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You'd much rather be at Adelaine's.

"A Mighty Fortress Is Our God", a hymn by Martin Luther

A mighty fortress is our God, a bulwark never failing;
Our helper He, amid the flood of mortal ills prevailing:
For still our ancient foe doth seek to work us woe;
His craft and power are great, and, armed with cruel hate,
On earth is not his equal.

Did we in our own strength confide, our striving would be losing;
Were not the right Man on our side, the Man of God’s own choosing:
Dost ask who that may be? Christ Jesus, it is He;
Lord Sabaoth, His Name, from age to age the same,
And He must win the battle.

And though this world, with devils filled, should threaten to undo us,
We will not fear, for God hath willed His truth to triumph through us:
The Prince of Darkness grim, we tremble not for him;
His rage we can endure, for lo, his doom is sure,
One little word shall fell him.

That word above all earthly powers, no thanks to them, abideth;
The Spirit and the gifts are ours through Him Who with us sideth:
Let goods and kindred go, this mortal life also;
The body they may kill: God’s truth abideth still,
His kingdom is forever.

To the tsunami victims and their families.

"The Greatest Gift of All", by Greg Laurie

I heard that someone actually tried to calculate how much it would cost to give the gifts named in the classic Christmas song, "The Twelve Days of Christmas." The grand total came to about $15,000. Some items were affordable, like a partridge in a pear tree for $34.99. Six turtledoves will run you somewhere around $50. Six geese-a-laying will cost around $150. But the price soars when you add 11 pipers piping. That is $1,000 right there. Then there are the 12 drummers drumming. With current union scale for musicians, they will run you another $1,000. The price really soars when you get 12 lords-a-leaping. We are talking $3,000 for them. Granted, I don't know where you would find them, but they are very expensive.

Still, the real message of Christmas is not the gifts that we give to each other. Rather, it is a reminder of the gift that God has given to each of us. It is the only gift that truly keeps on giving, so I want to point out four things about it.

First, it is surprising. When Christmas rolls around, you often try to figure out if certain people have bought that gift you really wanted. Maybe you already know what they bought, because they didn't hide it very well. Or, maybe you uncovered it by accident—or maybe not. But when the day comes and you open the present, you have to pretend you're surprised. Yet all along, you knew what it was. God's gift to us, however, was a complete surprise. It was not expected, and as you examine it more carefully, you realize how great a gift it actually was.

Second, God's gift came to us in the humblest of wrappings. What would you think if you saw a gift under your Christmas tree that was wrapped in newspaper and tied up with string? At first, you would probably assume that a guy wrapped it. But think about God's gift to us. Jesus was not born in a palace of gold; He was born in a stable. He was clothed with rags. He was laid in a feeding trough. Yet these things do not, in any way, diminish the story of Christ's birth. If anything, they help us realize the great sacrifice God made for us. God's gift to humanity, the ultimate gift of eternal life through His Son, Jesus Christ, came in the simplest and humblest of wrappings.

Third, we don't deserve this gift. At Christmas, we give gifts to those whom we care about, who have been kind to us over the past year, or who have given us a gift first. We don't give gifts to the person who has been slandering our name or to the angry neighbor who never has a kind word to say. Yet God gave us His gift when we were His enemies. He didn't give this gift to us because we deserved it. In fact, it was just the opposite. The Bible tells us, "But God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us" (Romans 5:8 NKJV).

Fourth, the gift tells us something about the giver. When you want to give someone a gift, you start thinking about it ahead of time. Hopefully you try to find what that person wants or needs. When God decided to give us the gift of eternal life, it wasn't something that He just thought of on the fly. Long before there was a town called Bethlehem, a garden called Eden, and a planet called Earth, a decision was made in eternity that God would send forth His Son, born of a woman, made under the law, to redeem those that are under the law. The Bible says that He was slain from the foundation of the world (Rev. 13:8). Make no mistake about it: this gift that God has given to us was the most sacrificial thing He possibly could have offered.

So Christmas isn't about those gifts that you have your tree right now. All of those things will be gone one day. All that will be left after this life is the human soul, and that will live forever. We will put so much stock in what we have, but this is all going to pass away. Life is about what happens beyond the grave. Life is about knowing the God who made you and who gave you the greatest gift you will ever receive.

About Greg Laurie

AWAY IN A MANGER... "Now there were in the same country shepherds living out in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. And behold, an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were greatly afraid. Then the angel said to them, 'Do not be afraid, for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy which will be to all people. For there is born to you this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. And this will be the sign to you: You will find a Babe wrapped in swaddling cloths, lying in a manger.' " (Luke 2:8-12) 

"Cecilia's Dress"

Cecilia wears a dainty new dress
For a lover she’s dying to impress,
And as Cecilia hurries to town
She makes all the ladies frown.

‘Cause Cecilia runs with such speed
Her flowing dress the boys heed--
They thank that in Cecilia’s haste
Her symmetry doesn’t go to waste.

As Cecilia reaches her rendez-vous
In the middle of a bustling zoo,
She spots from a distance her honey pie
Who wears a lovely, big blue tie.

Gaily he waves at his Cecilia dear
Whom he hasn’t seen for one full year,
And now he’s set with a poem and a rose
To Cecilia he’s going to propose:

“Cecilia, Cecilia, I must confess
That is really one beautiful dress,
But if you don’t mind me saying--
Even the chimpanzees are staring!”

That superior race called female

Girls don't just know what they want, you believe it now. They know it better than guys... and much earlier... and with much more conviction than we'll ever match.

Met a girl today who even before she had any boyfriend, had decided that she'd fall in love instead of going out on dates. She was only 17 then.

You only made that decision after so many trials. Even then you were kind of pussyfooting. You've been warned many times against girls like that by the collective male wisdom passed down from as way back as genesis; what they'd expect from you... how they'd manipulate you to get what they want... what you must do to hold your ground...

The truth is, that's how we guys would love to commit ourselves but never could. It's such an easy pass to say that guys would not commit themselves. We would if we can help it--in front of women more real than us we just can't. No wonder your kind has always been intimidated by such a display of will by the opposite sex, and for once you feel like betraying your kind. The only problem is there aren't enough girls like that these days. Girls who really know what they want and won't compromise their values even when everyone else is living differently.

Oy! There are much fewer guys like that.

"The Imprudent Knight"

At the sight of her beauty
he leapt, kicked sand, and charged to her rescue--
At the sight of her he fought
with passion but not a sword!
First blow landed on his face
where a helmet could have replaced disgrace;
The second was planted right in his center
where there was no breastplate as cover;
Numerous other left bootprints on his behind--
that shall serve as an achy remind!

Edited December 21, 2004. Thanks to Philo for his comments.

Rediscovering Chesterton

Mr. G.K. Chesterton.

Have you outdone Mr. Jones?

Back from Kuala Lumpur after two hours of flight delay. "One of those nights when the luggages are misplaced," the pilot announced guilelessly through the inflight PA.

Met up with Adelaine on Monday in Sunway. "If you're given the choice between two jobs," she said, "with one paying you well but not as well as your neighbour's and the other paying you half as much but better than what your neighbour is making - which job would you take?"

She said she'd rather take the job that pays her less knowing that the neighbours are earning much less.

So would Eugene (colleague #1).

So would Ian (colleague #2).

So would the majority making up "survey shows that..."

Maybe it's just you. But the urge to compare with the Joneses being the basis of so many choices is simply too insatiable an appetite to gratify. Where is the satisfaction in balancing happiness on a scale when it can easily be enjoyed even when the weight is tipped to the other side of the fence?

Nearing the heart of God

B said:

I think the best illustration about God winning people is simply a man winning the woman he loves. He may love her long before she loves him but if he is wise and wins her heart do we say it was against her will? And if it was against her will would she have it any other way? When one's heart is won it does not feel like a choice but still no one forced us to. How wonderful is God's love. Who will be able to resist Him in the end?

That's the great Warrior-Lover.

...will you be like Him?

Things that complete a rainy day

raindrops hitting the roof

wheels splashing the gutter

dewy windows

cool sheets

a book sprawling faced down

flapping blinds

Sarah Vaughan's rendition of When Sunny Gets Blue

a slice of ginger in tea

neighbour's drenched laundry hanging in the backyard

the mood to re-enact Gene Kelly

GHOSTS OF MID-AUTUMN PAST... Found this badly-lit picture taken two years ago during the Mooncake Festival. The closest photographic evidence to supernatural crossovers.

DREAMY... Archipelago of clouds overhanging the Indian Ocean seen from inside homebound plane (taken summer 2002)

Don't want to be nice

Everyone thinks you're nice...

friendly...

kind...

even good.

They are not just being polite. You can't help but think that they just might be right. But you never aspired to be such things. You wanted to be -

Bold!

Strong!

Wild!... like Him.

"Have I got what it takes?" that's the question you're asking. That's the question every man asks. Everything you've ever done - every risk you've ever taken - was done with the intention to have an answer.

You long for the day when you know your God-like strength, courage, and wildness. To be called a warrior as He was known to the Israelites by the Red Sea. To stand up for something and fight to your last breath. Tell a man anything else, you kill the man.

You haven't found your answer. That's why you're still nice, friendly, and kind.

Shopping for a gift

You were looking for a gift. A book. You doubted if you would find anything suitable. So you prayed. You prayed that He would show you something if that something was in the shop - something He would want to send her as a gift Himself.

You looked through every shelf top, middle and bottom. You didn't want to impress her with anything by anyone that by any chance writes a smooth-flowing prose that would hopefully engage her. It had to be something you believe in. By the time you were almost done you thought your gift wasn't forthcoming.

You almost gave up and walked out when a sight reeled you back in. Tucked away there on the lowermost shelf in the inner quarter of the shop, hidden behind and stacked under other books...

You found it.

Your prayer' s been answered. You knew that by the quiver you felt holding the book.

So this is the book He'd send her. And again you got to praying... You prayed that the gift would reach her hands.

Disposal

CAUTION: The post below is strictly a dream sequence and did not happen to the author in real life. However it contains descriptions of the deceased and might offend some readers.

It's still in your backyard because you haven't been able to get rid of it. You don't want to even think about it during the day, not when eyes are most watchful and you can't do anything about it.

Night falls and weariness sets in. You go around to the back of the house and finds that it's still lying there among the garbage, wrapped in an exceptionally white cloth. You drag it through the back door into the kitchen. Open it up and you see the body of a beautiful woman - naked, fair, and moth-eaten. Her face isn't too deformed that you can't remember her from somewhere. You might have been in love with her even. You don't know for sure. It's too late to know such a thing for sure. She's a corpse now and she can't stick around. The nearest garbage dump isn't near enough to avoid the neighbours' suspicion.

Anyway she has to go...

Diary of a clay pigeon

They never said anything about shooting while I was in flight - and me being shot at!! When they launched us from the high house, all I thought was that I was going to be free at last. Free to soar... to land on whichever patch of green that receives me and call it my eternal resting place.

And then there were gunshots loud as thunder. As soon as we were slung across the air, one by one the liberated were blasted into irregular pieces, their featherless remnants falling like meteor rain. Wait a minute, are we not free? Aren't our bodies built to last till we lie down in green pastures? This can't possibly be our fate as Elects. But the sight of my people's ashes sprinkled over the trees offered neither reason nor comfort.

Through the trees on my way down, I caught flashing glimpses of our hunter. My survival that day owed to the fact that the shooter aiming at us was a killer-in-training. My life was spared for the day, but I was deeply tumbled. That night in the dark of the return chute leading back to the high house, I heard it being discussed through trembling voices of my fellow survivors that we will relive this horrible day till to the twisted satisfaction of our hunters we are all dead.

A man for an afternoon

"Don't revolve your life around her. Do what you know you have to do now. If the Lord meant for you to meet her, when the time comes you will."

That's B's counsel. B is wise as George MacDonald is wise. For B learning from MacDonald is next to obeying Christ. In fact it was MacDonald who taught B the importance of trusting the Father by obeying the Son. And B in turn taught you the same.

You're not quite the same after spending that sunny afternoon in Kearney Spring with B.

Christmas cards (signed & sealed)

Your heart is bursting with gratitude and love. You know where the latter is streaming from, and you know exactly for whom you wish you had a bigger vessel to hold in the ceaseless torrent.

So it overflows…

And you no longer see a good reason not to send one to B.

Christmas cards

Sixteen Christmas cards on your table; leftover from last Christmas. You make a list of whom you could dispatch them to.

…B is not on that list.

Not that you don’t appreciate B for what he’s done throughout the year, deserving at least a grateful acknowledgment at the end of it. You know he’d feel awkward not sending one back, yet couldn’t, as there’s a million other things he could do instead of making a trip to the newsagent’s for a Christmas card. You also know that you don’t need a Christmas card to state the obvious. There is much more to the amity than a folded piece of beautiful paper can include.

A little narcissism...

You are a Pundit Blogger!

Your blog is smart, insightful, and always a quality read. Truly appreciated by many, surpassed by only a few.

What kind of blogger are you?

Droplets in the dunes

You wonder. When something speaks to your heart you really wonder. You heard something that sounds a lot like affirmation. Affirmation of where you're heading with your heart. You heard some more and you're done for...

It was an affirmation!

An overkill... It doesn't say if you have what it takes to go the distance.

A road sign... Not banner over the door.

But droplets in the dunes... Impelling.

A thought on man's original sin

Paralysis is the first disease of the male species.

The will is the wildest thing a man owns. Your will is your own. If God were to be absolutely good and He wanted nothing but for man to come through, then we must believe that Adam had in him what it takes to come through.

The reason why he didn't come through should then be found in Adam's WILLINGNESS to come through - not the lack of strength from God.

He had total freedom to choose whether he would come through or not. His will must have been so wild and free that it was totally independent of his strength. He could have strength in him and yet still fail so long as he had the free will to make failure possible.

Which he did. Since then men don't stand a chance.

Earned or received?

Suddenly it felt good.

Which was bad, because it felt good for the wrong reason.

You were given something you couldn'tve earned by yourself. You were pleasantly surprised. And then it felt good, as if you've earned it.

But you didn't. You received it.

Your Lord is risen

You're at it again.

You've been at it for a while now. All the while.

How long does she have to wait? How much longer has it got to be before you're prepared to fight?

Rise heart;
Thy Lord is risen.

--George Herbert

One of the things to know her by

You see a mother grabs her daughter's arm walking down the street like she would hold a dirty laundry.

You cannot imagine that she loves her daughter the way daughters ought to be loved. You want to think that somehow she loves herself more. Such a mother shouldn't ever become one!

Your mother always held your hand walking down the street. You even held hands when you were still not too embarrassed to share a bed with her.

A mother ought to love her children and never stop loving them. Even when she's stopped loving herself. She ought to put them before herself and be willing to die in their place if she had to.

You knew that day that's the kind of mother she would be if she ever have children. You didn't see it coming. But ever since then you never stopped wishing that she'll one day be your children's mother if you ever have children. You try not to picture her playing with them against a backyard you haven't yet owned. Hell - most of the time you even try not to picture her at all!

That day the picture of your children's mother jumped off the page and scared the living daylights out of you.

Some REM-sleep (Reprise)

Sometimes your dreams are so big they scare you. And you don't dare to think about it so much. Other times you only wish they could really come true, so you could stop thinking about it eventually.

But you're lying.

The only reason the dreams should come true is so that they would stop scaring you.

After all weak people get scared. And weaker people get scared often.

Weak people need dreams, whether or not they believe those dreams would come true. Weaker people need big dreams. That's their only hope of overcoming what scares them ever so often.

There are all sorts of things that scare...

Loneliness...

Mostly loneliness.

Even weakness sometimes. The kind of weakness that keeps you lonely and scared. The kind that can only be defeated by big dreams, which could scare you even more given enough time.

Yet it's a different kind of scare.

The kind that you're scared by because it's too big and you're too weak to have anything to do with it. And once in a while it's the same kind of dreams that makes you brave and for once feel like you're living...

A better kind...

And scarier.

Some REM-sleep

You replay the scenes in your head, trying to recall every single detail like it really happened.

It doesn't matter. You were there. With her. And quite alone you two.

The way you talk to each other and look into the other person's eyes and cling together. All without failing to disregard the presence of a world outside your mutual preoccupation. The feeling of exclusivity only two lovers can know. Even in a bustling crowd.

And that's what matters.

Some might call it pathetic. But you'd rather be pathetic than not knowing at all what it's like.

Now you know.

And it's like nothing else.

Nothing else... even though it's not real.

But the dream is real. It's a real dream. Perching above you on a cloudy Saturday morning. A dream of how it could be like.

Like nothing else.

Of man's ideals

It's funny that even as you realize that there can be no complete truth and totally satisfying answer in man's offers, whatever they be, you go around courting men's ideas of the perfect or best way to live as though even partly acceptable or close enough philosophies will do. Maybe worse still, you court such ideas as though with hope that by virtue of the search itself, you could somehow construct from the ground up a Tower of Babel personalized to fit your current standards of habitation.

You fancied today that it might not be fair to demand an answer to a question of such a scope as great as eternity from mere men, most of whom offer to solve problems which are only common before the curtains of eternity. But these men are not totally blameless, for their crime lies in reducing a man's appetite for transcendence to a self-portrait of success framed by self-motivated and self-directed drives. They might not be guilty of the charge of false advertisement, but they are certainly guilty of being entirely enthusiastic and passionate about their solution, to the point where it became their salvation. This crime could not have been committed without an accomplice in you, who aided in the crime done to yourself by entertaining the thought of your God granting your selfish petition in the form of their ideals.

First dream of her

It's never a good sign when you get to see it first in your dreams.

Bright of day. The two of you were perching on stools in the corner of a glass-walled café. She listened pleasantly to your whispered sweetnothings, her eyes sparkled with bliss. Before long you proposed the possibility of a relationship as effortlessly as dreams go. She leaned forward and your lips met.

They parted and met again... and you woke up no sooner than the third time they parted and met.

How are you going to live with yourself now?

Descendants of Atlantis

Granny called this morning and told mum that Aunt K and Uncle F just had a fight over Uncle F's affair with a younger woman who works in his shop. Uncle F has just closed down one of his two shops after failing to settle his business debts that went out of hand. He sold one of his two cars and both my Uncle Q and Uncle J who had worked for him for years had to be laid off after Uncle F ended his business. This morning Uncle F was planning to bring the woman home for new year's eve dinner with the family. Naturally Aunt K called granny and cried over the phone at his decision.

On the way to granny's house tonight you felt a serious loss of heart as the topic was brought up again in mum and dad's conversation. Aunt K and Uncle F have been peacefully married (at least it seemed like it) for more than twenty years, but that didn't stop something like this from happening. One misstep seems to be all it takes to ruin a happy marriage. Your concern was what this family tragedy would do to the kids. What do children have to defend themselves from the odds that are so cunningly set up against them? How do we convince ourselves that the misfortune that befell our parents won't befall us?

You think Uncle F is setting himself up for a harder fall as he greets the affair head on. Funny you couldn't help but relate his unfolding calamity to yourself. Outwardly you and Uncle F are two completely distinct sorts. Your age bracket, marital status, life experience, temperament, particular likes and dislikes. But there is something inescapable that the both of you - in fact every man - share... The masculine heart.

Though we never found it.

What on earth happened?

You wrote her many letters over the past year or so. The absence of a response to those letters has led you to believe that she hasn't read any of them. How else could anyone explain the dead silence? Indifference is certainly not an option if she had read what you have to say. It's inconceivable to think that such a vigorous outpour of one's heart and soul, even anonymously, could not earn at the very least an expression of reciprocal feelings.

Maybe that's all you're hoping for. Something in return. Somehow that seemed to be the furthest you're willing to go for her. You're willing to love her as long as you won't have to risk losing anything in the process - even the prospect of losing her.

What happened, Adam?

Happy New Year

Everyone's looking for something. Always. Always looking.

There hasn't been a time when they weren't looking. There hasn't been a time when they stopped since.

People have sought and gained and then lost and yet kept on seeking ever since they first discovered the masochistic pleasures of want.

You never know what it's like to have gained. So you cannot know what it's like to have lost.

Only to have sought. And here's the thing: You thought you have stopped seeking.

You thought wrong.