Dili Chronicles

There are no hungry disciples on earth...

2012-02-11T14:01:00.001+09:00

I read again the story of Jesus feeding the hungrymultitudes this morning. (See my previous post first for the context).

And Jesus spoke again. I saw with new eyes, that therewere TWELVE baskets of food leftover.

TWELVE – There was ONE full basket EACH for the twelvedisciples.

I imagine them looking at one another, each hugging a hugebasket of bread and fish, in a state of shock.

Jesus fed the hungry crowd, and at the end of it, made sureeach of the disciples also had a share in His abundance.

The abundance God pours forth is deeply personal, AND precise at the same time. It is not a mindless extravagance that results in wastage. Nor is it a coincidental sufficiency.

I imagine the disciples walking away with Jesus, carryingtheir basket of food.

What would you do with yours?

I would set aside some for my mom and dad – and happily giveall the rest away to other hungry children I meet along the way, while walking alongsideJesus…

There are no hungry children in Heaven. And there are nohungry disciples on earth.

There are no hungry children in Heaven

2012-02-10T09:30:00.001+09:00

When you say the Lord’s Prayer, what does “on earth as it isin heaven” mean to you?

Over the past week, I have been very busy setting up ourkitchen, and buying food supplies for the official start of our children feedingprogramme. In the mist of all the busy-ness, there was a strong force thatmotivated me to keep going. It was a simple, but compelling and overwhelmingconviction that God the Father is grieved to see His children hungry and malnourished.He was asking me to do something about it, to put right something that iswrong.

Jesus had also been confronted with a hungry crowd. His discipleswere so overwhelmed that they asked Him to send them away. Instead, Jesus said“You give them something to eat” (Matt 14:16). As I take concrete action tofeed our hungry students, I have heard Jesus say the same words to me.He says it in a gentle and loving way, inviting me to put right something thatis wrong in this world, His Father's world.

I read this familiar story again a few moments ago. I heardHim say something that took my breath away.

“Do you know why I fed the people? There were many hungry children in the crowd, and I couldn’t bear to send them away.”

We know there were 5000 people present, excluding women andchildren. If half the men were married, and each man brought two children along,there would have been 5000 children present. 5000 children. Can you see that?There might have been as many children, as there were grown men. Jesus sawthem, loved them, and fed them so abundantly, there were leftovers. He alwaysdid His Father’s will, on earth as it is in heaven.

There are no hungry children in Heaven, only happy ones.

What does “on earth as it is in heaven” mean to you now?

Lay down my life

2012-01-22T15:32:00.001+09:00

Just a few hours ago, I was doing housework (after weeks of denial) and talking toGod.

Me: God, is there a difference between giving you my life,and laying it down?

God: When you lay down your life, you die to the fear of allpossible negative scenarios.

*silence*

Me: I want to lay down my life. Help me.

God didn’t say much, but like old friends, I think I understoodwhat He meant.

You can give your life to follow Him, yet live in constant fearof all the “bad” things that may happen.

When you lay down your life, you die to all fear.

You don’tfear disasters and disappointments. You don’t fear physical sickness, or emotional loneliness. You don’t fearbeing betrayed, taken advantage of, hurt. You don’t fear trauma or rejection.

Yes God, I want to lay down my life. I really do. Help me.

好口渴啊!

2012-01-21T21:17:00.002+09:00

禁食了三天的我并不饿，但口渴得不得了。即史尽量的喝水，还是好口渴。

神啊，你是否在跟我说话? 我安静的呤听。

用英文思考，想不通。转用中文，突然明白 - 口渴的"渴"，跟渴望的"渴"同字。

我的口渴里头，阴藏着强烈的渴望。如果这解不了的口渴代表我内心的渴望，那就
算了吧。。。我心甘情愿，一生一世的渴望你，我唯一的依靠，我唯一的安慰。

只求你再一次亲近我。。。

想念你的我

2012-01-18T22:49:00.001+09:00

我在
人海中寻找你
寂寞中渴望你
忙碌中敬拜你
沉默中卦念你

在
白天里追逐你
黑夜里等待你

在
欢笑中感谢你
哭泣中呼唤你

在
文字里形容你
音符里亲近你

永恒的你
无所不在
无边无际

此刻的我
无能为力
无可奈何

我
无法自拔
无时无刻
的。。。
想念你

The Mountains of Separation

2012-01-16T23:56:00.000+09:00

“Untilthe day breaks

Andthe shadows flee away,

Turn,my beloved,

Andbe like a gazelle

Ora young stag

Uponthe mountains of Bether” (Song of Solomon 2:17)

Thefootnotes in my NKJV bible says “Bether” literally means “Separation”.

Emotionally,I dwell in the valley of Bether.

Thebeauty of the mountains reminds me of both His presence and His absence, all atonce.

Themountains that separate us are also the mountains which He will scale.

Themountains that block my view of what is beyond are also where He will besighted.

Iftrials foreshadow glory, then yes, separation foreshadows union. Behold, Hecomes...

One of three

2012-01-10T22:16:00.002+09:00

“Oh, sisters, for the love of God, try to recognize the greatfavour the Lord has bestowed on those of us He has brought here…there are onlytwelve of us and God has been pleased for you to be one. I know many people whoare better than I who would gladly take my place, yet the Lord has granted itto me who so poorly deserves it.” - St Teresa of Avila, “The Way of Perfection”

Oh God, there are onlythree of us here, and You have called me to be one of them. Surely there aremany others who are more gifted in every way, more anointed, holier, morepatient, better qualified – but You chose me to be one of three. It is grace,grace, grace…

What I do for re-creation

2011-12-28T14:34:00.000+09:00

Ever since I wrote this I have gone to the beach many, many times. I go there for a run, or just to sit and watch the waves. When I am not there, I sometimes find myself wondering how the sea looks like right now. Is it calm or choppy? Is the sea a deep, vibrant blue, or a pale grey? Is it high tide, with the ocean spray beating upon the breakwaters forcefully, or low tide, with the rocky seabed exposed, as the waves billow in the distant?

Does this count as recreation, to people a short plane ride away, but whose lifestyles seem a world apart from mine?

Yesterday I re-read Amy Carmichael's book, "God's Missionary". I won't summarise its contents, some of which could actually give offence, if taken out of context. Carmichael writes of how missionaries should seek recreation in the right way, with the right company, preferably with the local people, and most ideally of all, with Jesus.

"Some have proved that the exercise taken in the walk to the village for the evening preaching has been none the less recreative because we had the Lord for our Companion and we were out on His business; and we have found it true that, while we communed together, Jesus Himself drew near and went with us, and made our hearts burn within us while He talked with us by the way. What better recreation than the re-creating of the holy fire? The glow if it makes one strong!"

I really like the way she breaks the word "recreation" into two, "re-creating". It seems to so accurately express the purpose of recreation as God intends - to rest in a manner that "re-creates" His divine joy and energies in us, giving us new strength to go forth again in His service.

"We are variously made. What rests one person wearies another. The great thing is to find what rests us most, what sends us back to our work most truly strengthened and refreshed in body, soul and spirit...Let us be honest in the determination that we will not sacrifice the spiritual to anything whatever!"

So anything we do that refreshes and strengthens us to pour ourselves out more fully for God and others is true recreation. I am not embarrassed that often, all that I need is to just go to the "same" beach to look at the sea.

Conversely, activities no matter how "interesting" or "novel" that drain our spiritual vitality, leave us distracted, harassed, less centered in God, less conscious of His presence isn't needful, and is even destructive.

Just a few moments ago, while browsing news headlines on Google News, I came across this report which outlined the activities that Singaporeans spend the most money on. To no one's surprise I suppose, it was dining and entertainment.

I think it is possible to wine and dine and seek entertainment purposefully and restfully. But I do wonder if God has higher forms of true recreation for you and I that we don't yet know about?

"May God search us, and try us, and show us if we are living on lower levels than He intends for us - living in the shallows when He meant for us to dwell deep in the heart of eternal love."

May the new year be a discovery of true recreation that re-creates His dynamism and passion in us.

A lifetime is too short

2011-12-17T01:27:00.001+09:00

I don't know where 2011 has gone. It didn't seem so long ago that I marked my fourth year anniversary in Timor in July. Now, I am already halfway into my fifth year.

People come and people go. Many ask me how long more I would stay here for.

The answer varies depending on how much sincerity I discern behind the question. Often I have 1.5 seconds to decide if I will tell the truth, or give a politically correct but patronising answer to someone I may never see again.

The truth is, if I have given Jesus my life, it does not matter how long I stay here for. He has my whole life.

And last night, as I sang "Adore You, I will ever stand before You, and worship You all of my days...", I found another answer to that question.

How long will I stay here for? I don't know, but a lifetime is too short to serve Him with.

At home

2011-12-16T16:58:00.001+09:00

I spent the whole of today moving out of one house into another, something which I've done a lot of in the past three months.

First I left my house in September and moved into a neighbouring unit, then two months later I packed up to go to Jakarta for a few days, from Jakarta I went to Singapore, from Singapore I went to Australia, and back to Singapore, after which I went to Kuala Lumpur and back again. Then I came back to Dili, slept for two days in another unit because we had visitors. All this while I was pretty much living out of my backpack. Then I moved back into my house next door for about two weeks - and today, I moved again. All this moving around made me think about Jesus who had no place to lay His head...

What makes a house a home? What does it take to feel "at home"?

Home alone

Silence is the door by which you enter,

Solitude, the place we meet,

Surrender, the posture in which I find you,

And these words, cords by which I cling to you.

I shall not grow tired...

2011-12-11T10:20:00.001+09:00

From a conversation last night:

Visitor: So what do you do for recreation?

*silence*

Me: I go to the beach now and then...

Visitor: But it's the same beach!

*silence*

Me: But it looks different everyday.

*silence*

In that one moment, in articulating that one answer, my heart was gripped by a wave of violent love for this place, and once again, the familiar words of GK Chesterton washed over me.

"...for grown-up people are not strong enough to exult in monotony. But perhaps God is strong enough to exult in monotony. It is possible that God says every morning, 'Do it again' to the sun, and every evening 'Do it again' to the moon. It may not be automatic necessity that makes all daisies alike; it may be that God makes every daisy separately, but has never got tired of making them...

The repetition in Nature may not be a mere recurrence, it may be a theatrical encore..."

Oh God, You who made the Heavens and the Earth, who made this sea that I run by, walk past, drive along, lie beside...

Some days the sea is turbulent, the waves rough and strong and wild, as though challenging me to a race. Yesterday I ran straight into an approaching storm, embraced by the violent wind, my vision blinded by the torrential rain and I felt Your strength, Your power, quite literally, threatening to blow me away.

Other mornings, You make the sea calm and You throw Your light upon the surface, and I watch the rays of light dance playfully across the water. Its beauty draws me so, while its brightness makes it hard to look at directly - much like You, whose immanent love lures me to come close while Your transcendent holiness keeps me in speechless fear.

No, I shall never grow tired of looking at the sea.

A drink

2011-12-03T16:29:00.001+09:00

I asked you for a drink

and you gave to me

a cup of tears you shed

for this broken world.

Inspired by life, and St Teresa of Avila in "The Way of Perfection"

Either we are brides of this great King or we are not. If we are, what honorable wife does not accept her share of any dishonor done to her spouse, even though she may resist doing so? It is ridiculous to want to share in the kingdom of our Spouse Jesus Christ and not be willing to have any part in his dishonors and trials."

Lost in Singapore

2011-11-17T15:46:00.001+09:00

I am lost

in the racks of clothes of every shape and size, colour and cut,

in the labyrinth of supermarket aisles stocked floor to ceiling with edible delights and drinkable pleasures,

in the showcases of gleaming gadgets, sexy and seductive.

Everything is on sale these days -

1 for 1, buy 2 get 1 free, while stocks last!

But no, I don't want anything, thank you very much.

Don't take it personally -

It's not you, it's me.

Fire

2011-11-09T11:04:00.002+09:00

This smouldering ember
smokes and sizzles, on and on -
makes it hard to breathe,
makes me choke and tear,
blocks the light,
dims my view of you.

From the distance
I see you strike a match
let it fall
and come to me
as a raging fire
hellbent to consume
all lesser fires.

Broken Glass: A short story

2011-10-18T09:34:00.001+09:00

One night, a drunk man tossed hisempty beer bottle at the beach. The green glass bottle broke into many smallpieces. Then the waves swept the broken glass into the sea…

Many years later, a little girlwas strolling along the beach with her father. The little girl looked down atthe wet sand, fascinated by the beautiful pebbles and seashells that the wavesswept in.

Then, something bright and shinycaught her attention. She picked up a tiny piece of green glass and fingeredits smooth edges. She held it against the morning light. As the rays of lightshone through the glass, it glowed from within. The little girl was transfixedby the beautiful sight.

“Look daddy, it’s so pretty!” thelittle girl exclaimed quietly, awed.

“Let’s pick up some more then,shall we?”

So they walked on, scanning thebeach for pieces of broken glass, stopping now and then to hold each piece upagainst the light.

When they got home, the littlegirl washed her precious collection of glass pieces and kept them in hertreasure chest. She fingered them lovingly, often wondering where they camefrom, and what stories each piece would tell, if only they could speak.

One morning, the girl was lyingbeneath the skylight window in her house. As she watched the light stream inthrough the window, she suddenly had an idea.

She took out her collection of broken glass, taped a fewpieces to a string carefully and held it up against the light. As the glasspieces twirled in the breeze, they caught the light at different angles andreflected the rays across the room. Inspired, the little girl started tapingmore glass pieces to strings of different lengths. Then she glued the stringsacross her skylight window, and watched them swayed gently in the breeze,gleaming as each piece caught the light. Moved by the beauty of what she hadcreated, the girl ran to tell her father.

“Look what I just made daddy! Isn’t it lovely?”

“It is…wow. It’s beautiful”, replied her father, who wassuddenly filled with love for his little girl as he looked at her, captivatedby her childlike beauty. They stood there in silence for a few moments, thegirl enraptured by her creation, and the father, by her.

A few days later, the little girl came home to find thatone of the glass pieces had fallen from the string and had broke into two. Shepicked it up and cut herself. The part that had broken off was sharp, unlikethe smooth edges all around that had been polished by the waves. She showed thebroken glass to her father. He bandaged her finger and threw away the brokenglass.

Many years passed. The little girl grew up and became abeautiful young woman. She left home to see the world. She looked for happinessin many places and people. At best, she found a fleeting shadow of what herheart was aching for. But most times, the people and places she loved broke herheart and left her feeling empty and used. Still, she did her best, oftenremembering the many lessons her father taught her during their long walks atthe beach…

One night, she dreamt of her father. He was alone at thebeach, bent over, as though he was searching for something in the sand. Shewatched from behind him. She called out to him, but he could not hear her. Sheshouted, louder. Still, he did not hear her. She watched helplessly as he got up slowly andwalked away into the distance.

When she woke up, she decided to go home and look for herfather.

It had been many years since she went home. Nervous, thewoman pushed open the door and walked in. Her aged father was sitting under theskylight window, his back to her. He turned, as though expecting her, andmotioned for her to come to him. She walked towards him quietly, fighting animpulse to cry, and sat down on the floor next to him.

Overhead, the glass pieces that the woman had made so manyyears ago were swaying gently in the breeze. Both father and daughter looked upin silence, watching the glass pieces glow in the light...

“Do you rememberthis?” the father asked, pointing upwards.

The woman nodded, overwhelmed by a rising surge ofemotions she could not understand.

“You were such a beautiful little girl. Look at you now,all grown up,” he said softly, putting his arm on her shoulder.

“Glass, though fragile, is indestructible. It’s been solong since you put this together, but each piece of glass is still the way itis when we first picked it up. Nothing has changed its essence, and nothingwill. These pieces of glass will endure to eternity.

There can be such strength and permanence in fragility.

You used to wonder where these broken pieces of glass camefrom. I never told you because I felt you were too young to understand. I’vealways thought they came from broken beer bottles that people toss carelesslyinto the sea. Then the tide sweeps them into the sea, and the waves polish offeach piece, finally washing them up at another beach hundreds of miles away.

What was once a piece of trash can become something sobeautiful.

Remember how one piece of glass fell off and cut you withits sharp edges?

Broken glass, though beautiful, needs its sharp edgessmoothed over by the loving caress of water over a long, long time. Beautyneeds polishing, or else it can cut others who come close.

And look how radiant each piece of glass is when itcatches the light. By itself, it is pretty to look at, but when the lightshines through, it glows and radiates with a beauty that is almostheartbreaking.

It is the light that shines from within that makes all thedifference.

And to catch the light, it’s got to stay still enough, andbe brave enough to let the light enter deep into itself, trusting that whatcomes out will be so indescribably beautiful, and bring such joy to others.”

The woman rested her head on her father’s lap and wept. Hestroked her hair gently. They sit there for a long time, silently, as theglowing glass pieces above dance in the gentle breeze.

Dreaming God's dreams

2011-09-24T10:42:00.000+09:00

Two nights ago, I had a dreamwhich made my heart explode with joy.

I was in an empty room that resembled the hall of my house,except it was much bigger. There were about ten people seated in two rows ofchairs facing one another. Bill Johnson (!!!) was present, leading what feltlike a workshop. He said, “Now lift up your hands and pray for the personopposite you.”

I did, and prayed in my heart,“He loves you.”

Immediately, the African-American(!!!) woman opposite me leaps from her chair, takes two steps with her walker –while I watch absolutely transfixed, holding my breath – and then she flingsthe walker high into the air as healing comes upon her!

I bolt from my seat, run to her,hug her and we start laughing and crying together in absolute joy. We skip allaround the room in ecstasy. I say, this time out loud, “He loves you!” Shelooks at me and says, “Yes, I was about to ask you what you prayed!”

On and on we skip and hop anddance across the hall with wild abandon. Then, in the last scene, in a close-upshot, with the light from the window illuminating my face, I look up and saywith all the conviction in my heart, “I break the curse of arthritis over yourfamily F-O-R-E-V-E-R.”

And I woke up, breathless, my heart bursting with exceeding joy...

The word I write

2011-09-19T16:56:00.000+09:00

My everything

2011-09-19T11:34:00.001+09:00

Hunger is a precursor to fullness,
despair a prelude to comfort,
confusion a harbinger of revelation,
and loneliness the fuel of intimacy -

that burns up all,
until there is nothing
so He can finally come
and be my everything.

When destiny hides

2011-09-10T23:07:00.000+09:00

When I think back on my trip to Singapore and what it meant, there is one moment in time that stands out sharply.

It was peak hours on Friday evening, I was exhausted after days of attending meetings and amending/translating our NGO Constitution. I was due to fly back to Dili the next day. And there was one final, important meeting, the very reason why I had gone back to Singapore - to collect the final draft of the Constitution from LK, signed by the two directors based in Singapore.

She was in Toa Payoh, heading to Woodlands, I was at City Hall, bound for Boon Lay. We had a very short window of time to catch each other. There were a few confusing and contradicting messages about where best to meet, because try as I did, I couldn't remember anymore which station was on which line. Finally though, I decided it made sense to meet inside City Hall MRT station, on the platform where she would catch a train from. Even then I had to pause and read the map to know which escalator to take to the right platform, feeling very much like a stranger in my own country...

We did meet finally, LK whipped out the Constitution, and signed on every page on the document, balancing it precariously on the ledge of some railing at the platform. There and then, as faceless, nameless people surrounded us from every direction, to the sound of train doors opening and closing, I suddenly was gripped with a realisation that history was being made, that this was a defining moment for us as a ministry, and for future generations of Timorese. This Constitution would be the blueprint of Cocoon, enshrining our vision, mission and objectives, and the principles by which we would operate. This was a seed that once sowed, would grow into the tree of the Kingdom that would provide refuge for many others. This was it, this moment would be the start of a new chapter in our history, in His story in and through us in Timor.

The document signed and handed over to me, we parted ways. I was thoroughly exhausted and very hungry. While on the train, I started texting different people in Singapore to say goodbye, as well as update the team in Timor on the latest developments - and was jolted out of my tiredness when I heard the train announce Pioneer station. I had missed my stop at Boon Lay. I stumbled off the train, not quite believing how careless I was.

That being my last evening in Singapore, I had some last minute shopping to do, and I literally dragged myself across the retail sprawl that is Jurong Point to get the absolute essentials. By the time I got home, I was absolutely knackered and starved.

While I ate dinner, I couldn't shake off a growing conviction that God's destiny for us is often hidden in the most mundane and even embarrassing of circumstances - like figuring out which train platform to go to, and forgetting to get off at the right station, which in my case was my home station! And yet, destiny and history were hidden right there in these seemingly random and disconnected events.

When we hear stories of God at work, we hear the dramatic plots, the interesting characters, the surprising climax and marvel at the adventures other people have. For many people, that is how they think about God's salvation story in the world. Hearing it recounted in 30 second summaries is one thing though, and living through it minute by minute, day by day, complete with the accidents of life in all of human weakness and folly is something wholly different.

When I have a most boring and mundane day, or when the whole day is like a comedy of errors, I think back to that moment when time stood still on that platform at City Hall bound for Woodlands on one side, and Joo Koon on the other, and remind myself that despite, in spite of all my boo-boos, He is writing His story, and I am living my destiny, in a subversive, secret sort of way.

Following Jesus

2011-08-27T16:56:00.001+09:00

I am back in Dili after a 4-day whirlwind visit to Singapore on some urgent work matters. It was only late on Monday night that my trip back was confirmed for the next day.

So on Tuesday morning I went to the travel agent to book my ticket. The agent was amused, and she asked if I usually made such last minute bookings!

In the hours leading up to my departure, I was very struck by what it meant to follow Jesus. I started writing this poem at the airport, and finished it in the skies.

Turbulence

Isn’t it funny that sometimes

following you means a

ruthless uprooting of lock, stock and barrel,

a severance of ties that bind,

a going-and-staying-away-for-God-only-knows-how-long?

But at other times,

it means getting up and going

at a moment’s notice,

with little more than the clothes on my back

and some poetry for comfort?

As I take to the skies again,

In a last-minute-high-speed-high-altitude pursuit of You

would you let Yourself be found?

They say turbulence is caused by air currents.

I say it's because You've heard my prayer.

If you ever come to visit

2011-08-17T18:09:00.006+09:00

July and August saw a flurry of visitors passing through. Some we knew well, others were friends of friends we had never met before.

No matter how many times I've been asked certain questions about our life and work here, I still find myself struggling to give a socially appropriate yet honest answer. One night recently, as I pondered why that is so, a poem was birthed. Some of the stanzas are below - in keeping with the spirit of the subject, it is not reproduced in its entirety!

Sharing life

Life, real life, my life
is so fluid,
it defies easy answers and convenient labels,
asks to be experienced, not defined.

Life, real life, my life
stirs up such intensely paradoxical emotions,
it pleads silently for empathy, not judgment.

Life, real life, my life
is woven so deeply in the fabric of time
that its secret design is only seen by those who
linger long, not merely pass through.

Life, real life, my life
is inseparable from the
thinking-feeling-dreaming-hurting-healing
of others, so holy,
it appeals to you not to probe carelessly,
but protect gently.

So if you ever come, and ask a question to which I struggle to answer, know that there is probably a good reason for my reticence, or perhaps even my silence.

Only one thing is needed...

2011-08-02T16:30:00.000+09:00

The drama that has unfolded in the past few days has simplified my life beautifully. Much of it happened last night.

I had just finished teaching, and was at D’s. For the past few days, she has been sick, so I have popped by to visit every few hours. Suddenly, F called.

“Sister, do you still have the car? Dr M says my sister must go to the hospital now.”

Fs’ sister has had a wound on her leg for a long time. It has got so bad that she can’t walk. Since F shared the news with us, we have been praying together for her healing. For reasons we couldn’t understand, she didn’t want to get medical help. Finally, she agreed to be seen by a doctor friend of ours, Dr M.

“No, I returned the car yesterday. But let me try to find a vehicle.”

I rushed out to look for our neighbour, who drives a taxi, and we went to F’s house in a hurry.

A crowd had gathered in the house. I could hear crying from a room. Dr M was hurriedly writing a report for the hospital.

“What’s wrong with her?”, I asked.

“Her blood glucose level is too high. She must go to the hospital immediately. Do you have a car?”

“No, but I got a taxi.”

“Ok, in that case, I’ll go with her and explain her condition to the doctor. This is taking too long to write out”, she said exasperatedly, waving the handwritten report she was working on.

We talked a little more about her condition. Then I saw M, one of our students, and F’s niece. I put my arm around her, and she burst into tears. I hugged her and made her sit next to me, comforting her. She was very scared – her father died a few years ago, and now, her mother appeared so sick. I held her close to me.

Then, a few people carried F’s sister out of the room. She groaned and cried. The next few minutes were chaotic. I wasn’t sure if we could fit her in the taxi, she was really quite big-sized, and the taxi driver was panicking too. He suggested calling an ambulance, but Dr M said that would take too long. Finally, they squeezed her in and drove off. F got ready to follow on a motorbike, with another niece. I put my hand on his shoulder and told him to ride safely, and be calm. He nodded. They set off, and I shouted, “Turn on your lights!”

Then I walked back to D’s and filled her in on what happened. We prayed together. I went home to eat dinner and shower, then went to D’s again, where I spent the night to look after her. I left the next morning to go to the library.

With LS away on leave, and D sick, I briefed our local teacher N on what to teach this morning. She studied the lesson plan I printed out for her, then I left quickly to photocopy her worksheets and gather the materials for her. By the time I returned, she had started the class. Elsewhere in the library, the boys were using the computer, with A supervising them. I settled down to do my work, checking on N every now and then, and finding her in complete control.

When the kids left, I gathered N & A and updated them on what happened the night before. We prayed together for F & D, then locked up for the morning and went for lunch.

After lunch, I prepared porridge for D and brought it to her place. While resting there, I realized that I wasn’t tired, but felt strangely rested. Life had become incredibly simple in spite of, and perhaps, precisely because of the turmoil of the past few days.

When I was at the library, my focus was to strongly support and encourage my local teachers to run with the tasks they were assigned. When I was at D’s, I cared for her needs as best as I could. That was the one thing that was needed then. And in the few moments I was at home alone, I would rest and worship in the dark, and then go over to D’s when I felt re-energised by God to serve her. At every place, only one thing was needed. It was as if the clutter of my usual hectic life had been stripped away by the various emergencies of the week, and replaced by a singular focus that was beautiful in its simplicity.

I have been reminded of the story of Mary and Martha, and how the former chose the one thing that was needed. I think I understand that story a little better now, after the seeming chaos of the past few days. Unexpected events have a way of clarifying our vision and reframing our priorities, if we give God room to direct us. By not focusing on needs per se, which often drive us to frantic action, but on His heart for people, things can become incredibly simple. During emergencies, we often can’t do very much at all, but in His grace, He shows us just one or two things we can do with love. And when we do those things, there really is peace that transcends understanding and rest that you wouldn’t associate normally with sleeping on the floor on a mat for two out of three consecutive days...

Losing track of time

2011-07-24T13:38:00.003+09:00

From mixing up the days of the week, and confusing my students, I've progressed to jumbling up the months, and confusing everyone, including myself. Once, I even dated a past event to the future...

Time: A random day in June.

D: When did we go for the ambassador dinner?

Me: July.

*silence*

Me again: Sorry. It can't be July. It's June now huh. I mean May.

When something like that happens, I comfort myself that God exists outside time, and perhaps I'm soaking up more of his divine attributes.

Still, when July comes round, I pull myself out of my state of time confusion and pay homage to the One who is outside time, but reveals Himself to us through time. And for me, much of it took place in July.

On 17 July 2000, I started day 1 of a 6-year bond. On 17 July 2007, I left Singapore for Timor. What lies between these two sentences? Like Luci Shaw wrote in a poem, "so much of life happens between the verses/of the psalms".

And what about the years between July 2007 to July 2011? That's hidden in the poem below. To Him who alone knows, and to myself, who in losing track of time, is grasping at eternity now.

I lose track of time.

The days go by in a blur of joy and tears

like a magical carousel

on which

little children,

big children,

overgrown children

spin

round and round and round

through past present and future

to the haunting echo of half-forgotten angels’ songs.

I lose track of time.

The weeks stretch on as one soft, smooth, silky ribbon

that, though fraying at the edges,

twirls and swirls,

floats and flits

through the air that I breathe in sighing

and out groaning.

I lose track of time.

The months run through the eye of the needle

like a thread pulled

in and out,

in and out

by an invisible hand

through a patchwork of odd shapes and clashing colours

when viewed up close, too close.

I lose track of time.

The years flow onward like a meandering river,

its strength hidden in a cool silence

its resolve, unseen like undercurrents

carving its way through the mountain

and casts it into the sea.

Choosing the one thing

2011-07-20T01:00:00.000+09:00

Anyone who wants to know how we live must have lunch with us at Maloa. It's a local-run eating place we frequent almost everyday. Yes, before another small eatery opened right next to the library, we had lunch everyday at the same shop.

Recently, we took some Singaporean friends there. I commented casually that we eat here all the time.

"Does the menu ever change?" one guy asked.

"Hm, not really. It's fried chicken everyday, sometimes, there's fish."

"Oh...", he said and shook his head. "If I eat at the same hawker centre for three months, I get so sick of it."

I thought about whether I was sick of the food here. I actually do really like it despite eating it almost everyday. But I couldn't think of any logical reason why that should be so, or how I could help a food-loving Singaporean understand that. So I just kept quiet.

The exchange reminded me of this passage from "Orthodoxy", which I have grown to love.

"Humility was largely meant as a restraint upon the arrogance and infinity of the appetite of man. He was always outstripping his mercies with his own newly invented needs. His very power of enjoyment destroyed half his joys. By asking for pleasure, he lost the chief pleasure; for the chief pleasure is surprise."

I have come to expect the same lunch day after day. Most days, it's fried chicken with vegetables and a traditional red bean stew.When there's fish, it's like a special treat. If I'm first to arrive at the shop and I see fish behind the counter, I happily announce that to LS and D as they come in behind me. That's when I realise, with amazing clarity, that happiness and enjoyment doesn't come from having many choices as our capitalist society preaches, but springs out of a contented heart that is easily surprised and awed.

Since our satellite dish stopped working more than a year ago (or has it been longer?), we only have access to one TV channel, and a local channel at that. We don't watch TV apart from local news in Tetum from 8pm, if at all. There are no commercials on this channel, or at least, nothing that vaguely resembles what most people would consider a commercial.

So when I happen to be at some place showing a foreign TV channel, and I catch glimpses of commercials, it's...surreal. Suddenly, everyone's telling me that there's something wrong with my face or body or hair or skin colour, and that I would be so much happier if I bought this or that. And so, a wave of long-distance, re-entry culture shock hits me, and a sentiment hard to express arises from the gut and comes out as a frown or a sigh. Save me from these things, and the illusion that more choices will make me happy.

Kierkegaard wrote, "Purity of heart is to will one thing." God is the one thing, the only thing there is to live for, in whom we can be truly happy. This prayer below is attributed to him.

Father in Heaven, what are we without you?
What is all that we know, vast accumulation though it be,
But a chipped fragment if we do not know you?
What is all our striving?
Could it ever encompass a world,
But a half-finished work
If we do not know you?
You, the One who is one thing and who is all.

So may you give
To the intellect, wisdom to comprehend that one thing
To the heart, sincerity to receive this and this only
To the will, purity that wills only one thing
In prosperity, may you grant perseverance to will one thing
Amid distraction, collectedness to will one thing
In suffering, patience to will one thing.

You that gives both the beginning and the completion
May you early, at the dawn of the day,
Give to the young the resolution to will one thing
As the day wanes, may you give to the old
A renewed remembrance of that first resolution
That the first may be like the last
And the last like the first
In possession of a life that has willed only one thing,
To know God.

Jesus, write me into Your story...

2011-06-26T23:21:00.007+09:00

A few days ago, I felt led to speak from John 3, on Nicodemus' encounter with Jesus during a team devotion in which some visitors from Singapore were present.

Nicodemus, a "ruler of the Jews" (v1) was so very intrigued by the person and works of Jesus. But he was afraid to seek out Jesus publicly, so he comes to Him under the cover of darkness. The stage is set for an encounter like no other - here is Nicodemus, a prominent religious leader himself, somewhat nervous but also excited, face to face with the enigmatic Jesus, whom he has heard so much about.

The exchange that follows is powerful divine revelation. Jesus exposes the secret to gaining entry into the Kingdom of God, that which every God-fearing Jew was waiting for, all his life. You must be born again, of the Spirit.

Not only that, Jesus goes on to disclose the secret of who He really is, and what He has come to do - He is God's only begotten Son, sent to the world to show the Father's love and forgiveness to everyone who would believe (v16). This is powerful, prophetic, divine self-disclosure. This is supernatural revelation, directly from the lips of Jesus. Nicodemus was getting a scoop like no other. This is breaking news, and Jesus is speaking on the record. This warrants interrupting normal programming for! This truth is going to radically transform the history of mankind, eternally.

But how did Nicodemus respond? He speaks only twice in the entire exchange, and the last sentence that is attributed to him is in verse 9: How can these things be?

Here is Nicodemus, face to face with Jesus, close enough to touch Him, to smell Him, hearing the Son of God reveal His divine identity from His own lips, being taught the secret to entering the Kingdom - and what happens? His natural mind stood in the way, stumbled him, confused him, and all he could utter was a lame, "How can these things be?

Scholars differ as to whether or not Nicodemus became a follower of Jesus. He does not appear again in the gospels, apart from a brief mention in John 19, where he shows up at the tomb of Jesus with spices to anoint the body. None of the apostles who wrote the New Testament mention him either. I personally think Nicodemus never followed Jesus.

And when I contemplate Nicodemus' life, I feel a tremendous wave of...what is it? Regret? Pity? He lived in a kairos moment like no other. The fullness of time had finally come. Jesus, the Son of God, had come in the flesh, after 400 years of dreadful silence between the old and the new testament. Not only that, Nicodemus had a personal encounter with Jesus. He had private access to the Saviour of the world and he heard spiritual truth that was to radically transform the history of mankind in his lifetime.

And all that Nicodemus could say, was "How can these things be?"

Things could have been very different. If he had somehow suspended his natural mind, and just believed, if he only fell at the feet of Jesus and confessed, "Help my unbelief!", he could have become a follower of Jesus. He could have been one of those who were sent out to preach the Kingdom, heal the sick and cast out demons. He could have lived with Jesus, walked with Him, listened to Him teach, watched Him calm the stormy seas one day, walk on water the next, multiply bread and fish not just once but twice, even raise Lazarus from the dead, all in a day's work.

Nicodemus could have personally experienced all of that. But he literally wrote himself out of the gospels, because his natural mind could not receive the things of the spirit (1 Cor 2:14) at the moment that he encountered Jesus. Nicodemus showed up again only after all the action was over. Jesus was dead. The kairos season for following Him in the flesh was over. It was too late.

I couldn't sleep the night after I shared this at devotion. I kept thinking to myself, "To come so close to Jesus, and then to miss your destiny...to write yourself out of God's story...what tragedy. What a waste of potential. All that is possible in God, snuffed out, by the natural mind."

That night, as these thoughts were racing through my mind, I was reminded of a song by Rich Mullins. I listened to it repeatedly - and found myself weeping.

Jesus

They said You walked upon the water once

When You lived as all men do

Please teach me how to walk the way You did

Cos I want to walk with You

Jesus

They said You taught a lame man how to dance

When he had never stood without a crutch

Well, here am I Lord, holding out my withered hands

I'm just waiting to be touched

Jesus

Write me into Your story

Whisper it to me

And let me know I'm Yours

Jesus

They said You spoke and calmed an angry wave

That was tossed across a stormy sea

Please teach me how to listen, how to obey

Cos there's a storm inside of me

Jesus

They drove the cold nails through Your tired hands

And rolled a stone to seal Your grave

Feels like the devil's rolled a stone onto my heart

Can You roll that stone away?

Every single time that Jesus comes close, and reveals spiritual truth to us, something hangs in the balance - our destiny. If we listen and process what He is saying with only our natural minds, we are confounded, we are baffled and sometimes we are even offended. A stone blocks our heart from embracing our destiny and greatness in God. We repeat the tragedy of Nicodemus in our own lives. We write ourselves out of God's story, that unique story that must be lived out in a kairos moment, which by definition, is a specific window of time that may come around only once, and perhaps never be repeated.

What spiritual truth is Jesus showing you, that has confounded you, even offended you?

Unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground, it remains alone...?

He who loves his life will lose it...?

A man's life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions...?

Sell what you have and give to the poor, then come, follow Me...?

May the tragedy of Nicodemus never be repeated in our lives. More than that, may we become a part of Jesus' story, from that kairos moment that is appointed for us from before the foundation of the world, to forevermore.

Inside the cocoon of pain and rest

2011-06-12T01:04:00.000+09:00

I often have trouble keeping track of time here, but this week has felt especially surreal. After hurting my back during a morning walk at the beach on Tuesday, my days merged into a painful blur. It is only now, as I reflect on the unusual events of the week that I have some clarity, and feel compelled to write and chronicle God at work in my cocoon of pain.

I had woken up early to go for a run, and my mom had got up at the same time. So instead of going out alone, I asked her out for a walk instead, together with our two puppies. At some point, I needed to jump across a small stretch of seawater. I carried the puppies and prepared to leap. In my mind’s eye, I envisioned a perfect bound – I would take off on my right leg, leap, and land on the other side on my left leg. Simple enough.

Except that at the moment of taking off, the wet sand beneath my foot gave way, my foot sank into the sea, my body weight shifted, and a searing pain shot down my back all the way down my right leg. I was in shock and could barely drag myself over the breakwater. I sat down, breathed deeply and tried raising my legs. Even just lifting them slightly above the ground was very painful. Yet I somehow managed to limp on with my mom, stop for breakfast at a café and then catch a cab home.

The pain got worse over the next two days. I couldn’t sit, couldn’t get up if I lay down, and at times, had trouble walking. Even going to the toilet and getting dressed was difficult. And on Wednesday, I came down with what felt like a cough and cold. Every sneeze and cough sent a wave of pain down my back.

Unable to walk much or stand for long, I couldn’t possibly teach. So I was at home all day. Most times, I was flat on my back, with an ice pack to numb the pain. I read a lot – Eugene Peterson, Luci Shaw, James Joyce, the bible. As my back got numb from the icing, I would doze off, wake up, grope for another book next to me, and read some more, then fall asleep again in the stillness of the afternoon.

Bedridden that I was, I didn’t have to worry about what time it was since I wasn’t about to go anywhere. I gave up checking the time, only glancing at the window to see how bright it was. When it got dark, I would get up and wait for the team to come back for dinner – a hot, delicious dinner prepared by Mummy.

And that was all I did for almost two full days. Get up. Limp. Sit. Wait for people to bring me food. Sleep. Read. Cringe. Eat. Feel sorry for myself. Get up. Change my ice pack. Limp. Lie down. Read. Sleep. Eat again. Sleep.

By Thursday morning, I was feeling very lousy. The cough was worse, and I realized I couldn’t quite walk, only waddle, with my feet apart. Dejected and feeling like a complete invalid, I shuffled into my room and decided to spend time with God, and pray for my team. I listened to a Bill Johnson podcast that Dawn gave me. It was titled, “Being an offering.”

In it, Bill Johnson shared about a life-changing encounter where God’s power came over him at 3 in the morning. He said he felt like electricity was surging through his body, and he lost control of his body from the neck down and could not stop shaking violently.

It was in that instant that God was asking him, without words, if he was still willing to be completely filled by God and used by Him, even if it meant losing control over his life and body.

When the podcast ended, I had a real desire to kneel and pray. In fact, I saw myself kneeling, right there in my room, on the mat that I was lying on. But I knew too that the pain would kill me. Just the motion of flipping over, then getting onto my knees, with my back arched sounded impossible in my state. Still, the picture didn’t go away, and the desire to kneel grew stronger. “Heck it. I’m going to kneel anyway.”

And in one clean motion, I turned over and knelt down, knees to my chest and forehead on the ground. There was no pain. In that instant, I knew God had just healed me. I prayed. It was one of those prayers in which you don’t remember what you were saying, but you know you prayed.

At some point in that state of shock and joy, as I was on my knees, I messaged Dawn to say that I had just been healed, and I was praying for her back injury too.

Then I stood up. I mean, I stood right up. No pain. I walked out of my room. There was some pain, but nothing compared to what it was just an hour ago.

The next few minutes were a happy blur.

I blabbered to my mom saying, "I think I'm ok now!”

I walked back to my room, knelt down again, and there was no pain. And I prayed some more.

I heard Dawn come back. I got up, again, there was no pain. I walked out. No pain.

I asked, “Did you get my message?”

“Ya, what happened?”

“I don’t know.” I walked away, wiping the tears away.

I don’t remember what else I said after that, except that I was pacing all over and said I was praying for her back pain too. She looked at me and said, “Ya what are you doing? I feel this heat on my back.”

I went straight back into my room to pray some more.

That was Thursday morning. It’s early Sunday morning now. Between then and now, apart from relatively pain-free walking and sitting, I’ve taught two classes and even managed a secret, happy hop in my room and a few paces of running. I hope to be jogging again very, very soon (but no leaping just yet!)

If I had to find a word to describe this whole experience, it would be…nourished. Before I was healed, despite the pain, I felt…strangely nourished by being so still and alone. There was nowhere to go, nothing to do, but rest, read, think, pray, sleep, eat. My inability to move physically somehow caused me to stop squirming and struggling in the spiritual too. It was as if God had closed in on me, and wrapped a cocoon of rest tightly around me.

Now that I am mobile again, I hope to remain in that place of stillness and rest, and walk and sit and read and write and teach out of being deeply nourished. Since the healing, I have had a strange impulse to cling on to God with all my limbs and not let go...

A tribute to Mummy

2011-06-07T15:44:00.002+09:00

My Mummy's here to visit finally, after I've been here for for four years. This poem is a tribute to her.

Mummy's cheekbones

Cheekbones.

They prop up the face,

give it depth, dimension, definition,

yet cannot quite be seen by the self in the mirror,

only by others,

especially at an angle that catches the light,

as though its shy beauty is not for the self

but for others to behold -
and that's only if you look closely enough.

They say I have your cheekbones.

Tired?

2011-06-02T22:31:00.000+09:00

I had an epiphany this afternoon.

It happened at a roundabout about 20 metres from the library, where traffic comes from different directions, as the children whom I was supposed to be escorting home were running wildly with absolute abandon, oblivious to any danger, and all I could do was sigh and hold one child's hand, while contemplating how much I suck at being a traffic warden.

And then a wave of incredible tiredness hit me.

I thought, "But I hardly did anything".

And God said, "It's not how much you do, it's how much you give of yourself." I was stunned. So many things were suddenly illuminated by the light of that one statement. I began to understand why certain things would make me tired so quickly. Like acting out object lessons in class or church. Having a heart to heart talk with someone. Visiting my pastor.

What do these things have in common? They are not things that I do well in the natural. I don't have a single theatrical cell in my 172cm frame. But sometimes, I simply feel compelled to act out a spiritual truth on what sin looks like to God, or demonstrate what terrible body language looks like when I teach my students basic public speaking principles. I tell myself over and over again, it is for them, so they can learn and understand, none of this is about me. And so I push back my natural introversion, act, and feel oh so very tired at the end of it, because while I have not done much, I have given of myself.

Self disclosure is something else that I run away from in the natural. It takes a lot of discipline and a good dose of courage for me to articulate my most private thoughts and experiences in words coherently for God's glory, the edification of the other, and the deepening of a relationship. And so when I sense the Holy Spirit brooding over me like humidity, literally making it hard to breathe - I speak up, I speak out from the heart, I remember what my literature tutor taught me once, to finish properly every sentence that I begin, I fight the temptation to censor myself, and when I finish speaking, I am tired, because while I have not done much, I have given of myself.

And on those precious free mornings when I don't have to be at the library, when I can finally indulge in my introversion, He sometimes drops in my heart a desire to visit my pastor, and I sigh inwardly, precisely because I understand deep down how much those who care for others need to be cared for themselves. I put it off, I rationalise, I justify, but when I do go, and by God's grace, am present and patient, I feel tired quickly, because while I have not done much, I have given of myself.

I am strangely comforted by what God said so unexpectedly, while my failure at being a traffic warden for the children was unfolding before my eyes. Somehow I feel less guilty that I am tired so quickly, and so often. If that is because I am giving of myself, then I suppose it is alright...

Is it still Monday?

2011-05-23T21:39:00.003+09:00

One of the most common question visitors from Singapore ask is, "So what's a typical day like here?". Despite having been asked this question countless times, I am still at a loss for words each time. Quite honestly, I don't know how to describe what I do everyday. I don't think I do very much, but many things happen. Take today, Monday, 23rd May for example.

The morning started with staff devotion in the library. We are studying the book of Mark, and this morning, I shared from 7:24-30, the story of the Syro-Phonician woman who moved Jesus to heal her demon-possessed daughter. I cross-referenced the story with the parable of the persistent widow in Luke 18 to encourage our two local workers to persist in praying. Then we shared about our challenges in our lives, and started praying for one another.

At some point, Antonio, one of the boys we disciple, walked in. His relationship with God has been unsteady lately. We talked a little, and he confessed that he has started smoking and drinking again, out of stress. I asked what was making him stressed and he shared about some family problems. We prayed together.

Before long, he started manifesting again. It was not unfamiliar to us; we had spent many hours ministering to him last year. This time, we commanded the evil spirit to leave quietly and not to hurt him. (Suffice to say that the previous sessions had been rather dramatic, with flying furniture and kungfu moves). After a few minutes, he sobered up. The team carried on with their work while I continued to counsel him privately.

While we were talking, Dawn and my other co-workers went out in search of furniture for the little ones. They returned in a short while and said the shops were closed. We wondered if we should head to town to try our luck. By then it was 11:30am, and all the shops would close for lunch by noontime. We decided to leave the shopping to another day. Then we went to lunch together. I had meant to do some urgent writing in the morning after devotion, but no "work" got done, instead, we spent all morning praying, first for one another, and then for Antonio. As we locked up, I told Dawn, "What a day!", to which she replied in jest, "You mean, what a morning...!"

After lunch, we headed home. We fed the puppies, then Dawn and I talked about Antonio, and other personal stuff. It was nice to share a quiet moment together, just chatting and relaxing. She left to go home at about 1pm. I headed to the kitchen to start on dinner - yes, since we teach on most evenings, preparation for dinner starts after lunch! After that, I took a power nap, woke up, showered and had a cup of coffee.

As I left home to go to the library again at 2pm, we stopped to remind the kids that their class would start at 3:30pm. By the time we got to the library, about 10 kids were already waiting for us at the main gate. I slipped in through the back door, hoping to get started on my urgent writing assignment, while Dawn prepared for her lesson.

I had written maybe one paragraph before a blackout happened. So much for my plan to get some writing done before the kids class. I gave up working on my computer and hung out with the kids instead. We had a quick briefing at about 3pm on the lesson.

After the meeting, I walked back home to gather the children living along our street for class. But they weren't able to attend class for different reasons, so I walked back to the library alone.

The class got underway and I helped to facilitate the teaching. But before long, another missionary based in the districts walked in, and I had to serve her. She needed some editing done on a certificate template, so I left the kids and helped her. By the time we were done, the class was almost over. I sat back down with some of them and conducted a game.

When class was dismissed, I stood by the street and helped some of the little ones cross the road as usual. Then I helped another little girl look for her one missing slipper, another common occurrence. We looked in all the usual places - behind the library, the gate, in the bushes. Nothing. Then someone pulled out one slipper from the trashcan. Sigh. Some kid must have played a prank on her. It wasn't the same, but hey, it fitted. Then I walked her home together with an older student.

When I returned, we had a quick debriefing on the lesson. It was almost 5pm by then. I was hungry and crossed the street to get some biscuits. Dawn started setting up the computers for her youth class while I got a listening exercise ready for her other students. I taught for about an hour and dismissed them. Before I left, Dawn asked me, "Is it still Monday?", a private joke we share when we have an incredibly eventful day.

It occurred to me that I hadn't bought vegetables yet, so I took one puppy, Mercy for a walk to the market. She followed well, staying focused despite the many distractions and dangers, but I picked her up and carried her when the traffic got too heavy. By the time we got back home, it was 6:30pm. Dawn would be back any moment, and I cooked hurriedly.

She came back and started working on the computer. I served dinner and started cleaning up. When I walked out again, I saw that the two puppies had managed to reach a dish and spilled some of it. They got a beating, and I mopped up the mess. After the drama, we finally settled down to have dinner. Over the meal, we talked about our day and what to do if more children wanted to join the course. Then Dawn did the dishes, while I took out the trash.

So now it's just past 9pm and instead of doing the 101 things that I didn't get to do today, like writing, sending my newsletters, revising my lesson plans, filing my worksheets, preparing for my sermon on Sunday, I'm here blogging about my day and listening to jazz to unwind, to answer the million-dollar question about what I do everyday.

Does any of this sound like proper work to those of you at home, I wonder. If you say no, I might actually agree. Nothing that happened today feels like work. It simply feels like...life, real life....

Now and then, I have flashbacks of my "previous life", when I worked as a news producer. I was on the night shift almost all the time, and my day would end with a taxi ride home often after midnight. After squinting at the computer and monitoring countless TV screens all night, I would be grateful for the 20 minutes of darkness and silence, as the taxi raced down PIE. And there, slumped in the backseat, I would ask myself, "Did I live an abundant life today? The abundant life that Jesus came to give me?"

Often enough, I felt that I hadn't, especially on days where despite my very best efforts, my shows turned out disastrous. Why was it that all the effort and creative energy I poured into my shows didn't guarantee a good production, and secondly, why wasn't there a sense of satisfaction that was proportionate to how hard I worked? These questions eventually became stepping stones that paved the way to Timor.

Not everything has changed. At the end of each day, I often feel poured out and spent like I did in the past. And when my chores for the day have finally ended, I am just as grateful when I can lie down quietly in my room in the dark. I also still ask myself if I have lived an abundant life at the end of each day. While there are some very difficult days and nights, my answer to that question is often a "Yes." And so, day by day, I live out this abundant life that consists of teaching and praying, cooking and washing, spanking puppies and taking out the trash - and of course, looking for missing slippers.

It's all good

2011-05-03T21:59:00.000+09:00

The more emotionally unsettled I feel, the further back in time I go in my bible reading. Driven by a deep restlessness within that refuses to be calmed by my willpower alone, I seek refuge in the stories in Genesis…stories that speak of how things began, of God’s intentions in a world unmarred by sin, of His dealings with men and women who experienced Him personally and directly, unmediated by the priesthood and even before the Word was written down.

So one afternoon, I opened the bible at Genesis 1 and started reading. My mind and heart felt like it was formless and void, and I longed to feel the Spirit breathe order into my thoughts and emotions.

As I read Genesis 1 and 2, I began to take note of the sequence with which God created all things. First, He created light and separated it from the darkness. “So the evening and the morning were the first day.” (1:5) Time came into being.

Then, God separated the heavens from the waters, and the seas from the land. Thus, space was created. (1:7-10).

It struck me that first, God created time and space, the very things that define our finiteness and creaturehood. We live in time. We cannot change our past and know our future. We live life in the present, in 24-hour segments.

And we live in space. I can only be in one place at one time. In choosing to be at any one place, I cannot be anywhere else.

“And God saw that it was good (v10)”

Time is good. Space is good. God said so. First, He created the boundaries that would define our finiteness. Only after that did He create living things to multiply and reproduce within those boundaries. Every living creature was to experience its existence within the limits of time and space. God declared all this good.

I long for the grace to truly see and experience that the constraints of time and space are good, really good. The boundaries of our existence were put there by God, before sin came into the world. God said it was good. When I experience time and space as limitations, as obstacles, as an infringement, I am the one who has judged wrongly. My perspective is warped, and I need help to see rightly.

When God created man, something else was put in place. “The Lord God planted a garden eastward in Eden, and there He put the man whom He had formed” (Gen 2:8).

Something hit me as I read the above: God did not create man and then let him wander freely amongst the other creatures. He made a garden and placed man within this specially created space. Just for man, God created boundaries within boundaries. This was intentional space, the place marked out by God carefully. This was sacred space, the place where God Himself would be found. This was intimate space, where God would come and meet with man everyday.

There and then, in the heat of another stuffy Timorese afternoon as I sat in the library, something hit me with force. Timor is the garden that God has specially created for me. Here are my boundaries within boundaries. Here is where God will be found. Here is where God will meet me. Here is where I will dwell in peace.

I have to learn, and re-learn this lesson ever so often. Like the words of a hymn, my heart is "prone to wander...prone to leave the Lord I love". Instead of staying within my garden, my gaze wanders beyond the secure boundaries He's placed me in, and I start wishing to be somewhere else, doing something else, with someone else....

One of the most tragic legacy of eating the fruit of the tree of knowledge of good and evil is that fallen man pronounces judgment on what is good and evil apart from God. We exalt our judgment above His. Good is now spoken of as evil, and evil treated as good. We see this everywhere we look. Some of its manifestations are obvious and reocognizable, like when purity and chastity are mocked, and promiscuity is considered “freedom”.

I believe that all of us are plagued by the same disorder deep down, this inability to judge rightly, as God does. Perhaps our entire Christian life is a pilgrimage back to the garden, the special place where we walk so closely with God, and truly believe that what He says is good, is really good.

At Your Word, I will obey

2011-03-25T23:28:00.000+09:00

There are times when I hesitate to write or talk about the things that most inspire me because I feel as though my words simply cannot do justice to its profundity and beauty. Reading Eugene Peterson's book "Subversive Spirituality" has had such an effect on me. Try as I have, I have found it almost impossible to summarise his main ideas, or say what the book is about. Still, I shall try.

To put it simply, Peterson is in love with the Word, in whom the fullness of God is revealed to us. He is also in love with words, by which we can commune with one another, and with the Word. This is how he describes the mystery of words and as I read it late one night recently, a hushed silence fell upon me, ushering me into holy ground.

“Anyone of us, waking up in the morning and finding ourselves included in that part of the creation called human, sooner or later finds ourselves dealing with language, with words. We are the only creatures in this incredible, vast creation doing this. Language is unique to us human beings. Turnips complete a fairly complex and useful life cycle without the use of words. Roses grace the world with an extraordinary beauty and fragrance without uttering a word. Dogs satisfy tens of thousands of us with faithful and delightful companionship without a word. Birds sing a most exquisite music to our ears, lifting our spirits, giving us happiness, all without the capability of words. It is quite impressive really, what goes on around us without words: ocean tides, mountain heights, stormy weather, turning constellations, genetic codes, bird migrations – most, in fact, of what we see and hear around us, a great deal of it incredibly complex, but without language, wordless. We are the only ones in this stunning kaleidoscopic array of geology and biology and astronomy to use words…

When a person becomes a Christian, interest in language doubles because not only do we use words, but we find that God uses words as well. The one who reveals God to us is named Word. This human nature of ours with its mysterious and unique capacity for language is paralleled in the nature of God. God speaks…In the complete revelation of God, the Word became flesh. We who are already flesh become words, speak words, and as we do, we become human.”

Even as I type this, I find myself swept away by the measure of God’s love and the extent of His self-limitation. He graced us with language capacity, and then chose to communicate His infinite divine nature to us through words that our little minds can understand.

Still, despite our shared language capacity, God’s Word is of a fundamentally different nature from ours, and He speaks for purposes that are beyond what our minds can comprehend.

“When God speaks it is not in order to give us information on the economy so that we will know how to do our financial planning. When God speaks it is not as a fortune teller, looking into our personal future and satisfying curiosity regarding our romantic prospects or the best horse to bet on .No, when God speaks it is not in explanation of all the things that we have not been able to find answers to from our parents or in books or from reading tea leaves. God’s Word is not, in essence, information or gossip or explanation. God’s Word makes things happen – He makes something happen in us. The imperative is a primary verb form in Holy Scripture: “Let there be light…Go…Come…Repent…Believe…Be still…Be healed…Get up…Ask…Love…Pray”

And the intended consequence of the imperative is obedience. I love the Psalm phrase, “I will run in the way of thy commandments, when thou givest me understanding” (Ps 119:32). Yes, run.”

I read this in my room but in my mind’s eye, I was transported to the library. There are times when I sit quietly in the library, gaze at the children and youth who stream in, read the charts that line the wall, scan the shelves of books and touch the wooden furniture, and think to myself, “Look what God has created in this place, this building that was once completely bare and empty and lifeless. Now people walk in, linger, sit around, talk and laugh, strum the guitar, read, learn and grow together.”

Or sometimes, I sit in the garden to escape the heat during a blackout, and as I gaze at the plants, the walkway, I remember how all this was a pile of rubble, and I can still see our four local friends hard at work, mixing cement, laying blocks, digging holes, planting flowers. I still remember the bizarre shopping trip with a student who volunteered to help build the garden, how he had to buy a crowbar, but I didn’t know its Tetum name, and couldn’t decipher the charade that followed. I gave up trying to understand what he needed and just followed him from shop to shop, leaving him to talk to the shop assistants. When the elusive crowbar finally emerged from the warehouse, I was relieved but honestly bewildered as to what it would be used for. (For the record, a crowbar is called "ai-suak" in Tetum, and it is a most useful tool for digging.)

It also didn’t seem that long ago that we first bought the two bougainvillea shrubs from a nearby flower market, which two of our students helped to carry back to the library. I remember walking back with them, noticing how the bigger and stronger boy had cheekily carried the smaller shrub, while the other scrawny boy was left to carry the heavier one. Now, the shrubs have grown so big they overhang the surrounding wall, and the big and tall boy is now a follower of Jesus and a constant blessing to me.

Once, there was nothing. Now, there are flowers, chairs, shelves, books, big people, small people, laughter, music, community. All of this has come about because at some point, God spoke to us to come and God gave us the grace to obey. The combination unleashed His creative energy and something new was created. Something came into being, and it will keep on growing, it cannot help but keep growing, because His Word has power, is power, and it will keep on creating and birthing a new thing. His Word is dynamite, our obedience is a spark, and the result is an explosion of creative divine energy that is so beautiful, we cannot imagine it, we cannot describe it.

What an absolute shame it is, what a travesty it is, when we think of obeying God as something dreadful, frightening and painful. What a lie that it. If we could only see the beauty and power that is unleashed when we obey God’s creative Word. Obedience would become exciting, we would fall over ourselves to obey, like someone scrambling for front row seats to watch a dazzling fireworks display so beautiful that once again, you feel your words simply can’t capture its awesome splendor.

Come closer

2011-03-04T20:19:00.001+09:00

I often feel that more is being said about life and God in my silence here, than all my feeble words put together. Often, just living life – real life – takes so much out of me that I cannot maintain a virtual presence here.

This has been a season filled with paradoxes. In the midst of intense loneliness, I am learning about intimacy. As the duties of a leader and preacher thrust me into the occasional spotlight outwardly, I yearn inwardly to become small and hidden.

Living in the midst of these paradoxes, I have found comfort in the psalms. As I meditate on them, and memorise them, they have echoed in my heart, sometimes so loudly, that I cannot sleep.

“How precious also are Your thoughts to me, O God…how precious also are Your thoughts to me…Your thoughts…Your thoughts…”

How close must you get to someone, to say that you know their thoughts? It is possible to observe someone’s deeds from a distance, or you could simply hear about them through someone else. Of a good friend we might say, “That’s not something he would do”, but of how many people can we say confidently, “I know exactly what he thinks about this”?

Can we say that we have come so close to God, and know Him so well, that we know His thoughts?

“Search me, O God, and know my heart;

Try me and know my anxieties…know my anxieties…know my anxieties…”

To whom do you share your most private worries and anxieties with? In fact, is there anyone at all? We would gladly show off our strengths and talents to the whole world, and again, it doesn’t take very much to know someone’s strengths. In fact, just reading someone’s bio-data would do, you don’t even need to know this person.

But only someone we love and trust very much is allowed access to our deepest and most private fears and anxieties.

When all we allow God to know about ourselves are our strengths, all the time hiding our shame and fears, what does that say about the state of our relationship with Him?

Will we trust God enough and rest so securely in His love and acceptance, that we can allow Him to come so very close, and know our anxieties?

I pray that His Word will echo in your heart so loudly that like me, you will have many sleepless nights.

Until You bless me...

2010-12-29T23:11:00.000+09:00

The story of Jacob wrestling with God, and prevailing to secure His blessing has been on my mind, as I look back on what has been a most difficult year. It is a familiar story, but in locating the incident in the larger context of Jacob’s life, I have learnt much and been comforted in the process.

Jacob is on the run, facing the prospect of losing his wives, children and livestock, as he braces for a dreaded meeting with Esau his brother. After having cheated Esau of his father’s blessing, the two brothers have become enemies. Now, Jacob gets news that Esau is coming to meet him, with four hundred men. It is the moment of reckoning; Jacob’s shady past has finally caught up with him. “So Jacob was greatly afraid and distressed…” (Genesis 32:7) He divides his massive entourage of servants and livestock into two companies, so that if one is attacked, the other might have a chance to escape.

After sending away the two companies, Jacob gathers his wives, servants and children to him, crossing over the ford of Jabbok (v 22). With a heavy heart, he sends them ahead of him, probably prepared to see them no more. I cannot quite imagine how grieved and burdened Jacob must be, as he contemplated the prospect of losing everything that he had earned after 20 years of hard labour with Laban.

“Then Jacob was left alone; and a Man wrestled with him until the breaking of day.” (v 24)

In the silence of the night, utterly alone, consumed with fear and dread, facing the prospect of losing everything that he has, God comes to him – not in gentleness and comfort, but with violence.

Jacob struggles with great intensity, and not just briefly. He persists, until daybreak, and prevails. I marvel at how much strength and force he displayed and think to myself – this amazing strength and perseverance is the mark of a man who is about to lose everything and possibly his own life, and he is now so utterly desperate and hungry for a blessing that he overpowers even the Angel of God.

Would Jacob have shown such strength and persistence if he wasn’t in such dire straits? Would he have prevailed if his life wasn’t falling apart? Would he have been so hungry for the blessing if life was more peaceful and secure?

We will never know, but I am led to say no. Desperate people do desperate things, and perhaps, just perhaps, God sometimes allows us to fall into utterly desperate circumstances so that our hearts would finally be truly hungry for His blessing.

Jacob emerges from this dramatic encounter forever changed. His name has changed. His destiny has changed. And his gait has changed. From now on, he would walk with a limp, a physical reminder of the night that he wrestled with God and prevailed. And it is with a limp that he walks towards the brother whom he cheated so many years ago, whom he meets with fear and trembling. To say that this is an inconvenient time to limp is an understatement. But that is how it is.

I take away two truths from this observation. One, that every real encounter with God changes us forever, one way or another. Sometimes the change is visible, sometimes not, but when we are hungry enough and finally take God seriously, He comes, claims us as His own, branding us forever in the process. Our lives, our loyalties and affections have changed forever.

Secondly, the blessing of God does not necessarily lift us above our vulnerabilities though we often think and wish this was so. For Jacob, the opposite happened. He was even more vulnerable after the blessing of God. His encounter with God left him injured and weak at a moment when his life was at stake, as he met Esau.

These reflections have silenced my many questions about why 2010 has been such a difficult one. Maybe like Jacob, things had to hit rock bottom for me, before I would finally be hungry enough to really seek Him, and Him alone, with all my strength. Maybe all that drained me emotionally had to take place, so that my heart would finally hear the echo of its own deceitfulness, and begin to truly thirst for His purifying touch. Maybe all my thwarted plans and good intentions had to be nullified by people and circumstances, so that I would finally come to the end of my natural wisdom, of which I am sad to say, has been in abundant supply until very recently.

In the natural, I wish for 2011 to be radically different from 2010. Humanely speaking, I cannot wait to close the chapter on a year that has tested me, and found me wanting in so many ways. But in God, I know what I wish for may not be what is best for me. Like Jacob, perhaps I must walk into the new year with a limp, in a state of vulnerability, into yet more challenges, clinging on to the hope that His grace will truly be sufficient, and His power seen through my weaknesses.

Unless you become like little children...

2010-12-21T11:14:00.003+09:00

Over the past few months, we have been working intensively with children, something way outside my comfort zone! The children are often so enthusiastic about hanging out at the library that they show up way before opening hours to wait for us. And sometimes, they even come to our home to ask exactly when we would go to the library!

Often, our children are happy just to be around us, and to help with whatever we’re doing. They follow us around the library, or peep over our shoulders as we work, never quite allowing us to get some private space. All in all, it’s a happy problem!

As I spend time with them, the Father has been speaking to me about my relationship to Him.

Looking back, my way of honouring my parents then (and perhaps even now) was to be strong, mature and self-sufficient, so that they wouldn’t have to worry for me. And in some ways, I relate to my heavenly Father in a similar fashion. I try to honour Him by serving wholeheartedly, by persevering, by staying focused, by making sacrifices. While all those things are good, I sense that the Father is leading me to love Him in a new way, one in which the children are modeling for me.

I’m learning that the Father doesn’t want me to just be that mature, responsible kid who’s always trying to be strong, but He wants me to adore Him and be proud of His strength and wisdom and power, the same way a young child looks up to his father. I sense that in this new season, the Father wants me to simply enjoy His presence, and be fully assured that just because He is around, all things will work out.

And that’s what I’m learning to do now – simply go through the day remembering that my Father who is loving, strong and wise is always with me, and to look to Him to take care of everything for me.

Also, as I interact with the many children who have been coming for our programmes, I’ve observed that they ask boldly and persistently for what they need – sometimes so aggressively that we have to discipline them and teach them to wait or share. Watching them has brought back memories of my own childhood.

I was an exceptionally mature child – perhaps more than was healthy for a young kid. Growing up, finances were tight at home, a fact I was very conscious of. Seeing how hard my parents worked to earn and save money, I didn’t want to add to their financial burden. When I was about 6 or 7, I wanted a skipping rope badly. I obviously didn’t have money of my own at that point, but I decided not to ask my parents for money, and kept quiet about it. There were many other things that I went without, simply because I didn’t want to ask my parents for money. Now, I often look back and wonder why I deprived myself of many worthy experiences, simply because I didn’t want to ask my parents.

Now, watching our children has reminded me of a central principle of the Kingdom of Heaven, one that I didn’t grow up practicing, which I now must learn in adulthood – the importance of asking for what we want.

So writes Laurie Beth Jones in “Teach Your Team to Fish”.

“The word ask and its derivatives appear more than three hundred times in scriptures. It was a primary, fundamental teaching of Jesus: ‘Ask, and ye shall receive.’ ‘Whatsoever you ask in My name, shall be given to you.’ ‘Would you ask your father for a fish and receive a stone?’”

Dallas Willard put it this way in “The Divine Conspiracy”:

“We teach our children to say ‘please’ and ‘thank you.’ This is understood to be a matter of respect, and rightly so. But it is also a way of getting what we want or need. It is a way of getting that requires us to go through the freedom of the person asked, however. In the very act of asking, in the very nature of the request, we acknowledge that the other person can say no, and, “innocent as doves,” we accept that response.”

Asking is a kingdom principle. It is the means through which God provides for us. We are to ask for what we want and need boldly and confidently, and at the same time, rely on others humbly to grant us our request – not go through life expecting others to simply know what we need, or to demand it as a matter of right.

Building the future today

2010-10-31T17:04:00.009+09:00

How long does it take to lose a generation? Ten years? Twelve?

Nowadays, I would say, just three.

Three years is long enough for a cheeky 9-year old boy to become a restless 12-year old. It’s long enough for a physically mature 11-year old girl to become a teenage mother at 14.

When we first started teaching in our neighbourhood in November 2007, we didn’t have the manpower to start special classes for the children who came, especially the weaker ones who needed so much more attention. A handful of the more mischievous boys did attend the initial classes, but soon lost interest and dropped out.

Now, three years on, many of these boys have hit puberty and sadly, some of them look set to join the ranks of unemployed young men who roam the streets aimlessly. Unless there is radical intervention, these young boys will likely be left behind, without the skills or character to contribute to their nation.

Seeing them walk around the neighbourhood aimlessly makes me sad that we weren’t able to reach out to them effectively in our early days – which is why we are stepping up our children’s programme intensively, now that the team has grown from 2 to 4.

One new initiative we are trying out is the creation of a games room. Hoping to attract more children who are not currently attending our classes, we have converted a room in the library where children can come and play games. As part of the character building process, the children have to abide by different rules. Watching the children play happily gives me the hope that perhaps, these ones will grow up under loving adult supervision, and be guided along a path of righteousness.

Filling it up

2010-10-21T21:39:00.007+09:00

“I now rejoice in my sufferings for you, and fill up in my flesh what is lacking in the afflictions of Christ, for the sake of His body, which is the church, of which I became a minister according to the stewardship from God which was given to me for you, to fulfill the word of God…” [Col 1:24-25]

A few evenings ago, I met up with another missionary, B, who has been here for almost a decade. I got to know her in 2003, during my first trip to Timor. Apart from the occasional trip home and to Singapore to attend different events, she and her husband have never left their ministry here.

I went to her house to pass her some teaching materials, and stayed to catch up. B filled me in on all her latest projects and travel plans. I couldn’t help noticing the graying roots of her hair, and how much she has aged in the last few years. Still, she was full of excitement about the road ahead for the ministry. Before leaving, I asked to pray together with her. Halfway through my prayer, I broke down and couldn’t stop crying. So did she.

I felt an intense burden for her from deep within that could only be expressed in uncontrollable sobs. The grief came over me like waves. On and on, I sobbed. I felt like I was experiencing the weight of all her sacrifices over the past decade of ministry in a dry and weary land - the emotional heartaches, the surrendered hopes and dreams, the attacks on her health, and so much more that words perhaps cannot describe. When I could finally control myself, I told her in Tetum, which has strangely enough, become my heart language of prayer – God sees all your sacrifices. They are precious to Him. One day, it will all be worth it.

Paul’s words in Colossians 1:24-25 have been resounding in my heart for a while now. As John Piper so accurately puts it, Paul does not mean that his sufferings can add anything to the work of Christ, which is complete. But those afflictions of Christ have yet to become real to the multitudes of people whom He wants to save. Through Paul’s sufferings, he, as it were, “delivers” the afflictions of Christ to the Gentiles, such that they can taste and see the Lord’s saving grace, come to know the truth and call upon His name. Paul’s joyful suffering makes the work of Christ real to them.

Suffering in this way is purposeful – it leads some to salvation, and others deeper into the heart of God. Our suffering can reflect certain facets of God’s character that may not yet be understood or trusted by others. How will the world come to know God’s grace for example, if I do not joyfully endure the pain of being taken advantage of, all the time extending forgiveness to the one who has hurt me? Or how will people know that God never walks out on His children, if I do not labour on patiently, courageously and tenaciously, even in times of dryness or danger? For others to know these truths about God, I must be willing to suffer, and to do so joyfully.

Have the afflictions of Christ become real to you? Will you make them real for others?

Living the truth

2010-10-15T21:43:00.003+09:00

When I gaze at the empty page of my journal, just before I put pen to paper, I sometimes marvel that what I won’t record is infinitely more poignant than anything that I can write. The same is true when I attempt to record my thoughts here, especially after a long lapse. It is hard to accurately talk about things in progress, without undermining the sense of magic and mystery that is so much a part of the journey.

In the past month or so, we have been busy with team building, and ministry to our young disciples, with whom we are studying the book of Acts. Some ministry sessions have literally come out of the pages of Acts, in particular, the stories of chapter 19.

As we grew closer to the young men we disciple, they confided in us that they had joined a gang in the past, one which supposedly taught its members to pray to “God” for all kinds of supernatural powers, including extraordinary strength to fight or even to attract girls. What was clear was that the name of God was invoked to practice darkness, giving evil a cloak of spirituality.

We led the boys to renounce their past, and burn the objects of gang membership. The gang had also made them copy certain prayers which would bestow strength and power upon them in times of need. Those too were thrown into the bonfire.

Having come face to face with counterfeit spirituality and the fruit of deception, I have reflected deeply on our call to walk in the light, and model true spirituality. Against this backdrop, I feel like I am reading the bible for the first time ever.

In particular, 2 Corinthians and the book of 1 John have gripped my heart.

“This is the message we heard from Jesus and now declare to you: God is light, and there is no darkness in him at all.” [1 John 1:5]

Confronted as they are with so much vain religiosity, false piety and cunning deception, how do young believers discern between real and fake spirituality, if our lives do not model true love for God and real goodness? The call is clear: We are to teach and model the truth, against which the boys can discern the counterfeits – of which there are very many!

Thus, when I read Paul’s passionate defence of his authority in Christ to his sometimes divided and confused flock, I understand better why he subjected himself to such a high moral standard of being and doing.

“We can say with confidence and a clear conscience that we have lived with a God-given holiness and sincerity in all our dealings.” [2 Cor 1:12b]

“We reject all shameful deeds and underhanded methods. We don’t try to trick anyone or distort the word of God.” [2 Cor 4:2]

These reflections have reminded me of an interesting point that was made by my missions professor. He reminded us that two-thirds of the New Testament was written by Paul, the greatest frontier missionary ever. And they were written while he was on the field, working through unprecedented challenges as the gospel took root in non-Jewish soil. The New Testament was born out of frontier missions. Paul’s deep theological reflections did not come out of an abstract, academic exercise in the ivory tower, but they were birthed in the midst of persecution, shipwrecks, imprisonment, while taking the gospel to new lands.

Such was the context for the New Testament. Hence, when we read the New Testament as passive observers and not active co-workers of Jesus in His mission, are we missing the point?

"Truth is not a sum of statements, not a definition, not a system of concepts but a life...Just as the truth was a life in Christ, so too, for us truth must be lived." (Kierkegaard)

May God help us to embody the truth such that every counterfeit is exposed in the light of the truth that we live out.

God's gift to you

2010-09-11T09:47:00.014+09:00

“Now these are the gifts Christ gave to the church: the apostles, the prophets, the evangelists, and the pastors and teachers.” [NLT, Eph 4:11]

Perhaps the secret to truly loving and respecting one another in a Christian community lies in the verse above.

The straightforward rendition of this spiritual truth in the New Living Translation is loaded with significance to me. The gifts that Christ has given to the church are people functioning in their unique spiritual giftings as the Holy Spirit so anoints them.

I think many of our struggles in relating to one another would not even take root in the first place, if we had sanctified eyes to see one another as God’s gift to us.

As an apostle challenges you to step out of the bondage of your comfort zone and break new ground, he is God’s gift to you.

As a prophet exposes the sin in your life, he is God’s gift to you.

As an evangelist preaches Jesus as the only way to the Father, he is God’s gift to you.

As a teacher expounds the riches of the Word of God and challenges your myopic perspective, he is God’s gift to you.

Why did Christ in His wisdom give the church gifts in the form of people functioning in their giftings? After all, there are many different ways to bless the church. Why through people and their ministries?

First of all, He is teaching us to discern His greatness and power in the lives of others. In order to really receive His gifts for us, we have to look to our brothers and sisters and see Him at work in the lives of others.

Do you have eyes to see God’s gifts flowing in someone?

Secondly – and this I think is truly important – we have to learn to submit to the God-anointed ministry of others, in order to receive His gifts for us. Want the fruit of the Spirit? Love, joy, peace won’t be downloaded into our lives. Try submitting to the word of the prophet who expresses God’s conviction of sin in your life first. Want to be on the cutting edge of God’s work and break new ground? Submit to the call of God as expressed through the apostolic leader. Want understanding and revelation? Be humble enough to sit at the feet of an anointed teacher and discipline yourself to study Scripture.

Are you humble enough to submit to the ministry of others wholeheartedly, as a gift to you from heaven?

In other words, the gifts of God are not abstract ideas that will fall from heaven into our lives. They are brought to us via the ministry of other people. But first, we must discern their giftedness and submit to their ministry.

What could possibly hinder us from receiving the fullness of God’s gifts to us, is when we take offence at the ministry style of the very ones whom God has chosen to bless us, or even reject their message altogether. When that happens, we are effectively rejecting the gift that Christ is bringing to us.

An apostolic leader under the anointing of the Holy Spirit is likely to offend many through his challenge to the church to make a radical and costly commitment to take the gospel to the ends of the world, instead of being contented with shepherding and caring for local believers only.

A prophet speaking under the anointing of the Holy Spirit is likely to severely disturb the status quo as he exposes the sin, carnality and compromises that may have contaminated the institutional church and its systems and processes.

A pastor caring for someone as the Holy Spirit anoints him may have to speak a strong word of rebuke and correction to someone who has strayed from the truth, instead of merely feeding your vanity with words that you want to hear.

May we have sanctified eyes to see the giftedness of others, humble hearts to submit to their ministry, and open hands to receive God’s gifts to us.

Silently yours

2010-08-08T01:24:00.004+09:00

This is a reflection on my silent retreat at the Good Shepherd Oasis from August 2 to August 6.

Dear Words,

Reading many, many words about Silence compelled me to break off with you for three days this week. You have drained me so, played me out, led me on. I have had enough. As I trekked up the hill to meet Silence, I resolved to make a clean break with you. You will not cross my lips, nor escape from my fingertips into my phone, nor run across my eyes.

Shortly after I parted ways with you to be with Silence, I saw other women check in. In that split moment, I realized I didn’t have to greet them and introduce myself. A wave of freedom washed over me. I was free from the usual social obligations to make meaningless small talk. Usually through you, Words, I can quickly figure out someone’s educational background and socio-economic status within the first few moments of any conversation. And without you, I was freed from hearing someone’s manner of speaking and from slotting them into social categories. I was so very glad to be rid of you!

But not for long. I barred you from my lips but you kept stalking the chambers of my mind. I laid you, the spoken word to rest in the grave of my mouth but you took the crafty form of the imagined word, running amok in my mind. You lurked in every dark corner, and once my guard was down, you flirted with me through monologues and imaginary dialogues. You held out false comfort, knowing where I was vulnerable. You knew that I could shake you off outwardly, but that inwardly, I still craved your company. How badly I needed Silence to heal me of my addiction to you. Time and again, I slammed the door in your face once I saw your shadows in each chamber of my mind. I was resolved to keep you away.

Still, you kept up your assault. My lips were carefully fortified so, you wormed your way out from the chambers of my heart that were corrupted. You teased out evil words about my neighbour. “Look at her, why is she talking. She even went shopping. Scandalous.” How I hated you then, Words. You turned the tables on me, and made me detest myself. And so I hid in Silence more and more.

And she took me in as I fled from you. She nursed me. I told her how you, Words have hurt me. She helped me find those words that had been hiding in the noise of my life. She told me to forgive those who said those words to me. And I pried you loose from those dark places of my heart and I let you go.

When you left, I could let down my defences and simply sit with Silence. And she opened my eyes to the touches of beauty everywhere that spoke of love without words. Like that swing under the mango tree, the water feature with dry ice, the rock formation, the hot meals. You, Silence, nourished me.

And you did so even though I never once said anything interesting, funny, wise. You did not need to be entertained nor counseled with words. You just sat with me. And then it hit me. Even if I never ever write a sentence of any value, tell a joke, teach a class, share a testimony, give advice, even if all I do is sit with you, Silence under that mango tree, you, and you alone would still love me. And so, I wept under your gentle gaze.

Then you, Silence, brokered a truce between me and Words. You brought me into you and taught me to speak out of having first met you and lingered in you. You would birth those words I need and bring them to me to speak and to write.

You have kept your word. You have brought me both words and silence to give to others. Not everyone received them. Sometimes the words that you gave me to speak were cut off. At other times, the silence you gave me to pass on to someone was broken. I simply returned to you, waiting for something else you would birth and give to me. Because I now only want the words you give to me to speak and to write.

Silently yours,
Me

Live the message

2010-07-25T23:41:00.000+09:00

Recently I was invited to speak to a group of journalism students who were heading to Timor for a school project. Preparing for the session reminded me of why I left journalism four years ago, and how my values have changed since then.

It’s often been said that journalists have a ringside seat in the arena of history. They witness the unfolding of history and strive to record those stories with objectivity and impartiality. I do appreciate and affirm the important social service that journalists fulfill.

But somewhere along the way, I decided that it was time to get off the spectator stands, and step into the arena of history itself. Instead of merely watching things happen, I wanted to get involved and make things happen. Instead of being impartial, I wanted to be on God’s side. At a very fundamental level, I came to reject the journalistic practices of observing and commenting. I mean, why just write about something, when you could be doing something tangible to actively bring about God’s best and highest plans for an individual, community, or nation? Why just observe and comment, when you could personally intervene to actively change someone’s life for the better?

In my younger days, I was quite a photography buff. I even went to the trouble of taking a heavy tripod everywhere during my travels in Europe and America in my university days. That interest has become dormant, and I suspect it will stay that way, simply because I want to live life as an active agent, rather than see the world through a viewfinder, waiting for a good shot.

Nowadays, with the proliferation of media equipment and software, almost everyone is a journalist of sorts. When I meet young people who say they are passionate about media, I sometimes am tempted to offer unsolicited advice, but I have always censored myself! However, I shall break the silence today.

(1) Remember that the word “media” is just the plural form of the word “medium”. And the medium is just that, a medium, a form, a channel. Don’t make the particular medium you are good at into a god. In fact, it is a servant of the message. Don’t confuse the two.

(2) And you are a messenger. You are a steward of the message. Do you actually know the message? Can you be trusted to tell it truthfully, without omission or embellishment? It is a high calling to be a messenger.

(3) You, the messenger, are not the message. There is a profound difference. It is not about you.

(4) You can however, choose to live the message. What is your life message? If someone watched you live your life and had to complete this sentence “Life for him (or her) is about…”, what would it be?

(5) Technological mastery of the medium does not equal effective communication. By all means, develop technical proficiency and stay abreast of the latest technological trends if you must. But becoming more tech-savvy alone does not necessarily make you a more effective communicator.

This truth hit me as I left the NTU campus after my session with the students. I had forgotten to tell them not to bring any new or expensive gadgets to Timor, because the unstable voltage would spoil their rechargeable devices. I wondered if they could still complete their assignments should their laptops or cameras malfunction there.

And then, I remembered M2E - an acronym I learnt about during a workshop on church planting principles years ago. It stands for “Mouth to Ear Evangelism”. In analyzing the characteristics of church planting movements, it was highlighted that the gospel spread most effectively through “mouth to ear” evangelism – one person telling another person the gospel. It’s that simple.

Which made me think: Stripped of gadgets and the entire infrastructure of modern communications like high-speed internet access and all the latest gadgets, can we relate to someone face-to-face and tell a story with nothing more than our mouths, into someone’s ear, and move him deeply?

What would it take for that to happen? Well for one, the Holy Spirit must come. And on our part, we’ll need a huge dose of sincerity, humility, compassion, a willingness to be vulnerable and honest, and a deep respect for the other. These are all qualities that are slowly cultivated in the school of life. In this age of instant gratification, mass production and virtual identities, these qualities are certainly something we are at risk of losing.

When the oceans rise...

2010-07-13T22:15:00.002+09:00

Whoever says that the great flood of Noah’s time couldn’t have happened should visit Dili during the monsoon season.

This was the scene right outside the library, after a three-hour downpour. That was all it took to flood the library again, for the second time in seven months.

The difference was that, this time round, we were inside the library when the torrential rains came. As the water level rose slowly but surely, we started moving things to higher ground. A sense of desperation set in quickly as we watched each inch of ground go underwater…finally flowing into the library, from the back door. LS and I, and another local friend worked quickly, trying to contain the flood to just one area. But huge puddles of water started forming in the other rooms. That was when we realized that the water was actually seeping in through cracks on the floor and from the walls! So we were fighting a losing battle.

As I mopped and cleaned and swept frantically, Genesis 7:11 came to mind.

“In the six hundredth year of Noah’s life, in the second month, the seventeenth day of the month, on that day all the foundations of the great deep were broken up, and the windows of heaven were opened.”

It wasn’t just rain that flooded the earth back then. The huge bodies of water underground also burst and gushed through the ground, the same way that water was flowing in from the ground. If ever there was any doubt that the great flood could have happened, it disappeared there and then!

Eventually we gave up trying to clean the library – the rain had stopped to a drizzle, but the water level all around the library was still very high. There was simply nowhere we could throw out the water from inside the library. We went home and left the cleanup for the next day.

On a random note, both floods have reminded me of William Carey, whose example encouraged me greatly amid all the splishing and splashing. A massive fire in 1812 devoured his printing shop at Seramore, India, destroying his completed Sanskrit dictionary, part of his Bengal dictionary, ten translations of the bible, amongst other important materials he had laboured to produce.

Carey is reported to have said these words in response to the huge setback.

“In one short evening, the labours of years are consumed. How unsearchable are the ways of God…The Lord has laid me low, that I may look more simply to Him.

The loss is heavy, but as traveling a road the second time is usually done with greater ease than the first time, so I trust the work will lose nothing of real value. We are not discouraged; indeed the work is already begun again in every language. We are cast down but not in despair.”

Unknown to Carey then, the fire brought his ministry to the world’s attention. In just over fifty days in England and Scotland alone, about ten thousand pounds were raised for rebuilding the printing press. So much funds poured in that Andrew Fuller, a leader of the mission in England told the fund-raising committee, “ We must stop the contributions.”

May the sheer tenacity and perseverance of our missionary predecessors inspire us to reach deep and find the strength to keep going.

Monologues of the heart

2010-06-26T11:19:00.004+09:00

Reading Ecclesiastes this morning was like placing a loudspeaker to the heart and hearing the monologues within.

Chapter 2 describes King Solomon’s bold experiment to indulge in every form of pleasure conceivable in the quest to discover purpose in his life. And it all started with a monologue in his heart.

“I said in my heart, ‘Come now, I will test you with mirth; therefore enjoy pleasure’; but surely, this also was vanity.” (v 1)

What follows is a catalogue of the different ways in which he sought to maximize his pleasure and enjoyment. Notice how each verse begins with “I” – representing the exalted self, basking in his own efforts. The verdict of the experiment? That “all was vanity and grasping for the wind” (v 11b).

Somehow, those inner monologues of the heart can so easily lead us to despairing outcomes. It happened to Solomon, and often to me too. Perhaps the inherent deceitfulness of our hearts predisposes these monologues to negativity. It is almost as though we cannot help but feel and think our way into depression and despair, when we are left to our own human devices.

This inward bent of our hearts towards earthly thoughts and concerns has become even more evident as I spent the last few weeks alone. Stripped of human company and the endless, mind-numbing distractions that a satellite dish can offer, the monologues of my heart have grown more intense, dominating my attention. More often than not, these monologues have led me away from God and towards discouragement and pessimism. It is as though solitude has amplified the insecurities and emptiness within that I have masked with activities and distractions.

So writes Henri Nouwen in “The Way of the Heart”:

“In solitude I get rid of my scaffolding: no friends to talk with, no telephone calls to make, no meetings to attend, no music to entertain, no books to distract, just me – naked, vulnerable, weak, sinful, deprived, broken – nothing. It is this nothingness that I have to face in my solitude, a nothingness so dreadful that everything in me wants to run to my friends, my work, and my distractions so that I can forget my nothingness and make myself believe that I am worth something.”

I like how Nouwen likens the social and emotional props we fill our lives with as “scaffolding”. When we strip away all the scaffolding, will our lives still stand, or will it crumble into a heap of debris?

Without Christ, we are nothing, and our hearts are empty vessels that cry out to be filled. It is either filled with the deceitful pleasures of the world, the insatiable appetites of the self, or the eternal purposes of God. In times of solitude, the Lord shows us the carnality and insecurities that reside within. Those things have to be emptied from our hearts, and then we have to be filled with things from above. Both are acts of God. Left to our own devices, we cannot set the heart right.

But still, the Lord requires our willing participation, in the process of redeeming our deceitful hearts. The psalmists understood that it took a conscious and deliberate effort to turn their hearts heavenward. A quick browse through the Psalms yielded many such examples.

“O God, my heart is steadfast.

I will sing and give praise, even with my glory” (Psa 108:1)

“Praise the Lord!

I will praise the Lord with my whole heart,

In the assembly of the upright and in the congregation.” (Psa 111:1)

“Incline my heart to Your testimonies,

And not to covetousness.” (Psa 119:36)

This morning, I find myself utterly unable to help myself, except to think upon the words of a familiar hymn.

“Prone to wander, Lord I feel it

Prone to leave the God I love,

Here’s my heart, Lord

Take and seal it,

Seal it for Thy courts above.”

Above and beyond myself

2010-06-21T20:59:00.005+09:00

“The backslider in heart will be filled with his own ways,

But a good man will be satisfied from above.”
[Proverbs 14:14]

Yesterday morning, I was on my way to a hotel near the airport to visit two friends who were left stranded in Dili when their plane didn’t take off. It was the morning of the Dili Marathon and many roads were closed. My cab was stuck in traffic as it tried to bypass other closed roads. After minutes of waiting, the police did allow some cars through and we made it out of the jam. But a short while later, we hit another road closure. This time, I decided to get off the cab and walk the rest of the way.

At the hotel reception, I chatted with a middle-aged lady who sat outside with a young girl on her lap. They were headed for Sri Lanka. I expressed my sympathy at the travel chaos. She smiled graciously.

Over at the restaurant, there was a backlog of breakfast orders from the stranded passengers. Overall though, people seemed to be coping the best they could under the circumstances. There didn’t seem to be clear communication between the airline and the passengers however. The last shuttle bus was about to leave for the airport and my other friend was unaware. I ran into her cabin, told her it was time to go and threw her clothes into her bag. After seeing them off, I left for church, and was in time to catch the closing prayer. It certainly was an unusual Sunday!

One of the lessons I learn again and again, is that life is full of surprises. It is a complete myth to think that we can control what happens. Sure, we have to make plans, schedule appointments and organize our lives. But ultimately, no amount of planning can ensure that things happen as we envision. And when it doesn’t, what do we do?

Maybe these thoughts caused Proverbs 14:14 quoted above to jump up at me this morning. A good man will be satisfied from above. When this person’s desires are thwarted, and his plans go awry, perhaps he will not be overly upset, because he is satisfied by a higher source, beyond himself, “from above”.

What satisfies us? What gives us a sense of fulfillment at the end of a day? Do we find happiness and joy within ourselves, when all our inward desires have been gratified? Or are we the “good man” referred to in Proverbs 14:14, who looks outside his own limited self for true satisfaction – perhaps to the approval of the Father, and to hear Him say, “Well done, good and faithful servant!”

Every now and then, I remind myself that not all my desires will be fulfilled in this life. This is reality, and I often feel that accepting this fact is a pre-requisite to leading an abundant life – a life freed from the compulsive need to fulfill all my desires, as though it were possible, or would make me truly happy.

Here and now

2010-06-18T22:36:00.003+09:00

Two unrelated things have got me thinking about the mystery of time lately.

The first is the novel, “The Time Traveler’s Wife”, which I have just finished reading.

The novel is essentially a love story. Henry has a genetic disorder that causes him to travel across time. He finds himself suddenly teleported to another period in his life for reasons entirely beyond his control. Mostly, he travels to the past, and on one such expedition, he meets a little girl, Clare, who would become his wife. The novel traces their love story through all the complications of time travel and raises interesting issues. Like, when Henry travels to the past and meets a young Clare, should he tell her that in future, they are married to each other? And when Henry travels to the future and knows when he will die, should he tell Clare in the present? And so on.

The second thing that made me ponder the passage of time is the arrival of our new co-worker, G. In the course of orientating her to life and ministry here, I have sometimes wished I could download all those insights and observations into some computer chip, which could then be uploaded onto her, so that all I have learnt and experienced can be shared with her in its entirety. She would then reap the fruit of our combined experience over three years in an instant. How convenient would that be?

Well, that of course is impossible. Without the prospect of such a transfer of information, I tried hard to communicate effectively and compellingly so she would really understand the reality of what I wanted to express. At other times, I shared certain things knowing that it was too early for her to fully understand, simply because those events that I’ve experienced have yet to unfold for her. And so, I must be patient. She has to live life here for herself. Different things will unravel before her, and then, she will have a real, personal experience, and she will truly know something to be true for herself.

Then, something hit me. I started seeing with greater clarity the journey that God and I have walked together in this land. And what a journey it has been! So much has happened, and sometimes in such dramatic ways. And I have experienced it, step by step as it unfolded, in my present, together with a God who is outside time, yet always here and now.

When the Bible refers to our life of faith as a walk with God, it really is that. You quite literally walk together with God, through the events of life. You don’t sit and wait for things to come to you, neither do you run and see everything go by in a blur. No, you walk in the present, step by step, meeting each event as it comes with sobriety, walking through it, and then taking one more step ahead, which brings the future into the present.

But each step is different from the previous, if we are truly walking with God. With each step, we grow in wisdom and understanding, and that helps us to take the next step with greater confidence and purpose. The past remains unchangeable, the future is still unknowable, but as we mature from deep within, our walk becomes steadier, our steps more certain.

There is one image from my past that keeps coming back to me. It captures the deep restlessness within me to know what the future holds. I see myself as a teenager who doesn’t yet know Christ. I stand at my window in my bedroom at night and look out onto the Kranji expressway, basked in the orangey glow of streetlamps. As a vehicle speeds by in the still of the night, I follow it with my eyes until it disappears from view, wishing it could somehow bring me into a future that would be full of promise.

In a month’s time, I would be home in my bedroom. I will undoubtedly gaze out of the window and have many deja-vu moments. But I hope that inner restlessness to know the future will be abated, and in its place, a quiet peace will reign, from a deep personal knowledge that God is in the here and now, and all He says is “Walk with Me.”

When the journey is "too great for you"

2010-06-06T22:30:00.003+09:00

Reading the February 17 entry in "My Utmost" led me to study the story of Elijah in 1 Kings 19 today. It's a familiar account of how the disillusioned prophet curled up to die after escaping from the clutches of blood-thirsty Jezebel.

Oswald Chambers writes:

"The angel in this passage did not give Elijah a vision, or explain the Scriptures to him, or do anything remarkable. He simply told Elijah to do a very ordinary thing, that is, to get up and eat...When the Spirit of God comes to us, He does not give us glorious visions, but He tells us to do the most ordinary things imaginable. Depression tends to turn us away from the everyday things of God's creation. But whenever God steps in, His inspiration is to do the most natural, simple things - things we would never have imagined God was in, but as we do them we find Him there."

I was especially struck by the fact that the angel fed Elijah not once, but twice (verse 7). Why? God knew the exact extent of Elijah's physical exhaustion and spiritual burn-out. He also knew the difficult journey ahead of Elijah. And so, He provided another meal, but first, the weary prophet must listen, arise and eat. He had to take that little step to rouse himself out of his stupor. Once he did that, God's supernatural sustenance kicked in.

"So he arose, and ate and drank; and he went in the strength of that food forty days and forty nights as far as Horeb, the mountain of God." (verse 8)

That simple snack of cake and water provided Elijah with enough strength to undertake a forty day and forty night journey, to the exact place where God would meet with him in his moment of crisis.

The story that follows is well known. God shows up as a still, small voice. But what caught my attention was what He said to Elijah. He asks the prophet a second time, "What are you doing here, Elijah?". Still in the valley of depression and disillusionment, Elijah's reply is thick with self-pity and reproach of Israel and indirectly, of God Himself.

"I have been very zealous for the Lord God of hosts; because the children of Israel have forsaken Your covenant, torn down Your altars, and killed Your prophets with the sword. I alone am left; and they seek to take my life." (verses 10 and 14)

God does nothing to acknowledge Elijah's sense of self-pity. Nor does He offer any words of comfort or affirmation - the very things that our egos are addicted to when we fall into spiritually depressing times.

Instead, God issues a list of commands to Elijah - Go back to Damascus, anoint Hazael as king of Syria, Jehu as king of Israel and Elisha as your successor.

And by the way, you are not alone. I have set apart seven thousand in Israel who are faithful to me.

With that, God vindicates Himself, exposes the error in Elijah's limited judgment and proves that all is not lost.

I was deeply comforted when I read Chambers' point that depression is not wrong. As I survey the terrain I've covered in this third year of missionary life, the dark valleys of despondency stand out as prominent landmarks, more so than the mountain peaks of achievement.

"If we were never depressed, we would not be alive - only material things don't suffer depression. If human beings were not capable of depression, we would have no capacity for happiness and exaltation"

God, who knew the depth of Elijah's spiritual depression also knows the contours of every shadow of emptiness and loneliness that has dimmed my joy and stolen my strength, in my journey to my personal Horeb.

He who knew that the prophet needed a second power snack also knows when I simply cannot go on and need a divine gust of second wind.

And He who wrenched Elijah out of dejection not by whispering sweet nothings, but by simply calling him to be faithful to a series of assignments will likely do the same with me.

Through it all, God vindicates Himself and proves that come what may, His divine purposes will not be thwarted, never mind what vengeful rulers may plan in their evil hearts, or what a self-pitying prophet may think in his disillusioned mind.

A birthday wish

2010-05-31T23:00:00.006+09:00

There are some days where I literally feel myself ageing.

Today was one such day, as I spent the entire morning and afternoon running errands to serve different people. I returned to the library, hot and exhausted. I took stock of all the things I had to do for the rest of the day – teach a class, edit something someone needs in a hurry, write up a testimony, also needed urgently, prepare materials to help our staff improve word recognition, put the finishing touches to all the lesson plans for Module 2 for another team to use, and somehow still find the mental capacity to plan activities for a visitor coming next week.

I paced in the garden to clear my mind and to escape from the heat of a blackout. That’s when I felt myself ageing, felt my energy and strength being poured out to serve others.

And then, I read the bible and came to Psalm 103:5. After listing all the different things that he was thankful for, the psalmist declared that God did all that, “so that your youth is renewed like the eagle’s”.

What is normally dissipated and spent is renewed in God. Just when you thought the best is over, God works, and brings forth new life and zeal. It reminded me of John 2, when Jesus changed water into wine at a wedding feast. In so doing, he reversed the usual order of things, as seen from the way the master of the feast responded.

“Every man at the beginning sets out the good wine, and when the guests have well drunk, then the inferior. You have kept the good wine until now!”

Just as everyone was expecting low-quality, cheap wine, Jesus brought out the best vintage wine ever. In Him, the best is yet to be, and even youth can be renewed...and that shall be my belated birthday wish.

When Y-E-S is spelt N-O

2010-04-03T20:32:00.003+09:00

Embedded within every “yes” to God’s call is a hundred little “nos”. And over and over again, I have come to realize that saying “no” is often a lot harder than the initial “yes”.

The “Yes” is often uttered following a divine revelation of one’s call. One says “Yes” after having caught a glimpse of one’s destiny in God. Sometimes, there is a long wait, and that makes the moment of saying “Yes” even more precious. We then proclaim “Yes” publicly, to the applause of many well-meaning believers who celebrate our act of obedience.

What few people are prepared for is the countless “nos” that are inseparably enmeshed in the “yes”. If one proclaims “Yes” triumphantly on the mountaintop, then one says the “nos” soberly in the valley.

G K Chesterton says that “every act of will is an act of self-limitation”. In choosing one thing, you are in effect saying no to everything else.

“Just as when you marry one woman you give up all the others, so when you take one course of action you give up all the other courses. If you become King of England, you give up the post of Beadle in Brompton. If you go to Rome, you sacrifice a rich and suggestive life in Wimbledon.”

Henri Nouwen also experienced the reality of self-limitation, as he took stock of his new life in Daybreak, a ministry that cares for the intellectually and physically disabled. Having spent most of his life in academia, away from his family, Nouwen was not prepared for the intensity of life in close community, amongst the very needy who were completely dependent on his care.

“When I had said ‘yes’ to the call of Daybreak to join the community as their priest, I hadn’t realized how many painful ‘nos’ were included in that ‘yes’: ‘no’ to choosing the people you want to live with, ‘no’ to spending quality time with people you feel very close to, ‘no’ to a self-defined form of ‘solitude’, ‘no’ to centering my life in the beautiful and supportive friendship with Nathan.” (From “The Journey to Daybreak”)

Yes, saying no is hard to do. It is hard because the things we have to say “no” to are not inherently wrong or bad. In fact, they could be things we enjoy, from which we derive a sense of well-being and contentment. Some may even be considered basic rights of any autonomous adult, like choosing one’s living environment, occupation, friends or recreation. But in the pursuit of God’s kingdom together with, and on behalf of others, some of these legitimate wants and desires have to go.

Little wonder then, that the call to follow Jesus is a call to die. I’m sure Jesus the master communicator phrased it that way for a good reason, because truly, following Him wherever He leads is to die again and again. Every “Yes” to God contains within itself a thousand “Nos” that represent a voluntary dying to the self, for no other reason except to love Him with an undivided heart, and to help others on the same journey.

Thinking in the light

2010-03-30T08:48:00.006+09:00

"The truly powerful ideas are precisely the ones that never have to justify themselves." - Dallas Willard

Nowhere is the truth of this statement more evident than when I try to build a case that world missions is a worthy endeavor to invest one’s life in. I’ve often been struck by how hard aspiring young missionaries have to “prove” their call, while no one ever has to justify why they are staying at home.

Without fail, people who dream of going to the nations are asked, “Are you sure God has really called you to go?” But we never ask people who remain in a well-paying job, in the comfort of the First World, “Are you sure God has called you to stay here?”

I know this to be true from personal experience. Before becoming a missionary, I worked six years in what many would consider a prestigious job with good career prospects. Throughout those six years, no one ever questioned if God had truly called me to serve my company. Neither did I ever have to justify why I continued working for the same company year after year.

But since embarking on a missionary career – and especially as a missions mobiliser – I’ve had to defend the missionary enterprise time and again, from every front.

There’s the classic “Am I really called?” question that leads nowhere in my opinion, because it places my finite, limited self in the centre, as though the entire world revolves around me. Plus, why isn’t anyone asking if they are really called to remain at home? Honestly, what concrete evidence do you have that God’s will is really for you to be home in light of the lostness of the world?

Related to this point is our need for multiple confirmations before stepping out to the nations. I think God understands our need to be certain and He does confirm His call in very special ways because He loves us. But again, I often wonder why no one needs any confirmation, let alone multiple ones, to accept a promotion, a pay raise or go for a holiday.

“Why go overseas when there are so many needs back home?” Now, I don’t make light of the needs back home, but I do think we need a sense of perspective to properly weigh the magnitude and urgency of the needs locally versus globally. And if we are talking about staying behind to serve a group of people who are already saved, or have access to many types of Christian ministries, then I am tempted to say as God did to the rich man who died and pleaded for Lazarus to be sent to warn his brothers, “They have Moses and the prophets; let them hear them.” (Luke 16:29)

As Willard’s quote above shows, the truly powerful ideas never have to justify themselves. They are accepted and subscribed to with no questions raised. Ideas like:

Of course CPF is important – how will you ever own a home or retire without it?

Of course you deserve a prestigious job with advancement prospects – isn’t that the whole reason for getting a good education?

Of course you have the right to get married – everyone does!

What ideas about life have you accepted unthinkingly? To what extent are they in line with biblical truth? Often it’s not easy to recognize them simply because they have been so deeply held for so long, and by just about everyone we know. And swapping these seemingly universally held ideas about life for God’s ideas can be a painful process because it will expose many of our insecurities, fears and prejudices that we don’t want to face up to.

So, a willingness to bring these ideas into God’s light is the crucial first step. Without that, the renewing of the mind cannot take place. Large chambers of our mind will remain in darkness, like fertile places where worldly ideas grow like mould, sending their spores into different areas of our lives, propelling us to make decisions that effectively keep God out of our lives despite what we may profess…

Personally, I’ve come to realize that it’s not helpful to try and suppress or deny thoughts that are not biblical. What I have found helpful is to think these thoughts with God’s light shining on me. As I linger in God’s presence and love, outright lies are vaporized in the disinfecting power of God’s light. Other thoughts that proceed out of fear and insecurities weaken their hold on me as I hand them over to a God who loves me. We will all struggle with different issues, but let’s do so in His light and presence. That is the only safe place to be.

Day by day

2010-03-09T20:53:00.010+09:00

“Now this is what you shall offer on the altar: two lambs of the first year, day by day continually. One lamb you shall offer in the morning, and the other lamb you shall offer at twilight…” [Exodus 29:38]

Today, I am deeply moved by God’s word to Moses.

The rest of the passage provides details on how the priest is to go about preparing and offering the two lambs. If I place myself in his shoes, I imagine that the bulk of my entire day would be spent preparing the lambs and the other offerings that went with it, considering there was to be one offering in the morning, and one in the evening. I imagine that I would be so much more conscious of God’s presence throughout the day, and that the labour of my hands would really be a form of prayer without words, as I prepare the daily offerings.

What a stark contrast this is, to the way we often think about sacrifice and surrender to the Lord. Somehow, we have come to think of surrender as a dramatic, one-off event that we subsequently refer back to as the moment of decision. There certainly is truth in that. There are many such defining moments in my walk with God and they are precious. But I have also come to realize that if these God-encounters are mostly in our past, and if we tend to talk about surrender in the past tense, something vitally important is missing in our life of faith, which is meant to be lived day by day, moment by moment.

I wonder how radically different our relationship to the Lord, and to others would look like, if we daily renewed our surrender to His ways twice a day – not in a legalistic manner, but as a conscious act of acknowledging Him in all our ways as a brand new day dawns, and as it draws to an end. We might also come to mark the passage of time in a different way. Instead of feeling as though time is a harsh slave master, pushing us in a hundred different directions, we might come to view time as God’s gift to us to be in His presence.

Today, I feel a hunger stirring deep within, to become such a person, living a life of surrender and sacrifice as surely as God brings the sunset and sunrise each day.

Going bananas!

2010-02-28T20:57:00.003+09:00

A stalker has been following us persistently over the last few weeks.

I’m referring to a dog! We named her Hudi, which means bananas in Tetum. Hudi has a brother, whom we call Kulu, after the breadfruit. These are two of our most favourite fried snacks to eat in the morning!

Technically, Hudi belongs to our landlord but she has grown so close to us that she literally follows us everywhere, and I do mean everywhere.

She pounces on me excitedly when I go buy breakfast in the morning (dirtying my clothes with her muddy prints in the process!)

She jumps over the low wall surrounding our house and dashes ahead of us when we go to work at the library.

She even followed us into the restaurant for lunch one afternoon and refused to go away no matter how we shooed at her. That was the first and last time we ate there with her. Now, we have to pack lunch to eat at home just so she would not enter the restaurant and possibly annoy the boss or other customers! Amazing as it sounds, our daily routine has to be altered because of an over-affectionate dog!

I’m not sure why Hudi has suddenly become so very affectionate, to the extent that she doesn’t let us out of her sight! But we do worry about her safety when she runs ahead of us happily as we walk to work, while cars and motorbikes swerve to avoid her. Every now and then, she would turn back to make sure we are behind her, probably wondering why we are walking so slowly! When she does make it to the library safely, she would follow us around for a while, before settling down in a quiet corner for a long afternoon nap. Even our students have grown accustomed to the sight of a dog snoozing in the library!

Hudi has become a living demonstration of love and loyalty. She simply wants to be near us, wherever we go. Often, I look at her sleeping so peacefully and think of how my Father in Heaven longs for me to draw near to Him and experience deep rest and security from simply being near Him.

The longer I live here, the more I appreciate that sometimes, the gift of our physical presence is the best thing we can give to others. Often, the poor and hurting don’t need our high-tech gadgets, our skills training per se, even our well-meaning words of counsel. All those things are good, but devoid of a sincere willingness to simply be wholly present for the other, they become dead works. Sometimes, in simply sitting with someone with love in our hearts, God’s presence is ushered in and the process of healing begins to unfold.

The Word became flesh, and dwelt among us. Be wholly present for someone today. It isn’t always easy, but in doing that, God is also changing our divided hearts and helping us to truly rest in Him.

Blind spots

2010-01-15T23:46:00.002+09:00

All day today, I have been fixated on blind spots.

The morning began with teaching LS how to drive. It was her first time behind the wheel, and my first time teaching driving! At one point, I taught her what a blind spot was. To illustrate that, I got off the car, stood at her blind spot on the right and asked if she could see me in the side mirror.

I should know better. A few weeks ago, I almost crashed into a public mini bus loaded with passengers as I attempted a U-turn. My mistake? I merely looked at my side mirror and was too lazy to check my blind spot.

It wasn’t as though I had turned recklessly. I had just reversed out of a parking lot, and was waiting for an opportune time to U-turn so as to head in the opposite direction. Looking at the side mirror, I saw a truck approaching me. I waited. It slowed down and stopped some distance behind me. There were no other vehicles behind the truck – the image of the empty road as seen in the mirror is frozen in my memory – and so I began to turn quickly, only to suddenly see the mini van flash past me on the right. My reflexes kicked in. I braked hard, while the mini van swerved and the moment passed without incident.

Despite having head knowledge about blind spots, a part of me cannot quite believe that the mini van didn’t show up in my mirror. What I saw – the empty road - wasn’t the whole reality. And what I didn’t see – the mini van - was actually there all along. I felt really bad for days after that, knowing that I almost caused an accident, and could have injured many people. As I mulled over the episode, I began to see the same dynamics at work in my spiritual life as well.

I’ve come to see (no pun intended) that my frequent bouts of frustration over work and life here are mostly caused by my perception of things. The depressive bouts often start the same way. A small handful of students behave in ways that disappoint or upset me – the “me” that is a product of cultural and social conditioning completely different from what my students have gone through. Then I become fixated on those behaviours or attitudes that upset me, playing and replaying them in my mind, and getting more and more affected. I begin to believe that this gloomy picture I’m “seeing” is reality – much like I was truly convinced the road was clear that fateful afternoon. And so before I know it, I’m driving myself into a spiritual collision, all because I believed what I saw to be the complete picture, when it isn’t.

The way to avoid the near accident was to check my blind spot before turning. And I know the way to avoid these spiritual crashes is to do the same – to recognize that there is a spiritual reality that my sometimes tired and harassed being cannot see in the natural. And those blind spots are so, so many.

God is here, right here with you and me, every moment of every day.

Can you see it?

Jesus is risen from the dead. He is alive. And He is coming back soon.

Can you see it?

The Kingdom is already here. Its seed is in you and me. And it is growing, because the Sower is still at work, scattering the seeds of the kingdom in the hearts of the Timorese. This seed may be very small, but it shall grow into a majestic tree one day in which the birds of the air will nest.

Can you see it?

That the world may know...

2009-12-23T22:18:00.002+09:00

After more than two and a half years of living in Timor, I’m beginning to behave and think like the local people in some aspects.

Gradually, we have come to adjust to their rhythm of life and flow along with it. We wake up when it gets bright, which is about 6:30am at this time of the year. Instead of stocking up on breakfast supplies like we used to, we now buy just what we need every morning like the locals do. I honestly don’t know why we started doing that; it just feels right. At mid-day, everything shuts down and people head home for lunch and catch a nap. So do I. With the onset of the rainy season, activities end not according to a pre-determined schedule, but when dense, grey clouds descend from the mountains, signaling the start of heavy rains.

Last Sunday, as I sat in church, I realized I had become like the Timorese in another way.

The preacher was a young man, M, who was studying theology in the Indonesian city of Jogjakarta. He was back for the Christmas break. We got to know him when we visited another pastor friend living 2 hours outside Jogjakarta in August. We had never been to Jogjakarta before, and didn’t speak Bahasa Indonesian. So this friend sent M, and another Timorese theological student to pick us up at the airport. They sent us to their campus to rest for the afternoon, while they got bus tickets for us to travel to our friend’s home. We spent several hours together, had lunch, and got to know one another. It was a good time connecting, and we were very grateful for their help.

M preached well. He was engaging, funny and taught the Word with passion. As I listened to him, I was reminded of the help and hospitality he so cheerfully extended to us in Indonesia. The fact that I had a personal and very positive encounter with him made me especially receptive to his message. Then it dawned on me, that I was personally experiencing what I had learnt about communication, that the credibility of the messenger affects how the message is received.

There is a cross-cultural difference at work here. In societies like Singapore where the rule of law and state organs are strong, trust is bestowed in the office that someone holds. For example, we respect and trust a traffic police officer in uniform, because we recognize that he is an agent appointed by the state and invested with authority to enforce traffic rules. Whose son he is, and what the police officer is like in his private life doesn’t matter when he is acting in an official capacity.

But in places like Timor, where the rule of law is weak, and state institutions are less developed and competent, trust is a different ball game altogether. You trust someone not so much because they hold an official title, but because you know them personally, and have experienced the fruit of their life. Trust here is bound up in having a personal relationship that has stood the test of time, or in someone’s personal history of serving and caring for others.

So just standing behind the pulpit, and having the knowledge and skills necessary to expound the Word of God isn’t sufficient. To be a trustworthy and credible messenger in some societies, one has to manifest fruit over time, as well as share life with others in strong personal relationships. That was what happened as I received M’s message into my heart last Sunday. I had been personally blessed by him, and I trusted both him, and the authenticity of his message intuitively.

This has also reminded me of an important fact that we often miss due to our Western mindset that sometimes over-emphasizes cognitive development. The word “know” in the English language does not do justice to the biblical concept of knowing. Knowing that 1+1=2, is not the same type of knowing, as when we say that we know God is good. The former is a cognitive knowing, the latter, an experiential knowing. True biblical knowing is tied up with a personal experience. It is not a cerebral, intellectual exercise.

In that light, we can better understand why the Angel of the Lord told Abraham in Genesis 22:12, “…now I know that you fear God…”, after Abraham was stopped from sacrificing Isaac. Yes, God in His omniscience knew that Abraham would obey him, but it was in that moment when Abraham actually lifted the knife to slay Isaac that God personally experienced Abraham’s complete obedience and faithfulness.

Have you given God a personal experience of your love for Him lately, such that He can say “Now I know that you love Me”?

Curious, I browsed through the gospels for other instances where Jesus taught about knowing God. One verse caught my eye.

“But that the world may know that I love the Father, and as the Father gave me commandment, so I do. Arise, let us go from here.” [John 14:31]

I meditated on this verse for a long time today. What was the motivation behind all that Jesus did? That the world may know. Know what? That the world may know (remember, that means personally experience) His love for the Father and His obedience to His commandments. And the outcome? He arose and went to Calvary.

If Christ is our example, all of our doing should spring out of the same motivation – that others may truly know ie, personally experience both our love for God, and our obedience to Him.

Have others personally experienced my love for the Father through the things I do? When others look at what we do, can they tell that we love the Father?

What does all of our “doing” day in and day out point to? Do the things we do illustrate what obedience to Christ looks like? Or is it evidence of our need for control? Or simply a mindless conformity to the status quo?

Let us reason together

2009-12-12T19:59:00.004+09:00

Often, in the course of speaking with others, my own understanding of different important issues becomes clearer. That has happened many times over the past month, as I interacted with various groups of young Singaporeans who have come to visit us.

Here is the fruit of my attempts to think things through…

1. I am convinced that our youthful desire to change the world is truly of God, and the passionate and zealous individual we dreamt of becoming in our youth is the real us. Life events may attempt to banish those dreams and passions, the things of the world may seek to distract us, but it does not change both God’s intention for our lives, nor diminish His power to cause those dreams to bear fruit, so long as we want His will badly enough. Which brings me to my second point…

2. What you want badly enough, you will likely get, to a certain extent. Those of us who persist in chasing our God-given dreams will see them come true with God’s help. The same is true in the other direction. If we aspire to worldly ambitions, we will very likely attain them – and stray far from God.

3. Focus is a by-product of spiritual hunger. A starving man cannot help but think about food. He does not need to be told to focus on food, or psych himself up to do so.

If you find yourself lacking focus in your spiritual life, perhaps it is because you are not truly hungry for the fullness that only God can give. Discipline yourself to pray fervently for spiritual hunger, instead of feeling guilty that you have been distracted by other things.

4. It is not so much that God calls certain “special” individuals to long-term missions work, but that some people are better able to hear and receive God’s heart for the nations, because their values are in line with the Kingdom. We see this principle at work in our friendships. We have countless acquaintances, few friends, but just one soul mate, and that is if we are lucky. There are many people you simply cannot share your heart with, because their values are so different from yours that there would be no understanding, let alone collaboration on the things that matter to you. In the same way, God first seeks out those whose hearts and loyal, and within that context, He reveals His plans and invites them to be a part of what He is doing.

So the fundamental question is not whether you are called to missions, but whether you are someone whom God can share His heart with. What kind of person are you becoming – someone whom God can share more and more intimately with, or someone who cannot understand or receive His counsel?

The grammar of love

2009-11-08T16:28:00.002+09:00

I have been running a listening class with some of the more advanced students, using audio materials that a friend kindly sponsored. Over and over again, I explained to the class the importance of listening in language learning. To put it simply, if you want to speak a language, you must listen. Good output is only possible if there is good input. Apart from doing the exercises in the workbooks, I would also type out transcripts of the recordings so that they can read the text, as well as listen. Time and again, I encouraged the students to visit the library on their own time and re-listen to the recordings, especially if they have made mistakes in their exercises.

But to my disappointment, I didn’t see any of them putting in personal listening practice, despite having access to good materials. I repeated my advice, but again, didn’t see any changes. I grew increasingly frustrated with their lack of initiative and independence in learning. Coupled with fatigue due to our busy schedule, I considered ending the listening class. After all, I thought, if 20 listening classes aren’t enough to push them out of their passivity, why continue?

Then, something interesting happened yesterday.

We met for the listening class as usual, but I cut it short because I had to administer exams for another group of students. So I excused myself and told the students that they can practice on their own. And to my surprise, three of them did. For perhaps the first time, they replayed the recording on their own and then tried some other exercises in the workbook.

About 45 minutes later, I returned to the main hall and two of them were still working on the exercises. I spied them discreetly as I sat down to mark my exam scripts. They seemed to be having fun. I was very happy. Finally, I was seeing some initiative after 20 sessions of reminding and cajoling.

Generally speaking, Timorese youth are passive learners. For most students, going to school means copying material from the blackboard for hours, often without any comprehension whatsoever, and without any explanation from the teacher. And that’s if the teacher has shown up for work for the day. After a decade or so of being in such an educational system (not forgetting the larger context of social unrest), young people lack basic thinking skills and the foundation for learning to take place. It is almost as if there is a vacuum in their mind and personality because they have never been exposed to anything better, or inspired to want something more.

The battle is fought on two fronts. On one hand, it is to fill the void with what is good and worthy, like inculcating ownership over their own learning process. On the other hand, it is to uproot entrenched mindsets and attitudes that impede growth, like eliminating passivity and over reliance on the teacher.

It’s a long and tiring battle. Intellectually, I know that it will take a long time to bring about positive change, but emotionally, I often lack the tenacity and perseverance to live out what I know to be true. I get frustrated quickly and become upset, and start entertaining thoughts of giving up.

But God in His mercy knows that I am but dust and He intervenes. He shows me a glimmer of hope and nudges me to keep going on, as I believed He did yesterday, when the students started practicing on their own.

Is it any wonder that of all the other possible adjectives, love is described as being longsuffering first and foremost, in Paul’s brilliant sermon in 1 Cor 13? And is it not interesting that longsuffering is in the present continuous tense, denoting a continuous state, of something in progress? To be longsuffering on Monday, and no longer so on Tuesday sounds nonsensical, both grammatically and spiritually. To be longsuffering over 20 listening classes, but not on the 21^st lesson sounds just as ludicrous. You either are longsuffering, or you aren’t. I honestly don’t think I have been longsuffering in relating to my students. But as I struggle to keep my head above the floodwaters, God throws a life buoy overboard just I am about to go under, and proves again, that His grace is sufficient and His timing, perfect.