Experiencing

Of openess 1

2007-09-16T20:19:00.000-07:00

A story starts with a beginning and a philosophy starts with a reason.
My story of transparency began a few months into university. Being more regular in cell group both in campus and in church I began to notice a personal trend. There would be questions, issues that I was struggling with and bursting to share yet it would get smothered by my own reluctance to open up. After all who would dare stick up his/her hand and say I'm struggling with such and such when others are mumbling that the biggest struggle and prayer requests were that of exams. There was somehow an unspoken rule; we'll talk about our external struggles but not our internal. We will be pleasant with each other, we wouldn't want to have negative impressions of one another, we're good Christians after all and so lets stick to struggles everyone deems as "safe"

Fearful and petrified that I was the only one wrestling with these issues, I wondered what was wrong with my spiritual life. No one seemed to be struggling; was I the only one who did not have faith? Was I the only one who found prayer a chore? Was I the only one dissatisfied with such and such?

I guess I was crazy enough one day to say.."this is what I'm struggling over" in 2 cgs. I remember the awkward silence that followed. It was an embarrassing struggle; the struggle of singleness and contentment. And at the time I doubt some even knew me well enough to know if I was attached or not.

I must say, I went away feeling really exposed; now people will know that I'm not that cool after all..gasp I'm unattractive! (haha, I'm never cool to begin with so I guess it was pride). But what followed up after that was amazing. It was only after that, my friendships with Cindy and Philip grew deep. And from then on, through relating with others in dual roles of both sharing and hearing, my eyes were opened to the reality of life; everyone is not as cool as they seem. I realized no one is immune; not even the most profilic leader nor the strongest Christian.

My own journey of transparency and being privileged to share in others' have revolutionized my Christian life. It has allowed me to learn from the lessons of others; to gain from their experiences and to see God's hand in their lives. At the same time, sharing my own has opened up deep friendships, invaluable advice and most importantly brought in accountability.

Yet over the course of championing openness I've also learnt a couple of lessons on the way. Certain mistakes that I shouldn't have made and in others where applying wisdom would have been helpful.
And thus, this is why I've decided to start a series on the issue of transparency; for better or worst some people in CF associate transparency with me....so I do want to be sharing the right thing and to warn of pitfalls as well.

I'll leave this 1st post with a poem I found to be true...
If we cannot be true to ourselves in the very place we call refugee, then were can we can we hide?

Where?

If this is not a place where tears are understood
Then where should I go to cry?

And if this is not a place where my spirit can take wings
Then where should I go to fly?

I don't need another place for tryin' to impress you
With just how good and virtuous I am,
no, no, no.

I don't need another place for always bein' the top of things
Everybody knows that it's a sham,
It's a sham

I don't need another place for always wearing smiles
Even when it's not the way I feel.

I don't need another place to mouth the same old platitudes
Everybody knows that it's not real.

So if this is not a place where my questions can be asked
Then where shall I go and seek?

And if this is not a place where my heart's cry can be heard
Where, tell me
Where, shall I go to speak?

Ken Medema

And again

2007-05-14T09:07:00.000-07:00

.....as the leaves fall,

it seems that the end is near.

finally, finally?

it still is never easy.

Strings

2006-11-17T06:35:00.000-08:00

I think I never truly appreciated my piano lessons when I was learning to play.
Detested scales, guessed through the aural exams, fumbled through sight reading (I will never forget having a 5 flat piece during grade 6! ah, total disaster!). Even a beautiful piece would be massacred into a formula; louder at this phrase, remember to slow down at the end to give a "rallentando" effect. Full of pencil marks to remember what to do and where to do it.

I never could "feel" a piano piece. The only reason I think I could finish grade 8 (besides God's grace) was that I just "memorized" the effects to play the piece.

I could never really tell if I was playing well or terrible. I remember playing a piece and my piano teacher would say "lousy" and then I would try to "feel" the piece, and then she would say "good." But I myself could never hear the difference.

In short, to me it just seemed like a dead, mathematical system of hitting certain notes at a certain sequence to pass it off as a song.

No wonder I never captured the beauty of playing the piano..even though I took my final grade at the old age of 16. Never quite marvelled at the little jems in a song, or be in awe of a movement.

Just complained and struggled through to pass exams!

And today I just happen to chance upon hearing a classical song.

Since it was louder and with headphones on, the details in the song became crisp. You could hear the ever so slight pause between notes, the gentle build up of slurs. The diminuendo effect. It's almost as if you can hear the player take a breath as he ends a phrase and lifts up his hand to begin a new phrase.

The slow but sure build up; a stuble shift in loudness and forte. Almost could imagine the player hunching forward as he builds up the song.

No need to strive and struggle with music terms, pencil marks on the ABRSM book for an exam.....but playing...yes playing (just like playing a toy) a ode to the King, or a waltz accompaniment, a dramatic opera finale. A cheeky overture for a play.

No longer a mathematical formula, but a melody.

If only I caught this during grade 8, my piano teacher would have been less stressed!

But at certain times, that's how life as a Christian feels like; merely a set of rules, a conduct of life.

Sometimes it feels as if the bible is just a self help book not to different from the motivational books in the market. Even if lives get changed in Christianity it's because people are bound by certain rules and directed to think in a certain way.

Other times, Christianity feels like a burden. It's always something you didn't do or should have done. If you feel distant from God it's because you haven't tried enough. If there's problems in your life, it's either that you've sinned or that God has something to teach you. If there's no answer it's because you haven't prayed enough. If you want a breakthrough you should fast and pray. Only if you do this, you'd get blessed like this...

All above which are correct and not wrong in a proper context...yet unaccurately makes Christian life feel no different than hitting a mathematical formula on a piano (do this and this)...instead of playing a song.

And no matter how we try to manufacture the song; while it may sound pretty good to others, we know deep down, we can't really hear the difference between a piece well played or a lousy piece.

Maybe it's time to play again.
To capture the songs of our lives.

To not view God, the piano player in our lives as a struggling piano student who memorizes formulas and forgets the beauty of the song.

But the God, the concert maestro, gives the best performance and brings out the beauty of the song.

It's the dawn of the new era

2006-10-31T07:54:00.000-08:00

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times."
The famous opening from Charles Dickens masterpiece, A tale of two cities.

"It is the best of bimboitic times, it is the worst of intellectual times."
The infamous opening from the life of yours truly.

Having a mammoth 5 hours warming the hairdresser's chair, yours truly had lots of time to reflect on the deterioration of her intellectual poweress since entering medical school, not that she had lots of it in the first place.

She recalled fondly her burning crusade; albilt misplaced considering her lack of talents, to take up the mighty pen. To fight the cause of the oppressed, to unearth corruption, to purge the world of evil..with the humble pen. For after all wasn't the power of the pen mighter than the sword?

She wanted to be a crusading journalist; with hair practically bunched in a pony tail or cropped short, dressed in sneakers and khaki pants to chase interviews. Never mind the grim dirt on face, it just added pizzaz to the image of a war-time journalist blazing her way to the Pultizer.

Or the next best thing, to read political science or some obscure course in the hallowed grounds of some musty old university, churning out papers on the impact of Taiwan's diplomacy with the South Pacific Islands or the evolving Communist Party in China; reports 10 inches thick that only other geeky academics would read with zeal. She pictured herself sitting in the green lawns framed by the background of a 1700s building in a sweater and jeans while devouring the latest book on the rise of the New Russia.

Yet now she finds herself 2.5 years later, sitting in a gaudy hairdressers saloon, reading a woman's magazine on 10 tips to keep your face pimple free..while the hairdresser paints a peroxide smelling chemical on her hair.

While she used to read about Madeline Albright's policies in the Middle East, now she's wondering how does Condoleeza Rice look so good in her lilac power suits as she tackles the war in Lebanon. Come to think of it, Madeline Albright should have done something with her hair!

And while she used to admire the Iron Lady for her liberalization of British state-owned industries, now she admires the Iron Lady for her Ferragamo handbags.

Oh yea, it gets worst...she used to think that M'sian politics were drab due to their policies and mismanagement, but now she can attribute her lack of interest of M'sian politics to the lack of beautiful women in the Cabinet.

Madam foreign trade is a grandmother, so it's a definate no-no to look to her for fashion tips. Plus, with only 10.9% of women in the Lower House of Parliment (1), it makes it less interesting to tune into politics to see who's wearing what. Plus, after the Rais Y. incident on national dress code in the Parliment, there's even less incentive to look for fashion trends there.

If only F. Po Kuan would be made a cabinet minister (with the perks of a personal stylist) or something like that...I'm sure more 20something yuppie females wearing their Vincci shoes would be more inclined to vote/participate in politics. (2)

So instead of knowing the economic impact of the country of stars and stripes' sanctions on Iran, she's having the stars and stripes' flag colours of red and blue metal foil wrapped on her hair for highlights.

Previously: Dying to battle the woes of the world with the powerful pen.....

Now: Contented to battle the woes of a bad hair day with HAIR SPRAY!

She laments how she has changed!

How can she sit under the green lawns to read now, don't you know excessive sun exposure can cause premature wrinkling?!

And a crusading journalist? Don't they go to war torn countries..............
without toilets? How to cleanse, tone and moisturize every day?

Never mind Alexander Solzhenitsyn's work, that guy has frizzy hair!

So what if she misses the with the interview with President Bachelet of Chile for being late......
cuz how can anyone wear sneakers and khaki pants? Don't you know that makes people look short? High heels please!

At least her mother's fears that she will morph into a thick-spectacles wearing, grubby haired messy girl when she graduates as a doctor won't come through. You know the false perception that all women medical students are nerdy and unkept?

Oh man, that's so outdated. She realizes that since entering medical school, she's become more and more airheaded. Why, she's reading more Cleo than Time since then! And one of the joyful moments during her Seremban hospital bedside teaching in sem5 was when she saw a MO wearing 3 inch red high heels, because if someone can do it in Seremban GH with all its impossible staircases, it's possible to be a houseman without sacrificing high heels!

Since becoming a medical student, she now has no qualms of spending the equvilent of West Gabon's (3) annual GDP on her dead keratin while in the past she would thought that such money should be used to feed orphans. The side effects of memorizing IMU's notes must have caused a displacement of logic in her neurons. But she consols herself. At least all the medical knowledge can be used to guess if the peroxide chemical on her hair is causing a point mutation, or a chain deletion of adenine and thymine in her DNA sequencing.

And while she used to scoff at Marie Antoinette's phrase "Qu'ils mangent de la brioche" (4) during a crisis of bread shortage in France (5), she now thinks the phrase makes sense. After all, if there's no bread, eat cake la right?

Oh wait, that's wrong.

Don't eat cake.

Cake makes you fat! (5)

Footnotes.
(1) 1999 figures
(2) Abrevations of names used on purpose. Don't want to be under I.s.a
(3) Yes, West Gabon is a real country with the annual GDP of USD7228million (2004 figures)
(4) French for "Let them eat cake"
(5) A phrase incorrectly associated with Marie Antoinette. Source
(6) cuz it's high in calories. (yey! medical knowledge for 2.5 years finally useful)

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Yea yea yea, too free already. This is meant to be a mild satirical comedy post. Lots are exaggerated. I don't use hair spray for instance. Haha.
But laugh while you can because soon I won't be able to dream up this kind of nonsense. Classes start on the 15th of Jan! That's like a whole month earlier than some of the Oz and NZ folks.

Tuol Sleng

2006-09-03T01:20:00.000-07:00

This was a former secondary school that was turned into a detention and torture centre during the Khmer Rouge rule. It's the infamous prison where inmates were tortured badly. Out of the 17000 people that went through the prison, only 12 survived.

We went there on the 2nd last day, during our R&R in Phnom Penh. Because I've read about this place in Time/Newsweek, I was actually quite excited to go. 2 of my team members elected not to go because they felt they won't be able to stand it. On the other hand, it was a must see for me.

We went around 4+ in the afternoon, when it was getting a bit dark and windy. It's eerily quiet, with tourists walking silently. The first block of building was were the inmates were tied to the steel beds and tortured. The Khmer Rouge imprisoned anyone they suspected of treason, including their own soilders, children, pregnant women. The first to be killed were all the educated people, where anyone who wore spectacles would immediately be executed.

Prisoners are chained to the steel beds and beaten, whipped or tortured a slow death...there are still blood stains on the floor.

As I walked on and looked, I felt the sense of death becomeing stronger. My team member was saying she felt nauseous, because she could see blood stains on the floor. The pictures of the tortured prisoners were so revolting, you couldn't even recognize the human bodies. It just looked like burned sticks...
Even children were imprisoned and tortured. In the killing fields of Choung Ek, the babies were smashed against tree trunks..or thrown in the air and used as practice targets for gunners.

Then we entered another room where it was rows after rows of pictures of all the inmates. The men, the women, the children...the black and white pictures with multiple pairs of eyes looking forlornly back at me...you wonder, what were their stories?

How much fear did they feel? Just walking there I could already feel the fear of death and doom...what more if I was a prisoner?
Could I have heard the rest of the prisoners screaming in the next room? Or smell rotting corpses? The pain of being seperated from my family? Or the even greater fear for my family, the fear and worry that they would be tortured as well.

The girl in the picture is Debbie. She's reading the framed picture and narrative of a prisoner. Each frame tells the story of a prisoner. As you can see, the classroom is deathly quiet and run down, just like how it was originally.

Next block was a empty room in the 2nd floor..with pictures and a short narrative for every prisoner pictured. I saw the pictures of the prisoners before they were imprisoned, when life was normal. Some girls with the 70s hairstyle, smiling..guys posing with their military uniforms..looking macho and hopeful. Students, medical assistants, farmers, wives, fathers, labourers. Then you read the stories, how some of them joined the Khmer Rouge for ideology, some to provide food for their family, some because they had no choice...and how they were arrested, brought here and just go missing, pressumed dead.

I felt very uneasy..because the whole place is so quiet, the building is really old and fading, and the pictures just make you ask so much questions about the prisoners. I realized from the happy time pictures that they were not much different from me now. They had their dreams, their fashion styles, their hopes for the future. Reading the stories, in the classroom where torture took place and added with sounds of children laughing from outside the museum, the wind blowing, the sky going dark outside.....really gives a dreadful, coming from deep in stomach kind of feeling for me.

Top: individual cell, just large enough for one person to stand. 3 pictures: Instruments of torture

Then it was the torture block. The individual cells were so small, you can't even lie down. I saw the leg chains, and unwisely stepped into one of the cells just to feel how it was like... and oh man, I felt the strong feeling of despair and quickly stepped out! I just can't imagine being a prisoner, chained there!

Most of us didn't even want to read how they used the instruments of torture. You can still see chain holders drilled in the floor and the original instruments used. I didn't even want to touch any of them! One of the ways of torture was to gorge out the eyes and pour salt. I saw a skull driller too..and a chair where they tie you down and electricute prisoners.

Then we walked on, and I really hated this particular block. When I read the description of the building, I really felt, sad, angry, shocked, grief, fear....and just though, ugh, God! how can man do this to their own fellow man? The building was covered with a huge sheet of rusty sharp barbed wire spanning from the 3rd floor to the ground floor. And you know why?

They covered it in barbed wire because they didn't want the prisoners they tortured to commit suicide! Imagine, they won't even let you kill yourself, but want to kill you slowly, painfully, gorging out your eyes, beating you, letting you scream in pain......and won't even permit you to end your misery early.

I mean, if you really think that this prisoner is a traitor to the country, won't that save you trouble and time to kill him if he kills himself? But no, they would not let you do it. They want to have the fun of killing you to intimidate others! It's almost as if the prison guards enjoyed employing different methods to prolong death and practice their "experiements" on humans, their fellow countrymen.

The worst, worst part of the whole museum for me was this particular room.
If you know me, you'd know I'm not really the kind that gets scared that easily. I'm not afraid of spiders or any other creature, nor of heights or dark. Even after having two accidents I don't have a phobia of cars, I'm very gung-ho about visiting new places. I love to try new experiences, I don't balk at a challenge.

BUT! I was really, really afraid to enter this room alone. At first, I just walked in...but when I saw what was in the room..I quickly walked out...and then only waited until Joel came..and told him.."eh, go in with me."

In the room was a huge Buddhist shrine, and 2 cupboards that span from the ceiling to the floor full of skulls and bones. It's not the skulls that scared me but it was the atmosphere of the room. Especially since we were on a mission trip, the "off, something's not right kind of feeling" of that room made me hesitate to go into the room alone. The room was filled with a heavy Buddhist atmosphere...the shrine was a huge bell, 1.5 metres tall, and there were joss-sticks were some tourists had lighted and prayed.

In the Buddhist culture, it's symbolic of praying for the dead. And added with the skulls.....I really didn't feel comfortable, so much so, it's the only place I where didn't take any photographs. I didn't even want to store any pictures of the room in my camera! That was how off and weird I felt about the room.

Look into my eyes. See my baby. What did I do to deserve this?

Even that night before I slept, everytime I closed my eyes..I could see the black and white pictures of the prisoners! I was even a little fearful to be in the dark alone. The stories just kept playing in my mind when I was in the dark.

It served me right for being over-enthusiastic for wanting to go to the museum. You see, since I am normally not affected by horror movies or gross pictures I didn't really prepare myself before I went into the museum. I went in with an attitute of "nothing will scare me or shock me" because hey, I was a medical student who's seen drown corpses etc.

And I learnt my lesson that spiritual atmospheres are real and shouldn't be taken lightly. I told God, "Okay..I should have prayed more and not be so confident of myself." Thankfully the fear and picture flashes went away after that.

But I'm glad I went because it helped me, helped us (my group) understand the people, the land better. There is almost no family in Cambodia that hasn't been affected by the Khmer Rouge. The scars go deep, and I will never be able to comprehend or share even a little of the pain they have been through. The suffering the land has been through and is still going through with the corruption and oppresion is heavy.

Yet, there's hope because of Jesus! Two out of ten of our Cambodian pastors were former Khmer Rouge soilders. Ps Kim and his wife used to plant land mines to blow up tanks. And Ps Rom used to be a store house keeper for guns. We saw the pastors there united in prayer and fervant for God's work. Some pastors run 3 to 4 churches each at different villages, travelling in their motorcyle to preach. We were so encouraged by their love for each other, for their people. When one leader was pouring out his frustrations in one of the pastors meetings, with tears running....some pastors also cried along with him! And when you see them sing in Khmer, singing about Cambodia for Christ...wow, it's just so magical!

What did we do there? Medical work

2006-09-01T20:53:00.000-07:00

For the first two days, our team travelled to different villages around the Baray district since the youth camp had not started.

The CMS (Cambodia Methodist Services) actually employs a doctor 3 days a week. They also have a dispenser and medication. It's really very well organized.

We would normally stop at a village, step up "clinic" underneath a person's house. The patients would register with a pastor, get a number, see the doctor, get a prescription, go to the dispenser's table, and after dispensing there would be another pastor there to pray for the patient. The rest of the pastors would talk to the patients while they are waiting and share the gospel. So in a sense the medical work, is a platform for the pastors to get to know people from villagers that have not heard of the gospel.

Doctor, operating from the space beneath someone's house. In the back is firewood for cooking.

Dispenser

The doctor would be really busy. In 3 hours, he would normally have to see 70-90 patients!
Well, since I was there, they asked me to set up a table, as in, I would become the 2nd doctor. Of course there would be a translator with me.

For starters I really didn't want to because I am just a 3rd year medical student. And I can't read the medicine labels or know what medication they stock because all the medication labels are in FRENCH. (Cambodia was a former French colony, to study medicine, you need to know French). The only French I know is Bon Jour, Petite, Amore. Ha, hopeless.

But the crowd was just to big! And so, I stumbled along. The 1st case was some UTI case. When you start seeing the patients, you realize how desperate is the need for healthcare in Cambodia. There are government hospitals but again because of corruption, the doctors won't treat you unless you pay a significant amount of money. So most people go to "pharmacists." Which aren't really pharmacists because a lot of them are not qualified. And they sell to the patients, antibiotics; IN THE AMOUNT OF 2 TABLETS! Meaning, each time you think you are sick, you go to the "pharmacy" and get 2 tablets of antibiotics and hope to get well.

Then there are patients with scabies, and for the life of me, I don't know what to prescribe. Next was a woman 5 months pregnant who has not felt her baby move and feel pain in the night. It's bad enough that I don't really know how to palpate a pregnant woman, added with the fact that there's no bed, you must try to palpate while she's sitting and you have to rely on a translator. The sad thing is that she went to the district hospital and the doctors can't do anything because there's no ultrasound in the district, she would need to go to Phnom Pehn 2 hours away if she wants an ultrasound.

Then a guy with TB, and we don't have any TB drugs. Next someone with suspected malaria.

In the end the dispenser also couldn't figure what I was writing as all their drugs are in French, so I told them, never mind I'll just help take BP for the patients.

Ah, I look so garang here....! Concentrating la..haha
Surface to say, I've never taken BP for so many people in 1 day, and it sure triples or quardaples the number of times I've taken BP in CSU, clinic or every other senario in my whole life. I think it must have numbered 130+ and it's really good training because you learn to hear for Korotkoff sounds while chickens are squacking at the back, and 50 other people crowd around you, punctuated by the moos of cows.

It can be hard to hear the Korotfoff sound especially among women because some of them are so aneamic and have low pressure with the added medly of background sounds. In Cambodia, it's either your BP is normal, too low (around 70/50) or too high (hitting 190/140 or 200+/170)!

Something interesting is that, most of them have muscles! Even the women have biceps muscles. It's because of the hard labour they do in the fields. And in the midst of hearing and hearing and hearing for BP in the heat, something came to mind. I felt, that God was saying "hey Sarah Ong Kai Li, don't just hear mechanically to record the BP and make it like a task okay, but hear with my ears.... the heartbeats of the people...beating to know me, to know of my love and my gentle touch for their wounded hearts."

The call?

2006-09-01T16:25:00.000-07:00

There are so many things we take forgranted, or at least I take forgranted in Malaysia.
Of course since I'm studying medicine, it's always interesting to find out on how the healthcare in other countries are like.

Some of the things I hear and see in Cambodia are so shocking that you won't even think that such practices exist.

Chern-chern and Yew On are dentists formerly from DUMC and now teaching in the one and only dental school in Cambodia. They are under the OMF and have been serving in Cambodia for 7 years. Chern-chern is an orthodentist and both of them can make a really comfortable living if they chose to practice in Malaysia. But they are here in Cambodia, receiving less than 1/20th of what they could earn, staying in a humble aparment above the market, staying and working in Cambodia to train up young Cambodian dentists. It's a sacrifice especially to raise up 2 boys in Cambodia, accepting a much lower pay and an uphill battle to change the bribing culture in university.

They were sharing some of the things they have experienced in Cambodia.

Do you know in Cambodia, you can bribe for someone to sit the Year 12 exam for you, then pay USD 7000 to get a place in Medical School? You can bribe all the way to passing your university.
And if that's not worst to make you question the competency of doctors, some medical and dental students only study for 1 or 2 years, and then quit school to set up their own clinics!!!!

I can be a super qualified doctor there, being a 3rd year medical student!
Imagine, 1st year medical students practicing as full fledged doctors! And the health ministry doesn't clamp down on these clinics, but allow them to operate. I won't even want to see a "doctor" in Cambodia if I'm ill!

The country is so poor that even in Baray, which is not a really small or far province, most children don't get even the basic immunization jabs. There's no health checks for pregnant mothers, you give birth at home yourself.

And if you don't have money, you can just wait to die if you are involved in an accident. No doctor would treat you unless you pay, even at the government hospitals. It's not just because the doctors are being cruel and money minded, but unless they do that, they can't even afford to support their families with the pay that they receive from the government.

Children die from diarrhoea, a simple treatable disease. People get paralzyed by polio. And of course, from the remnants of the Khmer Rouge a lot of men have only 1 leg. We have 10 local pastors there, but they only have 18 legs. 2 of them have both loss a leg each.

Chern-chern and Yew On were dating when they were studying in UM when they felt the call of God in their final year, and after marraige they went over to Cambodia.

The impact they are making there is wonderful. They have bible studies with the dental students, teaching them about Christ-centred marraige..where even non Christians join because they are interested to learn. Chern-chern and Yew On also raise up compassionate dentists. The powerful way how their expertise is used and multipled many folds because the students they teach would then pass it on, and impact the rest of the nation as they return to serve in their provinces once they graduate.

The Day

2006-09-01T12:37:00.000-07:00

Disclaimer: this is not a post to highlight my birthday cuz I don't like to be reminded I'm getting old anyway..haha, but just the events that happened. :)

Of all the parties and presents I've ever had or received, I dare say this birthday would be one of the most significant. Although not the kind who is sentimental, the day before the birthday, it did struck me, that I'd be celebrating what people call the "significant" birthday of turning 21 away from family. And since, we were really busy with the youth camp and thus I didn't expect anything.

Julia's birthday was also on the same day as mine. Right after one morning session in the youth camp, they called us upfront and sang for us the birthday song. Well, the really great part was that, all of the youths then prayed for us! It's a feeling you get when you see people of different language, people whom you think lack so much in terms of quality of life..yet people who can stand in God and bless you in return.

Then the pastors lead Julia, Aaron and I (Uncle Aaron's birthday was on the 13th) to a table, which they specially covered with red cloth...and there was a birthday cake.

This is the cake. Really, it doesn't look like much. It's just a simple sponge cake. But you know what, they had to go to Baray town just to buy this cake. No one sells cake in the village, a majority of people, the youths and pastors have never tasted cake.

And yea, that cake..cost..USD15! (FYI, teachers earn only USD30 Per month)

I quote from my friend's blog

One day, the local pastors celebrated some of our birthdays, which happened to be during the youth camp. It was an eye opener to see what their ‘birthday cake’ looks like. It is a large version of the egg bread the Chinese use for prayers. No icing or toppings. Just plain. And that alone costs US$ 15. We were so touched by their graciousness. We managed to cut the cake to share it with 180 people. While serving the cake to the youths, they thankfully took a piece each and some were shy to take it because like I’ve mentioned before, it is rare for them to have such a nice thing to eat. To us, it probably looks unappetizing and we’ll probably react like, “What on earth is that?”

The most "touching" moment for me was what I saw later in the afternoon. Ps Samreth actually saved up his portion of the cake, wrapped it up in paper and when he saw his young daughter, he unwrapped the cake and gave it to her.

To them the cake was that precious. So much so that the father would not eat it, but save it up for his daughter.

Honestly that cake is not of Secret Receipe standard. It's plain, looks like a big pau, and it soggy and sticky at the bottom (not baked properly).

But it's only when you're there in Cambodia seeing a father save a piece of cake for his daughter because it's so special, then you realize how much I've enjoyed in life. I mean, how can anyone NEVER eaten cake before? It's really a mini "shock" to me.

Especially because we didn't really live with the Cambodians their level of poverty didn't really sink in to me. And plus, we ate good food there, the equalivent of their feast was to us, normal lunch or dinner. It was until then when I actually realized how much I had compared to the people there.

And I began to see the local pastors in new eyes. I saw how much they loved their people. How Ps Kun would sleep in the church with the youths, so that he could go to the village with another youth the next day to invite his friends. How Ps Rom would carry water to fill the stone filter for the youths, even though he only has 1 real leg..and one prosthetic one. How Theara would shout and strain his voice when translating so that the youths can hear, although he has a history of TB and is actually endangering his health.

How Ps Kun and Ps Rom actually don't receive salaries because CMS would only pay salaries after a trial period of 2 years...yet they are there to preach, to go to villages, to be at the camp...and then go back home to tend to their farming and pigs..so that they can still feed their family (they get love gifts which is a basic "salary" but it's really not enough to feed a family)

I am just so thankful to God that my 21st birthday was spent among the Cambodians in Cambodia. If given a choice between having a big party with some fancy dinner in some hotel or sharing a cake with 200+ people, learning to love them, being blessed by them, I know which one I'd choose. No doubt!

And although yea I was far from family and friends, I was around people who accepted me, and treated me like a star! ahahhaa. One girl gave me some grasshoppers, the kind where you fold from coconut leafs. Another boy, Daniel, gave me a small woven thing..and a letter in broken English.

I will not trade this experience for anything else. And I guess to a certain extend I caught a glimpse of what it means to be following God's will.

It may never be extremely comfortable (just like being in the hot sun in Cambodia, with no electricity, no aircon party or frosted cake) but it's always better and fulfilling (being prayed for by the youths, sharing cake with them, being honoured and treated with such a precious cake).

The glorious food! Part 1

2006-08-31T06:49:00.000-07:00

One thing's for sure, if you are on a Cambodia mission trip with DUMC, your stomaches will be satisfied to the full because CMS (Cambodia Methodist Services) has a great cook!!

In fact, haha, you guys are going to say that we get pampered and are super spoilt, because if you go out on village outreaches for the whole day.......

.....guess what, your cook travels with you!!! The cook would bring her pots and pans and ingredients, load it on the van...and stop at a church member's place in the village to cook. Once your outreach is done, you just go to the house to enjoy your hot lunch. Then, everyone will pack up and move on to the next village in the afternoon.....HOW COOL is that???

Another highlight for me on this trip is trying out the different kinds of Cambodian food...
You can be sure the food served is 100% fresh...because outside the city, there's no electricity except generators. This means, there's no fridges so everything cooked is bought fresh from the market everyday!

Fresh water fish soup which has a sourish taste to make you hungry...and ginger chicken plus veggies. The fish is very fresh and has a sliky texture; though the small bones can be a problem.

Cambodians love their port (curuck), their vegetables and their soups! We had soup for almost every meal. Yummy, especially with white rice and....chili! The chili there is very hot, perfect when a slice of chili is dipped in soya sauce and paired with a slice of pork......wahaha!

Cambodian curry: Not too spicy, with a mix of sweet & spicy taste, very fragrant too...it's so good we lapped it up, and ate rounds and rounds of rice. Imagine, curry with white steaming rice!!!!!! One of the best dishes!

Sorry for the pic quality...this is fried chicken with a special fish sauce+pepper+soya sauce dip. Nice nice nice.

This is what our cook cooked during our outreach from her mobile kitchen. The soup is kind of like our salted veg soup with pork and short, juicy taugeh with pork again. The taugeh are like those from Ipoh.

Ok, a pause first: let me teach you a Khmer phrase, hok bai is eat rice in Khmer.

This is one of the best dinners we had. We ate with all our 10 Cambodian pastors and their wives. The top dish is some kind of vege dish with pinapples and tomatoes. The one with the leafy green is pork...the supposedly star dish & highlight for everyone. The soup is good!!! Chicken soup with don't know what vege. Oh and desert was sweet dragon fruit! The food's so good that you'd jsut eat and eat and eat, only to realize you've consumed 2-3 plates of rice.
For the people there, this is considered a feast. In fact the things we eat everyday is a feast to the average Cambodian. Most of the people only eat vegetables and rice, the poorer ones rice and salty fish sauce only.

I don't have a better picture of this but must put it up....cuz the joke among us was that we were drinking detergen. Seriously, look at the colour!!! And oh yea, it was also the one and only time we drank ice in the village, because we were warned not to drink ice anywhere else except in CMS because of hygeine purposes.

Yea looks gross?? But nice! Guess why it's green? It's actually kangkung soup...boiled until it disintergrates into this colour. Another soup that's very deliciousssss there is seaweed soup. It's also a local soup...I didn't know Cambodians used seaweed in their cooking. It's gooood!

I know you'd say we were spoilt AGAIN. We were in a village for outreach when they noticed we were thristy. So on the spot they got down some coconuts from the tree, cut it, for us!!! Truly in Cambodia I felt I was being blessed far far more than blessing the people there.

The glorious food. Part 2

2006-08-31T00:06:00.000-07:00

Our youth camp ended on Friday lunch time. Then it was the start of R&R, rest and relax for us. You see, in every DUMC mission trip, there would be 1 day scheduled for the team to rest and relax where we get to SHOP!, sight see, EAT! and do the tourisy stuff! Yey, fun rite?

We get to spend 1 day and 1 night of R&R in Phnom Penh, the capital city.
The adventure starts on the way back from Baray. It takes 2.5 hours from Baray to Phnom Penh, and our missionary travelled with us. Along the way, we get to stop at each village to sample their food. Each village have their own specialty and food! Our missionary told us that she feels God is very fair, because He blesses each village with a special produce.

First stop is the Baray Market where I got to eat my SPIDER and TOAD! :)

Oh wow, a plate full of spiders..yum! hahaha. Each costs around 50 malaysian cents

WELCOME TO THIS EPISODE OF FEAR FACTOR. I'm trying hard not to laugh, cuz only 2 out of 9 of us dared to eat the spider and thus both us were filmed and photographed a lot in our "experiment" I actually have a video recording of the whole process, but I won't embarrass myself and show it.

The spider is big (half the size of my hand), black, with furry legs, cindy..haha!
It's fried in garlic oil so it's nice! Yumm..haha. The legs are crispy, the body's a little mushy though..now I can say this...I'VE EATEN A SPIDER AND SURVIVED TO TELL THE TALE. :)

They would walk up to the van/car to sell you the food. This is the "beheaded" toad.

Toad taste just like otak-otak..the head is already removed. Kind of delicious cuz it's stuffed with spices.

From top: Palm fruit, lotus plant, lotus seed, Cambodia apple.

Next stop was in another village for Palm fruit or what we call sea cocunut in Malaysia. This tasted okay for me. The pokok pinang is actually the national tree in Cambodia. Another stop in the following village was to buy lotus plant. I'm quite a jakun cuz I've never eaten fresh lotus seeds, I've only eaten the ones you find in mooncakes. It tastes like nuts with a softer texture. Then we continued on our journey and stopped by this village that sold Cambodian apples. Yea seriously, they are called Cambodian apples. It's kind of sweet with a sourish tinge, quite good as well! :)
This is our favourite stop! I love the hammocks!

There's shacks like what you see in the picture, full of hammocks. What you do is buy the corn, then you can sit on the hammock while eating. The corn is very very sweet! Juicy, and you have to bite carefully otherwise the juice would drip down your face. WAH! And, the wind that blows while you sit on the hammock gives a cool and refreshing breeze. If you come later in the afternoon, you'd get to see the sun set over the paddy fields while lying on the hammock, eating the golden corn. This is where the Cambodian people come and pak tou. So romantic..hahahaha.

The next day, we went to the Russian Market in Phnom Penh for breakfast. And that's where I tasted the BEST BEEF NOODLES ever! Seriously! With Great Coffee!

The beef noodles is favourful, the beef balls not too tough, but springy enough..and drinking the soup doesn't leave you with thristy from ajinomoto like in Malaysia. The coffee is grown in the hills of Cambodia. It's thick, very "kau" and strong! Just like Ipoh white coffee, kind of like that. (koa fey ohlay) white coffee in Khmer.

Then for lunch, we went to this famous ice-cream and bread shop. Since Cambodia was a former french colony, they eat french loaves instead of bread. We got to ate the pate, beef stew with toasted french bread and DURIAN ICE-CREAM!

You start of by eating the pate first. It's basically french bread with salad kind of garnish, sour pickels and ham. Kind of like a starter.
Then the beef stew would come. You dip the french loaf in the sauce and eat, or you can put the beef between the bread and eat. Joel loved this so much he ate 2 plates! The beef is cooked so tender that it is soft and easy to chew. The broth is thick with spice.

Heaven in a coconut.
But of course the highlight would be the ice-cream in coconut. They empty the coconut, pour the coconut water into a glass for you to drink and serve you the ice-cream in the coconut shell. I had the combination of durian and cempedak ice-cream! Hahaha, glorious! Cuz normally durian is "heaty" when eaten, but when it's turned into ice-cream, you still get the favour, but now it's cold and refreshing!

Imagine, we are on a mission trip..and feast like Kings and Queens! The food is very good because the missionaries know which shop serves the best dishes...so the experience is even better than that of being a tourist in Cambodia. You eat where the locals eat!

Oh yea, these are the durian biscuits we had when we were in Baray. Very very very nice. Sorry, my vocab is limited, I can only describe everything as, nice, delicious. ;) The cream has a strong durian taste, creamy and sweet. The ones I brought back from Cambodia was from a different company and didn't taste as estatically nice as those we ate there!!!

Okun la...(meaning, very good in Khmer)

Caught in action EATING!

See, next time if there's a mission trip, join it! You people should have come along with me! :)

Oh wait. I must tell you about my bettle eating experience. Just before we were heading to the airport, we dropped by at Central Market. Central Market's a tourist attraction where the dome is supposedly the biggest dome in SEA? or something like that.

I just HAD to try eating grasshopper before I left. But I also bought the black bettle. The grasshopper was okay, crispy just like eating shrimps. Kind of delicious in a morbid way..haha. But believe me, the bettle was horrible! HORRIBLE. You know, the kind of smell that cocroaches emit, bitter...it's that kind of taste, exploading in the mouth. Don't ever eat that!!!! That was the only thing I ate in Cambodia that was not nice. The rest, was..wow! :)

Saying goodbye is the hardest thing to do

2006-08-29T08:08:00.000-07:00

Someone took a liking to me in Cambodia
...and I couldn't help but feel the same way too

........saying goodbye was the hardest thing to do, I wish I could pack him and bring him back.

And I miss him now. Sigh.

He's so cute! And the way he holds your hand melts your heart.

Before you start saying that I'm being "scandalous" again, let me clarify okay ppl!
I really didn't do anything and I really don't know why of all the people from my team, he spent time with me.

His name is Daniel.

And he's 4 years old. Haha, yeah, breathe a sigh of relief...

I know I am definately not a mary poppins kind of person; not an entertaining or funny person. I can't tell jokes, make funny faces (yea maybe my face is naturally cacated? haha), or tell amusing stories. Don't really know how to make toys like paper aeroplanes (to my defense I come from a family of girls..). Quite a boring person actually. That's why it's always unexplainable if children like following me around...because I don't know why would they want to stick around a boring person like me...

Daniel is Ps Kenneth and Yin Meng's youngest son. Ps Kenneth's family have been in Cambodia for 3 years.

So cute right? I want a son like that!!! Hahahahaha

Having him holding on to my hand around the streets of Phnom Penh is scary...for me because the traffic in Phnom Penh is really chaotic. Motorcycles zoom from every corner, plus the fact that we are not used to traffic coming from the right side of the road (just like America) which makes looking out for traffic harder.

In fact the trick is to not cross when cars are driving and to cross when motorcycles are coming your way.......because all (by faith) motorcycles give way to pedestrians in Phnom Penh. It's just like walking into oncoming motorcycles..and trusting that they will stop for you. (they do but this "system" takes time to get used to).

And going to the Russian market for breakfast with him can daunting, not because I don't enjoy his company...but the people carrying hot soup there don't bother to watch out for kids. The market is kind of dark too with narrow lanes, sometimes blocked by goods.

Yet it's fun to play with him. To let him win all the "lets see who can push the other person's hand harder" game..(maybe that's why he likes me huh? haha). To answer all his numerous questions. To hear his husky voice (his natural voice is kind of like someone having a sore throat). To talk to him and answer all his questions, and hold his hand everywhere.

And on the way to the airport, you just don't know what to say when he starts asking "Are you coming back?" "When are you coming back?" "Mummy why I cannot go to Malaysia?" "Mummy I want to go back to Malaysia."

The hardest question was..."when are we going back to Malaysia?"
...and Yin Meng had to answer honestly "2009"

At the airport, had to start keeping a distance, so that he won't keep on asking the questions.
It's so sad to leave him behind.

Truly it's not easy for Ps Kenneth and Yin Ming to come to Cambodia with their family. They will be moving from the city to Kampot...2.5 hours away, to a place without electricity or running water. It's a sacrifice because they would have to home-school their children and set up home in a place without any Christians.

Their house in Kampot is still under-construction and delayed because they can't buy timber pillers for the house. It's stressful because they have to move out of their Phnom Penh house by September. Their kids, Rose-Sharon, Jonathan and Daniel also have to sacrifice as they would be living in a wooden house, with no internet or phone line and without friends their age.

It's especially hard for Kenneth and Yin Ming to make the decision to come to Cambodia because Jonathan has a hole in heart problem, and the health care system in Cambodia is not up to par. One morning during devotions, Kenneth was sharing about his worries for Jonathan, almost with tears because he wants the best for his child as well.

Yet they are faithfully serving God. And even though their children may miss out on the latest games and gadgets, they get to experience different cultures and grow in maturity and love of God.

What did we do there? The youths part 1

2006-08-16T07:31:00.000-07:00

Just some background info. DUMC actually sends out 4 mission teams a year to Cambodia. Each year out of the 4, 1 would be a youth team that goes to help organize a youth camp for the youths in Baray district. Baray is a district in the province of Kampong Thom where Esther, our veteran missionary from DUMC is based. In the 11 years that she's been there, from stratch, there's now 10 Cambodian pastors under CMS (Cambodia Methodist Services) and 22 churches around Baray.

Our team is the youth team, so the main reason we were there was to connect to the youths and help them with their camp. We would do the preaching, the workshops..all translated of course, they will organize games, praise and worship (let me tell you, their praise and worship ROCKS, literally..haha..will blog more about that later).

Basically our schedule was as such:
Friday: Arrival
Saturday: House visitations in villages
Sunday: Preaching & night session with Pastors and wives
Monday: Village outreaches & night session with Pastors and wives
Tuesday to Friday: Camp
Friday and Saturday: Rest and Relax in Phnom Penh

Anyway, let me share some things that are very precious to me, that I MUST write this down so that I'd never forget.

It was the 1st day since our arrival. It was a sunny saturday and everyone was eager to go out for some action. Driving to the village, was the vast scenary of flat paddy fields punctuated with palm tress. Simply picture perfect. Sigh.

Anyway, Joel, Debbie and I were in the 1st group together with Ps Kenneth and our translator Piset. We went to visit the house of a man and his family. The daughter was around 19 years old. She was a Christian, so was her sister. Her parents were not.

And so I asked her if she was going for our youth camp. She said no. But she said her sister will be going.
With a smile and in kind of a joking/persuading way, I said (translated) "Come! It'll be fun. Come! I'm sure u'd enjoy it, your sister is going some more..blah blah blah."

She answered with a sad tone "I can't go because one family can only send 1 person. Because my sister is going, I have to stay back to help up in the fields."
You could tell that she wanted to go too. She was nearly in tears.

My heart dropped. I was humbled and struck speechless.
Because I immediately recalled the times, when we in Malaysia feel reluctant to go for a certain event because we rather watch a movie, watch TV, relax in the mall, sleep.....

and definately not because we have to work in the fields; to enable someone else the chance to go for a camp.

How we take forgranted our camps, our Christian activities. I remember that for the CF camp we had to pratically beg people to come. Do fancy videos, print posters. Employ persuasive techniques. Hold it at some fancy place. And here, people were dying to go and simply couldn't.

The good news is that when Debbie share about creation and Jesus, her father accepted the Lord! And when we were praying the sinners prayer for her father, she cried tears of joy.

I knew I just had to say this to her before I left. "It's okay that you can't come to the camp. That's why we come to you. And I want to share with you this year's camp verse. For I know the plans I have for you, plans to prosper you, plans to give you a good hope and a good future: Jeremiah 29:11."

And I discovered God's word transcends culture, transcends countries, transcends social class.

Despite our different backgrounds, this verse that means so much to me, also meant a lot to her. In just 1 hour visiting her house, the lesson I gleamed was unbelieveable. And it helped me love the people there more.

So beautiful right? The things God allows one to see, to be carved on one's heart...

What did we do there? The youths part 2

2006-08-16T07:11:00.000-07:00

Of course, not everything is always cheery and dandy. Real life has its bumps and humps. (okay..i don't know what's with the rhyming craze..)

There was a minor disagreement on the youth camp, 1 night before the camp was about to start. I shall not mention names, but to share what happen...not because it's a nice thing to write about but only to show how different the problems of ministry in Cambodia is compared to home.

The disagreement was about the number of youths that would be allowed to join the camp.
You'd be probably going.."huh?" cuz...
Why would there be a disagreement on the number of youths joining a camp rite?
The more the better? Don't we struggle to even reach our targetted number of participants every camp?
Yea, that was what I thought.

You see, resources are scare in Cambodia, so much so that each pastor can only invite a fixed number of participants for the camp. There is a lack of housing for the camp to accomodate 180 youths. Some of the youths slept in the church, in the mission house, in the missionary's house AND....in church members' houses.
I am just so amazed that the people there would open their houses for 10 (yea, 10 teenage strangers for each house!!!) to let the youths stay and sleep! Even more amazing when you take into consideration that Cambodian houses HAVE NO ROOMS! Cambodian houses ain't very big either!
Sleeping in your own home with 10 youths whom you never met before? Sleeping in 1 room with 10 youths you don't know? I would hesitate to even have 3 friends over in my room... what more 3 strangers to share a house with me? Or 10 strangers to share a room?....

Really generous of the people there...my heart just melted when I heard about this...

Anyway, the disagreement came about because a youth leader told the pastors that it's okay to fit in a few more participants for the camp. But because there was just no place to house the participants, our missionary had to say no. It was hard to say no, but the missionary had no choice. The youth leader was disappointed because he wanted to give more people a chance to join the camp.

Can you imagine if there same thing was to happen in Malaysia? Turning people away because we have no room? Going overquota?

Youths who desperately want to come so much but just can't?

In the end, there was no choice but to stick to the quota.
But thankfully the disagreement was settled.

You know, in some sense I wish that such "disagreements" would happen in Malaysia; CF or church...of course not because I love to argue...but rather, it would mean there's too little room for too many people. Where we won't even need to ask people to come, but people would be so eager, lining up, anxiously waiting to come to church, cf, conferences, camps etc.

What did we do there? The youths part 3

2006-08-16T07:00:00.000-07:00

The main reason we were there was to help up in the youth camp. The worship and games were done by the locals while we organized workshops and the talks. Kau Sern and Uncle Aaron were the main speakers and they spoke passionately about topics like "You are special!" "God has a plan for your life" "You can change your world"

It's really amazing to see the youths sit through the sessions and take notes (haha, I myself seldom take sermon notes..) It's really not easy to stay awake after lunch, added with the heat as the sun penetrates the trampoline tent.

But the youths were really supportive towards us! For one of the workshops we actually asked them to draw their own tombstone and write how would they like to be remembered. At first, most were hesistant because in the Buddhist culture it's bad luck to do so. Yet after explaining a bit more to them, they were willing to draw their own tombstone and even come up stage to show their work.

Each of us from the team paired up with another member to handle a workshop. My partner was Debbie Debbie and our workshop was on letter writing. At first, we called up some people on stage and asked them to hear their own heartbeat (that's where my stestescope came in handy).

Then we asked them to write a letter of appreciation to their parents, or people who looked after them (because in Cambodia some are orphans). We told them the significance of writing a letter to thank their parents, gave them some time and then ask for volunteers who wanted to read their letter in front of the crowd (oh yea, another wow thing about Cambodian youths is that, you normally get lots of volunteers! so unlike m'sian..me included..haha).

Debbie Debbie in action......

At first it was 4 youths writing to their parents in which they thanked them for their hard work. Then it was the turn of a boy..maybe around 17 years old.

He was reading the letter he wrote to his sister. He was writing on how his sister loved him and cared for him especially when he was involved in an accident. As he read out the letter, he started sobbing. He was trying hard to control his sobbing because I guess, it was not cool for a 17 year old boy to cry on stage in front of 180+ people. As he read his letter, he started crying even more. He read about how his sister sold of her land just to pay for his hospital bills. He sobbed as he said he was so grateful she cared for him, especially when he felt his parents didn't love him. He continued sobbing as he thanked her in his letter.

By the time he finished his letter, Debbie Debbie was crying too. So were some of the youths. Some of the pastors as well.

His tears changed the atmosphere of the whole workshop. From an activity, it became a testimony. From a simple letter, it became an expression of gratitude.

We ended by challenging the youths to give the letters they wrote to their parents especially those who came from non-Christian families. We wanted the youths to show their parents that being a Christian is a good thing, as some youths get persecuted by their families for being a Christian.

Fun-ny moments

2006-08-14T08:44:00.000-07:00

1) From a restaurant at Phnom Penh International Airport.

2) Our "adventure" on the pony ride.
I was on the 1st cart, some other friends on the 2nd. Debbie was sitting nearest to the pony on the 2nd cart, and she suddenly bent her head down. We in the 1st cart was curious and later asked her why did she do that?

Apparently, the horse defecated while running....and she had to put down her face to prevent splatters of it from landing on her face! And how did she know that the horse was going to defecate??? The pony actually whipped it's tail twice as a warning sign before defecating.

3) Guess what is manure called in Khmer???

Aik! Yepp, it's called aik (meaning shit) in Khmer. It's one word all of us had no problem remembering; as the rest of the Khmer language can be hard to remember.
"Aik! Don't step on the aik!"

In fact on some village paths there was so much aik, that you just stepped on the dried aik to avoid the fresh, wet aik.

4) Another jem: Our group did a skit on the prodigal son in Cambodia. Our leader, KS was acting as the pig that the prodigal son had to clean. KS is of large size...and when he acted, our missionary heard the old Cambodian ladies commenting..."wah, such a big pig! Can sell for very high price!"
(just for info, pig is called curuk in Khmer. And the Cambodians love their pigs. We had pork, pork, pork everyday. The pork there is very nice too...juicy... ;) )

5) Oh this one is a classic!!!
It was the 2nd day after arrival in Cambodia and we all went out for house visitation. It was 3 people to a group plus a translator. You know, the scenary, heat and vegetation of Cambodia is quite similar to Malaysia. And cuz I just got back from Temenggor, the people looked the same to me as the orang asli. I was at the house of one girl who was going to sit for her exams. She could speak simple English.

So we talked, and then we prayed for her, and everything was going fine until suddenly I heard "Kamu punya ujian tiga hari kah?" COMING OUT FROM MY MOUTH.

The best thing is that, I didn't even realize that I was talking Malay!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
ARGH....hahaha...the girl looked at me puzzled, the interpretator gave a blur look...and Joel and Debbie was laughing and laughing.......and then only I realized my mistake!
HAHAHAHA.
See what I mean???? 2 pics are from cambodia, 2 others from Jehai...can you tell the difference?

Yea yea, I have bad eyesight...must have been the juices from the Spider legs huh? haha ;)

The journey

2006-08-03T11:00:00.000-07:00

Excerpt from Philip Yancey's The Bible Jesus Read. (really good..if you can plow through the quotes...I love quotes!)

"God reserves the flow of all religion, which, until then, had pictured the gods as supernatural beings whose actions filter down to affect life on earth. A god cries and it rains on earth, a good gets mad and lightning strikes. The Old Testament shows-and nowhere more clearly than in Job-just the reverse.

A desperate woman prays, and God sends a prophet; a dishearten old man refuses to curse God, and the impact reverberated throughout the cosmos.

For this reason, it can truly be said that the Jews invented history. For them, history did not simply replay cycles of eternity; human actions on earth mattered, and those very responses created history. The Sovereign Lord of history allows people to exert an influence on him, just as he exerts influence on them.

Philosopher Glenn Tinder makes the distinction between Destiny and Fate. The Jews gave us all a sense of destiny, that we exist not in a meaningless world, nor to act out some god's whim, but we exist to fulfill a meaningful Destiny ordained for us by a personal God.

Visit a museum that contains artifacts from Israel's neighbors, and you see the shift. In Egypt of Syria you can view the gods Osiris or Lil or Astarte. A Jew can point to no such image, for graven images of God have always been forbidden. All he can do is repeat Jewish history, the story of a relationship: "our God spoke to Abraham, called Moses, summoned us out of Egypt.

"God," says Jack Miles, "is like a novelist who...can only tell his story through his characters."

Faith is not the clinging to a shrine but an endless pilgrimage of the heart. Audacious longing, burning songs, daring thoughts, an impulse overwhelming the heart, usurping the mind-these are all a drive (loving the One) who rings our heart like a bell---Abraham Heschel.

I find this particular chapter insightful (wah I get to use a big word..) because...
it's almost as if God is taking a risk to stake His fame on us...not on big pyramids can proclaim His power, nor on beautiful cravings that portray His craftmanship...or lofty towers that shout His fame...not even golden images of statues that show His splendor.

Yet God chose to stake His story, His faithfulness, His reputation..on a shepherd boy called David, a cheat called Jacob, a brat called Joseph, a complainer called Job, murderer of Christians called Paul, the liar Peter...

sinful people (just like me..)

The limitations He willingly placed on Himself in choosing mere men to reflect His glory..

That the Jews in the bible..and us as Christians today..may not have large landmarks to point to our great God, but each a personal journey with God. How much He trusts us to show His greatness through our lives. How much grace He extends for us, knowing fully our inability to be perfect enough to shine for Him, already knowing how we will tarnish His image...and yet still willing to take that risk, that sacrifice...just to be intimate with us.

Given a choice I myself would choose maybe a huge large gigantic glittery building that can be seen from every corner of the earth to proclaim my greatness...won't that convience people that I am God??? The owner of such big and great things?

And yet...He chooses our relationships with Him above all these...

Interesting huh? ;)

Seasons

2006-07-30T06:44:00.000-07:00

Every Season: Nicole Nordeman

every evening sky, an invitation to trace the pattern stars
and early in july, celebration for freedom that is ours
and I notice you in childrens games in those who watched them from the shade
every drop of sun is full of fun and wonder you are summer

and even when the trees, have just surrendered to the harvest time
forfeiting their leaves in late September and sending us inside,
still I notice you when change begins and I embace for colder winds
I will offer thanks, for what has been and whats to come you are autumn

and everything in time, and under heaven finally falls asleep
wrapped in blankets white, all creation shivers underneath
and still I notice you, when branches crack and in my breath on frosted glass
even now in death, you open doors for life to enter you are winter

and everything that's new, has bravely survived teaching us to breathe
what was frozen through, is newly purposed turning all things green,
so it is with you and how you make me new, with every seasons change
and so it will be, as you are all creating me summer, autumn, winter, spring

Sigh! So super nostalgic now. I feel like I want to go back to IMU and study again, not because I want to fail etc, but, I miss the way life was. Maybe it wasn't always so happening, nor always extremely happy...yet, it was beautiful. I guess I really don't like transitions nor the change to move out from the comfort zone.

Uncertainties. Changes. Unsettledness. A sense of loss. Having to start back all over again. PLUS the fact that I'm not going to be studying till Jan and thus have nothing to keep me occupied or distract me from feeling melancholic.

I really dislike moving from one place to another and moving out of my room has unsettled me to a certain extend. Coupled with the fact that IMU life has really ended, and the "hope" harboured for so long is really impossible.....makes me want to turn back the clock back. Added with fever from the tetanus jab, all my fears just feel amplified.

A part of me is fearful for what the next phase in life would be. Will depression hit me, will I be lonely in Australia? Can I cope being a "mother" to my sister? Can I cope with the workload in UNSW? Will I find great friends like those I found in IMU? Would I find my niche in serving in Australia, just like how I felt so at home in cf, cg, church..etc..in IMU? Would I start to stray away from God whose presence has been so real to me in IMU? Would I fall into wrong relationships there? Would I lose my sense of calling and purpose; being unwilling to come back to Malaysia if God calls me?

Changes. Changes. Yet a part of me knows it will be exciting and fruitful when changes are surrendered to God. I guess when changes take place, there's no longer familiarity to fall back on anymore, but do or die, to trust in God.

So Lord, haha, here we go! :)

Jumbled thoughts

2006-07-21T11:01:00.000-07:00

Exam is over...for good I hope!!

Now that the huge block of exam is over...there's more time to just b-r-e-a-t-h-e.
I guess a time to think, a time to reflect...and a time to "date" God.. (haha, don't laugh...after all isn't He our 1st love?)

Maybe there's too many thoughts and emotions that have been shelved away due to the exam. And yes, while I AM relieved that the exam IS over, suddenly I feel like a whirlpool of thoughts come stiring up in the brain.

Like plans on what to do after the exam...
there's TOO much I want to do, lots and lots of oppurtunities I am thankful for.
I want to really squeeze to the max this time...but there's just too much to choose from
I would love to do research/field work, or hop on board Doulos for 2 months, or go to Australia earlier, or simply go back and spend time with my dear family. PLUS, STUDY for Clinical school (haha this is 1 thing I really need to do...cuz I always end up breaking my resolution and slack like mad).

I would like to take the time to tie up the strings in IMU, like really spend time with the junior girls, ease the cg to transition, do research+mission work (wow, a 2 in 1 combo!)...
yet I really really long to share giggles with my sisters, learn from my father-I really know that following him around in clinic for 2 months would really deepen our bond, lie in the bed and chat with my mum.

I would love to explore Cambodia more with Doulos, yet I also know I want to care for my sisters, to whom no "success" or "adventure" in church/missionary ministry could ever compare to.

Why am I writing this on a blog??? HAHAHA.
I don't know.
Maybe writing helps to put at least a sense of sensibility in the different trains of thoughts arriving at the station of my brain.

Of course, there's the other "problem."
I really don't know why I am still plagued, I truly thought my motives were right. But I guess despite myself, the heart IS deceitful above all things.

But I take comfort in Psalm 19
12 Who can discern his errors? Forgive my hidden faults.
13 Keep your servant also from willful sins; may they not rule over me.
Then will I be blameless, innocent of great transgression.
14 May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be pleasing in your sight,
O LORD, my Rock and my Redeemer.

Lord, I don't know.
I really don't.
I don't come in the confidence of my "faith" or my "zealousness" nor "passion"
I come in doubt, in weakness..

But I know of 1 thing for sure.
That I have a broken heart.
Yet You are the Lord that heals me.

Have Your way.
and I mean it.

Pay it..

2006-05-28T11:28:00.000-07:00

Have you ever argued with the cashier in a supermarket for charging you Rm1 for a bar of chocolate that has the price tag of RM1?
Have you ever haggled with the cashier in Carrefour for a 50% discount on your total purchases?

We don't hestitate to pay money at the cash register for the purchases that we want to make. We willingly part with our cash because we know that we are paying for something we selected and volunterily agreed to buy for the price printed.

But, it is different when it comes to God. I realize that I have been short changing God lately. I don't want to pay the price of the things I have selected. I want those things but am not willing to pay the cost. Other times, I want to own those things in perfect new condition but am not willing to pay full price and buzz God for a discount instead. Even worst, sometimes I feel that God is short changing me for the price I am paying.

I am so reminded lately that there IS a price to pay to follow Jesus. There's no discounts or special offers. We cannot haggle with God to lower down the cost. There's no paying in instalments either.

If we want to live a pure life, we have to pay the cost of purity.
If we want to seek God, we have to forsake ourselves.
If we want God to move, we must pay the price of repentence and obedience.
If we want to see God revel Himself, we must sacrifice and wait upon Him.

At times we see others paying a lesser price for a similar item but of lower quality and we become reluctant to pay the full price for the item we need. Sometimes we want too many things and run out of money to pay for all the things we want.

But there is no short cuts in Christian life.
If we truly say that we desire to do things God's way, we have to pay God's price.

Jesus said to the young rich ruler, if you want to follow me, give up all your possessions and follow me. And he was reluctant for he owned a lot and the price was too high to pay.

I am humbled because I want to do certain things in my life as I feel its God's purpose for me. Yet I realize that I have not been willing to pay the full price of it all. I have been haggling with God too much.

I know by my own weak weak strength I cannot give up the good things in life that are stopping me from pursuing the better things in life. I need Him. Because the heart is deceptive beyond measure.

Guard me from myself Lord.

No facade

2006-05-21T08:21:00.000-07:00

I feel very vulnerable, stupid and exposed......

aiyo~

how the proud has fallen in

Head wars

2006-05-14T02:41:00.000-07:00

I seldom, if rarely make decisions I regret.
It doesn't mean that I make great decisions though; but simply that I never embark on decisions that are risky and only take decisions that are fool proof.

Yet it also doesn't mean that I don't have impulses or emotions. I do feel...okay? haha...
I am not always quiet, calm and composed.
My silence is often not brought about by the lack of things to say,
but merely the resolution that I won't say anything out of line.

Thus most of the time, I end up having a war in my cerebral cortex. It almost seems as if there are two people residing in my head...

"Just go for it la...you think too much."
"No, think of the long term consequences...cannot one la."
"Think, think, think only...you'd end up unhappy."
"But we must think before we act, cannot make rash decisions."
"But life must take some risks sometimes..."
"But life is also about making wise choices..."
"You only live once."
"Because I only live once I must make sure I don't mess up!"

and on and on and on..

of course, most of the time the sensible side wins...(which is not a bad thing)
but at times at the expense of the free and happy side...

i am aware that some of my unhappiness in life steems from my own decisions to deny certain issues, certain emotions, certain reactions..

which is not entirely wrong...as we can't go around ruled by impulses or emotions alone...

yet I know this is getting way way out of hand...it's almost as if i'm robotic, deviod, and ..aloof?

especially when my mum (parents of all people would be the 1st to tell their children to be sensible, mature etc) tells me..."please be a bit more childish."
and my aunty says..."you must be a bit less matured..cuz you are too matured already, very very scary...unapproacable"

*disclaimer..i'm not trying to propagate the fact that i am very matured. hahaha...I didn't pay them to say those lines.....*

I don't know. I guess I must learn to be a bit...(but just a bit...not too much!!! ..haha) less cautious.
To risk losing a bit more...yet at the same time risk receiveing when the risk of losing is taken.

Being real

2006-04-23T11:32:00.000-07:00

The Velveteen Rabbit

"What is REAL?" asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, to his friend the Skin Horse. "Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?"

"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."

"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.

"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are Real you don't mind being hurt."

"Does it happen all at once, like being wound up," he asked, "or bit by bit?"

"It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."

"I suppose you are real?" said the Rabbit. And then he wished he had not said it, for he thought the Skin Horse might be sensitive. But the Skin Horse only smiled.

"The Boy's Uncle made me Real," he said. "That was a great many years ago; but once you are Real you can't become unreal again. It lasts for always."

******************************************************

I must admit it is tough to be real. You lower down your defenses, exposure your weakness and allow people to peer at the broken pieces of your heart. It puts you in a defenceless, vulnerable position. Yet for a Christian it is so essential to be real, for until and unless we admit that we need a Savior, we can't be saved. Plus, until we lower down our masks, can anyone see the tears we cry to give a supporting hand?

As hard as it is to be real, I realize it's even harder to love someone who's real. Especially in the realm of *cough* bgr...haha.

After all, when another person is real, he/she exposes his/her weaknesses and fragilities. Naturally as humans, we tend to "choose" the strongest, the bravest, the "most spiritual", the most stable, the one least likely to annoy us etc....
Of course, this is not wrong..and yes, we should be careful when deciding on our future partner...after all it's a lifetime agreement with no refunds we are entering into.

Yet, sometimes we may run the risk of choosing someone who wears his/her masks well than someone who's real. It is far easier to fall in love with the seemingly perfect person than another who dares to admit his/her weakness. Likewise, it's easier to be the "perfect" person and keep hidden all our quirky habits and unique personalities than to be who we really are for the fear of rejection from the other party.

No wonder it's sometimes easier to fall for someone we hardly know than our close friends.

For we know our friends inside out; all the things that make them angry, depressed, sad, their failures, their insecurities. And of course, they know all our neuroticities, our fears, our weakness as well.

Where as with a someone that we might not know so well, we might subconsciously project our ideal qualities on them. After all, if we have never seen him/her get angry we might just well assume he/she never gets mad...or since we barely know how he/she reacts to a situation, in our love strucked hearts we might just think he/she handles everything well.

Immature love will choose someone who looks the most dashing in his armour or her makeup.

But mature love is a love that looks at all imperfection and still says, "Hey, I know you are this and this and that...but still I choose to love you because I see beyond your imperfections, just as you see beyond mine. Let's work together in this journey to overcome our imperfections, but lets accept each other just as we are as well."

Of course, it's easier said than done. Again as I said before, the more you know a person, the more you'd come to discover his/her good qualities AND imperfection as well...(vice versa too).

But given a choice, would you (or I) want to spend our lives with a masked person (just like the man in the iron mask)
or someone who'd allow us to look into his/her eyes?

Someone who's immaculately dressed without a hair out of place?
or someone we can just lounge in pyjamas with?

Someone who has perfect grammar and tenses?
Or someone who we can just laugh with?

But most importantly,

Someone who may seem perfect by hidding from us..
or...someone who trusts us enough to be real with us...
...and ...someone we trust enough to be real too as well...

Truly as the story of the velveteen rabbit goes...
"Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."

So yea, by being real, we might appear ugly to those who don't understand....
Yet...only when we truly allow ourselves to be real and in the process learn to love another who's real...

"When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."

we can be sure that love will last a long, long time...

Disclaimer...this doesn't mean going to everybody and anybody with your deepest and darkest secrets...haha...but simply being real, honest and accountable to people dear to you.

Sometimes

2006-04-21T10:44:00.001-07:00

Sometimes I just feel like being immature
Shout, rant and scold that person for making my life miserable

Sometimes I just like to sleep and sleep and sleep
Because it's just too tiring to get up and face all the problems

Sometimes I just like to not care at all
Cuz I am too weary of caring anymore

Sometimes I want to just let myself be impatient
Or not consider the future
Make impulsive desicions
Follow the heart

But I realize You made rules for a good reason.
Not to kill my fun but to protect me.

And in the long run, it always make sense to be patient.
And to just depend on You to make things perfect, in Your time.

Studies and God?

2006-04-21T09:53:00.000-07:00

After 5 semesters in IMU I don't know how to answer when people say that IMU Christians are too busy studying to serve God. I get tongue tied when people ask me, "So do you think I should take up this and this." Or the right words to say when someone wants to lay off "ministry.

This is especially when I'm coming from both sides...a medical student who understands the vigors and strain of studying....but also a "leader" who understands that serving God takes us to a deeper level with God. (Please excuse me that I'm using the moniker leader loosly) It is true that God must be the first piority and love of our lives. It is essential that we must have no other Gods before Him, even "good" pursuits like the quest for more knowledge can be deadly if they take the place of God. And we as Christians must learn to sacrifice our comfort and time. Only when we serve God, we truly catch the heart of God and feel the urgency in reaching people for God.

But I know as well, how draining juggling both studies and serving God can be. Sometimes it's not that people choose not to serve God when they are studying Medicine, but that they can't even get up of bed to eat dinner...physically tired by the real demands of a medical doctor/student. Added to the stress of constantly memorizing and trying to keep alive a semblance of a normal social life is just crazy.

I'm not saying that our busy schedules are an excuse to not serve God. But I'm just saying we need to reconsider what we catagorize serving as. Or at least I need to reconsider serving as.

The issue of serving has been on my mind lately...especially when I recognize I am nearing burnout at this busy period. Most of us think serving as being in the Christian Fellowship or church...either playing the guitar or speaking or counseling...etc...but I've come to realize that sometimes a lot of church activities actually cap our time on our interaction with non-Christians. In fact, being too busy in church can be a bad thing...after all, Jesus called us to be fishers of men and not fish tenders of Christians.

Sometimes I feel it's better to be a basketball club member who shares the gospel through example on the court than a CF president who is busy with meetings till she has no time to go out with non-Christian friends for a movie.

But then again, if we do not have Christian leaders, we won't be inspired to share the gospel on court... If we don't attend CF/CG, we won't be reminded/inspired to share with our basketball chums. And if there's nobody to organize CF/CG, how would we attend CF/CG? Going back to the busy medical student issue.

Which do you think is serving God better? A hardworking student who gives his best in studies, have great grades and goes to church every week. Or an average student who could be better if he spent more time in his books, but who makes time to serve in the worship team, attends CG and church?

Coming from the point of view of a Christian leader I would say Mr2nd...You know how we say...grades are all not that important...it's who we impact...who we serve...making your life count...purposeful life...etc but let's just say..the first student because of his hard work finds a cure to cancer...won't he impact more lives? And if he studies extremely hard not because studies is the 1st piority in life..but he wants to glorify God by doing well...essentially his service is his dedication in studies...is his service "less" honouring just because he doesn't be actively involved in church?

I realize that it's very easy to but studies as our idol as a medical student. But I also realize if we do not give our best, we are also doing God a great disservice! Then, can we have it all? Both a good student and still serve in ministries?

I think that I'm trying to "have it all" Be a great student, be a good leader, be a good friend, be a good friend to non-Christians, have enough time to mix around with diff people in my batch, have enough time to make sure people in CF are doing ok...ppl in CG too...doing all at once can be draining to say the least.

I don't know...

More and more...as we go deeper into medicine, we'd have less and less time for "service" And if we try to overexert ourselves, it'll be havoc...physically and spiritually... Yet if we don't "serve" are we just chasing knowledge that will cure the physical but not the spiritual?

There's so much I don't know yet. I can say that I'll serve God(in the normal way we use the word serving. CG leader, etc) no matter what now but if you tell me this 4 years down the line, as a tired houseman I might just say it was naivity.

But there's one thing I believe will hold true...the true condition of our heart determines whether we "serve" God or not. Be it just controlling our temper as a tired houseman and being polite to the nurse...that would be serving God. Studying hard as a student with the right attitude to honour God (without using it as an excuse to mask it as an idol before God or a simple cliche..but a real conviction)...that would be serving God. Being a pastor is also service, just as being a stay at home mum...

It makes sense to say it's better to serve God by being a kind and patient doctor who might not have other "ministries" than a tired, impatient doctor who's too worn out from leading CG, speaking in church etc.

But of course if you can do both..that's better.. :)

So where to serve. What to serve in. Should you " serve"? How much is too much or how little is too little? Are you doing enough? Too much?

I really don't know. I dare not comment prematurely. But this I know...serving must start from God...and ultimately, the condition of our hearts matter more. Simply said, are we obedient what He has called us to do? (regardless if it involves campus ministry or speaking or writing or counselling or just doing our responsibilities well)

Serving is ultimately doing what He wants, at the season He wants, by His strength.
As the saying goes, God's work, done in God's timing with God's way will never lack God's blessings.

Ironic

2006-04-19T17:15:00.000-07:00

Yea. It's kind of ironic.

Right now at this point of my Christian life, I can say this...

"I've never been more unsure of my faith, yet I've never been more sure of my faith either."

Right now....
I feel as if I have never been closer to God than ever, and yet also, further than God than ever.
I believe so much, yet I also doubt so much.
I've never have had so much peace over my own questions, yet I've never have had so much confusion over my own questions.
I'm so tired of all this Christian stuff, yet I'm energetic for all this Christian stuff.
I'm terribly unsure of what I say, yet I'm very sure that's what I want to say.

The war against me and myself.

Maybe 6months break is a good time to re-orient myself.
Cuz right now I totally don't want to serve yet I totally want to serve when I go overseas.
Hahaha. Sheesh..haha..complex girl!

But I guess at least like what Eu Pui says...it's better to be struggling than dead.

An observation on hope

2006-04-18T10:31:00.000-07:00

Sometime ago I read this from somewhere I don't remember, haha...but basically it was a comment from a reporting journalist.

When he looked at the refugees from the war, the one thing that struck him the most was not their tarred clothings, nor their emmicated state or their jutting bones over their dry skin, though those were jarring enough. It was their eyes. Not because their eyes were tired or tear filled. But that their eyes had loss the spark of hope. Just a blank look. It almost seemed as they have given up on life. Merely existing, not living.

Hope is prominent in Christian life. After all, if it's not for the hope of heaven, a better tomorrow, a world free of tears and suffering; the hope of eternity with Jesus, the message of Salvation would not appeal to our wounded souls. It is hope that keeps us going rite?

I've come to realize that I have a problem with this thing called hope. It's either I hope too much, or I don't hope at all.

The thing is if you hope too much, you'd be disappointed. Things don't turn out the way you hope them to be. Being human and all, when things go wrong, it does disappoint and hurt. And it's a terrible feeling to be disappointed in God because you love him (imperfectly but love nonetherless) and you know that He is good. But the disappointed feelings still linger.

Then because you don't want to be disappointed in God, you choose not to hope. After all, disappointments are unmet expectations. No expectations, means no disappointments. No disappointments with God is a good thing right?

Which brings me back to the comment by the journalist. The refugess had lost hope. Not because they wanted to, but because it was just too tiring, too hearbreaking to hope. It's not easy to hope and have it dashed, only to rise up and hope again, then to have some other calamity burn it again..and to move on and hope..then to have another disaster happen...the cycle. It's a self-defense mechanism to let go of hope.

When you don't hope, you no longer feel sad when hope is not what you hoped for. Yet, it would mean, you no longer feel at all.

And I know it because in some sense I've learnt that the hard way this semester. As a hardened semester 5 medical student (haha!) I ceased to hope because I was just tired of the cycle when hope disappointed. It's better to feel nothing at all then to feel crushed right? True, I no longer felt sad when I didn't hope, because the prevailing attitude was..."Bad things happen, part of life, so whatever la." Or "doesn't matter what's going on." "So what if that and that country is in war?" "People are evil. Period. I can't do anything, so why should I care?" "I just want to finish sem 5 and get away from IMU as fast as possible, forget everything here man!"

My heart no longer bled because it was calloused. But it meant that I was existing, not living. I no longer looked forward to life. No anticipation. Just a prevaling sense of cynicism. Skeptisim. Being someone I dislike the most, an indifferent person. No longer believing in love. In dreams. In happiness. In the good of mankind. In the beauty of this world. In change.

And guess what, the lack of hope in God, in life also signals the lack of trust in His plans for my life.

I imagine that Hannah would have felt the same way. Year after year crying to God for a child? A child she so desperately wanted, and was even willing to give God? Some more get scolded by the high priest? Was it even wrong for a woman to desire to be a mother? She could have just chose to be skeptical and forget everything. Why still hope? Yet she persisted. And God blessed her.

And I realize, hope is not pretty, but hope is beautiful. Hope is never pretty because it may not have a sharp nose, or deep set eyes, perfect mouth, great skin. But hope is beautiful because hope has eyes that are gentle, mouth that speaks comforting words...in short, beauty that transends time.

Yes, it may hurt to hope at times and not everything we hope for will come true. But to feel would mean that you are alive. They say the first to go in concentration camps are those who have lost all hope.

So yea, by choosing to hope, I might risk my feelings more. I might cry more about injustice. I may hurt more when I feel about people. I might be sad when I see unfairness going around. I might be discouraged when the change I want to see don't happen. I might tear when I read another book. Things may not go the way I'd hope it to be. I might be disappointed at times.

But at least, I'd be alive. Alive to feel. Alive to receive from Him and alive enough to give away. And his grace is sufficient for me; even when I am disappointed in Him. He will pick me up again and give me enough hope to hope on. He will mold misplaced hopes, and craft promising ones.

If there's anyone I'd risk hope with, I'd risk it with God. He knows what to do with my hopes. So hope on. Hope on in Him! Never stop believing that truly, truly He has good plans for your life, and plans to prosper you and give you a good future.

Light and Darkness

2006-04-16T21:20:00.000-07:00

If there is no darkness, how would we know what light is?
Or if there where no ugliness, how would we know what beauty is?

I know I am blessed. There's just so much to be thankful for. The rich blessings God has lavished even when I least deserve it. Yet I also know, behind the smile, there's also a broken part inside me. I'd be lying if I said it was a small matter, or an insignificant memory. Yet I feel guilty that I harp upon that empty puzzle when God has filled the other pieces of my life so wonderfully.

So I am torn. I do not want to look at the missing areas when I should see the filled parts. But that irritating issue still manages to gnaw upon me when I least realize it.

I do realize that I am being overtly petty on such a small issue. The irony is that I would advise other people to just get over it and focus on the good God is doing. Most of the time I'm okay, actually, quite happy with how life is going right now.

But you know, this small little thing has it's way of bobbling up just, just when I thought it has passed. To my deep annoyance and anguish! Bleh...stupid Sarah!

Sometimes I wonder why I am so stupid to still be in this situation. If I were an outsider looking into this, I would just roll my eyes and think "How come this girl just can't get it? Life is like that. You can't win all the time. And it will fade. Just be patient and wait upon God." Which is why I try not to talk about this anymore. It's just plain idotic. Yes I know.

And it's not like there's any hope at all. Zlich okay!

But you see, the other part of me still refuses to budge no matter how I shove it, hide it, torture it. That's why I don't like me in this situation. Because I betray my own self. I betray my own common sense and sound mind.

Oh well.

Lord, I have done all I can. It's not like I want this. Oh no!

But I realize, if there's no darkness, truly how would I know what light is?
If I never needed healing, how would I experience the power of the Healer?
If I had everything I needed, how would I need You?

So yea, as much as I hate being in this situation, with an aching heart, I whisper this. Thank you for allowing this to happen to me even though it makes me seem idiotic to myself. For it makes me realize, just as Paul said, I can't even trust myself to do the things I want to. But it teaches me a greater reliance on You. That I am not confident of myself because I can handle such and such or that I can do this and that, but simply because You love me unconditionally.

You will see me through.

And I won't appear silly and stupid.

Not because I am not silly or stupid though. But because You love me even if I am silly and stupid. And that makes me no longer silly and stupid!

Haha. :) God is good even when we are not.

I also don't know why I publish nonsense like this...but I think it's because it makes me accountable to myself to what I pray to God. And that it is something "public" gives me the push to keep accountable. So that when bleh days hit me...I'd remember that I've typed this out. And if you read this..haha..I know what you are thinking "Aiyo, girl..that is a small issue."

If you are still reading..haha..do something else. :) truly this place is not worth your time.

Of star carpets and furry books

2006-04-15T11:20:00.000-07:00

It has been a "dry" semester. Pessimism seem to be the rule of my thoughts. Sometimes even while hearing a great sermon, I can't help but squirm inside when my thoughts poison the very little faith I have left.

"Oh..what's the difference if you feel empowered now? After you walk out of the door and when you open your books, you'd feel defeated again?"

"Look at the juniors. Worry for them! Do you know when your juniors commit regularly to CF/CG they'll be exhausted and dry like you?"

"Yes, you can sing and lift up your hands now during worship. Even close your eyes and feel good. But you know yourself better. You'd fail and complain against God within this week!"

"You are a leader that who's sometimes not very sure of 'prayer' or 'faith' or even the purpose of the existence of CF?"

Yes. I must be real even as I tell people around me to be real.

Even if it puts me in the tight spot. Especially, especially as a leader.

Sigh....

Yes. I do get skeptical. About life. About faith.

So what has these got to do with star carpets and furry books?

You see, today I visited Borders. After a long, long hiatus of shopping alone, I finally had the time to lepak alone. (yea I actually enjoy this...haha...explains why I think too much)

I was feeling just a bit jaded about exams, ministry, bgr and life.

Just stepping into the bookstore was a breath of fresh air. You can just smell the scent of fresh paper tightly bound...mingled with the faint aroma of fresh coffee brewing in the nearby Starbucks outlet. With soft jazz music and books, lovely books all around.

Normally I would grab a book? or some mags? and browse through....

But today...somehow I was drawn to go to the kids section. Yea, the kids section.

It was at first slightly weird...with children and their parents all around....and stars printed in the velvety blue carpet....

But hey...no sweat! I just felt a wash of familitry and comfort as my eyes scanned through the covers of some books. I remember being young. When I would look forward to feasting my eyes on the beautifully coloured pictures. Or be whisked away in the fairy tale romance of sleeping beauty (without going...yea right...where got can sleep for 100 years? and Mr Prince Charming?...gah...mana ada such thing).

I remember how as a child I would look forward to nights where my dad read about Jesus and Lazarus. Or go wide eyed when I read in a science book that vinegar mixed with baking soda with a dash of red colouring could mimic a volcano! (My friends and I actually tried it..really works..but terrible smell!)

I remember when I was simply amazed when I learnt in Sunday School that Jesus could feed 5000 men with 2 fish and 5 loaves. Remember the kids bible with colourful visuals? Where Jesus had a beard and a kind smile? And how we would sing "Jesus loves me this I know for the bible tells me so." With a full, trusting heart.

Sitting crosslegged on the blue carpet amidst the chatter and laughter of 5 year olds I read a book that had a furry covering that told the tale of a lion. I picked another by Max Lucado which was a twist on Pinnochio relating to our Christian faith. There was another about a 10 year old angsty girl who doesn't like the guy next to her in class and who hates to eat cornflakes. And Dr Seuss books.

I felt young, light again. Happy. Trusting.

Truly, I realized, what He said was right. We need child like faith.

I guess sometimes...we just need to learn to see the colours of life a bit more vividly. And trust God to write beautiful love stories. Or simply laugh with Him. Enjoy learning along with Him in a story called life. Go wide eyed as He blesses us with surprises like the surprises in pop-up books. Or simply bask in His love as He tells us stories of His goodness.

We need to sit crosslegged again and laugh. Eat ice cream. Giggle. Put our small hands in his strong yet gentle hand.

Yes, to be a child again. Where Dad would read a story...and thrill us with interesting journey with dragons and fire but a brave Prince fighting on; with a nail bitting climax that seem to be almost lost but then "ah ha!" always ends with a great ending where the Prince triumphs.

Only now...that story is real.