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.