'nuff said, men can be as insecure as women.

so stop treating men to be some hard-up,

solid, tough, macho dood cause they're not;

I'm not.

just listen and hear their silent struggles

amidst the stereotyped straitjackets forced on them;

listen to their silence

because perhaps in that silence

is where the agony truly lies.

my thoughts, for future use

So my kids Chloe and Nick are back from their China mission trip, and damn am I glad to have them back.

But something else stirred within me this whole day.

How could I, a sinner, be used by God as a leader, camp commandant, or a mentor and witness for myself the transforming power of Christ?

Today, I experienced all three: from the sin to the Camp AAR-cum-thanksgiving to the welcome party for Chloe and Nick.

I recall the vision I had when I was in sec 2: remember the white building in a field? Yea, that one.

I recall the unsettled-ness in me when I was scrolling through MOE's website for teacher recruitment, exam syllabi and NIE post-graduate diploma programme site. It just didn't sit well within me.

To be honest, when my kids recount their experience in China to me, I was truly happy for them --- that they have seen the work and reality of God. But I also know that they barely skimmed the surface of what the Bible terms as "tasting and seeing that the Lord is good"; they were there for barely a week. But yet just as I felt all that immense joy at their growth and spiritual maturity and encounters with God, I know deep within me I just haven't been given the heart for missions, yet. 

Perhaps one day I will be called to be a missionary, perhaps.

But if the abovementioned vision really did come from God, then I'm sure He's gonna prepare me adequately to face the challenges ahead.

I remember praying for myself that though darkness shrouds me and the path before me seems uncertain, even bleak, I know from the Word of God that His very Word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path.

Deal with my unbelief Lord!

Help me with my doubts Lord!

Save me from my self-righteousness Lord!

Not my will, but thine be done!

There's just so many emotions and thoughts that is contained within me. I need time to recuperate, reflect and be brought to remembrance not only His goodness to me thus far, but also His Word, vision and calling for me.

I love you Nick,

I love you Chloe,

I'm glad both of you are back.

But more so,

I'm glad God is with you

and my, look how you've grown!

'Tis the joy of your leader!

'Tis the joy of your mentor!

That no ma shall boast in himself,

but in Christ,

 and Christ alone.

(the costs of) Comparison

It's funny how just before logging into this account, even right to the point of typing the title of this new entry (which I usually do after finishing typing the entry), there was a 3-dimensional spider-web of conceptual sorts hanging within the mental structures of my inner skull. I even told myself that when I begin writing this, it would not be clear nor would it be concise: simply because this place is the site where I display those 'conceptual sorts' for the world to see, though really it is for my own viewing pleasure And sanity.

Ah, yes... comparison.

Just last night I went for a run. It was my first run in what? 4 months or so and all I was thinking about was how I wanted to achieve that 'hot bod' that my friends have -- broad shoulders with chest muscles, toned arms, flat tummy, 6-pack if possible, well-defined thighs and calves. During the run I recall singing the song "Jesus, lover of my soul" in my head where the chorus goes "It's all about you Jesus and all this is for you, for your glory and your fame. It's not about me, as if you should do things my way. You alone are God and I surrender to your ways". Though these were the words that both my head thought of and that which my mouth mouths, deep down I know that I was pushing myself beyond what I could do. Nonetheless, I finished the run and managed to do approximately 40 pushups and about 30 situps divided in two sets -- numerically I totally suck. Just 9 months ago, I was doing an average of 80 pushups and 50 situps a day. But this, as I now see, isn't a game of numbers --- rather it's a game of humility/pride.

And I'll tell you why.

After finishing my exercise... AND OH, I DO HAVE TO SAY THIS: I hardly had any food And water yesterday so I knew that my body was severely lacking in the energy it needed to complete a run... So, when I got up my vision suddenly became blurry and sparkly with all those red-and-blue dots and my whole body became limp and weak. I literally trudged into one of the blocks to drink some water, only to realise that I shouldn't --- I knew a throw-up was gonna be inevitable. I quickly trudged to my block and went up to my room. By then my body became limp and totally strength-less; I didn't want to move though my mind really wanted to bathe before crashing on the bed.

I placed my sweaty head on the table and took off my glasses. By then my body was so uncomfortable because every muscle was aching and my vision was still blurred, I went to the floor to lie down and rest. When I did so, I thought this was the time to puke but thank goodness I didn't -- if not, I'd have been lying down in my own pool of watery bodily fluids. And so my sweaty body was laid down on the floor to rest and every muscle just having a mind of its own, totally uncooperative with the brain. 

I woke up once and when I got up a sharp ache-pain shot up from my knee up my thighs. I slumped into my seat again and laid my head down to the table. My vision was still blurry and dotted red-and-blue and my muscles were still terribly uncooperative. It was then I decided to go back down to the floor to rest again. I arose about ten minutes later feeling a lot better before taking a bath and as a result of those short naps, I couldn't fall asleep until 4am this morning.

I didn't mean for this entry to be a lengthy one about my experience last night. But really I was thinking about my own life and really, my future specifically. What I went through last night is just a real-life example to whoever is reading this that there are costs of comparisons; and those costs get significantly higher when you rush through those comparisons and think terribly of yourself. Taking care of my body is an instruction by God, but doing it in order to gain glory and attention for myself isn't glorifying unto God. "Yet not my will but thy will be done" -- tis the command I hear being repeatedly over and over and over again. (perhaps this is the motivation for this year's devotions, hmmm, I wonder)

Even so, when I think about my own future and what I intend to do: now I ask myself whether this is the will that God desires for me and that which I desire for and of myself. Be it the Masters or the PhD, working overseas or the getting/ living the high life, these are things that I now desire God to work in and through me. As much as I like to say I'm trusting God and His sovereign plan for me, I know that the falliable nature of man only draws me repeatedly away from what He wants for me, and towards the path which desires the praises, applause and glory of man whose riches are not only admirable but greatly treasured.

But at the end of the day, let my soul, body and mind cry out: "Yet not as I will, but thy will be done!" This journey of life ain't over and till it does, I want to live life as a good Christian solider fighting, alongside the Holy Spirit, against my own body and desires. At the end of the day, I want to die a good Christian soldier, where I can stand before the Lord who will not only give me a crown of righteousness but will say unto me, "Enter into my rest my good and faithful servant".

Until then, "dicens Pater si vis transfer calicem istum a me verumtamen non mea voluntas sed tua fiat" ("Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me. Nevertheless, not my will, but yours, be done.")

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.

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.

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.

-------------------------------

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.

The Equation

1 + 1 = 2

that's what they always say, don't they?

that's what we've been taught all along, haven't we?

all this while, all we've ever thought about was the '1' in the equation. what the numbers on the 'left side of the equal sign' are are all we ever think about, or at least that's what we've been learning all along - how it affects the equation; how it affects the 'right side of the equal sign'; how it affects the End.

but haven't we been selfish in forgetting about the '2'? have we thought whether it has even wanted to Be in the equation?

is it wrong for one to keep giving and giving and desire for an expected result? sure we do. we're the '1's aren't we?

after all i've gone through, i apologise for not thinking about how you felt. how it feels to be '2', how you probably felt you never wanted to be in the equation at all. how this equation finally ended nullified; how it ended void; how it ended up being a ZERO.

should i give up or should i just keep chasing pavements;

even if it leads nowhere.

it Would be a waste, even if i knew my place

should i leave it there?

i answer, yes. i should.

i guess that's probably the reason why i'm remaining passive about certain things. sure enough, i don't close myself to the world, but that doesn't give me any more of a reason to be seeking actively.

but i won't even ask you to stay. in spite of saying that, this i must say - there's something about you that keeps me going on, and i'm not even sorry about it.

i've never been the kind to ever let my feelings show

& i thought being strong meant never losing your self-control

but i'm just drunk enough to let go of my pain

to hell with my pride, let it fall like rain

tonight i wanna cry.

maybe keith was right along.

Treasures in Jars of Clay

in a plethora of convlusive mind action

sometimes a friend's voice is not one

you would liked to hear, no.

not even a close friend's voice.

cast the phone into the heap of rubbish

on your table as presented to the world

and cup your head in your hands.

yes my dear, cry.

tears start to well up in your eyes

and you suddenly think you're staging this

no my child, the lights will dim

you are precisely who you are.

so in that plethora of convulsive mind action

you cup your head in your hands

and you cry. oh, you cry!

you realise who you really are

and who I really am.

how many of us look at

our friends, colleagues, even family members

and suddenly feel all lousy inside?

i have.

now, how many of us think that These People

are contented with what they have

or maybe there's a possibility that they're just like, us

- feeling lousy, whenever they look at us.

ah, maybe that didn't cross our minds.

we, worldy creatures

have worldy desires

and thus have wordly ideals of people and things

we tend to focus so much of what we lack

that at times, we forget our own strengths.

we lose ourselves in the madness of it all

allowing envy and jealousy to creep in

when at the end of the day,

we soon realise that what we have,

Those People want

Those People desire;

Those People envy;

Those People lose themselves.

so question is, when will all this stop encircling?

.

Ecclesiastes is right

if the wisest and the richest man can find no fulfilment

what chance do we have?

let us count our blessings daily

and give thanks to our Heavenly Father

from whom all good gifts come.