Here we are - again - a little more Brave

For many years now I have kept to this habit.

As my birthday falls on the last day of the year; it seemed fitting to spend some of the day in reflection and prayer. When I first began this habit twenty some years ago, it was of course filled with zest and vindicated by a wonderful list of 'things accomplished' and 'things to look forward to'. It's great to feel your life making sense and moving towards Promise.

In between, there have been hard years, and the habit has been at times --

dry
difficult
desperate

There were those years when looking back brought mostly tears. When looking forward was frightful. When a thick silence hung between heaven and earth so my beautiful journal was a blank.

I have tried praying, fasting, flipping my Bible to see where it may land - because, honestly, I needed some serious help. Life was not getting easier. Marriage, ministry, children, parents, siblings, friendship, world events... and some days it feels they are like the ribbons and I the May Pole - just that the dance isn't merry but fierce with sudden movements and I am wound up and stuck and suffocating...

Just as we thought Osama has been taken down, the economy is stabilizing, the mystery of the missing plane is fading from memory; we have fresh news of our impotence once again. The world stage is but a large screen projection of what is previewing in our little apartments and hearts: mystery trumps mastery.

But we operate by mastery. Really, when we cut a life down to it itty-bitty parts; it is mostly habit.

Our thought patterns are often habitual. We don't often think new, grand thoughts. We screen, interpret and decide pretty much the way we have done as long as it worked well enough. The way we talk and relate to people is often habitual too; we even find ways to talk with different people and can switch that on when we are with that person. Most of our emotions are knee-jerk-habitual as well.

Heart-warming elements in great stories are written around habits. Love that character? Why of course, just look at the way he lights and smokes his pipe when he wants to think, or look at how she wakes up and checks on her little garden each morning. The habits endear us and make these characters life-like. But story-book character habits live in our imagination, not share our bedroom or eat at our table.

Journaling, reflection and prayer is perhaps the habit to examine all habits! It is the habit that opens the window to Mystery.

Mind you, a civil war can break out. Habits are very resilient. They won't go quietly away and suffer adjustment without a fight. But they are also interestingly reasonable. When you can unpack a habit and remove what energises it, changes can come.

The last few years, I have given myself more space, and the habit to wrap the year-end-and-start with reflection, prayer and listening sometimes stretches into weeks. I remind myself it is not a medal I pursue but a model of life I desire.

Life and Love after all, cannot be forced.

So souls, today I am listening to these two songs and I think you will enjoy them too:

Blessings

The perfect wisdom of our God

Here we go, another year, a little more brave.

Write Woes

This happens way-too-often. It is not acceptable; but I do not at the moment have any inkling what the real solution is. Of course, I can think up a good number of reasons for why it happens. But thinking up reasons do not naturally lead to a solution.

It is true that being a relatively weak swimmer and generally afraid of the sensation where I am not grounded, I must at least be tethered to something reliable, like a building. I did try diving once, and in a rather foolish manner too. The jolly folk took me to a swimming pool, taught me in an hour about how to breathe only through my mouth, and to beware of some oxygen bubble, and off we sailed towards the Great barrier Reef. Between all that money spent and the choppy waters, I let myself down clumsily, clung on to a rope as I bobbed hopelessly about. Since I could not ever remove that mouth piece, I screamed silently down the ten meters or so. So the reasoning that perhaps my struggle would break forth into a new freedom if I dared dive in wasn't a picture that quite worked for me. In fact, it felt akin to an invitation to take a walk in a black hole.  I have not been near one; but the vast ocean with no four steps to climb out of and a rim to make for feels a lot like a black hole to me; and it is a total waste of time to visit a black hole. What can one get out of it?

It is also true that I am a small person; and by this I do not merely mean my physical stature. I am fully aware that I can only stand in the shadows of the many great men and women who wield the pen and honestly will be at an utter and complete loss as to what to say if I should get a chance to talk with any of them; which is to say that they can say it and have said it all better than me anyway, so why bother.

It is also true that I live in a small country where we have for decades been feeding off the hands of what we deem to be our cultural superiors, the ang mohs. I am sure there is some psychological phenomenon with a label on it for this. The result is that local writers very rarely occupy any shelf space in a bookstore and if you write for a subset of the reading population; then that precious bit of real estate will not be allocated to you – yes, the way things are.

So - I have these thoughts, faces, ideas that seem to rise like a mist and they coax and cajole me every day. I think I am supposed to take a closer look, to dive deeper, to listen and then find the words and string them. But I don’t. Instead all I end up with is an infatuation. I never make a date. The appointment is not set, the exchange is not made, and the conversation is never recorded. I am feverish with excitement for the moments when the muse visits but my page is blank, still.

What genre? Where does it fit? Why would anyone care to read about the very first real-life Irishman I ever met? What if the said Irishman read it and I have totally warped who he is? I wouldn’t like to read what sounds so much like me that also make me out to be someone I am not. What to do.

I tried to tweet myself out of this, just. I composed an elegant one hundred and twenty characters. It feels better, as if, I at least showed up for work. But who am I fooling?

Perhaps in the end, the solution isn't rocket science. I just made my nine-year old redo his English composition. I should just mother myself into being a good child and getting my writing done.

Your ideas are welcome. Please leave them in the comments. Thank you!

Don't come, don't come Immanuel....?

I am guessing that like me, as Christmas loomed; you started sweating (we call it praying) about who to invite so they can hear the Good News and we can rejoice that one soul has come home. It is good that we take our evangelistic task seriously. I do, and you should too.

But, I have come to realize that our ideas often don't match that of those we seek to reach.

You see, if you live in water for a while and swim around merrily and start becoming a fish; you stop thinking about the water. But the bird looking at the fish (if the bird even bothers to) cannot fully make sense of the water and the gliding and flashing movements of the fish!

When it comes to Christmas, we are excited over it for very different reasons.


The answer to this is not to reduce Christmas to turkey, buffets and reindeers in order to connect.

The answer is for us to dive deeper into why God would condescend (that's what it is and more) so as to cross a permanently uncross-able threshold, become a bundle of cells that multiply rapidly in the waters of a finite human womb. Just think about that. 

We must bring the Wonder of Christmas back in order to have wonder-full words and gleaming faces that will put all the jingles, bright lights and partying to a pale.

I invited a family to church, and attempted engaging folks on the meaning of Christmas. I gave out gifts to neighbours, wished them well and offered a listening ear. I harbor hopes of them saying "tell me more", or "we're coming to church with you"... but as it often happens for me, there is polite refusal. In fact, in some cases, I get a kind, careful rejection (which means I get to try again at Easter!).

Friends, we sing 'O Come O Come Immanuel'. But for those we reach out to, it may well be 'Don't come, don't come'!

Like Herod, the king.

Jesus was born at a time when an egotistic, maniacal fellow named Herod was king; he who loved his life, luxuries, power, and position. To secure it, he gave orders to have a whole generation of children two years and younger killed. Mass massacre of innocent children just so that his position would be secure. Paranoid and sick. Violent and evil.

We balk at this and seldom think about how fiercely people can react to God and perceived threats.

It's not this serious in my experiences so far; but this year, I actually sense some tense up. A few ladies in my exercise class have some inkling that I am a Christian; and isn't it common knowledge that Christians evangelise! I'm probably too sensitive, but this week the room emptied out really quickly when class ended before I can invite anyone! (O you felt it too at work?).

The answer to this is not to shy of it but to be prepared for this rejection, plus to ask: 

is it Christ they reject, or us?


This is a great time for confession, so here's mine. I wasn't bright enough to figure this so God had to tap-tap on my shoulder and highlight it to me! Sandwiched between the Great Commission and the Sweet Compassion are other reasons why  I want to bring the Good News...yes, gasp, it is because -

some folks need fixing
if my family members are on the same page with me, life would be better (for all of us, especially me)
it is right and meet to do it (after all I am a pastor)

These reasons are valid and understandable taken our human frailty; but they lack two important ingredient: love and Jesus. These two ingredients are like one compound really. No Jesus, no love; and the other way around too.

From all indications of how we scurry and hurry about; supply of this ingredient while generous and available is not often accessed and used!

The answer to this is to pray for the love; and talk to Jesus about the people. Both of these do not sit easily with the great Singapore values of efficiency & getting-the-best-deal though.


It's two days from Christmas and I am very concerned about seeing seismic change in the lives of a family I am hosting. It's a fantastic opportunity and our conversations after so many years have finally gotten a little more open and honest. My mind runs through a list of things to tell them, especially the father, stuff he must know to straighten his life. And as I am racing along on this amazing mission, the Spirit reins me in and reminds me to just be kind... to be kind, like Jesus would.

The Spirit leads me to take it all to Jesus and simply thank him for the insights and also entrust the opportunity, and ask for alertness to the Spirit's wind, for -

"Spirit gives birth to spirit...the wind blows wherever it pleases. You hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes form or where it is going.So it is with everyone born of the Spirit." ~ John 3v6-7

More Wonder.

We are going to be left wondering who, why, when walked, waltzed or got whipped into the Kingdom!

Let's not so easily shock at negativity and objections to Christianity.
Let's check that Christ is clearly in front.
Let's flow with the Spirit's graceful moves and stand back at the power of His Wind!

Have a   WONDER-full   CHRISTmas    dear friends!