigue? Cause I couldn't sleep well the night before the exam, tossing and turning in my bed. Suffice to say, I woke up early with enough time to read two psalms and a sermon by Spurgeon on Jesus's prayer for the elect. What a joy to begin the day with Christ and have it end with Him too! He is sovereign and AWESOMELY AWESOME.

For of Him and through Him and to Him be glory forever. Amen!

Today while walking out for lunch, there was a strange question that stirred in my heart. And the question goes: If God has given me the gift of faith just like the talent the Master gave His servant, then what in the world am I doing with this gift? Have I been like the first servant who used it and gotten back twofold; or have I been like the last servant who hid his talent in the ground for fear that the Master will lose all when He returns?

It was an intriguing question.

And if this wasn't strange enough, another strange stirring came upon me; only this time, it was in the form of an unexplainable 'confused' expectation. I use the word 'confused' only because this expectation is not really formulated as of yet. It's more like a nagging feeling... A very hazy nagging feeling. But the expectation went something like this: If I were to use this gift of faith to pray for the upcoming church camp (Crux and Unify) and pray fervantly for it, something awesome's gonna happen during those six days in camp. And I say this because of two reasons really. Firstly, because like the people in the Bible who prayed and asked fervantly it was given unto them, hence in the same way as it was done in the Word, it will be done today. Secondly, it is simply because I'm using the very gift that the Lord has given to me. Somewhere else in the Word it says that to the person who has, more shall be given. If I were to use this gift of faith and pray up a storm for this camp, OH MY, I'll be growing from "strength to strength, faith to faith".

I've made up my mind. And that is to exercise this gift of faith that He has so, so richly blessed me with. Even as I type this out, there's a strange strength, energy and excitement that runs through my fingers. WOOHOO.

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It hurts me so much to see my kid upset. Such is the pain of a parent; at the same time, such is the Joy of a parent too. I had a chat with him last night about his disappointing loss in his match the day before. He felt it wasn't the best he played and was so distraught, he didn't even want to talk to me about it on the same day of his loss. We had a chat which transpired just a few minutes ago and I was helping him process his thoughts, emotions and perhaps lessons from the Lord.

Turned out that perhaps the Lord's teaching him how to trust in Him more -- it's a lesson He taught me today as I fell into sin again. Perhaps the same question I posed to him -- a question I didn't even plan for -- can be extended to myself [and perhaps you out there]: Where is God in all that had just transpired? Where is God in all of whatever you're doing now? Or just simply, where is God?

We tend to put so much confidence in our own flesh -- body, strength, racket/ swim/ ball strokes, mental energy -- and then base our efforts and claim our 'best' based on these fleshy attributes. So on one hand we believe so much in ourselves, and on the other we say God is sovereign in all things. How then do we connect both thoughts together? If we believe in ourselves, then to some extent we believe that we can do all things regardless of God; and if we believe that God's sovereign, how come we find it hard to take that in when we lose?

And so here's how I connect them both.

Simply, our 'best' should never be based on our fleshy attributes but on the very strength, power and ability of God. That being said, it would also mean that our very presence or being at the game/ competition/ contest/ match is in itself our 'best' toward God. If we believe that we can do all things THROUGH God, then surely, our strength, power, ability must stem from Him and Him alone isn't it? Moreover, God's not just a giver of gifts, He IS the gift and what's more this gift now resides in us! No wonder the Bible says we can do all things THROUGH God! The question then is, where then have we gotten this mixed up? Perhaps because we tend to put so much emphasis on our training and drills and forgotten completely what the Lord can do in and through us! It's much like studying really; sometimes, we ought to do what we NEED and CAN do, and then before the battle begins "Be still and know that He is God".

My heart still aches for that boy; he really does have a soft spot in my heart, like my other two boys and kids. But somehow I know that the Lord is in control and more than ever, He's teaching them and in the process of it, encouraging and comforting them, even mentoring them just as He is doing ever so patiently with me. Such situations only remind me that as a mentor over my boys and a leader over my kids, I ought to make much of God and not of me. Christ is the Great High Shepherd! Christ is the Great I Am! Christ is the Master, Teacher and Lord! Christ is God and Christ is gloriously awesome!

"What is man that you should be mindful of him?": He is mindful of us -- me and you -- even though He has no reason to do so. That's the unfathomable love of Christ for us. That is that unfathomable love of God for me.

What I did was wrong, but perhaps there's some good in it;

Why do you think it was wrong?

What I did was wrong, but perhaps there's some good in it;

Why do you guys gang up on me?

What I did was wrong, but perhaps there's some good in it;

Why does it seem as though I'm punished for it?

What I did was wrong, but perhaps there's some good in it;

Why should I believe you and do what you say?

What I did was wrong, but perhaps there's some good in it;

Why should I listen to you and get convicted?

But that's what You did -- Convict.

I've been running away in rebellion against myself, against the leadership and against God. Ironically the more I run away from God, the more I ask God to bring me to a point of confrontation where I'm forced not to run. And boy, He did, only in a much gentler fashion, one that's worthy of a gentlemanly father.

You confronted me with songs in my playlist and the messages that seemed to respond to my desires, they were all signs of you pursuing me before I even wanted to pursue you. And now I recall you telling Nathanael that you saw him before he became your disciple. God, you've been pursuing me all this while and only now do I see your sweet, gentle and patient love for me.

Like a Father, you loved me despite my failures.

Like a teacher, you taught me many lessons.

Like a mentor, you guided my footsteps and counselled me.

Like a jealous lover, you pursued me and kept me.

Like God... no,

YOU ARE GOD.

As I walked up the hill this afternoon, I could not help but notice a strange sight in the distance. There it was in the distant sky, a dark cloud forming over the port's cranes and containers. The cloud quickly moved towards me, then above me; and right there I saw it collide with the white clouds. And then I realised that like mother nature's odd behaviour in the skies, my emotions and thoughts were scattered in my emotional sphere. To make matters worse, that sphere slowly drifted away from my rational, logical sphere.

I don't want to care.

I don't want to think anymore.

I really can't be bothered anymore.

I'm just irritated with this whole shit.

I'm not unapologetic.

I know it was a slip.

I know who I'm speaking to.

I want to be real.

I also don't want to lose standards.

But do I need to be penalised like that?

Is it that BIG A DEAL?

SCREW IT LA.

I have never felt this cold in my entire life.

Heat is radiating from my eyes after my shower,

My throat is like a sore and open wound

-- I don't even dare swallow,

I shivered as I stood under the warm stream of water,

not wanting to leave myself to the bitter cold of the night.

My bones ache, and my body still quivering...

I'm falling sick and I know it,

But why ain't I calling on the Lord?

Beer in hand

Marx on the table

Laptop by my side

but my mind's fixed on you.

What if after all these years, I still find myself liking you?

A chance, is that what I'm asking?

Just went to the doctor today to grab my MRI medical report -- turned out I've sustained a minor, "very very mild" slip disc condition due to a degeneration of the disc at the bottom of my spine. I suppose the squash 'warm-up' game only aggravated it; but then again, how was I to know? My doctors, including my physiotherapist said I could carry on with my physical activities, so there. But this time round, after reviewing my MRI scan report, the doctor advised me against high-impact sports. I asked if I could carry on playing squash and I could tell from his expression that he really didn't want to disapppoint me. But in the end, he said the word and I suppose I can lay my hands off the four squash rackets sitting at home right now. He advised swimming -- thankfully, something I enjoy -- and cycling. Running now had to be done with well-cushioned shoes, but honestly my mind was fixed on the fact that I can no longer, at least for now, play squash. In a desperate bid to seek approval for another sport I love, I asked whether I could play badminton. He disappointed me again, without having the intention to do so. Naturally, my net emotion after the appointment was in the red.

After lunch, I went down with the SPD team to watch two of our boys play in their exciting match. My net emotion continued its decline as firstly, the match was cancelled due to the rain; and secondly, I watched the boys play passionately for a sport they love. For someone now who cannot do just that, it was heartbreaking.

I feel useless. I think it's like how the senior citizens feel about themselves in relation to the world. Mentoring three athletic boys only compound the emotion...

I feel very useless.

my mum gave me steroids,

for my aching darn back.

I am upset that my expectation wasn't met but at the same time, I am struggling alongside him. I know I need to be firm in my stand lest he flouts the rules we decided a year back, but I also don't want to hurt his feelings any further. I NEED TO FIND THAT MIDDLE GROUND AND BE COMFORTABLE IN IT.

I am (You are) wrestling with the mentor's heart.

seeing people around me getting emotional/ confused/ matured/ angsty/ happy/ all childlike, makes me wonder whether it's a good thing to not have girlfriend woes.

on one hand, I kinda want it.

but on the other, I don't wanna.

All we need is a little bit of honesty.

Haven't blogged much these past few months, but I need a space to rant and pour my heart out. So since this is a convenience space, I figured "Why not?" After all, the materials used for my first sermon were taken from this blog space. (I do hope no one reads/ follows this blog though)

Fact is, I haven't been feeling too good this evening. It's the third day of the Lunar New Year and I just came back from my aunt's place. Before that, I went to my cousin's new flat before heading down to Jeryl's for a steamboat dinner. So it was a pretty hectic day for me, rushing and running to and fro from one place to another. Strangely enough instead of feeling all angsty and bottled up inside because of the mad rushings, I felt tired. Perhaps it's the cumulative effect of the week's visiting, feasting and late nights. But at my aunt's place, I laid on the couch and found myself soundly asleep for a good 45 mins. Mind you, I don't normally do this even when I'm most tired and shacked out. In a nutshell, today was somewhat a first.

I thought it was fatigue, considering the fact that I didn't sleep very well last night (in fact I went supper with Pine at Macs where we ate and talked for a good two hours). But then I realised it couldn't be fatigue, or at least not the kind I usually get. Simply because when I'm tired, I tend to go all emotional and thinking of stupid things I shouldn't be thinking of. But I wasn't. I was too tired to even think. My muscles were devoid of strength and energy seemed to have left my bones for good. Moreover, I didn't feel too good inside -- it was as if I was gonna fall sick, that kind of feeling. In fact, after this I'm gonna sleep already.

(I forgot why I even want to blog in the first place)

Suffice to say, I feel like a jerk. Maybe I am. It's not even an issue of "being torn" but rather, I feel like I'm intentionally shooting lil cupid arrows at two target boards at the same time. I feel rather disgusted with myself really. I won't even end with an "oh well..."; in fact I don't know how to end this entry.

goodnight world.