i wasn't the most well-behaved child that existed on the planet earth. i was a probably a terror at home. i threw tantrums and told lies, i probably bullied my then-baby brother. i recall piling wet sand at the bottom of the slide so that my playmates would get their bums wet and sandy when they slid down.

and as with most children, with misbehavior comes discipline.

as much as i remember being a mischief-maker, i also remember being disciplined by my parents. i remember being told off for being rude and not minding my manners, for making fun of my peers and probably 101 other things.

i remember being smacked on the hand or bum when i told a lie or i decided to take something i shouldn't have taken. i remember being chased around the dining table by my dad, who had a cane in hand.

back then, it was a seriously unpleasant process.

i mean, they are my parents. they're supposed to love me. why chase me around with a cane to smack me? why sit me down and lecture me on how to behave?

the answer's a simple one - they love me.

they disciplined me because they love me. and this didn't end when i became older. one night i crept through the front door past midnight. my mom was sitting at the stairwell glaring at me. a huge quarrel ensued. i couldn't see past the fact that she'd been waiting up for me all night to come home, and it had been wrong of me to stay out late without informing her. i received a long lecture regarding that.

i could see it two ways - it was either discipline, an action on the part of my parents that meted out love for me, and their desire to see me develop into a fine young woman, or punishment, something very negative in connotation.

in the heat of those situations, i very often mistook discipline for punishment, negating the fact that it was done out of love. i always seethed with anger and bitterness for hours later, until i slowly came to realize the reason behind my 'punishments'.

love compels parents to disicipline their children. it's a process of refining and teaching, because most parents love their children so much that they'd want them to grow up to be educated, decent men and women. they want to inculcate the right values and principles in their children during the formative years. but even in the teenage and adolescent years, the discipline continues. there is an end in mind.

isn't it so often exactly the same with the discipline God metes out to us?

so often, we mistake it for punishment. we may mistakenly believe that the Father loves us (and it is true, by the way) and so He can't punish us or discipline us. but perhaps paradoxically, God's just like my mom and dad who disciplined me because of love.

hebrews 12:7-12 says -
Endure hardship as discipline; God is treating you as sons. For what son is not disciplined by his father? If you are not disciplined (and everyone undergoes discipline), then you are illegitimate children and not true sons. Moreover, we have all had human fathers who disciplined us and we respected them for it. How much more should we submit to the Father of our spirits and live! Our fathers disciplined us for a little while as they thought best; but God disciplines us for our good, that we may share in his holiness. No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it.

God wants us to undergo much refining and learning and He as a Father, has to teach us somehow. just as my dad had to discipline me whenever i made mistakes, or did something wrong as a child or teenager, God has to do the same to me with respect to my walk with Him, be it in convicting me of a sin and rebuking me thereafter, or through whatever means He will.

sometimes it is easy to misconstrue, and perceive that God's withholding something good from us, but perhaps on the other hand, through the process of disciplining God puts each and every one of His children through, however unpleasant it is, the outcome, should one truly learn from it, is growth.

and in the same way my dad wanted me to grow into a fine young woman, which i can safely say i have, but with certain flaws as all of us have, God wants to refine me and produce in me, as the passage says, righteousness and peace.

and God, like my earthly dad, does all this because of love. the Chinese say that to scold is love, and so is to beat. and while i don't necessarily agree that smacking a child is the best way to instill discipline in him, i do agree that discipline on the part of a parent is borne out of love. and if love is the motivation behind discipline, God disciplining us must be part of the ultimate Father's love.

i went running yesterday, for the first time in a long time. it's something i should do regularly, i realized. but anyway, as i was running, i found out that i've a dire lack of mental stamina. i could've run back to my friend's condo, but i chose to walk back instead.

as a result, i was a little disappointed with myself for giving up midway. i could've run. it wasn't as though i was exhausted to the point that i wouldn't be able to carry on jogging.

perhaps likewise, my walk with God is similar.

i begin with all the confidence in the world that i can run the race and walk the straight and narrow and never veer, never go off-track.

but now and then i find myself slowing down. i find myself running a different route from what i know i should be running. i find myself becoming deaf and blind to what God has to say to me and show me.

it must be part and parcel of the Christian walk, this period of learning and rebuilding i am going through. it's just like running along the canal - i may slow down and feel like giving up, but i know that eventually i will arrive at my goal.

and then one day, like paul, i will be able to say i've fought the good fight and finished the race.

i wonder why You let these things happen.

first, a "moderate allergic reaction" (in the words of the doctor) last night which rendered me unable to revise for my sociology exam today, and which left my right bottom lip looking as though i'd gone for a collagen jab and it didn't turn out right. it could well rival angelina jolie's! still, i thank You for creating the person who created predisolone because that saved my sanity last night.

second, the fact that nothing i ate stayed in my stomach today. and that was totally involuntary. i love subway's turkey breast wrap, and it had to come out of me the same way it went in.

perhaps, all You want is for me to relax a little.
take a deep breath
and say, i'll trust in You, Father.

piece of glass - caedmon's call

the exams are just one source of stress. it seems so difficult to remember God's hand and place in all that i do. one day lately, i even found myself wondering if He still wants me in the first place. that can be a separate post for another day altogether.

right now though, the other source of stress, which i think is summed up rather well by this song:

Can’t believe that I did it again
Wake me up from this nightmare
‘Cause this monster is filling me up filling me out

Everyday I live a bit less; one night leads to another
Even if I went back they would recognize me or criticize me

Who are you that lies when you stare in my face
Telling me that I’m just a trace of the person I once was
Cause I just can't tell if you're telling the truth or a lie
On you I just can't rely. after all you're just a piece of glass

Still this nightmare's all mine, when I call him he answers
I can tell him when to come, when to stay
Sometimes I'm weaker than he is, is he just letting me win
He can tell me when to come, when to stay

Who are you that lies when you stare in my face
Telling me that I’m just a trace of the person I once was
Cause I just can't tell if you're telling the truth or a lie
On you I just can't rely. after all you're just a piece of glass

Don’t talk, listen
Hold me tighter
Stay with me just for a while
Until the sun shines stay with me
Just give me one more day

Who are you that cries when you stare in my face
Telling me that I’m just a trace of the person I once was
Cause we're not the same, you're just a picture of me
You’re gone as soon as I leave; you've lived my life for me
And you're no more than a piece of glass
You're no more than just a piece of glass

for awhile yesterday, i totally didn't feel like smiling. i didn't have to, but it's not natural for me to be all gloomy and mopey and upset.

then You came, and put a smile on my face, even if just briefly -
my phone buzzes but i hesitate to answer the call. it's not school, neither is it my workplace-to-be calling me. i ignore the caller, but when he calls again i send a text message back.

"i'm in johor, what do you want?"

"hey, is everything okay? are you alright? are you in malaysia?" (note the words in italic at this point).

"i'm fine, things are going okay...and yes i'm in malaysia"

"oh ya. i guessed as much when i called you"

God knows a bit of comic relief always makes my day, even in the light of something not so pleasant. and i suspect some of you might be able to identify the 'anonymous' caller.

but on another more sombre note, i've come to realize that goodbyes and sorrow are only temporary, but that we can rejoice because in heaven there's no pain, no sickness, no melancholy - only the joy of being in the presence of Jesus 24/7, the joy of salvation and eternal life, rest and peace with Him.

weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes in the morning - psalm 30:5b

new every morning.

on cold, rainy mornings, i struggle to awaken. the soft warmth of my room, the snugness of my quilt and the comforting laziness that comes with not needing to attend classes anymore engulfs me.

yet in my drowsiness i whisper -
"Lord, i give today to You. may my every action, thought and word be of You and none other. i want You to be the focus of my day. give me the strength, wisdom and courage to face today, and help me remember that today's a new day You've created. amen."

comfort for my rumbling tummy comes in the form of a ham and cheese sandwich on multigrain bread. i enjoy the soft breeze and the fresh scent of the morning as i make my way to the bus stop. one of my feathery wild cockatoo neighbours swoops across my path as i walk across the bridge. i marvel at the gift of flight He gives this white, feathered friend of mine.

en route to my favourite study hangout, i run into a good friend. we sit and chat for a while before she leaves for a meeting. love comes in the form of a listening ear. i open my textbook, and though it's just as dreary as process as i remember, it's not long before i manage to cover one chapter. now, over a cup of sweet, milky chai latte, i realize it's Your grace at work; blink, and i'd probably miss it.

running on human-fuelled intent would've gotten me nowhere, and You know that full well. when i surrendered today to You, You heard each word i'd uttered to You as i rose from my slumber and You knew i didn't want to go on alone, empty today.

my mind harkens back to yesterday, a day which left me tired and questioning, when i wondered where You were through it all. i wanted to know, if You knew me, after the dark realization that perhaps i don't know You as much as i thought i did.

but in the chill of a wet, grey morning, You show me that You make all things new. every morning, You create a new day. a new chance for me to tell You that i love You. a new chance for me to realize that You reciprocate that sentiment. new opportunities to open my eyes to the wonder of creation, the wonder of You.

and now, i see new meaning in this earthly dwelling -
a new chance to love my neighbours
a new chance to say i love You more than any other
a new chance to follow You
the hope given to carry on.

all because You make things new, every morning.

it is well.

when peace like a river attendeth my way,
when sorrow like sea billows blow
whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say,
it is well, it is well with my soul.

***

There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under heaven:

a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,

a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,

a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,

a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain,

a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away

a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak

a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace.

ecclesiastes 3:1-8

***

Lord, it really hurts and my soul deep within me cries out, despondent and burdened because of all the guilt and regret that wrecks me. but Your peace comes to me in the warm light of the afternoon, enveloping me and comforting me. in the aloneness and quietness of my room, i realize that our earthly dwelling doesn't belong to us, but rather it belongs to You.

in Your time, there's a time to love, for war, for peace, for planting, sowing, tearing down and healing. in Your time, there's a time for birth and the joy that comes with it, and yet at the same time You weave this world such that as one family rejoices and delights in a tiny new bundle of life, another weeps as the casket is buried.

but whatever the case, whatever the situation, we are not in charge. i am not in charge of this. i am not in control, but You are in control of it all. must it have come to this for me to understand? perhaps i might've understood sooner, if i had not shut You out and chosen to focus on the problem. You know what they always tell me, to focus on the Mountain-mover, not the mountain? Well, Daddy, i guess i did the exact opposite and paid attention only to the pain, guilt and regret engulfing me.

You never, ever said it was going to be easy, did You? and i could say You didn't make it easier for me by giving me the gift of having a gamut of emotions run through my veins and soul and mind at any given point time. but whatever the lot, Lord, i pray that it will be well with my soul.

and that i may truly come to understand what that means, even in the light of what is inevitable, but difficult to face.

it is well, it is well, with my soul.

i thought things were getting better. i thought i was moving on.

then the voices come back and haunt me. in my mind, all these events are replayed over and over, nonstop, in a loop. the irrational fear i harboured returns and grips me; and i asphyxiate.

all along i knew this would be a war. but a war worth fighting. what i didn't know, was how difficult it would be.

perhaps tomorrow morning, when i arise, You will arm me with the strength to face the mirror. the strength to take a good, long look at my face and realize that i am Your creation, that i am Your beloved.

perfect love for imperfect people.

He sat with the tax collectors, the prostitutes, the thieves. He ate with them. Dined with them in front of a disgusted, mortified audience.

how could He? doesn't He know these are people unwelcome in society?

He touched the leper, spent time with the samaritan, who had more than one husband to boot. He did all that despite the disapproving eyes watching Him.

why did He? wouldn't it be easier to stick to the norms, and stop trying to shift the status quo?

and who did He pick as His disciples? oh nobody of great importance in society. a bunch of fisherman. a common physician. a despicable tax collector. one fella who even betrayed him into the hands of death.

He's a king...shouldn't he deserve better? shouldn't he have picked more...perfect people?

you see, that's not the case because that's not why Jesus came to us.

He came to us because we are imperfect. because we are despicable, dirty, filthy, unworthy, flawed and broken people. because we need a perfect love to mend our broken hearts, to wipe the dirt off our faces, to wash the blood off our hands.

He came to us because we lie. we steal. we lust. we covet. we fail to honour our parents, brothers and sisters. we are prideful and arrogant. we are vain. we fix our eyes on things of the world.

Jesus didn't come to save a perfect, sparkling clean person. He came to earth to get His hands dirty. He loved the unlovable, accepted the ostracized.

when He was alive, He spent time with tax collectors, lepers, prostitutes...people hated and shunned by society at large. today, whose hand does He hold?

He holds the hand of the pregnant teenage mother.
He holds the hand of the man dying of AIDS.
the teenage girl whose long-sleeved shirts conceal a multitude of striped scars.
the gangster with the heavily tattooed back.
the recovering drug addict bathed in cold sweat.
the gaunt, pained girl with the eating disorder.

He loves them, and loves them with a perfect and everlasting love. a love that comes without condition. a love that drives away all fear and all judgment. a love that showed its immeasurable extent on a rickety old cross.

a perfect love, meant for a very undeserving, but very imperfect people. that's what He brought to earth with Him. that is the love you and i know.

and so the question now is, what does it take for us to be like Christ? when will we realize the the church is not a place for perfectly dressed and perfectly Christ-like people who don't slip up every now and then?

if Christ came to give make our imperfection whole, the least we could do for the least of our brothers and sisters is to welcome them in with open arms, and show them that we too are a messed-up bunch of folks, crooked souls trying to stay up straight. but more importantly, that there's a love that mends all wounds and relieves all pain.

a perfect love for imperfect people. how can we replicate that?

year 3 semester 1 - taking stock.

year three, semester one: one crazy ride. never in my uni life have i personally felt so pressurized to live up to the fact that i've made it to the senior years of university education, and well, the bar has definitely been raised. but at the end of it all (or almost, anyway!) it's time to look back and do some reflecting.

i guess in many ways i've been blessed tremendously this semester since God provided me with...
crazy friends, new and old, who make me laugh every time i attend class.
pretty good project mates whom i can at least get along with.
some really wonderful instructors whom i respect, and whose classes i enjoy very much.
my dg and even though i don't attend regularly, i can say i'm blessed by this group of people.
modules that i actually enjoy and the drive to do well (not common in me).

and i never really thought i'd ever say this, but i'm really enjoying some of the times spent in good old WKWSCI, and i think i might miss the place a little when i'm interning at a certain hospital next semester

on the flip side, i've been tried in many ways and one thing He's been teaching me is how to rely on Him. you know, university isn't paradise. and it's certainly not all fun and games. there've been numerous times when i actually have freaked out so much that i break down in tears (all in my room with my pillow as punching-bag, of course) and just blank out, not knowing what to do next. there've been seemingly impossible tasks at hand, and deadlines that i believe just cannot be met. there've been insurmountable situations that spiralled out of control and there've been people i fail to understand and thus, disagree with.

and yet through all the drama and from my perspective, torture and pain, He's been ever so faithful. and this is despite the fact that my first response to any difficulty or stressful situation is to start taking matters into my own hands and start doing all sorts of things to rectify it. or for that matter, just freak out and go into acute panic mode.

so it dawns on me that if i just realize that God is holding me through it all, things will fall into place. whether or not the outcome is desirable to me as a person then, won't matter as much because He's in control of everything.

with two weeks left to the start of the dreaded finals, and as i begin the final stretch of madness after an intense week of mad deadlines and report-writing and presentations, may i always remember who holds my world and may i remember that trusting in HIm is the best policy, always.

i run the risk of sounding like a spoiled little brat by typing this but it's not appropriate to vent my frustration on many other avenues at this juncture.

so let me just say that i'm not having a weekend.
i'm not going to get any sleep.
and i will be aided by copiously unhealthy amounts of caffeine as i write this paper.

:(