be still my soul

Just sent my dear boy into the army today and honestly, my heart sank when I saw him board the bus toward the ferry terminal. I had already half the mind to enter tekong with him, but he told me before boarding to send Chloe off and not follow him up, so I complied. Besides I thought that if I went, I'd be intruding into the final moments he'd have with his parents. Nonetheless the point here is, my heart sank: If my emotions were played out into a movie, it'd be some weird-ass korean drama complete with the cryings and tears.

Later in the day, I went home feeling pretty empty. Before going to bed for a short nap, I brought this before the Lord. I didn't want to bother about the boys that have gone into the army already and in that prayer, released them to the Lord's protection and love. With this, my role as their physical guide and leader takes a temporary halt for the moment. Feeling somewhat better, I went to bed.

As soon as I woke up, I was reminded that my boys were no longer on the mainland with me; they are now all in the island offshore. I then logged into facebook and there I read a status upload by my primary school classmate about letting go, opportunities and further planting of seeds. I adapted that and made it my own status which reads: "Only when you let go, can you then see a new world of opportunities to grab. Look beyond, have hope & faith and start planting new seeds for His glory and majesty."

I went to take a shower next and as I was doing so, I asked God to help me let go AND provide me new sight to see that new world of opportunities to guide, lead and mentor. I felt considerably better inside my spirit and went to school with much peace in my heart.

En route to school, there was quite a jam along the expressway and I played the CD that nick put in the night before. As the car inched ever so slowly minute by minute, the song "Be Still My Soul" played. I couldn't really make out the lyrics of the verse but the title alone speaks volumes. And as the song played, I noticed that I was driving into the sunset and the celestial object was shining its beautiful warm orange-hued rays over me --- it brought me back to the sunrises and sunsets I appreciated while I was in Taiwan.

And I remembered how I used to intentionally pull myself away from the crowds, even my DOS during guard duty, to appreciate the wonderous creation that signifies the start and end of the day. I remembered how I'd look up to the sky, alone, and marvel at the work of His creation. I remembered how I'd talk to God, while walking up the ramp alone, and enjoying His company. I remembered the times when I look up to the sky and see the fading sunlight in the midst of the navy blue, orange sky and know that beyond the clouds, moon, stars and sun, there exists a God who's been there for me and has blessed me. That very same God is blessing me and I am more than blessed.

Though I may have been alone many times in the events that God has graciously led me to, His spirit has never left me nor forsaken me. I look back on all these things with much nostalgia, because I know I can never go back to these places again, and also with much assurance --- that if God has spoken to/ acted to/ assured me in the past, I'm sure He can do it again this time round.

And He did.

My dear boy texted me telling me that he's alright and that I need not worry. Early on in the day, I thought I'd cry when I receive his text. Instead, I was nonchalant about it; I was at peace; I was assured. Praise God!

Now I'm looking forward to the people God's opening my eyes to guide, lead and mentor. I'm looking forward to serving an even greater number of boys-youths. I've said it before that I'm a big boy now, I can handle much --- truth is, inside this 'man' there exists a child, and this child is thankfully, a child of the Most High God. I'm looking forward with much expectancy even though I do miss my boys and love them so, so much. The precious love of God invites others to experience and share that love, and I want to do just that.

"Be still my soul : He will guide for His name's sake"

"Be still my soul
Be still my soul
Cease from the labor and the toil
Refreshing springs of peace wait
To troubled minds and hearts that ache

Be still my soul
God knows your way
And He will guide
For His name's sake
Plunge in the rivers of His grace
Rest in the arms of His embrace

Be still my soul
Be still my soul
Though battles round you rage and roar
One thing you need and nothing more
To hear the whisper of your Lord

Be still my child
I know your way
And I will guide
For my name's sake
Plunge in the rivers of My grace
Rest in the arms of My embrace"

"Be Still My Soul" (Don Moen)

I wish you were still here.

Today as we usher in the Lunar Year of the Dragon, we also celebrate the presence of our loved ones and friends. We organise reunion meals of all forms --- BBQ, grill, steamboat, pot luck --- and then catch up on each others' lives be it through a decent conversation or mere small talk. Nevertheless it is exactly because we see some value in these social gatherings, that's why we participate in them. In other words, we celebrate each others' presence and lives because we see value in the relationships shared.

But strangely today I was reminded not just of those present around me; I was reminded of those who have gone before us and who have, well gone home. I remember how the New Year celebrations were like with them around and the birthdays we use to celebrate for them. I remember the food they made and the persistent naggings at every of our lil' meetings. I remember the days I'd run down the stairs and the days the kids'd gather in the room and prepare an item for the adults (gosh, I really disliked those mini performances). I really, really missed them.

I wish my brother and sister were with me.

I wish my paternal grandmother was still around.

I wish my gong-gong was still around.

I wish to hold my ye-ye's hand and know him.

I wish my great-grandaunt was here.

There can be a thousand wishes posted here but I know, I know that none of them will ever come true. My only comfort is that they're in good hands (I pray so) and that the Lord is indeed what the Word says He is: sovereign. So in this Lunar New Year, the second 12-year cycle till the Year of the Dragon returns again, I suppose this entry is pretty sobering and humbling to write: That my life is not my own; indeed "To live is Christ and to die is gain // No matter what price I pay, I choose this give this life away"

"I live for something greater than I"

You know how, for some, the above statement is a mere goal-attaining, motivating statement? Those who fall in this category are those who desire to work hard for things that are, well, greater than themselves. These people include the humanitarian workers, the peace fighters, those who pull children from slavery and the sex trade, even those who build houses and/or distribute food to the needy Africans. In the end those who once had this desire, now find themselves behind a desk doing the usual 9-to-5 routine. That desire that once was, is now dissipated; it is gone.

Today in service I was reminded of this statement. But strangely, and also unlike some of the people that I just mentioned above, I had absolutely no clue as to what this desire was for. All I knew was that I did not squirm when I read passages about suffering for the name of Christ or being considered dishonourable for His sake. I rationalised later on that perhaps the gravity of these verses have yet to sink in, yet I was reminded quickly how God taught me the following lesson during my years in national service.

If God has brought me to it,

------ He'll bring me through it.

If God has brought me to it,

------ He'll take care of the things I leave behind.

So somehow despite all the gloom in those passages, the call to serve Him has not been a command; rather it has been a constant call, almost like a beckoning to do His will. For all I know, maybe the internal struggles I have within me are just the preparation for what He's about to call me into. Perhaps He will make good the vision He gave me when I was in my tender teenage years, perhaps. Maybe He's giving me a completely new appetite, or a new ministerial ground, or even a new heart; these things I inquire of the Lord and yet, I will say "Be patient O my soul, for the Lord your God has heard you and will answer you in His due time".

O there are a myraid of things that have been going through my mind! Not to mention the people and encounters I had during the past week! I tried to put them all down on a sheet of paper and yet I know there are a lot more things in my head than I previously imagined. As I wrote, I listened to the song "Refresh My Heart" by Hillsong (1992) over and over and over again. And all I wanted to do right there and then, was to stop all activity and just praise and bless the name of the Lord. Then it reminded me of how my life from now on, whatever the ministry God calls me into, is simply a relationship with the Lord --- I ain't got no cell leader, or divisional leader; it's just me and the Lord. The people I'm eventually called to minister to are the people I bring before God in prayer; in other words, they don't determine how/ what/ how long I serve --- such things are between me and God.

A few keywords come to mind as I write this out: Obedience, Faith, Patience and Submission. Where, O Lord, are you taking me to! Where, O Lord, do you want me to be? "I want to be where you are, dwelling in your presence, feasting at your table, surrounded by your glory; In your presence, that's where I always want to be... I just want to be with you" (Don Moen).

Tell me: What's the point of installing someone to a position of authority when the respect due to the person, or at least the position, is not respected?

For crying out loud, at least listen to them and hear them out (notice the difference).

The pun was, so, unintended.

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.")

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.